Navy warplanes firing missiles at Libyan patrol boats. Army helicopters ferrying troops into the jungles of Central America. American might was unleashed and on display last week, resonating with echoes of fights for right and freedom from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli. As the images of far-flung war flickered over television screens, Americans could hardly be blamed for humming a bar or two from the Marines' Hymn--but not too loudly and more than a bit nervously.
To most Americans, smiting Libya's Muammar Gaddafi certainly felt good: taking up his "line of death" dare, double-daring him back, winning a public slapping match, sailing away. Yet, now what? America might seem just a bit less like a helpless giant, but could a breezy flick really be expected to chasten Gaddafi? And the sight of Army choppers kicking up dust in a foreign bush was disquieting, an eerie evocation of Apocalypse Now. In Ronald Reagan's two-front muscle flexing last week, the images and the reality were hard to sort out. Power, yes, and the will to use it, yes. But to what end? And with what effect? Will briefly disabling Gaddafi's radar mean less terrorism or more? Will aiding Honduras serve to keep Nicaragua at bay or drag U.S. troops into a thickening morass?
This much was certain: under President Reagan the U.S. is determined to back words with symbolic displays of force, to carry a big stick as well as speak loudly. To be sure, the battle of Sidra will be, at most, a footnote in the annals of naval engagements. Trafalgar or Midway it was not. And the helicopters whirring toward the battle zone in Honduras were not transporting American troops. Even the symbolism was curiously muted by partial pretexts --about concern for freedom of the seas and Honduran sovereignty--that served to blur the true aims of the actions. Nevertheless, in the wake of American-aided democratic triumphs in Haiti and the Philippines, the Administration last week was clearly feeling confident, seeking to show once again that the U.S. is willing to assume some carefully limited military risks.
If last week's show of force somehow seemed contrived, it was partly by political necessity. In the nuclear age, particularly after Viet Nam, the U.S. is perforce muscle-bound. It may have enough firepower to flatten the globe, yet Presidents are understandably loath to use force except under the most tightly circumscribed conditions. There is public opinion to worry about, as well as Congress and nervous allies, not to mention the Soviet Union. Even the Pentagon, still smarting from Viet Nam, is chary of waging war without unequivocal support.
Reagan's intent is unambiguous: to stop Gaddafi from fomenting terrorism and to stop Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega Saavedra from spreading Marxist revolution. Indeed, Reagan would not mind going one step further and getting both men right off the world stage. But eliminating such nemeses is not so easy. For all his make-my-day bluster, Reagan is no less bound than were his immediate predecessors by rules of military engagement that, while rooted in the best democratic traditions, have been carried to unreal extremes: American boys should not be seen dying on the nightly news. Wars should be over in three days or less, or before Congress invokes the War Powers Resolution. Victory must be assured in advance. And the American public must be all for it from the outset.