Among the many reasons why the war in Vietnam is so larded with lessons is that the United States went to war with the entire state. It harnessed the power of not only the uniformed military services, but also the academy, a number of private corporations, and think tanks. Among the latter, perhaps none is more recognized for its role there than the RAND (Research and Development) Corporation, a private think tank begun in the years immediately following World War II.

So, given the nature of the Vietnam War and of RAND's involvement, Mai Elliott's book is of great interest to the specialist. The subject and the book also require a few preliminary comments at the outset. First, this is a big book at over six hundred pages. It is also a narrative largely without an argument per se. That narrative is sprawling and highly (at times unnecessarily) detailed – such as the frustratingly lengthy descriptions of a villa occupied by RAND personnel. A big, narrative account was apparently intentional; RAND president James Thomson requested that Elliott write the book upon his return from a 2001 trip to Vietnam, saying that he wanted “her help recording the stories of those who had been a part of RAND's work on Vietnam, including Elliott herself” (iii). It is important to note that this is not a research monograph centered on RAND's role in the Vietnam War and that Mai Elliott is not an academic historian. This is not necessarily a criticism of the work. It is simply an explanation for what the book does and what it does not do. And although the book's subtitle suggests a broad treatment to include all of Southeast Asia, it is really a book about Vietnam. In fact, only one in eleven chapters deals with something other than Vietnam.

Having said that, the book is littered with insightful detail and anecdotes not found elsewhere. For instance, one of the author's points of emphasis is on a study of the Vietnamese insurgency and how best to counter it. This is a very useful, if frustrating, story. Two of RAND's researchers set off in 1964 to conduct a series of interviews and related research aimed at discovering “what makes the Viet Cong tick.” That work eventually yielded a careful analysis in Viet Cong Motivation and Morale in 1964: A Preliminary Report. This report concluded, in a nutshell, that the motivating factors for Vietnamese to join and fight for the insurgency were quite complex – some were passive, some were ideologically dedicated, some had been committed to the revolution for decades, some were new recruits. Above all, the Vietnamese peasants had real, genuine grievances and were committed to Vietnamese independence, justice, an end to poverty, a more equitable redistribution of land, and so on.

Once the work for the study was completed, the researchers began briefing American civilian and military officials. The report's authors seemed genuinely optimistic regarding the contribution their report would likely make in aiding US policy by adding a necessary degree of sophistication to what was a woefully inadequate understanding of conditions in Vietnam. Following the briefing of MACV commander General William Westmoreland, in which the authors detailed the many and substantial reasons compelling tens of thousands of Vietnamese to join the growing insurgency, the general asked, “do they believe in God?” It becomes apparent throughout the narrative that this question reflected a larger and pervasive willful ignorance. Everywhere the report traveled, it was treated as an unwanted guest. Soon enough, RAND people figured it out: “it became increasingly clear that the military people were getting very discomfited. What they were hearing was very different from what they wanted to hear. It didn't make any sense in the context of American strategy” (72).

It didn't make sense and therefore it wasn't useful. Over and over again, officials responded with what seemed genuine puzzlement at the very idea that the Vietnamese might oppose something they were trying to do. After one briefing, everyone sat in silence for an awkward moment until some in the room concluded, “we're signed up with the wrong side – the side that's going to lose this war” (74). The author concludes, over and over again, that the various reports and other efforts by RAND to influence US policy were ignored (69, 75, 81, 82, 85, 88, 99, etc.).

But the story does not end there. RAND figured out how to have greater influence. It simply steered the earlier and unpopular study of the insurgency in a new direction, one that the Air Force would find useful. That earlier report had criticized bombing villages because it killed and wounded civilians, destroyed homes and livelihoods, and actually generated anger and hostility and ultimately produced more enemies for the regime in Saigon. The subsequent report, now revised with its Air Force client and future government/military contracts in mind, suggested that more bombing of villages was called for and that bombing did not result in anger and resentment and more enemies of the Saigon regime! In fact, one of the chief architects of the new analysis argued that bombing would force the villagers to flee into urban areas controlled by the US and the Saigon regime “where they could be more effectively screened and administered” (97). Others within RAND challenged these findings and argued against their implications. They lost. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara lapped up these new findings “like good Scotch,” and the Corporation's budget for work on Vietnam swelled tenfold to $1 million immediately (126). The kinds of analysis and advice it was offering had finally become useful. When another RAND employee asked about the trajectory of the new report, its author responded, “when the Air Force is paying the bill, the answer is always bombing” (103). He said this on the drive from the Saigon airport into town. He had not actually begun working on it yet.

Again and again, the lesson is clear: just like others, RAND Corporation conformed to what policymakers wanted to hear, even amid internal dissent. They often buried good intelligence and analyses and the truth in the process. At least they were not alone. This is the sordid tale of US involvement in Vietnam. Elliott's narrative history offers insightful descriptions of the Tet offensive and The Pentagon Papers in subsequent chapters also – highlighting much of that internal dissent, especially around Daniel Ellsberg and the latter. Unfortunately, all of what is contained in this study cannot be fully examined in a brief review. Elliott's book is beyond argument a valuable contribution to the already huge literature on the Vietnam War. At the same time, given the book's length and detailed narrative, its use will likely be limited to specialists.