American Footprints

A couple of recent pieces on Afghanistan have caught my eye, and the ideas expressed therein are worth discussing further considering the wider implications.  First, George Packer relies on the fact that the Obama administration is pursuing its preferred strategy in Afghanistan as evidence that it is the only feasible strategy that could be pursued:

No one, however, has been able to come up with an alternative to the current strategy that doesn’t carry great risks. If there were a low-cost way to contain the interconnected groups of extremists in the Hindu Kush—with drones and Special Forces, as Vice-President Biden, among others, has urged—the President would have pursued it. If a return to power of the Taliban, which may well be the outcome of a U.S. withdrawal, did not pose a threat to international security, Obama would have already abandoned Karzai to his fate. But anyone who believes that a re-Talibanized Afghanistan would be a low priority should read the kidnapping narratives of two American journalists, Jere Van Dyk and David Rohde, who were held by the Taliban, along with the autobiography of the former Taliban official known as Mullah Zaeef. Together, these accounts show that the years since 2001 have radicalized the insurgents and imbued them with Al Qaeda’s global agenda. Tactically and ideologically, it’s more and more difficult to distinguish local insurgents from foreign jihadists.

Aside from the assumption that a re-Talibanized Afghanistan would necessarily follow our departure (and other related assumptions), aside from Packer’s question begging regarding possible alternative strategies (because Obama has thus far not attempted an alternative, therefore none exists – political calculations or errors of judgment are inconceivable) and, aside from what Michael Cohen  points out as Packer’s lack of imagination and, perhaps, inattention to some of the alternatives already proffered, I want to focus on the bolded portion from the above excerpt. 

Interestingly, I, too, read Mullah Zaeef’s book and came away with a different impression: rather than cast al-Qaeda and the Taliban as indistinguishable, Zaeef describes a tenuous and contingent relationship, with many Taliban leaders blaming al-Qaeda for their loss of power after the commencement of U.S. military activities shortly after 9/11.  That hostility, and the deep regret for allowing al-Qaeda too much latitude pre-9/11, are also recurring sentiments in this article from Newsweek’sSami Yousafzai which draws upon the experiences of various Taliban figures (excerpted here).

Along these lines, Mullah Omar has been offering signals for many months that the Taliban may be looking to distance itself from al-Qaeda and may be amenable to a clean break in order to facilitate the departure of foreign armies.  Which is not altogether surprising given the disparate and, at times, contradictory goals and objectives of the two groups and the complicating factor an alliance with al-Qaeda represents for the inwardly facing Taliban (the Taliban are almost entirely concerned with ejecting a foreign army from its soil and retaking control of Afghanistan, and al-Qaeda is intent on attacking foreign elements in a manner likely to invoke wrath and retaliation in the form of prolonged occupations of Muslim lands such as, importantly, Afghanistan). 

As Leah Farrall argues, maintaining a U.S. presence in Afghanistan suits al-Qaeda’s goals because it creates a cause for jihad - a beacon to attract potential new recruits and a means to ensure al-Qaeda’s popularity - but not the Taliban’s goals because it prevents that group from consolidating power even in its own regional strongholds.

Both of [the Obama administration's] approaches rest on the longstanding premise that al-Qa’ida wants another safe haven in Afghanistan. However, this premise is based on a fundamental misunderstanding of its strategic intentions. Afghanistan’s value to al-Qa’ida is as a location for jihad, not a sanctuary. [...]

This was one of the driving reasons behind Osama bin Laden’s decision to attack the US with the specific aim of inciting it to invade Afghanistan. For bin Laden, this created a new, exploitable jihad. Since the US invaded Afghanistan and then Iraq, al-Qa’ida has become the pre-eminent group fighting a self-declared jihad against an occupying force. These invasions allowed al-Qa’ida to exploit allegations that the US was intent on occupying Muslim lands.

A withdrawal of coalition forces from Afghanistan would undoubtedly hand al-Qa’ida and the Taliban a propaganda victory. However, a victory would deny al-Qa’ida its most potent source of power, influence, funding and recruits — the armed jihad.

Without a jihad to fight, al-Qa’ida would be left with only its franchises — all of which are involved in deeply unpopular confrontations with government regimes in the Islamic world. Their indiscriminate acts of violence as well as hostility towards other Muslims not sharing their views have badly damaged al-Qa’ida’s brand. This has driven al-Qa’ida to refocus on Afghanistan because jihad against an occupying force attracts a level of support and legitimacy that attacking Muslim governments does not. It provides additional justification for al-Qa’ida and those supporting it to continue striking US targets.

A reorientation of US strategy away from counterinsurgency or a full or partial withdrawal of US troops is therefore not in al-Qa’ida’s strategic interest.  

That is not to say that, as in Iraq, insurgent groups have not developed working relationships with al-Qaeda – mostly, but not entirely, out of necessity.  However, like Iraq, bonds formed under such circumstances may very well prove fragile once the primary impetus is removed or is seen to be withdrawing. 

Which brings me back to Packer’s post.  He claims that since 2001, al-Qaeda and the Taliban have grown closer such that they are, in his words, “difficult to distinguish.”  He overstates the case, and deep divisions and divergent goals remain.  Consider, for example, that despite the groups supposedly being indistinguishable, only a small handful of al-Qaeda operatives are currently in Afghanistan (and only a few hundred more in Pakistan).  One would think that such a unified front would allow for more integration.

Consider, also, how many transnational terror attacks these newfangled Afghan foreign jihadists have committed since 2001.  Answer: None.  That should give some indication about the ”global” orientation of those Afghan Taliban.

On the other hand, certain Taliban groups have grown closer to al-Qaeda (Haqqani’s contingent being one), with such factions likely to prove problematic to any attempt to craft an al-Qaeda-free Afghanistan as part of an eventual negotiated settlement with Taliban leaders. 

Regardless of the exact nuances of the dynamic with respect to the various factions, let’s assume for the sake of argument that Packer is right in the general sense as he is in a narrow sense about the increasing comingling.  The conclusion that flows from such an observation is that the longer we occupy Afghanistan and force the Taliban and al-Qaeda to make common cause, the greater depth we provide al-Qaeda in terms of manpower, territory and alliances.  Not to mention all the “accidental guerillas” we create through that same occupation (new report on this phenomenon discussed here). 

Further, as Leah Farrall argues, our continue presense prevents the very al-Qaeda/Taliban separation that we, ostensibly, should be prioritizing:

The Afghan Taliban is moving away from al-Qa’ida and redefining itself as a national liberation movement. For al-Qa’ida, Taliban statements condemning colonialism and inviting good relations with its neighbours put a question mark over their relationship. The solution is the same: to attack the US, forcing a surge in American troop numbers.

This would tie the Afghan Taliban’s hands. Taliban leader Mullah Omar’s legitimacy would be jeopardised were he to publicly disassociate from al-Qa’ida and guarantee he would not again provide it sanctuary. His refusal to do so would then feed the justification for a counterinsurgency campaign against the Taliban in Afghanistan, ensuring the US remains engaged in the conflict.

Al-Qa’ida will continue to try to goad the US into staying involved in the conflict because the sustenance and empowerment the conflict gives al-Qa’ida far outweighs the benefits of a safe haven in Afghanistan. Until this is recognised, the strategies the US employs to protect itself from further attacks are likely to inspire more of them and, more importantly, sustain al-Qa’ida. 

Altogether, those observations seem like very good arguments for disengaging military and, instead of creating a common cause between the Taliban and al-Qaeda, deepening the natural rifts that exist between two groups in pursuit of largely different end games.

I apologize to Jim Henley in advance for excerpting so much of this post, but it is simply too good to apply the pruning shears liberally enough to bring my use to within acceptable norms of blog excerpting.  To provide some context, Henley is riffing off Gene Callahan’s response to a Wall Street Journal Op-Ed that warns of the potential negative consequences of lifting the travel ban to Cuba. 

Across a whole range of problems there’s a class of responses I’ll dub the “low road” and another class I’ll call the “high road.” Examples of the former include war, torture, sanctions and blockades, imprisonment, aversive conditioning of all types (spanking; “dominance”-based animal training). Examples of the latter include diplomacy, rapport-building, civil disobedience, the free exchange of goods and ideas, decriminalization and rehabilitation, positive conditioning (of humans and animals).

I don’t presently care to argue that there is never any “need” to go down any given low road. In some cases I may support some low roads for some purposes. Locking up murderers, for instance. In other cases – torture – I have a much easier time saying “Never go there.” But what we see over and over again is that we judge high-road approaches as failures unless they produce nigh-instant and complete favorable results, while we show nearly infinite patience for journeys down the low road.

Nine years into the invasion of Afghanistan we have to agree that pulling out after a decade is just too soon. Back in 2001, the Taliban’s failure to turn over Osama bin Laden within a couple of weeks showed the hopelessness of diplomacy. When torture “works” at all it takes weeks and months, just like more classic rapport-building methods of interrogation. And it involves more false positives. Plus, oh I forgot to mention, it is deeply evil. But even though classic interrogation methods produce statistically better results, we live in fear that there may be some time somewhere that torture might get an answer that classic interrogation missed, so of course we must continually torture for that possible moment’s sake. As Gene points out, O’Grady judges the European and Canadian liberation of travel to Cuba a failure because Cuba has not become a neoliberal paradise in the decade since, while leaving aside the fact that Cuba hasn’t become a neoliberal paradise after 50 years of American cold-war against the country.

Compare also the standard neocon “U SUCK LOL” directed against nonviolent resistance – Hitler would totally have just killed Gandhi hahaha! We accept that successful violent resistance might take years or decades to achieve victory – Mao, Castro – and that guerrilla movements might suffer casualties to ranks and leaders but keep on. But we can’t imagine that nonviolent resistances might achieve the same. The war on drugs will surely work at some point – we’ve only been at it for 90-odd years, trillions of dollars and countless deaths and humiliations. But should anyone anywhere decriminalize anything, a single death or inconvenience in the first week would condemn the entire effort. It takes time to get an animal to do what you want with positive reinforcement. It takes time to get an animal to do what you want with negative reinforcement. But taking the former time is simpering weakness while taking the latter is manly resolve.

This analysis is so right in so many ways it’s hard to know where to begin listing the examples and exploring the ramifications. 

With respect to the point made about the relative allotments of patience afforded to each category of approach, I recall countless arguments with Iraq war supporters about the alleged necessity of the invasion based on the fraying of the sanctions and inspections regime.  What I found quite astonishing was that, almost uniformly, proponents of this line of reasoning argued that a massive military campaign designed to decapitate a regime and rebuild the entire political/economic structure of a nation, involving massive societal and cultural changes as imposed from the outside by a country with little cultural/linguistic/religious/historical affinity with the target nation, would somehow be easier than…convincing the relevant UN member nations to reinforce a weapons inspection regime/smarten sanctions.  The former: cakewalk. The latter: Pipe dreams. 

Riiight.  

Another obvious quarry to probe (or, rather, further the excavation begun by Henley) is how this dynamic dominates our counterterrorism approach.  While we have been occupying Iraq and Afghanistan for almost a decade in each instance, there has been a massive spike in terrorist attacks against Western and US interests around the globe (including and especially within Iraq and Afghanistan themselves), but few blame these results on the attendant military actions, or at least claim that more time is needed for the respective occupations to settle the situation down.  

However, if we had withdrawn from either locale at some earlier date (say, a mere five years into each conflict), even if the overall number of attacks went down, is there any doubt that there would be a rush to blame our “retreat” as the cause for any subsequent attacks (especially if one occurred in the US itself) - and that these attacks would be seen as incontrovertible evidence of the failure of anything but the perpetual war approach?    

The familiar “appeasement” meme would proliferate despite the simple and obvious rebuttal that the occupations themselves have provided impetus for terrorist attacks – notably, the Times Square Bomber was motivated by a desire for vengeance for US missile strikes in Pakistan, and Maj. Nidal Hasan was motivated by the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

If you think I’m being unduly cynical, consider that the mere mention of withdrawal from either theater even now (after almost a decade in each) is seen as evidence of a lack of resolve, will embolden the “terrorists” (even setting forth an aspirational contingent timeline gives them succor!) and will, like the ahistorical reading of the Vietnam denouement, snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. 

Such rhetoric resonates politically, and the knowledge of its political efficacy is, at the very least, in the back of the minds of many policymakers that might favor a more expedited withdrawal based on a more simple cost-benefit analysis.  Bill Clinton was on to something when he noted that “when people are insecure, they’d rather have somebody who is strong and wrong than someone who’s weak and right.” 

In that sense, from my tiny little corner of the blogosphere, I’ve been trying to emphasize that this perception of “strength” itself is misguided, and that the misapprehension of what is “strong” lies behind much of the preference for, and indulgence of, the “low road” to use Henley’s terminology.  From a post in 2004:

In a recent post, I briefly discussed the phenomenon that Americans tend to view violence as a manifestation of strength. This of course is almost the opposite of what is true – violence is the act of a desperate, threatened and frightened being, believing that no other recourse exists. It is also one of the least effective means of achieving the desired outcome. Violence begets violence, a cycle of revenge, and a poisonous atmosphere not conducive to the resolution of conflicts. As an example, compare the approaches of leaders like Gandhi and Martin Luther King with the recently infirmed Yasser Arafat. It is hard to argue with the comparative results.

In foreign policy terms, this concept is translated into the belief that being “strong” on issues of national security means possessing a hawkish willingness to use the military over “weaker” diplomatic options. Again, this interpretation is misguided and exclusionary of the vast amount of evidence detailing the enormous successes of diplomacy. Despite all the public bluster and macho image, the “strongest” thing that Reagan ever did was agree to engage Mikhail Gorbachev in a paradigm shifting series of summits and normalization of relations that, eventually, culminated in the end of the Cold War.

A policy’s “strength” should be measured by its ability to deliver the desired results at the least cost, regardless of how many things explode in the process, and what the eventual body count is.  And a leader is strong, or not, based on their support for such wise and effective policies, not, again, on their willingness to unleash the dogs of war on every passer by.

Ironically, this overwhelming tendency to identify “strength” with violent means - and with those most willing to employ such means in the broadest array of scenarios, with the lowest threshold of provocation – is prevalent amongst people that ostensibly revere Jesus Christ, whose message about what true strength and power are seems to be in direct contradiction to the operative presumptions. 

Andrew Bacevich makes an extremely important point about some of the costs associated with perpetuating long term war(s), and how such a military posture erodes democratic institutions 

Long wars are antithetical to democracy. Protracted conflict introduces toxins that inexorably corrode the values of popular government. Not least among those values is a code of military conduct that honors the principle of civilian control while keeping the officer corps free from the taint of politics. Events of the past week — notably the Rolling Stone profile that led to Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal’s dismissal — hint at the toll that nearly a decade of continuous conflict has exacted on the U.S. armed forces. The fate of any one general qualifies as small beer: Wearing four stars does not signify indispensability. But indications that the military’s professional ethic is eroding, evident in the disrespect for senior civilians expressed by McChrystal and his inner circle, should set off alarms. [...]

After Vietnam, the United States abandoned its citizen army tradition, oblivious to the consequences. In its place, it opted for what the Founders once called a “standing army” — a force consisting of long-serving career professionals.

For a time, the creation of this so-called all-volunteer force, only tenuously linked to American society, appeared to be a master stroke. Washington got superbly trained soldiers and Republicans and Democrats took turns putting them to work. The result, once the Cold War ended, was greater willingness to intervene abroad. As Americans followed news reports of U.S. troops going into action everywhere from the Persian Gulf to the Balkans, from the Caribbean to the Horn of Africa, they found little to complain about: The costs appeared negligible. Their role was simply to cheer.

This happy arrangement now shows signs of unraveling, a victim of what the Pentagon has all too appropriately been calling its Long War.

The Long War is not America’s war. It belongs exclusively to “the troops,” lashed to a treadmill that finds soldiers and Marines either serving in a combat zone or preparing to deploy.

To be an American soldier today is to serve a people who find nothing amiss in the prospect of armed conflict without end…

Throughout history, circumstances such as these have bred praetorianism, warriors becoming enamored with their moral superiority and impatient with the failings of those they are charged to defend. The smug disdain for high-ranking civilians casually expressed by McChrystal and his chief lieutenants — along with the conviction that “Team America,” as these officers style themselves, was bravely holding out against a sea of stupidity and corruption — suggests that the officer corps of the United States is not immune to this affliction.

To imagine that replacing McChrystal with Gen. David H. Petraeus will fix the problem is wishful thinking. To put it mildly, Petraeus is no simple soldier. He is a highly skilled political operator, whose name appears on Republican wish lists as a potential presidential candidate in 2012. Far more significant, the views cultivated within Team America are shared elsewhere.

The day the McChrystal story broke, an active-duty soldier who has served multiple combat tours offered me his perspective on the unfolding spectacle. The dismissive attitude expressed by Team America, he wrote, “has really become a pandemic in the Army.” Among his peers, a belief that “it is OK to condescend to civilian leaders” has become common, ranking officers permitting or even endorsing “a culture of contempt” for those not in uniform. Once the previously forbidden becomes acceptable, it soon becomes the norm.

“Pretty soon you have an entire organization believing that their leader is the ‘Savior’ and that everyone else is stupid and incompetent, or not committed to victory.” In this soldier’s view, things are likely to get worse before they get better. “Senior officers who condone this kind of behavior and allow this to continue and fester,” he concluded, “create generation after generation of officers like themselves — but they’re generally so arrogant that they think everyone needs to be just like them anyway.” [...]

During Vietnam, the United States military cracked from the bottom up. The damage took decades to repair. In the seemingly endless wars of the post-Sept. 11 era, a military that has demonstrated remarkable durability now shows signs of coming undone at the top. The officer corps is losing its bearings. [...]

The responsibility facing the American people is clear. They need to reclaim ownership of their army. They need to give their soldiers respite, by insisting that Washington abandon its de facto policy of perpetual war. Or, alternatively, the United States should become a nation truly “at” war, with all that implies in terms of civic obligation, fiscal policies and domestic priorities. Should the people choose neither course — and thereby subject their troops to continuing abuse — the damage to the army and to American democracy will be severe.

All that, and this particular Bacevich piece doesn’t even touch on the interplay of perpetual war and the steady erosion of civil liberties, a deterioration that can prove difficult to halt, let alone reverse, even after the state of war has passed. 

On the contrary, the newer less protective civil liberties standards tend to creep into the domestic law enforcement arena, bringing a bit of the war front to the home front.