During Nov. 18's acrimonious congressional debate over withdrawal from Iraq, Republican U.S. Rep. Jean Schmidt read a letter from a soldier who argued that "cowards don't cut and run." Aside from the uproar over the suggestion by some tin-eared, first-term ignoramus that hawkish Democratic Rep. John Murtha, a Vietnam veteran, is a coward, there is something else wrong with the soldier's thinking: Cutting and running is often the best strategy.

You may remember the cut-and-run argument being hauled out during Vietnam. Some warned that the Soviet Union would be emboldened, and that the infamous domino effect would spread communism out from Southeast Asia across the globe. Despite opposition from hawks, Richard Nixon won the 1968 presidential elections based on his "secret plan" to end the war in Vietnam. Unfortunately, Nixon's "plan" turned out to be escalating the war into Cambodia, and then presiding over the deaths of thousands of Americans before Gerald Ford finally completed the long-promised withdrawal in 1975.

A rapid withdrawal, had it begun in 1968, coupled with a cobbled-together peace treaty with the North Vietnamese, would have saved more than 21,000 American lives, upwards of 500,000 Vietnamese, and most likely would have spared the Cambodians the nightmare of the Khmer Rouge and its genocidal reign.

It works for the other guys too. In early 1991, Saddam Hussein faced a 500,000-troop coalition arrayed against his outgunned forces in Kuwait and Iraq. A sensible man would have pulled his technologically overmatched, Soviet-equipped forces out of Kuwait—you know, cut and run—but Saddam decided it would be more manly to stay and fight. Well, 14 years later, Saddam is in shackles, his country in smoldering ruins, and the forces of his mortal enemies patrol the streets of Baghdad. But at least he didn't show weakness.

Saddam is not alone. Hundreds of Israeli troops would have been spared if their government hadn't insisted on hanging around South Lebanon for nearly two decades for fear of cutting and running in the face of Hezbollah attacks. Hysterics warned that northern Israel would be deluged with terror attacks. But since the withdrawal finally took place in 2000, there have been fewer problems with Hezbollah than there were during the occupation.

The reality is that this "cutting and running" nonsense is the last refuge of people who refuse to admit that they've made the wrong call. They're like the angry men who just can't bring themselves to pull into the Gas 'N Sip to ask whether the highway entrance was, in fact, two miles back after all. The difference is that ordinary people pay with their lives because obstinate men can't admit they've made a mistake.

The tragedy is that most people will never, ever admit that they were wrong. You can't say the word "Saigon" without some Curtis LeMay disciple claiming that we could have won the Vietnam War if only LBJ had been willing to unleash the full might of America's military. And I'm sure there are some retired Soviet generals who think they'd still be making five-year plans in Moscow had it not been for Mikhail Gorbachev's capitulation in Afghanistan.

There is, of course, often a price to be paid for terminating failed policies. South Vietnam fell to the Communists. Saddam's surrender to coalition forces during Operation Desert Storm sparked uprisings that nearly cost him control of Iraq. The Soviet Union's withdrawal from Afghanistan may have convinced other subjugated Soviet peoples that it was possible to attain their freedom as well. Palestinian guerrillas may have decided that Israel could be defeated in the West Bank and Gaza just as it was defeated in South Lebanon.

But those costs have to be weighed against the costs of continuing failed policies. Sometimes it may be best to stand and fight, even in the face of crippling defeats. Many times, however, the wise decision-maker must fold up the tent so it can be erected again somewhere else, or else watch it blow away forever. Some would call this cutting and running. Others might call it self-preservation.

David Faris is a Ph. D. student at Penn. If you would like to respond to this Slant or submit one of your own (750 words), e-mail duane@citypaper.net.