Suchergebnisse

An iconic New York Times columnist, Thomas Friedman, has just been squired around the Middle East by the commander of Central Command, the U.S. military headquarters for operations in the Middle East, Persian Gulf and North Africa. Now, don't get me wrong, the military and American journalists have cultivated symbiotic relations since the Civil War. It's in the nature of things. The press needs access, and the military needs public and congressional support. Quality time shared by the top U.S.military officer for this volatile region and the top foreign affairs columnist for the nation's top broadsheet makes sense.Among their whistlestops were U.S. installations in Syria. About 900 American troops are there, distributed in penny packets among seven bases. Some of these protect oil fields that supply U.S.-backed Kurdish authorities; others are in the far northeast, where they assist Kurdish units, help secure and supply the cluster of camps that house ISIS prisoners and their families and continue to hunt ISIS fighters; and still others in the southeast, at a road junction where the Iraqi, Syrian and Jordanian borders meet. This base was set up to interdict Iranian-backed forces attempting to entrench themselves in Syria and transport supplies to Lebanon.In Friedman's recap of this visit, he explained that the importance of these U.S. deployments lay in the need to fight the terrorists over there so we would not have to fight them over here. Let's say, for the moment, that there are several other rationales for maintaining troops in Syria. Iran, for example, does seek to use Syria as a land corridor to Lebanon and the Israeli-Syrian border, from which it can carry the fight to its enemy. Iran is 1,200 kilometers from Israel, so if it wants to reach out and touch someone without using ballistic missiles, it needs to be on Israel's borders. Rendering this a bit more difficult than it might otherwise be makes a regional blow-up marginally less likely. Maintaining a garrison at the oil fields is meant to secure them from capture by either ISIS or the Assad regime, against which the U.S. maintains heavy sanctions. Reserving the oil for use by Kurds, both for sale and consumption, reflects a longstanding policy that favors Kurdish autonomy in Syria. This policy preference, which owes in part to a romanticized image of Kurds as daring fighters fending off terrorist hordes to spare the U.S. an onerous burden, also dictates the use of U.S. forces in northeast Syria as a tripwire deterrent against Turkish attempts to suppress Syrian Kurds. For many members of Congress, they seem to be something like T.E. Lawrence's Bedouin insurgents in World War I, or U.S.-backed Montagnard guerillas in the Vietnam War. For them, abandoning the Kurds to the tender mercies of Turkey, or compelling them to seek protection from the Assad government, would be immoral and shred America's reputation as a reliable ally. (See under: Munich.) Trump, marching to the beat of a different drum, pointed out that the Kurds "didn't help us in the second world war, they didn't help us with Normandy as an example… ." The U.S. role in helping local forces and NGOs manage the ISIS detention centers and refugee camps as well as the slow process of the repatriation of Iraqi detainees, is meant to contribute to Iraqi stability, in which the U.S. has a stake. The fact that these bases are magnets for attack by Iran-backed militias is arguably a factor that outweighs any of these other considerations.One can have this or that view on the validity of these rationales or the salience of these objectives for core U.S. strategic interests. If the Turks and their radical Arab militias rip into the Kurds to get at the PKK, as they have done twice already, U.S. strategic interest is unlikely to suffer very much. If ISIS fighters escape the camps in Syria, Iraqi forces with U.S. help could probably limit the threat to Iraqi stability. The U.S. installation at al-Tanf in the southeast can be bypassed by Iran-backed militias via an Assad-controlled base at al bu-Kamal, a bit northeast of al-Tanf, so the U.S. base there might have outlived its usefulness. Of course, on any given day there are about 30,000 U.S. military personnel in the region, as there have been for decades, so 900 isn't a particularly impressive number. It's a good example of limited interests served by a commensurately limited commitment. Whether to stay or go comes down to a narrow judgment call.But of all the factors to consider there is one that does not merit concern: the idea of fighting them over there so we don't have to fight them over here. It's a vacuous meme trotted out to defend the controversial commitment and use of forward deployed forces and creation of distant security perimeters. If you were a Briton in September 1939 facing the German juggernaut, Friedman's old chestnut would have been pretty compelling. But since World War II, its specific gravity has dissipated. During the Vietnam War, Lyndon Johnson defended the U.S. commitment by asserting that the countries of southeast Asia were like a row of dominos; if south Vietnam were to fall, it would tip over all its neighbors until all of Asia was communist. The problem, he explained, was that "Everything that happens in this world affects us because pretty soon it gets on our doorstep." Anyone who was politically sentient at the time was bombarded by Friedman's repurposed, shopworn epigram. Yet, the dominos never fell following the U.S. pullout and the collapse of South Vietnam; in the fullness of time, we never had to fight them over here and the only stuff on our doorstep are Amazon boxes. President George W. Bush, in a major speech at the 89th Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in 2007, declared "Our strategy is this: we will fight them over there so we do not have to face them in the United States of America." But the insurgency in Iraq was created by the 2003 U.S. invasion, which decapitated the regime and destroyed the capacity of the state to manage the country's affairs, while unleashing Shi'a power and Iranian influence. This ignited a brutal Sunni insurgency carried out, in part, by tens of thousands of soldiers the U.S. threw out of their barracks and left to fend for themselves in an anarchic and violent environment. The ideology and strategy of both Shi'a and Sunni insurgents had nothing to do with al-Qaida, let alone engaging SWAT teams in Dallas, or stealing our lawn furniture, as one of my former counterterrorism colleagues put it. Their concerns were local. Al-Qaida sought to attack the great power, the "far enemy," that underpinned the "near enemy," namely the conservative monarchy ruling Arabia. Al-Qaida in Iraq, ISIS, the Mahdi Army and Iran-backed militias fought a battle for power on their turf and against an occupying army, not an expeditionary war against the U.S. homeland. The mayhem, moreover, had nothing to do with 9/11. The fact that there was never another al-Qaida attack was not because the U.S. invaded Iraq; it was because of al-Qaida's inability to follow up on its spectacular success. And that was a function of the loss of its support network in the U.S., the decimation of its top tier, and the swift tightening of security at U.S. borders. Now we are told once again that U.S. troops have to be somewhere else to prevent fighters operating in that space from coming to the United States and waging war here. The designated enemy in this case is the Islamic State, an organization that has inspired or arranged successful attacks in Europe but not in the U.S. It would be foolish to assume that no one in the organization dreams of murdering Americans in their beds. But they lack the capacity to do so and, more importantly, have urgent local goals that soak up resources, planning and organizational capacity, and face serious local constraints. There is a legitimate debate about the presence of U.S. forces in Syria. But it should be premised on the value of the real things at stake and the cost of protecting those stakes. It should not be distorted by old canards intended to inflate threats to the American homeland.

The withdrawal of U.S. troops from Iraq in December 2011, once seen as a triumph for the Obama administration, became a cautionary tale as the rise of ISIS prompted their return in 2014.
This is one reason why U.S. troops have remained in Iraq, despite the successful dismantling of ISIS by the end of 2018. Since then, the degradation of ISIS has continued, and any benefits of keeping U.S. troops there as a stopgap against its resurgence are now overshadowed by the risks of exposure to the tit-for-tat game of face-saving exchanges of fire, with Iran-aligned militias.
In Iraq, Washington cannot have it all, but with a touch of creativity and realistic expectations, it can still adequately safeguard its interests after U.S. troops leave, likely with reduced cost and better outcomes.The United States remains the most important enabler of Iraq's security forces and largest single donor of humanitarian assistance to Iraq. Congress has approved $1.25 billion in Foreign Military Financing (FMF) for Iraq — allocated at $250 million annually — from 2019 through 2023. Since 2014, the U.S. has delivered a total of $3.5 billion in humanitarian aid to Iraq. This aid extends well beyond self-serving interests to tangibly improve the lives of Iraqis, including rehabilitating nine water treatment plants in Basra, a stronghold of Iran-aligned militias, providing clean water to 640,000 people, and offering cash assistance to those displaced in Erbil due to the war with ISIS. The U.S. has invested tens of millions of dollars in other projects, too, from the maintenance of the Mosul Dam to the preservation of historic and cultural sites, to financing higher education. In many other countries, such investments would earn Washington's leaders great respect. Not so in Iraq, where Secretary of State Antony Blinken wore body armor during his visit to Baghdad last November. But this measure is aimed at protecting against a specific segment of Iraqi society, namely certain Iran-aligned militias and largely stems from the Trump administration's choice to assassinate Qods Force commander Qassem Soleimani, who was accompanied by Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, deputy head of the Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF), outside Baghdad's airport in 2020.
Other underlying issues that haunt the relationship include lingering resentment from the early years of the U.S. occupation (of which the younger generation has no recollection), real and perceived violations of Iraqi sovereignty by U.S. strikes, opportunistic blame-shifting by Iraqi politicians, and a significant gap between the expectations of ordinary Iraqis for U.S. commitment to their country and the actual level of U.S. investment. This dynamic has created, at times, an antagonistic attitude towards the United States, notwithstanding substantial aid.
The dynamic is further complicated by the ongoing presence of U.S. troops in Iraq. While some Iraqis genuinely desire the withdrawal of U.S. troops, the arrangement serves the Iraqi government and certain quasi-integrated Iran-aligned militias quite well. The U.S. troop presence helps contain ISIS, ensures ongoing U.S. aid to Iraq, and provides Iran-aligned militias with a new self-serving adversary in place of ISIS, while they enrich themselves with corrupt business schemes.
Another reason Iraq is willing to accommodate U.S. troops is the influence exerted by the U.S. Federal Reserve over its economy given Iraq's lack of a functional banking system. There is also a widespread concern that if Iraq were to expel U.S. troops, the U.S. might cease permitting dollar transactions, thereby isolating its economy. Although the Iraqi government will periodically express concerns over U.S. strikes violating Iraqi sovereignty, it stops short of expelling U.S. troops. However, with each attack on U.S. troops by Iran-aligned militias and the subsequent retaliatory strikes, the U.S. military mission in Iraq encounters challenges shaped by Iraqi and U.S. domestic politics, along with the potential for U.S. casualties.
The more pertinent question for U.S. policymakers is how this arrangement serves U.S. interests?
Washington lacks the troop numbers, capacity, political will, or plain foolishness to try to defeat the Iran-aligned militias, and retaliatory strikes only deter them temporarily. Washington is poorly placed to fully understand let alone influence Iraq's intricate politics and elite bargains. Thus, it's time to envision ways to protect U.S. interests in Iraq without a prolonged deployment of troops.
Acknowledging some hard truths is the initial step. Iraq will always be a more vital interest to Iran than it is to the United States. Most Shi'a stakeholders, spanning the Iraqi political spectrum, would prefer to be independent of pressures exerted by either the U.S. or Iran; they think of themselves, after all, as Iraqis. If forced to choose, they would hitch their wagons to Iran rather than the United States — Iraq will always be on Iran's border and, for the foreseeable future, will depend on Iran to meet Iraq's energy needs.
The presence of Iran-aligned militias in Iraq is a lasting reality. The primary U.S. objective in Iraq should be a politically stable Iraq, averting significant sectarian violence and territorial losses to groups like ISIS. As David Schenker, senior fellow at the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, recently argued, the latter can be achieved by leaving a modest U.S. presence in the Iraqi Kurdish region to aid counterterrorism efforts. What proponents and critics of withdrawal often get wrong is that they view Iraq as an adversary. It doesn't have to be if relations are normalized.
Polls indicate that economic development and corruption are more significant concerns for the average Iraqi today than security. A considerable number of Iraqis desire a more assertive U.S. stance against corruption, increased engagement in development initiatives, and a more candid critique of their political system's shortcomings. Washington should leverage its strengths, such as establishing robust anti-money laundering frameworks, implementing technical projects, maintaining infrastructure, and promoting human development.
These tangible forms of aid prove more impactful than other efforts dedicated to nurturing media and civil society, domains better suited for homegrown development. U.S. troops grant insights into the political and security developments of the country, but Washington should still be able to focus on areas where U.S. assistance is genuinely desired and needed after their withdrawal and potentially with less risk.
U.S. Ambassador Alina Romanowski is venturing into Iraqi society as much as possible, considering the restrictions she faces. In March of last year, she visited Mosul for the first time — a city liberated in part by overwhelming U.S. airpower and largely undergoing reconstruction with help from the U.S. after the ISIS conflict — a trip long made impossible due to security restrictions. She has engaged with various political leaders, including former Prime Minister Haider al-Abadi and Shi'a theologian Ammar Al-Hakim.
However, her freedom of travel is limited compared to European counterparts, and she faces obstacles in meeting certain political and military figures for various reasons, not the least of which is that some are Specially Designated Nationals under U.S. sanctions. Removing U.S. troops could make it more politically tenable for U.S. diplomats to engage with Iraq as it is.
The low U.S. troop presence is invisible to most Iraqis. This doesn't mean it can't be used as a political football in intramural Iraqi games. But it is no accident that in the wake of each groundswell for ending the U.S troop presence, no action is ever taken. The Iraqis, who recognize the fragility of their state building enterprise, are not eager to experiment with a landscape devoid of U.S. troops. Many Iraqis outside of the Iran-aligned militias also see the U.S. military presence as a counterweight to Iranian influence. Some also fear that if U.S. troops leave, the benefits they receive through U.S. management of their monetary system will also go away.
It is not the U.S. military presence per se that is the problem from a restraint perspective. It is rather the fortress mentality of the official U.S. civilian presence. This imposes a heavy cost on the sustainability of diplomacy worldwide.
The U.S. Embassy operations in Baghdad cost about $1 billion per year. If this were a Defense Department responsibility, this figure would merit a shoulder shrug. But in comparison, the State Department's budget is miniscule — a vivid illustration of U.S. priorities — and its outlays in Iraq crowd out diplomatic initiatives elsewhere. The U.S. can withdraw militarily from Iraq, while continuing to facilitate temporary training missions. Most importantly, the U.S. should engage more broadly with Iraqi society and leave behind the fortress mentality that has hobbled U.S. diplomacy in Iraq.

Fifty years is a long enough time to dissipate the impact of war. In the United States, the Vietnam War is no longer much discussed. Scholars still plow the field, but the war that tore America apart, spurred a counterculture movement, killed 57,000 Americans (and vastly more Vietnamese, Laotians and Cambodians), led to a restructuring of the U.S. military and the all-volunteer force, and was an impetus to Desert Storm no longer shapes the discourse.My students were born in 2002 or 2003; they're voting age. Even those with living grandparents who served in Vietnam don't know much if anything about the conflict. Of course, there have been intervening failures that proved costly, although not on the same scale. But proximity bias — the hard-wired human tendency to accord greater importance to things that are closer than others in time or distance — ensured that the mayhem generated by the Iraq and Afghan Wars would eclipse the awfulness of Vietnam.The Yom Kippur War of 1973 has likewise receded in the Israeli imagination. But its specter is more complex. The 2,500 Israeli soldiers killed (a fraction of the 15,000 Arabs who perished) was three times the per capita human cost of the Vietnam War to the United States. I was in Israel during that time, and everyone knew someone who'd been killed. The war was also far shorter, about 10 days, so the casualty list had an outsized emotional impact. It was not the long slog of Vietnam, but rather an avalanche.Early in the war, Syrian armor destroyed the Israeli tank brigade deployed to the Golan Heights and reached Gesher B'not Yaakov (Jisr Banat Yaqub). Just beyond it was the Jezreel Valley. The prospect of a large Syrian armored formation penetrating the Israeli heartland was as ghastly for Israelis as it must have been thrilling for the Syrians. The United States has never experienced anything like this, including 9/11.In the space of this instant, violence burgeoned. The largest tank battle since World War II, when German and Soviet armored juggernauts collided at Kursk, unfolded on the Golan. Fierce battles developed in the Sinai and then on the left bank of Suez, where Israeli forces encircled an entire Egyptian army. A week into the war, the U.S. launched its largest-ever intra-war arms transfer. For days, U.S. C-5 cargo aircraft touched down at Israeli airfields every six minutes. The airlift, however, occurred after Israel had regained its balance and counterattacked, halting an hour outside of Damascus and holding Egyptian territory — in addition to the Sinai, where Israel stopped the main thrust of Egyptian armor toward the mountains passes and destroyed the advancing units.The war also included other dramatic moments. Apparently believing that the Soviets were preparing to intervene militarily on Syria's behalf, the Nixon administration raised the United States' nuclear readiness level, an extraordinary step. Saudi Arabia led an OPEC oil embargo against the United States that carried profound implications for its economic and political stability for the ensuing decade, bringing the so-called long summer of postwar economic growth to an end and guaranteeing an era of sluggish economic growth and high inflation.The long-term effects of the war on Israel were profound as well. The outcome, despite the phenomenal recovery of Israeli forces under the much maligned but in fact highly competent IDF chief of staff, was traumatically dislocating for an Israeli public accustomed to thinking that its victory in the 1967 war rendered the state immune to Arab military challenge.Within four years, the Labor Party that had dominated Israeli politics in one form or another since 1948 was dislodged. Trust in the old elites was shattered. The intelligence community failed to credit the Egyptian and Syrian commitment to waging war. Across the board there was a conviction that the conditions under which the Arabs would launch an offensive simply did not exist. And Military Intelligence disregarded Mossad's success in recruiting a senior member of Egyptian President Anwar Sadat's entourage who underscored that a war was in the cards. Moreover, the Israeli prime minister, Golda Meir, who had presided over the disaster, had heeded stern guidance from Nixon and Kissinger not to preempt Arab war preparations when these were finally acknowledged 24 hours before the start of hostilities.Whether or not this was a wise call on Washington's part, it certainly increased the butcher's bill Israel was to pay and undermined the Labor government. Meir would come under attack later for having ignored Sadat's peace feelers following the 1969 War of Attrition along the Suez Canal. Sadat, however, tended to frame his overtures as demands for an upfront Israeli withdrawal from all of the Sinai Peninsula, which the Israeli government could not meet. There was plenty of blame to go around. In any case, combined with serious ethnic tensions generated by the political mobilization of Mizrahim — Jews who had immigrated from the Arab states of the Middle East and North Africa — the cratering of Labor credibility enabled the ascendance of the Likud Party.Half a century later, what lingering significance does the war have? Israel and Saudi Arabia are negotiating normalization, which will entail a civilian Saudi nuclear capability that is inherently dual-purpose. The Abraham Accords have already normalized Israel's relations with Bahrain, the UAE, Sudan, and Morocco. Egypt and Jordan have longstanding peace treaties with Israel. Syria has been neutered by a long, destructive civil war. Lebanon has ceased to exist as a functioning state and has not engaged Israel in hostilities since 2006. Two eviscerating wars with the United States removed Iraq as a potential combatant of the old rejectionist front.A cataclysmic ground war between Israel and its neighbors has been inconceivable during this veritable Age of Aquarius. But if the Yom Kippur War is no longer relevant, the present irenic reality — excluding the West Bank and Gaza — is largely due to the instrumentalization of that conflict by the Nixon administration for the purpose of peacemaking. One really can't contemplate these developments without implicitly thinking about the 1973 war.Another potent outcome of the war was the diplomatic process that surrounded the ceasefire and the years that followed. Kissinger gets credit for this, not unfairly. He was not one to waste a crisis. He seized the opportunity the war presented to use Sadat's evident interest in joining the Western camp and Israel's reliance on American support to bind each closer to Washington while crowding out the Soviet Union. Although his diplomatic strategy yielded disengagement agreements on both fronts, the fact remains that Egypt and Israel had embarked on a quiet bilateral process even as the guns were still cooling.Sadat had waged the war to shatter the status quo by drawing Israeli blood and bringing the U.S. into the conflict. His goal was the negotiated return of Sinai to Egyptian control. The war, for him, had a clear and well-defined political purpose. Although the seven years that preceded the Camp David Accords were at times touch and go — down to the climactic talks themselves — the so-called peace process would be difficult to imagine without the bloody impetus of 1973. Kissinger's key insight, regrettably abandoned by his successors but seemingly grasped now by Beijing, is that it pays to maintain ties with both sides in a conflict.As the Arab-Israeli conflict has devolved to Israel and the Palestinians, this lesson of the 1973 war has faded for Israel as well. Israel's use of force now has no political objective. Its purpose is solely conflict management and deterrence. To borrow from Lord Carrington's verdict on NATO, it is to keep the Palestinians down, the U.S. out, and wealthy Persian Gulf states in.Yet, perversely, the possibility of change is in the air. Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's far-right coalition partners are less interested in managing the level of violence on the West Bank than in informally annexing it. Their commitment to Israeli settlement of the West Bank is greater than their interest in grand geopolitical deals that might boost the Tel Aviv stock exchange but defer redemption of biblical lands. One could construe the hard right's agenda as restoring a true political objective to Israel's fight with the Palestinians.The 1973 war also altered Israeli military doctrine. Planners have recognized that — beginning with that war — Israel has not won any major ones. (Neither has the United States.) The reasons for this are legion, but one stands out: the losers do not concede defeat. They take a licking but keep on ticking. Hence the most recent development in Israel's military doctrine, accorded the acronym Mabam, meaning "the battles between the wars."The idea is that major wars are no longer decisive and will therefore recur periodically. The best course is to delay these wars and weaken adversaries' ability to wage them by fighting draining low-level battles in the interim. This makes some sense, naturally, but militates against any attempt to leverage the fighting to achieve durable peace. This applies to the Palestinians as well. Their violence is expressive, perhaps reflecting their view that there is no conceivable political objective.There's a larger theme here, though. The international system was vastly different in 1973. The Cold War framework in which the United States and Soviet Union conducted their foreign policies and made it possible for Sadat to conduct a war with such a bold but cogent purpose is long gone. We will see whether the U.S.-China in the Middle East recreates it.The leftist post-colonial Arab states that fought Israel are scarcely even remembered. The Israeli state and society that fought the Yom Kippur War, like the America that waged war in Vietnam, no longer exists. The values that animated it no longer shape the nation's thoughts and actions.Fifty years after the war, this should come as no surprise. In the ongoing demonstrations against judicial reform in Israel, one can see veterans of 1973 claiming that their wartime sacrifice would be betrayed by the triumph of the hard right. They are correct, but they're old duffers and out of touch with young Israeli mainstream voters, who, if they dwell on the 1973 war at all, likely see the left as the guilty party. Thus, policy makers, mostly in the West, can noodle about the war's lessons for diplomacy and statecraft, but for Israel — and the Arabs — it's ancient history.

A longtime American foreign policy insider's biting and definitive reckoning with the high cost of this country's ambitious meddling in the Middle East-and its bitter end The culmination of almost 40 years of expertise and insider policy access, Grand Delusion is Steven Simon's tour de force, offering a comprehensive yet analytical tour of U.S. involvement in the Middle East. Simon begins with the Reagan administration, when the Middle East shifted from a group of faraway and frequently squabbling nations to an urgent opportunity for America to (in Reagan's words) "serve the cause of world peace and the future of mankind." Assuring citizens that "we owe it to ourselves and to our children" to be a force for peace in the region, Reagan fired the starting gun on decades of profound American involvement. As the U.S. economy became increasingly reliant on oil and as policy and diplomatic momentum gathered, the Middle East became more and more central to foreign policy, and more and more likely to be the subject of grand rhetoric, until the Obama administration ended an era by turning away from the region. Grand Delusion explores the motivations, approach, and legacy of each administration up to today, showing us a complex spiderweb of intertwined events-from Lebanese civil conflict to shifting Iranian domestic politics, to Saudi Arabia's quest for security-through the lens of a Washington policy process frequently ruled by cognitive bias, wishful thinking, and outright malfeasance.