John Kerry was infamously “swiftboated” when he ran for president in 2004.
Usually, being a veteran is a plus in politics. “Swiftboating” (explained here) is a political tactic employed to neutralize that advantage, or turn it into a political liability. The term implies lying about an opponent’s service record, because the “swiftboating” of Kerry was a smear campaign based partly on falsehoods.
Now the tactic is being used by Republicans against Tim Walz, a career National Guardsman who never saw combat, in an effort to undermine his veteran credentials.
Its effectiveness, if any, depends partly on the fact his opponent for vice president, J.D. Vance, was an active-duty Marine who served in Iraq, although like Walz he was assigned to noncombat duties and was never in combat.
“Swiftboating” taps into a resentment with a history originating from the Vietnam war. Most of today’s civilians don’t know about this backstory, so I’m writing about it here, drawing on my personal experience as a Vietnam veteran.
Kerry was an officer who got a Silver Star, a fairly high-level valor award, and three Purple Hearts, which is automatically awarded for being wounded by enemy action, regardless of the severity of the wounds. The discussion below will focus only on medals for valor in combat.
In Vietnam, the military handed out medals like candy to officers, while being parsimonious with the enlisteds who did most of the fighting, bleeding, and dying. (I’ll give a couple of particularly striking examples below.) Consequently, medals awarded to officers were considered something of a joke by the men in the enlisted ranks.
Some of those medals, of course, were deserved; but freely dispensing them (to officers only) diminished their value across the board. This lies at the heart of the disparagement of Kerry’s Silver Star award, which he at least arguably earned by any reasonable standard or criteria.
Medals are currency in the military; they’re valuable for practical reasons, beyond the fact they normally bring respect from fellow soldiers. In Vietnam, officers wanted them to advance their careers.
Here’s the thing: Officers make medal recommendations and approve medals. In Vietnam, it wasn’t hard to get a fellow officer to sign off on medal paperwork. Think of mutual backscratching. The motivation was prosaic: Career advancement. But to the battlefield soldiers looking up from below, who didn’t get that recognition, it smacked of class distinction and rank-based discrimination. In practice and practical effect, it was.
They were overlooked at headquarters, and underappreciated or outright rejected by civilian society back home. Naturally there was a feeling among those who thought many officers didn’t earn their medals that Kerry didn’t earn his. Some of those veterans also took Kerry’s antiwar activism as a slap in the face.
Their resentment was exploited, and played out as attacks on his military service. Politics, of course, played a role, too; but it wasn’t solely politics, it was rooted in how the “real heroes” were mistreated on and off the battlefield. And let me say this: No matter how much I might disagree with some of those veterans on politics, I have nothing but respect for what they did in Vietnam. They were our country’s best.
With the overall better treatment of veterans today, tapping into this resentment probably has less potency now, but it still lingers. Kerry was “swiftboated” during the heat of the Gulf War debates, but veterans of that conflict came home to a far better experience than Vietnam veterans did, and that took a lot of the sting out of it. But this resentment never completely went away.
Now for two cases that poignantly illustrate how enlisted soldiers were denied recognition for battlefield heroism during the Vietnam War.
At the battle of Dak To, Pfc. John Barnes threw himself on an enemy grenade to save wounded comrades. The colonel commanding the operation refused to recommend any medal whatsoever, saying he didn’t think medals were for “men who commit suicide.” Higher headquarters disagreed and Barnes was timely awarded a Medal of Honor, presented to his family by President Nixon.
In a different battle, James McLoughan, a medic, repeatedly rescued wounded men from the kill zone under fire, being wounded himself several times, and refused evacuation despite his wounds because that would’ve left his unit without a medic. For fifty years the only recognition he received for his heroism was a Bronze Star, the lowest medal for valor. Obama’s secretary of defense was instrumental in getting McLoughan the Medal of Honor he deserved, which was presented to him by President Trump.
This history of favoritism and neglect of lower-ranking troops is where today’s anger at “stolen valor” comes from. When Dan Quayle, who only served in the National Guard, put a “Vietnam Veteran” sticker on his briefcase, he was shamed into taking it off. Walz, too, was a National Guardsman who didn’t see combat, and although his embellishment of his service is slight, it pushes buttons.
The attacks on Walz are politically motivated, but draw on these resentments. Vance gets a pass partly because of partisanship, but also partly because he served in a battle zone, even though he had a non-combat assignment and wasn’t in combat (he was a military journalist).
I’m not writing this to justify the partisan attacks on Walz’s service. His 24 years of National Guard service isn’t trivial, and merits respect by all. All military service is burdensome, war service just more so. I’m only explaining why his very minor embellishment of his service provokes some people who don’t like his politics.
Of course, it’s hypocritical to criticize Walz’s military service while supporting a draft dodger who disparaged our country’s war dead as “suckers” and “losers,” but that’s another story altogether, and inconsistency never stopped anyone from using a political tactic that’s sleazy to begin with.