Bush’s flawed Iraq policy
By Mahir Ali
WITH 3,438 civilian fatalities (roughly three times the number of civilian deaths in Lebanon during the month-long assault by Israel), July was the bloodiest month in Iraq since the American-led invasion. There are dozens of killings every day. Sectarian violence has steadily been rising in recent months: individuals, gangs, militias, death squads, they’ve all been busy dipping their hands in blood.
The frequency of attacks against the occupation forces has also increased: improvements in armour have resulted in less fatalities, but the number of Americans injured almost doubled between January and July. Seventy per cent of the 1,666 explosive devices detonated in July were directed against foreign troops and 20 per cent against Iraqi security forces, while 10 per cent struck civilians. Amid all the talk of a civil war, it would appear that the conflict is still primarily an anti-occupation struggle.
Yet the continuing carnage no longer commands the column inches it used to. Bomb kills 50 or 60 in Baghdad? Many newspapers across the world relegate it to a single column on an inside page. The shock value of multiple deaths in Iraq has sharply diminished. We’ve either got used to it or learned to turn it off. We’ve subconsciously started subscribing to the Donald Rumsfeld school of thought: “Stuff happens.”
Hardly anyone expects any good to come of it anymore. Even George W. Bush appears to have his doubts. As The Washington Post’s Peter Baker noted last Thursday, “Of all the words that President Bush used at his press conference this week to defend his policies in Iraq, the one that did not pass his lips was “progress”. For three years, the president tried to reassure Americans that more progress was being made in Iraq than they realised. But with Iraq either in civil war or on the brink of it, Bush dropped the unseen-progress argument in favour of the contention that things could be even worse.”
Two days earlier, Eugene Robinson, also writing in the Post, noted his disappointment at hearing Bush deny that he had been taken aback by pro-Hezbollah demonstrations in Iraq, because that sort of reaction would have meant “the Decider was admitting novel facts to his settled base of knowledge and reacting to them. Alas, it seems the door to the presidential mind is still locked tight.” Responding to Bush’s contention that he didn’t “remember being surprised; I’m not sure what they mean by that”, Robinson went on to say: “I’m guessing ‘they’ might mean that when you try to impose your simplistic, black-and-white template on a kaleidoscopic world, and you end up setting the Middle East on fire, either you’re surprised or you are not paying attention.”
There was some evidence, however, of a rethink. Bush admitted, for instance, that Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. “Nobody,” he said, not entirely truthfully, “has ever suggested that the attacks of September 11 were ordered by Iraq. I have suggested, however, that resentment and the lack of hope create the breeding ground for terrorists.” The latter sentence could be construed as a self-indictment. “Resentment and the lack of hope”, among other things, have indeed turned Iraq into a “breeding ground for terrorists”. But that, of course, happened after the invasion.
The president added: “We’ll complete the mission in Iraq”, although “I can’t tell you exactly when it’s going to be done”. It appears no one deemed it fit to remind him that it’s already been done, supposedly. Remember that day early in May 2003 when the leader of the free world, dressed in a pilot’s uniform, landed on an aircraft carrier anchored in American waters and announced the end of major combat operations in Iraq? Remember the banner behind him that proudly proclaimed Mission Accomplished? That was three years and four months ago. What’s the mission now?
Who knows? But here’s one indication: a couple of weeks ago, The New York Times quoted a military affairs expert as saying that senior administration officials had acknowledged to him “that they are considering alternatives other than democracy”. The obvious alternative to a puppet democracy is a puppet dictatorship. Which is more or less what Iraq had until March 2003. The trouble, of course, was that Saddam Hussein wasn’t an ideal puppet. A puppet who develops delusions of grandeur isn’t much good. The task, then, must be to find a more suitable replica, perhaps a Shia ex-general with a Baathist background, and equip him suitably.
Which, like so much else in Iraq, is easier said than done. It would also make mockery of Bush and his team’s frequent pronouncements about spreading democracy — but that shouldn’t matter much, given that cluster bombs have already proved to be a pretty shoddy means of popularising representative rule. At last week’s press conference, Bush announced a discovery of sorts. “What’s very interesting about the violence in Lebanon and the violence in Iraq and the violence in Gaza,” he said, “is this: these are all groups of terrorists who are trying to stop the advance of democracy.”
There can be little doubt about who bears primary responsibility for the violence in Gaza and Lebanon, but it’s unlikely Bush was referring to Israeli troops as terrorists. His restricted intellect cannot conceive of Hamas and Hezbollah as anything other than unacceptable, so their support at the ballot box simply doesn’t register. As for Iraq, it shouldn’t be too hard to understand that democracy cannot possibly flourish under foreign military occupation — which, as we’ve been told, isn’t about to end anytime soon.
What’s more, a western military presence there might be semi-permanent. The Guardian recently quoted senior defence sources in London as saying that a contingent of about 4,000 British troops will remain stationed in Iraq for an indefinite period, ready to act to “protect the investment” made by British and US forces. That has an ominous ring to it, and the Americans are hardly likely to leave the British in charge: the open-ended American presence will probably be even larger. This implicitly goes beyond “staying the course”, which is a nebulous enough commitment as it is. It suggests Anglo-American military forces will stay put until they are driven out — which, of course, could happen sooner than they expect.
The gradually rising clamour in the US for a timetable of withdrawal, with a few Republican legislators beginning to join Democrats in questioning the conduct of the war, is essentially a response to a popular drift away from support for the military presence in Iraq. In some cases, the legislators are responding to shifts in public opinion as a means of winning re-election in November. In others, the change of heart may be less disingenuous. There is a chance, although not a particularly high one, that the elections will sufficiently change the complexion of the US Congress to give the Bush administration occasional palpitations.
However, even in that event it would be unrealistic to expect Bush to see the light or give up the fight. He is almost as unlikely to heed the warnings of senators and congressmen who have, to subvert a neo-con cliche, been mugged by reality as he is to pay any attention to the anti-war protesters who dogged his visit to Kennebunkport for a family wedding at the weekend, with slogans such as “We have nothing to fear but Bush himself” and “Liar, liar, world’s on fire”. It might be worth a try, on the other hand, to remind him of the opinions expressed in a comparable context by a famous American preacher — an infinitely wiser, better respected and more eloquent man that George W’s reputed mentor, Billy Graham.
About 40 years ago, this preacher, who had spearheaded with some success the civil rights movement to win equality for African-Americans, decided “to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart” to tackle — much to the consternation of the Johnson administration — the single most important issue that faced the nation in those days: the war in Vietnam. “I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos,” announced Dr Martin Luther King Jr, “without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today: my own government.”
The attention of Bush, supposedly a God-fearing man, should particularly be drawn to the following passage: “Don’t let anybody make you think God chose America as his divine messianic force to be a sort of policeman of the whole world. God has a way of standing before the nations with justice and it seems I can hear God saying to America, ‘You are too arrogant, and if you don’t change your ways, I will rise up and break the backbone of your power, and I will place it in the hands of a nation that doesn’t even know my name.”
King spoke of shifting “from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society”, because: “When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism and militarism are incapable of being conquered.” What’s more, “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defence than on programmes of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”
He also knew that: “If America’s soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read ‘Vietnam’. It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over.”
Perhaps more than ever before, America today cries out for a clear moral compass such as Martin Luther King. And, God knows, so does the muddled and often misguided Muslim world.
Email: mahirali1@gmail.com


