War, the popular version of Karl von Clausewitz’s words suggests, “is the continuation of politics by other means”. In the present US presidential campaign, however, politics appears to have become the continuation of the Vietnam War by other means. The four-week period between John Kerry’s acceptance speech at the Democratic convention last month and George W. Bush’s equivalent address to his party on September 2 have been filled with charge and counter-charge as to exactly what happened to the boat under the leadership of Mr Kerry in the Mekong Delta some 35 years ago. A bestselling book and a series of television advertisements sponsored by a group called “Swift Boat Veterans for Truth” has stated that Mr Kerry’s heroism was much exaggerated, not least by himself. An infuriated Democratic candidate has responded by actively seeking the support of others who fought beside him.
At one level, such a focus on a conflict that occurred so long ago might seem odd, particularly to those American voters under the age of 40. Whether Mr Kerry was a man of extraordinary valour in the 1960s, very brave but not so exceptional, or overrated by those who handed him his collection of medals is of little obvious relevance to how he might address domestic or international issues in office. Mr Bush’s failure to serve in South-East Asia has not rendered him incapable of serving as Commander-in-Chief. Indeed, this is an aspect of his duties with which he has seemed far more comfortable than his predecessor, Bill Clinton, who also did not witness combat in Vietnam.
The power of this controversy, though, illustrates three features of US politics. The first is the continued hold of the Vietnam War over the generation that either went to fight in it, avoided it or protested against it. Mr Kerry has sought to make much of his willingness to fight in Vietnam during the primaries and in his “reporting for duty” speech to party delegates in Boston. What is unusual about him, significantly, is that he has also placed emphasis on his opposition to that conflict as soon as he was discharged from the Armed Forces. The scrutiny of his record is thus legitimate, even if it appears to be tinged with a little more partisanship.
Vietnam is, nonetheless, part of a broader and consistent theme — “the character issue”. The American presidency is not analagous to office of British prime minister. Considerations of personality matter as well as policy and party. If Mr Kerry were to have misrepresented his achievements in the past, voters might conclude that he was insufficiently trustworthy to be placed in the White House. If the Democrats can convince the electorate that the Bush camp is pulling the strings of a spiteful and inaccurate attack on Mr Kerry’s conduct under fire, they may punish the President. Americans want to know what sort of man Mr Kerry is. They are right to assume that his personality and behaviour are important.
The Vietnam War would not have the prominence that it does this year were it not for the attacks of September 11, 2001, and their aftermath. At the beginning of 2004, it was assumed that this political battle would feature two main questions: national security (on which the Republicans felt confident) and economic security (where the Democrats were more comfortable). Partly because events in Iraq have not made life easy for Mr Bush, but also because the economic recovery in the US has been strong enough to inconvenience Mr Kerry, the election has not evolved as scripted. It has been largely dominated by foreign policy and the issue of who can best defend Americans. For that reason, much more can be expected about the Vietnam War before November.