From Vietnam to Ukraine: the baton’s homecoming
As Europe picks up the gauntlet in Ukraine after American disengagement, history offers a cautionary tale: from France handing Vietnam to the US, to the US leaving Europe to its proxy war against Russia, a cynical ploy comes full circle.
Post-World War II, Vietnam became a crucible of conflict and suffering, first and foremost for the Vietnamese, but also for the global powers locked in Cold War rivalry. France, as colonial master of Indochina, was entrenched in a losing battle. Although Paris framed its efforts as preserving the French Union and upholding its prestige, the struggle was fundamentally about clinging to a dwindling empire. By the mid-1950s, overstretched and facing defeat at Dien Bien Phu, France abandoned its position, leaving a vacuum that someone else would soon fill.
Enter the United States. Washington, driven by its Cold War strategy of containing communism, saw Southeast Asia as a crucial battleground. The prevailing narrative was the domino theory: that if Vietnam fell completely under communist control, the rest of Asia would soon follow. This calculation—despite evidence that China and the Soviet Union’s alignment was less monolithic than assumed—propelled the U.S. into a protracted, brutal, and pointless war, cost millions of Vietnamese lives and left deep scars on American society.
Both the Vietnam and Korean interventions were not solely about communism. They reflected a broader strategic vision rooted in the ideas of Sir Halford Mackinder, a British geographer whose Heartland Theory highlighted the critical importance of controlling Eurasia. Mackinder’s well-known 1904 dictum still reverberates in the halls of geopolitics: “Who rules East Europe commands the Heartland [Russia]; who rules the Heartland commands the World-Island [Europe, Asia, and Africa]; who rules the World-Island commands the world.” I.e., playing ‘Risk’ for ‘grown-ups’. This philosophy influenced American Cold War containment policies and continues to inform today’s strategic calculus. Viewed through this lens, the Vietnam War, as well as Western Europe’s NATO membership, was less about defending the Free World and more about containing or encircling China and Russia, thereby denying any single power dominance over the world’s most pivotal landmass.
Fast forward to the present. While the stage has shifted from Indochina to Eastern Europe, the underlying dynamics remain strikingly familiar. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine stands as a defining crisis of this time, one that the United States was quick to involve itself in. What began as a defence of Ukrainian sovereignty soon revealed a broader strategic aim: a prolonged effort to weaken Russia, with the longer-term goal of breaking it up into smaller states—thereby gaining control over Eurasia and expand American world hegemony.
Eric Swalwell, a Democrat from California, was remarkably candid about this on CNN: “If you look around the world, our biggest economic enemy is China. Our biggest geopolitical enemy is Russia. In a matter of three years, without losing a single US soldier, we have decimated their military and their economy. It’s been the greatest return on investment for any military expenditure ever.” The cynicism is revolting. The hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian dead, the devastation wrought upon the country, and the long-term repercussions for the rest of Europe do not factor heavily in this calculus. For American imperialists, Ukrainian soldiers are disposable, mere instruments in a grand strategy to destroy an adversary.
In many ways, the US has long treated NATO not as a partnership of equals but as a strategic buffer, relying on ‘expendable’ allies to serve as cannon fodder in larger geopolitical struggles. This pattern is now evident in Ukraine. The vast human toll—hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian dead—has never been a central concern for US policymakers, except, perhaps, when there’s no one left to fire the brand new M-16 rifles.
Since the Cold War’s end, every administration, starting with Clinton, who reversed Bush Sr.’s pledge against NATO expansion, including the first Trump administration, and continuing with Biden’s eastern push, has contributed to this dynamic—both Republican and Democratic administrations alike. Within this context, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is not an isolated event but the latest chapter in a broader, long-running contest—sometimes hidden, sometimes overt—for dominance.
NATO’s intervention in Kosovo must be viewed as part of the same long-running struggle—ostensibly to protect the Albanian minority, yet not sanctioned by the UN and clearly shaped by underlying geopolitical ambitions. Russia’s intervention, aimed at blocking NATO’s expansion and protecting Russian-speaking Ukrainians, presents a hall of mirrors image of these very same dynamics. Which raises the core question: in the ruthless arena of power politics, whose actions are justified and whose are condemned? In the end, it often boils down to cynical PR. But the harsh reality remains: it is neither the policymakers nor the armchair strategists who pay the price.
After three years of grinding war, the United States finds itself at an impasse: no more money, no more Ukrainian cannon fodder to crew their tanks and aircraft. Their proxy war—using the sovereign nation of Ukraine to weaken a geopolitical rival—has come to an end. (And in this case, the US lost.)
Now, 71 years after its ignominious retreat from Vietnam, France, along with other European powers, seeks to pick up the baton and continue a conflict they did not start. In many ways, it feels like a full-circle moment—except for one critical distinction. The United States succeeded France in Vietnam because it had the resources to do so, while France did not. Today, Europe is contemplating taking over in Ukraine despite lacking both the financial clout and the military strength. Even if Europe could muster the money and weapons, there are few Ukrainians left to fill the trenches.
So who will be sent to fight? For those insisting the war must go on until Russia collapses (just around the corner, say the pundits!), there’s no need to wait for a draft notice. Ukraine already welcomes foreign nationals into its Foreign Legion, preferably with combat experience, though exceptions have been made for the particularly motivated. But what of those who cheer for the war’s continuation from the sidelines, unwilling to enlist because of jobs, families, children… how many Ukrainians with jobs, families, and children are you prepared to sacrifice instead?
From Napoleon’s failed invasion of Russia in 1812, through the carnage of the Crimean War, the devastation of the World Wars, the Vietnam debacle, and the endless entanglement in Afghanistan, history is littered with leaders whose grasp of strategy rivals that of a concussed pigeon, launching wars they cannot win. The same grim patterns unfold now, not in the jungles of Indochina, but in the policy rooms of Brussels and Paris.
European leaders must confront an uncomfortable truth: do they truly have the resolve—and the resources—to carry this fight on their own terms? (Spoiler alert: they don’t.) The echoes of Vietnam are not mere historical trivia; they are a stark cautionary tale. The baton of conflict, passed from one power to the next, continues its relentless circle. They say even a broken clock is right twice a day. But when it comes to reckless politicians making disastrous decisions, you can always set your watch to it.