What we talk about when we talk about US strategic ‘credibility’ – from Vietnam to Iran

Where has more than seven months of intermittent war, economic threats, stalled diplomacy and promises of a ceasefire in Iran left the concept of U.S. strategic credibility?

It is a question that political scientists and security and foreign policy experts like us have had to grapple with at each turn of the conflict.

Some commentators have argued that the bombings and multiple ceasefires actually strengthen American credibility by demonstrating American deterrence capabilities and resolve toward adversaries.

Others cite the lack of a persuasive justification for conflict, the strikes themselves and subsequent fits and starts of peacemaking as evidence that America’s global image has been undermined, as has the persuasiveness of its public claims. And this, in turn, has undercut the credibility of future pronouncements by the U.S. administration.

Either way, most observers insist that for the United States, “credibility is on the line in Iran.” But that has long been a central concern of U.S. foreign policy. As political scientist Stephen Walt observed in 2022, one of the most predictable aspects of virtually any debate over Washington’s involvement overseas is the “ritual invoking of ‘credibility.’”

But what, exactly, is “American credibility”? And why is there apparently so much groupthink about the concept and practice?

Vietnam and the credibility discourse

For policymakers, diplomats and scholars the technical definition is straightforward: Credibility refers to the perceived likelihood that a country will reliably keeps its promises, carry out its threats and deliver on its pledges. In this manner, a country is credible if allies and adversaries alike will believe it the next time. But as suggested by contemporary debates and usage, credibility, in practice, often means something more than simply keeping up with commitments.

Credibility is not only about whether nations successfully signal resolve, but also whether relevant audiences perceive their commitments as credible. In other words, contemplating a nation’s credibility is about assumptions over the “strategic culture” that undergird it – and this can include everything from a country’s military resources to abstract notions about its values.

Historical examples are useful here, in particular the Vietnam War, during which American credibility was at stake in unprecedented ways.

On the surface, Vietnam posed little intrinsic value to the United States – it was not a primary theater of the Cold War by most measures. Yet policymakers repeatedly insisted that Vietnam was the place where American credibility had to be demonstrated and established. Why?

Secretary of State John Foster Dulles warned in 1954 that communist expansion in Asia posed “a grave threat to the whole free community” and insisted that demonstrating resolve would prevent greater dangers later. National security adviser McGeorge Bundy similarly argued that the “international prestige of the United States” was deeply invested in Vietnam.

Credibility, to them, meant more than simply honoring commitments. Rather, it was bound up with broader questions of power, honor and America’s place in the world between competing powers.

Prestige, or the lack thereof

As diplomatic historian Robert McMahon observed decades ago, credibility has often been treated as if it were a concrete and measurable concept. Yet in practice it has always carried an important symbolic dimension – credibility has come to be a shorthand for American prestige itself.

And that variant of American credibility has in particular rested on anxieties about the continued dominance and superiority of the U.S.-led world order.

During one congressional discussion in 1965, U.S. policymakers warned that withdrawing from Vietnam would mean surrendering “all Asia to Communists,” prompting the reflection: “If a nation with 14 million can make Uncle Sam run, what will China think?”

An exchange between President Lyndon Johnson and Undersecretary of State George Ball in 1965 is even more illustrative. President Johnson worried that abandoning Vietnam would make “all these countries say that Uncle Sam was a paper tiger” and wondered whether America would lose the credibility built by three presidents. Ball’s response was, “No sir. The worst blow would be that the mightiest power on earth is unable to defeat a handful of guerrillas.”

The anxiety was not that America might fail to keep up with its word, but that the leader of the “free world” might fail to defeat a non-Western, technologically inferior opponent.

The credibility at stake was both America’s sense of national self and the perceived superiority of a Western-led world order.

Counterintuitively, while the Vietnam War was fought in the eyes of many policymakers to defend U.S. credibility, its conclusion shattered conventional notions of credibility. It called into question the U.S.’s place in the world in an era historians have termed an “Age of Fracture,” characterized by economic challenges such as stagflation, oil shocks and rising distrust in politics, government and institutions.

For many observers within and outside the U.S., images of the helicopters lifting off and fleeing from Saigon – and thereby deserting allies and a purportedly essential cause in the process – signaled a moment of American and Western decline. The phenomenon even led to a widely used term – “Vietnam Syndrome” – referring to the public’s unwillingness thereafter to commit to large-scale foreign interventions and nation-building exercises.

Credibility up to the present

That image of U.S. decline and impotence is one that has resonated ever since in foreign policy debates.

The perception of the loss of credibility in Vietnam has served as a yardstick for planning, assessing and implementing interventions in other regions. It has been both a way of warning about the dangers of rash interventionism and the consequences of hubris, as well as a rallying cry to avoid repeating past errors. yet maintain credibility through actions in places from the Middle East to Latin America.

The credibility issues central to the U.S. administration’s actions today in Iran – and Ukraine, Venezuela and elsewhere – are thus about the U.S.’s living up to pledges and following through to achieve objectives. As with Vietnam, they also concern clustering around nebulous concepts. of and aims about not looking weak militarily or diplomatically.

But the Iran example – and particularly the ongoing episodic closures of the Strait of Hormuz – is one of the best illustrations today of how merely invoking credibility to act is not the same as having an overall endgame strategy.

While some commentators view this currently as a sign of a lack of resolve, or credibility, if we turn to Iranian actions and to the words of Iran’s acting Defense Minister Majid Ebn-e-Reza we find something else. Namely, Tehran views all threats from the United States as “real and credible” and “as a reason to bolster its defense.”

The U.S. and Iran agree on one thing in terms of credibility: America can credibly be relied on to carry out overwhelming violence.

But the problem, as it was in the Vietnam War, is that credibly engaging in war and violence is not a substitute for strategy. Credibility is affected deeply by strategic cultural assessments about superiority and inferiority, and notions about when, where, how and for whom the credibility matters.

Moreover, merely establishing credibility to act cannot necessarily overwhelm a resolute adversary, as has been borne out in Iran. In fact, it can also perpetuate never-ending conflict that serves to undermine the very prestige and world power that it was supposed to enhance.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.