In the aftermath of the Petraeus charade, Andrew Sullivan considers the ever-shifting mission:
Let us review the stated objectives of the Iraq war chronologically:
2002: to disarm Saddam Hussein of stockpiles of weapons of mass destruction and create a breathing space for democracy in the Middle East (the WMDs were not there; the breathing space became anarchy).
2003: to allow chaos in order to create a “fly-paper†for every jihadist in the world to come and get slaughtered by the US (“Bring it on!â€).
2004: to create a new democratic constitution (achieved on paper, but at the price of creating sectarian voting blocs that actually intensified the ethnic and religious divisions pulling the country apart).
2005: to protect Iraq from a powerful and growing Sunni insurgency and disarm the Shi’ite militias (failed).
2006: to quell surging sectarian violence, target a new and lethal Al-Qaeda in Iraq and restrain the passions unleashed by the bombing of the Samarra mosque (failed).
2007: to prevent genocide and a wider regional war and create enough peace for a settlement in the centre (the surge has reduced violence to levels of summer 2006, and no agreement in Baghdad has been reached).
And so the question becomes: what will the objective of the Iraq war be next year?
What indeed? The benchmarks (which Bush sternly promised to “hold” the Iraqi government to) are dead; the Iraqi government itself is collapsing, and Bush’s favourite banker has admitted that the whole thing was really all about oil.
In his disturbing New Yorker essay “Planning for Defeat”, George Packer points out that US objectives and “progress reports” are largely irrelevant, except for the purpose of distracting the media:
The Petraeus-Crocker testimony is the kind of short-lived event on which the Administration has relied to shore up support for the war: the “Mission Accomplished†declaration, the deaths of Uday and Qusay Hussein, Saddam’s capture, the transfer of sovereignty, the three rounds of voting, the Plan for Victory, the death of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. Every new milestone, however illusory, allows the Administration to avoid thinking ahead, to the years when the mistakes of Iraq will continue to haunt the U.S.
In practice, the only thing that can prevent a substantial withdrawal – to the level where military effectiveness becomes questionable – is the institution of the draft. And that’s not going to happen. But Packer cautions that some kind of continued engagement is inevitable:
The dream of creating a democratic Iraq and transforming the Middle East lies in ruins. Any change in Iraq policy has to begin with the understanding that the original one failed, and that America’s remaining power can only be used to limit the damage. But Iraq still matters to the United States, whoever is in the White House, and it will for years to come.
Unsurprisingly, American politicians of all stripes are ignoring this:
In Washington, the debate over the war is dominated by questions about troop numbers and timelines—that is, by immediate American political realities. The country seems trapped in an eternal present, paralyzed by its past mistakes. There is little or no discussion, on either side, of what America’s Iraq policy should be during the next five or ten years, or of what will be possible as resources dwindle and priorities shift. If there is any contingency planning in the government, it’s being done at such a secretive, or obscure, level that a repetition of the institutional disarray with which America entered Iraq seems bound to mark our departure.
Packer’s essay is profoundly thought-provoking, offering no easy answers for anyone. It’s long, and well worth investing the time to absorb it.
