John F. Kerry,

Apocalypse now redux, y Winter Soldier      

El capitán Willard y la tripulación de la PBR, bautizada “Erebus” después de franquear el puente de Do Lung, continúan su ascenso por el río Nung hacia Kurtz. De repente, emergiendo borrosamente de una intensa y repentina niebla, aparece la fantasmal plantación francesa de caucho donde el tiempo parece que ha quedado en suspenso, detenido, congelado, desde el final de la batalla de Dien Bien Phu (1954). Llega la hora de la cena, y el capitán Willard es invitado a sentarse a la mesa familiar. Los distintos puntos de vista sobre la política, el colonialismo, la guerra y la historia de Indochina provocarán acaloradas discusiones entre los comensales. En un momento de la cena, Hubert DeMarais, el patriarca de la familia, se dirige a Willard y le dice: “Así que cuando usted me pregunta por qué queremos permanecer aquí, Capitán, queremos permanecer aquí porque es nuestro, nos pertenece y mantiene a nuestra familia unida. Nosotros luchamos por eso! Mientras que ustedes los americanos, ustedes están luchando por la mayor nada en la historia (So when you ask me why we want to stay here, Captain, we want to stay here because it´s ours, it belongs to us. It keeps our family together. We fight por that! While you Americans, you are fighting for the biggest nothing in history)

Este juicio inapelable de DeMarais sobre el sentido de la intervención de Estados Unidos en Vietnam no era la primera vez que podían escucharlo los americanos. En efecto, el 22 de abril de 1971, un veterano de la guerra de Vietnam, en representación de la organización Vietnam Veterans Against the War, hizo el siguiente alegato ante el Senate Foreign Relations Committee de los Estados Unidos, presidido por el senador Fulbright: “Me gustaría hablar de los sentimientos que estos hombres llevan con ellos después de volver de Vietnam. El país no se ha dado cuenta todavía, pero ha creado un monstruo [1] en la forma de miles de hombres a los que se les ha enseñado a negociar y a comerciar con la violencia y a quienes se les ha dado la oportunidad de morir for the biggest nothing in history”. El veterano que pronunció estas palabras se llamaba John F. Kerry, candidato demócrata a Presidente de los Estados Unidos en las elecciones de noviembre de 2004 [2].

“What are we fighting for”: we are fighting for freedoom

And it's one, two, three,

What are we fighting for?

Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,

Next stop is Vietnam.

And it's five, six, seven,

Open up the pearly gates,

Well there ain't no time to wonder why

Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

The Fish Cheer & I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag, Country Joe & The Fish (1967)

En otro momento de la cena, Christian, sentado al lado de  Willard, le expone a éste su punto de vista sobre la política exterior americana. Entonces, tocando un acordeón, irrumpe el sargento Lafavre, con seguridad veterano de la guerra franco-indochina que finalizó con la derrota del ejército francés ante el Viet-Minh comandado por Vo Nguyen Giap, en la batalla de Dien Bien Phu (1954). Lafavre interrumpe de forma abrupta a Christian con estas palabras: “All you white people are shit”. Christian, refiriéndose a los americanos, le contesta irritado y alzando la voz: “They are fighting. Fighting for freedom”. Estas grandilocuentes palabras no conmuevan a Willard, que indiferente se mira en la hoja del cuchillo de servicio un pequeño rasguño ya casi cicatrizado en su pómulo. Y la respuestas del sargento Lafavre no puede ser más tosca: “Freedom? Bullshit. French bullsiht. American bullshit”

El 28 de julio de 1965 el Presidente Lyndon B. Johnson dio una conferencia de prensa en la Casa Blanca, We will stand in Viet-nam (utilizada luego ampliamente en el documental propagandístico del ejército americano Why Viet-nam). En esa alocución Johnson dirigió a la nación estas palabras: “Why must young Americans, born into a land exultant with hope and with golden promise, toil and suffer and sometimes die in such a remote and distant place? The answer, like the war itself, is not an easy one, but it echoes clearly from the painful lessons of half a century. Three times in my lifetime, in two world wars and in Korea, Americans have gone to far lands to fight for freedom”

En el capítulo “Feelings of men back from Vietnam” de su comparecencia ante el Senate Foreign Relations Committee, John Kerry dice lo siguiente: “In our opinion, and from our experience, there is nothing in South Vietnam, nothing which could happen that realistically threatens the United States of America. And to attempt to justify the loss of one American life in Vietnam, Cambodia, or Laos by linking such loss to the preservation of freedom (...) is to us the height of criminal hypocrisy, and it is that kind of hypocrisy which we feel has torn this country apart” [Congressional Record (92nd Congress, 1st Session) del jueves, 22 de abril de 1971, pág. 180]

Continúa Lyndon B. Johnson su discurso con las siguientes palabras: “We have learned at a terrible and brutal cost that retreat does not bring safety and weakness does not bring peace. It is this lesson that has brought us to Viet-Nam. This is a different kind of war. There are no marching armies or solemn declarations. Some citizens of South Viet-Nam, at times with understandable grievances, have joined in the attack on their own government. But we must not let this mask the central fact that this is really war. It is guided by North Viet-Nam, and it is spurred by Communist China. Its goal is to conquer the South, to defeat American power, and to extend the Asiatic dominion of communism. There are great stakes in the balance. Most of the non-Communist nations of Asia cannot, by themselves and alone, resist growing might and the grasping ambition of Asian communism. Our power, therefore, is a very vital shield. If we are driven from the field in Viet-Nam, then no nation can ever again have the same confidence in American protection. In each land the forces of independence would be considerably weakened and an Asia so threatened by Communist domination would certainly imperil the security of the United States itself. We did not choose to be the guardians at the gate, but there is no one else. Nor would surrender in Viet-Nam bring peace, because we learned from Hitler at Munich that success only feeds the appetite of aggression. The battle would be renewed in one country and then another country, bringing with it perhaps even larger and crueler conflict, as we have learned from the lessons of history”

Kerry tiene una opinión diferente a la del ex-presidente Johnson respecto de la dimensión de la amenaza comunista en el sudeste asiático para América: “I think it is ridiculous to assume we have to play this power game based on total warfare. I think there will be guerrilla wars and I think we must have a capability to fight those. And we may have to fight them somewhere based on legitimate threats, but we must learn, in this country, how to define those threats and that is what I would say to this question of world peace. I think it is bogus, totally artificial. There is no threat. The Communists are not about to take over our McDonald hamburger stands.” [Congressional Record (92nd Congress, 1st Session) del jueves, 22 de abril de 1971, pág. 194]

Errores y puñaladas por la espalda: ¿una acalorada discusión sobre la derrota militar francesa en Indochina o cine político americano por otros medios?

Tras su tenso intercambio de opiniones con Christian, el sargento Lafavre le pregunta a Willard si sabe algo acerca de Dien Bien Phu. El capitán americano le contesta que sí, pero inmediatamente interviene DeMarais para decirle que realmente no sabe nada. Entonces, el Tutor de los niños de la familia sentencia: “A military mistake”. DeMarais no está del todo de acuerdo: “a mistake? A voluntary mistake”. Y LaFavre añade: “All the soldiers knew, we knew we would be dead”

John Kerry, en su comparecencia ante el Senate Foreign Relations Committee hizo una petición a los americanos en nombre de Vietnam Veterans Against The War: “We are asking Americans to think about that because how do you ask a man to be the last man to die in Vietnam? How do you ask a man to be the last man to die for a mistake?” [Congressional Record (92nd Congress, 1st Session) del jueves, 22 de abril de 1971, pág. 183]

Un instante después de calificar a Dien Bien Phu como un error voluntario, DeMarais matiza su opinión: “The French Army was sacrified. Sacrified by the politicians safe at home. They put the army in an impossible situation where they couldn´t win! (...) The students are marching in Paris, protesting, demonstrating. They stab the soldiers in their back!”

En su turno de intervención, el senador Symington le hizo esta pregunta a John Kerry: “Over the years members of this committee who spoke out in opposition to the war were often accused of stabbing our boys in the back. What, in your opinion, is the attitude of servicemen in Vietnam about congressional opposition to the war?”. John Kerry contestó asi: ”I do recognize there are some men who are in the military for life. The job in the military is to fight wars. When they have a war to fight, they are just as happy in a sense and I am sure that these men feel they are being stabbed in the back. But, at the same time, I think to most of them the realization of the emptiness, the hollowness, the absurdity of Vietnam has finally hit home, and I feel if they did come home the recrimination would certainly not come from the right, from the military” [Congressional Record (92nd Congress, 1st Session) del jueves, 22 de abril de 1971, págs. 203-4]

John Kerry y Winter Soldier

La intervención de John F. Kerry ante el Senate Foreign Relations Committee de Estados Unidos fue motivada por la resonancia nacional que alcanzó una comparecencia pública de 125 veteranos de Vietnam que, entre el 31 de enero y el 2 de febrero de 1971, reunidos en Detroit, denunciaron ante los medios de comunicación las atrocidades llevadas a cabo por los soldados americanos en la guerra del sudeste asiático. Esa comparecencia fue bautizada con el nombre de The Winter Soldier Investigation [3] y los testimonios que allí se dieron se incorporaron íntegramente al Congressional Record de los Estados Unidos. John F. Kerry, comenzó su audiencia ante la Comisión de Asuntos Exteriores precisamente haciendo una detallada referencia a The Winter Soldier Investigation en la que informaba a los senadores que en Detroit, los veteranos “relataron que personalmente habían violado, cortado orejas, cortado cabezas, conectado cables desde los teléfonos portátiles a genitales humanos y habían encendido el interruptor, cortado extremidades, explotado cuerpos, disparado al azar sobre civiles, arrasado poblados de una manera que recordaba a Gengis Khan”.

The Winter Soldier Investigation. A inquiry into American War Crimes fue promovida por la organización Vietnam Veterans Against de War, y contó con la ayuda de famosos actores de cine y músicos como Jane Fonda (aka Hanoi Jane), Donald Sutherland, Graham Nash, Dave Crosby y Phil Ochs.

Las sesiones de The Winter Soldier Investigation fueron filmadas por Winterfilm, un colectivo de 19 incipientes profesionales del mundo del cine, entre quienes estaban Barbara Kopple, que en 1976 dirigiría Harlan County USA, película con la que ganaría el oscar al mejor documental al año siguiente, y Luci Massi Phenix, que sería la montadora del también premiadísimo documental Regret to Inform (1998), de Barbara Sonneborn. El resultado fue el documental Winter Soldier (1972)

Winter Soldier (1972) combina entrevistas hechas ex profeso, escenas de discusiones o diálogos informales entre los participantes, realizadas en el más puro estilo direct cinema, y planos de las declaraciones formales de los veteranos. Por cierto, en los primeros compases del film, donde se ve cómo los organizadores toman datos de los veteranos que van a intervenir en The Winter Soldier Investigation, hay una secuencia en la que un joven veterano entrevista a otro veterano. El entrevistador ocasional es John F. Kerry.

En alguna ocasión, la crudeza de los relatos de los soldados recogidos en Winter Soldier es subrayada por planos en los que personas del público no aguantan lo que están escuchando, y rompen a llorar. No hay música en toda la película, salvo en el montaje fotográfico final con los créditos y la lista de participantes, momento en el que suena un blues. Todo ello estaba punteado o reforzado por la inserción de fotos, unas de los propios veteranos durante su tour en Vietnam, otras de atrocidades. También se insertaron imágenes de bombardeos, de hostigamiento de civiles indefensos desde helicópteros, de desplazamientos forzosos de campesinos antes de prender fuego a sus endebles viviendas de techumbre de ramas de palmera, etc. No obstante, son sólo unos pocos minutos de imágenes, pues el protagonismo absoluto del documental recae sobre la palabra y los rostros de los veteranos, lo cual se comprende sin esfuerzo, pues la dureza de las relatos difícilmente podría acentuarse. En efecto, en Winter Soldier, a lo largo de una hora y treinta y tres minutos, asistimos sin respiro a una sucesión de confesiones como la de Scott Camil [4], uno de los veteranos que más protagonismo tiene en el documental, y que acabó siendo un activista antiguerra radical: “Vi un caso en el que un francotirador, uno de nuestros francotiradores, disparó a una mujer. Cuando llegamos hasta ella, nos pidió agua. Y el teniente dijo que la matásemos. Entonces arrancó sus pantalones, ellos la apuñalaron en ambos pechos, esparcieron dólares sobre ella y metieron su navaja multiusos por su vagina, y ella todavía pedía agua. A continuación sacaron la navaja, y le introdujeron una rama de árbol, y entonces le dispararon”. El relato de Scott Camil inspiró la canción de Graham Nash Oh Camil (The Winter Soldier), incluida en el LP Wild Tales (1973)

Durante el período electoral que en 2004 enfrentó a John F. Kerry con George W. Bush en la pugna por convertirse en Presidente de los Estados Unidos de América, Scott Camil fue centro de una polémica por haber sugerido en una reunión, con escaso éxito, la posibilidad de organizar una conspiración para asesinar a varios senadores americanos favorables a la continuación de la guerra de Vietnam en 1971. La intención fundamental de esta polémica era involucrar precisamente a John F. Kerry en tan turbio asunto, alegando que estuvo en aquella reunión. Sin embargo, el propio Camil manifestó que Kerry no tuvo nada que ver, y que no recordaba haberlo visto en la reunión, según Michael Kranish, en un artículo publicado en The Boston Globe el 1 de abril de 2004.

[Documento]

“Vietnam then was worlds apart from Apocalypse Now”

by John Kerry

[Boston Herald, Oct 14, 1979]

Francis Coppola brings us “Apocalypse now” the same way the politicians and generals brought us the war in Vietnam –by spending a lot of money, displaying a lot of technological razzle-dazzle and by losing all sense of proportion and direction.

Both the generals and Coppola built their foundations on false premises –the generals saying the war was about freedom and could be won; Coppola saying this film was about Vietnam and would be epic.

First, it should be said that obviously Coppola has a right to exercise artistic license with his own film. And if it doesn´t portray what one veteran thinks is his image of war, then too bad. But in this instance, Coppola himself has set the standars by which “Apocalypse now” must be judge –and by which it fails.

In the eight-page program handed out at the theater, Coppola writes: “The most important thing I wanted to do in the making of ‘Apocalypse now’ was to create a film experience that would give its audience a sense of the horror, the madness, the sensuousness, and the moral dilemma of the Vietnam war… It was my thought, that if the American audience could look at the heart of what Vietnam was really like –what it looked like and felt like- then they would be only one small stop away from putting it behind them.

But Coppola´s Vietnam is devoid of reality and feeling. Far from showing up what Vietnam was really like, he showed us only what Coppola thinks it might have been like and he does it without ever exposing the Vietnam heart. Ironically, those moments which come closest to achieving his goal of making the audience see an feel Vietnam reality are when he surrenders the film to the technology which so mesmerized our military strategists. For a brief instant –when Coppola fills the screen with grenade launchers, rockets, napalm and helicopters– one might think that they undestand what the war was all about. But even then Coppola can´t resist the urge to drive home the big moment as he sets the napalming an helicopter destruction to Wagner´s ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’ which engulfs us in Dolby Stereo. And with that lack of restraint, Coppola erases reality, replacing it instead with an unworkable collage of violent, surrealistic episodes.

And where was the sensuousness? A few lonely sunset shots of jungle or trees? Coppola´s river journey totally missed that which was really sensual about the river life of Vietnam –the barges, the floating markets, the sampans, the water buffalo, the ferries, the backdrop of green rice paddies and the stillness of river travel.

Perhaps one of the most vivid memories I have of my service as commander I have of my service as commander of a gun boat in the Mekong Delta was our interaction with people of the country. The rivers were alive with people –so much so that their presence and our communion with them brought home to us even more the absurdity of our effort. One moment we were laughing and joking with passengers on ferry or barge, or trading C-rations for shrimps from a local fisherman. Ten minutes later, a quarter of a mile away, we would be ambushed and in a fight for our lives. Coppola missed that very human part of the war –the contradictions. He missed the absurd juxtaposition of the river´s tranquil beauty to the sudden eruption from its banks of instant death and chaos.

He missed the astonishing, everpresent horde of children who were always hovering around begging for candy or other handouts and who flattered their prey with the incessant refrain ‘You number one’. He missed the life of the villages and the confusion between enemy and ally. He missed the intrigue of attempting to sort out VietCong from average citizen and the treachery of booby traps. He missed he eerie silence of the river and the clumps of mangrove floating downstream after a B-52 raid, sometimes concealing a well-placed mine. He missed the essence of the war.

On more than one occasion, I, like Martin Sheen in ‘Apocalypse Now’, took my patrol boat into Cambodia. In fact, I remember spending Christmas Eve of 1968 five miles across the Cambodian border being shot at by our SouthVietnamese allies who were drunk and celebrating Christmas. The absurdity of almost being killed by our own allies in a country in which President Nixon claimed there were no American troops was very real. But nowhere in ‘Apocalypse Now’ did I sense that kind of absurdity. And that is because everywhere Coppola got carried away with his own trip. Scenes that had great potential were ruined beacuse he did not know where to stop.

Coppola´s vision of Vietnam is pure fantasy –a celluloid acid trip which fails to satisfactorily convey the real craziness or the madness of the war. Not content with rock background music and smoke bombs and unending river banks littered with bodies and burnt helicopter shells, Coppola reinforces his purely hallucinatory image of Vietnam by showing us some of the final moments of the river trip through the eyes of an acid-poppng member of the patrol boat crew. And then, adding insult to injury, Coppola, by introducin Dennis Hopper as a demented journalist, brings us the Easy Rider of the Cambodian jungle.

The vision with which Coppola began this movie seems to have eluded him. Somewhere, just like this country in its involvement in Southeast Asia, Coppola got lost.

[P.]