Is the American spirit of solidarity now lost to history?

US President Joe Biden. Picture: AFP

The picture is horrifying. Human beings running by the side of an American plane as it leaves Kabul airport, some clinging on to the wheels or the fuselage, only to fall to their death a few seconds after the plane takes off. My colleague Helen Trinca has noted the terrifying resemblance to the sight of the figures who leapt or fell from burning skyscrapers in New York in al-Qa’ida’s 9/11 terror attacks.

Those who fell to their deaths in New York, and those who fell to their deaths at Kabul airport, had one thing in common. They were fleeing the fires of Islamist terror. The Taliban, which has now taken power in Afghanistan, was the ally and host of al-Qa’ida at the time of the 9/11 terror attacks and it is still the ally of al-Qa’ida, with a recent UN report detailing the hundreds of al-Qa’ida activists in Afghanistan right now with a full welcome from the Taliban.

Of course, future relationships between the Taliban and other terror groups remain unpredictable. But just as the defeat of Islamic State was a tremendous blow to the morale of international jihadist movements, so the territorial reconquest of Afghan­istan by the Taliban, the defeat and expulsion of the Great Satan and the collapse of its local allies, will be a tremendous boost for global jihadism.

It’s a big opportunity for China as well.

And Joe Biden, in crafting the most incompetent, counter-productive, irresponsible, outright destructive withdrawal anyone could imagine – the Taliban could not have choreographed a more favourable sequence of mistakes by the US in its wildest dreams – has threatened not only US credibility but the image of basic US competence.

But all that is for another day. The priority right now is the immediate humanitarian crisis in Afghanistan itself.

John Howard, as the nation’s elder statesman, was right to point out some time ago that Australia must help those Afghans who worked with our diplomats, soldiers or aid workers and could face death or sustained persecution from the Taliban as a result.

The Morrison government has recognised this obligation all along and has acted to give life to it. At the moment, estimates are that if it could, Australia would rescue 600 to 800 people from Afghanistan. This includes all Australian citizens and permanent residents now in Afghanistan for whatever reason, plus people who worked directly for us and their immediate families.

We have been quietly doing this since 2013 and more than 1800 Afghans have settled in Australia as a consequence. This year alone more than 400 Afghans have been resettled here as part of this process. There is a fair argument that the government could have moved more quickly and more generously. But this is a genuinely complex and difficult matter.

Some Afghans worked not only for us but for other foreign governments as well and may have lodged multiple applications. A lot of Afghans have changed sides between the various factions from time to time and it is necessary for Canberra to take security vetting and similar issues seriously. And of course no one imagined that the Afghan state would collapse instantly. If the Americans, with their vast intelligence establishment, could get their assessments so wrong, it’s not surprising that Canberra did too.

We should spare more than a thought for the genuine bravery of our military folks, diplomats and Home Affairs officials now going into Kabul to arrange these evacuations. You can have all the criticisms you like of our diplomats for this or that reason, but in more than four decades of journalism, most of it focused on foreign affairs, I think our diplomats are genuinely magnificent when it comes to helping Australians caught up in emergencies overseas. I recall the then Australian ambassador to Indonesia, John McCarthy, driving around Dili in the midst of murderous militia activity and plenty of gunfire to pick up isolated Australians so they could be flown home.

On top of the 600 to 800 rescues Canberra would like to do, which will be incredibly difficult and depend on the fragile temporary arrangements at Kabul airport, it has already announced 3000 places for Afghans in our special humanitarian program. As well, no Afghans currently in Australia will be forced to return to Afghanistan while the situation is anything like it is today.

There might be a lot more to do in the future, but that’s a good beginning. Scott Morrison is behaving infinitely better, with much greater moral and human decency, than Gough Whitlam did in relation to the fall of Saigon in 1975. There may be criticism of Morrison for not moving fast enough, but he has 100 per cent recognised in principle Australia’s obligations. In shocking contrast, Whitlam, at the fall of South Vietnam to invasion by communist North Vietnam in 1975, determined to take almost no South Vietnamese at all, including those who had worked full time at the Australian embassy and for the Australian military.

This was not incompetence by Whitlam, easily Australia’s worst prime minister. It was monumental malice, one of the most savagely disgraceful episodes in Australian history. Whitlam said he would not have “those Vietnamese Balts with their religious and political prejudices against us” coming into the country. And he subsequently disparaged and defamed Vietnamese refugees.

In 1975, people fled communism, just as today they flee Islamist extremism. In both cases, they knew exactly what they were fleeing from.

The fall of Saigon did produce, however, some real American heroes. One of the most impressive people I have ever met is Rich Armitage, who served as deputy secretary of state under George W. Bush. Six days before Saigon fell, Armitage was sent to Vietnam to organise the evacuation of the South Vietnamese navy, essentially to deny its capital ships to the North Vietnamese. As he arrived a desperate South Vietnamese pulled a gun on him and said you’ve got take me with you. Sure thing, Armitage said, but I’m going in, not going out.

Over the next few days Armitage organised a vast flotilla of boats, redefining the South Vietnamese navy to include anything that could float, and anyone who could get aboard, and and sailed them all, with 25,000 people on board, to The Philippines. He did this without official permission from the US leadership, confident that his country would answer history’s call and shelter its allies, especially when they had lost their country and had no other friends in the world.

And, of course, his country did answer history’s call, as Armitage knew it would. He could rely on the spirit and the competence of his fellow Americans. Once its allies got to The Philippines, the US in due course took them home to America.

That’s what an alliance once meant to America. As Armitage is wont to say: an alliance means I’ll fight and die for you, and you’ll fight and die for me. It’s a sacred trust, a sacred relationship.

The biggest question out of the Afghanistan catastrophe is whether this means the US has given up on history, given up on being the engine of the world, the engine of history, the champion of human solidarity. And in these matters we had the same values at our core, though the Whitlam government certainly did not display them in 1975.

Surely the spirit of Armitage in 1975 is the true and enduring American spirit. At least it was then; is it now?