Can anyone
be surprised that, once again, the attacks of 9/11/01 were reflexively
ground zero for embattled Republicans? George W. Bush led the way
at the Republican National Convention, saying
of John McCain, "We need a president who understands the lessons
of September 11, 2001." In his convention keynote address, Rudy
Giuliani followed suit, zapping
Obama and his supporters this way: "The Democrats rarely mentioned
the attacks of September 11. They are in a state of denial about
the threat that faces us now and in the future." Post-convention,
it's evidently time to assure
the nation that Sarah Palin is just the pit bull to handle the next
9/11. Now comes the news that this Thursday, the endless presidential
election campaign will finally make it quite literally
to Ground Zero. Barack Obama and John McCain will "put
aside politics" and appear together for the yearly ceremonies.
By now, however, it's far too late to "put aside" 9/11, no less
remove it from American politics. Our world has been profoundly
reshaped, after all, by the decisions Bush and his top officials
made in the wake of those attacks.
Still, taking
up the President's implied question, what "lessons" exactly should
be drawn, seven years later, other than that you stand a reasonable
chance of winning elections by invoking 9/11 ad nauseum?
As Andrew Bacevich, author of the New York Timesbestselling
book, The
Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism, indicates
below, there are indeed lessons to be drawn. They are, in fact,
devastating to the Bush administration, and unless they are grasped,
further disaster is undoubtedly in the offing. (To watch a video
of Bacevich discussing those post-9/11 lessons, click here.)
~ Tom
9/11
Plus Seven
By Andrew
J. Bacevich
The events
of the past seven years have yielded a definitive judgment on
the strategy that the Bush administration conceived in the wake
of 9/11 to wage its so-called Global War on Terror. That strategy
has failed, massively and irrevocably. To acknowledge that failure
is to confront an urgent national priority: to scrap the Bush
approach in favor of a new national security strategy that is
realistic and sustainable a task that, alas, neither of
the presidential candidates seems able to recognize or willing
to take up.
On September
30, 2001, President Bush received from Secretary of Defense Donald
Rumsfeld a memorandum outlining U.S. objectives in the War on
Terror. Drafted by Rumsfeld's chief strategist Douglas Feith,
the memo declared expansively: "If the war does not significantly
change the world's political map, the U.S. will not achieve its
aim." That aim, as Feith explained in a subsequent missive to
his boss, was to "transform the Middle East and the broader world
of Islam generally."
Rumsfeld
and Feith were co-religionists: Along with other senior Bush administration
officials, they worshipped in the Church of the Indispensable
Nation, a small but intensely devout Washington-based sect formed
in the immediate wake of the Cold War. Members of this church
shared an exalted appreciation for the efficacy of American power,
especially hard power. The strategy of transformation emerged
as a direct expression of their faith.
The members
of this church were also united by an equally exalted estimation
of their own abilities. Lucky the nation to be blessed with such
savvy and sophisticated public servants in its hour of need!
The goal
of transforming the Islamic world was nothing if not bold. It
implied far-reaching political, economic, social, and even cultural
adjustments. At a press conference on September 18, 2001, Rumsfeld
spoke bluntly of the need to "change the way that they live."
Rumsfeld didn't specify who "they" were. He didn't have to. His
listeners understood without being told: "They" were Muslims inhabiting
a vast arc of territory that stretched from Morocco in the west
all the way to the Moro territories of the Southern Philippines
in the east.
Yet
boldly conceived action, if successfully executed, offered the prospect
of solving a host of problems. Once pacified (or "liberated"), the
Middle East would cease to breed or harbor anti-American terrorists.
Post-9/11 fears about weapons of mass destruction falling into the
hands of evil-doers could abate. Local regimes, notorious for being
venal, oppressive, and inept, might finally get serious about cleaning
up their acts. Liberal values, including rights for women, would
flourish. A part of the world perpetually dogged by violence would
enjoy a measure of stability, with stability promising not so incidentally
to facilitate exploitation of the region's oil reserves. There was
even the possibility of enhancing the security of Israel. Like a
powerful antibiotic, the Bush administration's strategy of transformation
promised to clean out not simply a single infection but several;
or to switch metaphors, a strategy of transformation meant running
the table.
When it
came to implementation, the imperative of the moment was to think
big. Just days after 9/11, Rumsfeld was charging his subordinates
to devise a plan of action that had "three, four, five moves behind
it." By December 2001, the Pentagon had persuaded itself that
the first move into Afghanistan had met success.
The Bush administration wasted little time in pocketing its ostensible
victory. Attention quickly shifted to the second move, seen by
insiders as holding the key to ultimate success: Iraq.
Fix Iraq
and moves three, four, and five promised to come easily. Writing
in the Weekly Standard, William Kristol and Robert Kagan
got it exactly right: "The president's vision will, in the coming
months, either be launched successfully in Iraq, or it will die
in Iraq."
The point
cannot be emphasized too strongly: Saddam Hussein's (nonexistent)
weapons of mass destruction and his (imaginary) ties to Al Qaeda
never constituted the real reason for invading Iraq any
more than the imperative of defending Russian "peacekeepers" in
South Ossetia explains the Kremlin's decision to invade Georgia.
Iraq merely
offered a convenient place from which to launch a much larger
and infinitely more ambitious project. "After Hussein is removed,"
enthused Hudson Institute analyst Max Singer, "there will be an
earthquake through the region." Success in Iraq promised to endow
the United States with hitherto unprecedented leverage. Once the
United States had made an example of Saddam Hussein, as the influential
neoconservative Richard Perle put it, dealing with other ne'er-do-wells
would become simple: "We could deliver a short message, a two-word
message: 'You're next.'" Faced with the prospect of sharing Saddam's
fate, Syrians, Iranians, Sudanese, and other recalcitrant regimes
would see submission as the wiser course so Perle and others
believed.
Members
of the administration tried to imbue this strategic vision with
a softer ideological gloss. "For 60 years," Condoleezza Rice explained
to a group of students in Cairo, "my country, the United States,
pursued stability at the expense of democracy in this region here
in the Middle East and we achieved neither." No more. "Now,
we are taking a different course. We are supporting the democratic
aspirations of all people." The world's Muslims needed to know
that the motives behind the U.S. incursion into Iraq and its actions
elsewhere in the region were (or had, at least, suddenly become)
entirely benign. Who knows? Rice may even have believed the words
she spoke.
In either
case whether the strategy of transformation aimed at dominion
or democratization today, seven years after it was conceived,
we can assess exactly what it has produced. The answer is clear:
next to nothing, apart from squandering vast resources and exacerbating
the slide toward debt and dependency that poses a greater strategic
threat to the United States than Osama bin Laden ever did.
In point
of fact, hardly had the Pentagon commenced its second move, its
invasion of Iraq, when the entire strategy began to unravel. In
Iraq, President Bush's vision of regional transformation did die,
much as Kagan and Kristol had feared. No amount of CPR credited
to the so-called surge will revive it. Even if tomorrow
Iraq were to achieve stability and become a responsible member
of the international community, no sensible person could suggest
that Operation Iraqi Freedom provides a model to apply elsewhere.
Senator John McCain says that he'll keep U.S. combat troops in
Iraq for as long as it takes. Yet even he does not propose "solving"
any problems posed by Syria or Iran (much less Pakistan) by employing
the methods that the Bush administration used to "solve" the problem
posed by Iraq. The Bush Doctrine of preventive war may remain
nominally on the books. But, as a practical matter, it is defunct.
The
United States will not change the world's political map in the ways
top administration officials once dreamed of. There will be no earthquake
that shakes up the Middle East unless the growing clout of
Iran, Hezbollah, and Hamas in recent years qualifies as that earthquake.
Given the Pentagon's existing commitments, there will be no threats
of "you're next" either at least none that will worry our
adversaries, as the Russians have neatly demonstrated. Nor will
there be a wave of democratic reform even Rice has ceased
her prattling on that score. Islam will remain stubbornly resistant
to change, except on terms of its own choosing. We will not
change the way "they" live.
In a book
that he co-authored during the run-up to the invasion, Kristol confidently
declared, "The mission begins in Baghdad, but it does not end there."
In fact, the Bush administration's strategy of transformation has
ended. It has failed miserably. The sooner we face up to that failure,
the sooner we can get about repairing the damage.