The War Within Page 8

  On one level, O'Sullivan was asking the hardest and most basic question: Do we know what we are doing? But the memo's tentativeness and deference, its muted and conditional phrasing, reduced its sting.

  "The current focus on drawing down coalition troops," she wrote, "is one of several factors suggesting that"óand here she switched to bold typeó"we are executing a plan based on assumptions that are no longer valid."

  She then proposed that before withdrawing any further troops, the security strategy be "reevaluated" because security was getting worse in some places and the "presence of MOI [Ministry of Interior] forces in Sunni areas may actually fuel sectarian violence."

  She went on to note, again with understatement, "It would also be hard to characterize a decision to bring troops home at this point as a consequence of success or the result of an improvement in conditions.

  "For all these reasons, we recommend a security review where the president considers asking the following series of questions." The questions focused on the sectarian violence, whether they had the right approach to Baghdad, and the impact of the Ministry of Interior on the Sunnis.

  O'Sullivan then asked whether they should consider what she called an "additive" strategy by providing more troops.

  To pump up the urgency, she suggested that the NSC meeting with the president that day be devoted to these questions.

  But other events that Wednesday, July 19, swamped Bush. He issued his first veto in five years as president, rejecting a law passed by the Congress lifting restrictions on human embryonic stem cell research. It was a highly emotional issue, and the president staged a ceremony for the veto that afternoon in the East Room of the White House, attended by children who had developed from frozen embryos.

  Also that day, Maliki broke publicly with Bush to strongly condemn Israeli attacks into Lebanon that Bush had said were justified as defenses against terrorism.

  In the daily crush, the pressing questions about the U.S. strategy in Iraq were placed on hold again.

  Chapter 7

  Hadley and O'Sullivan realized that conducting an Iraq strategy review was risky, even under the greatest secrecyóswearing everyone involved to confidentiality and stamping all the paperwork with high classifications. The administration's public posture was that while the war was difficult, progress was being made. A leak that the White House was questioning its strategy could be devastating. The congressional elections were barely three months away.

  Iraq was likely to be the main issue, and the Republicans' thin margin in both the Senate and the House already was in jeopardy.

  But O'Sullivan knew the current Iraq strategy was broken, and she wasn't about to give up. Perhaps there was a way to have a review without calling it that. She knew from her time in Baghdad that the relentless day-to-day operations made it hard, if not impossible, to step back and reevaluate fundamentals. There was never time to ask basic questions. So she proposed to Hadley that he send a series of broad questions to Rumsfeld, Casey and Khalilzad. In answering the questions, she hoped that they would wake up and realize, "Hey, this picture has changed."

  Hadley was willing to try again. First, he recognized the painfully obvious disconnect between what was happening on the ground and the strategy of drawing down steadily. Casey's slides kept calling for a drawdown, even though he had himself decided not to off-ramp brigades in the coming fall and had extended the Stryker brigade's tour. It was not lost on Hadley, or the president, that Casey's plan to cut forces had been delayed again and again for more than a year. The Army had a SECRET graphic, known as the "Failed Assumptions Chart," showing the plans for drawing down brigades in Iraqósometimes very dramaticallyógoing back to 2003. On every occasion, the plans had not been realized, and the same number of about 15 brigades remained.

  Hadley spoke with the president every day about Iraq, and both felt increasingly uneasy. They seemed to agree that every society has its own tolerable level of violenceóa theme often stressed by Rumsfeld. For Iraq, the question was whether the violence was too overwhelming to allow the Iraqis some semblance of normal life. But the sectarian violence in and around Baghdadónow 50 to 150 bodies turning up each dayómeant that everyday life remained extremely difficult and daunting. Hadley told Bush he wanted to plant the seed for a full strategy review by asking Rumsfeld, Casey and Khalilzad a series of tough, detailed questions. "I'm going to ask Don to do it," Hadley said. "I think he'll let me do it."

  "Go to it," Bush said.

  Bush later confirmed to me that he had okayed the question session. "In order for the SVTS [secure video] to go forward with the secretary of defense and main commander," he said, "it needed the blessing of the president."

  * * *

  On July 20, 2006, the president read his daily TOP SECRET/SCI Iraq update. SCI stands for Special Compartmented Informationóthe highest classification of the most sensitive intelligence data obtained from communications intercepts, human and other sources. "The deteriorating security situation is outpacing the Iraqi government's ability to respond," the three-page memo said. The Sunni Arab insurgency was diminishing, an intelligence assessment said, "but spiraling sectarian violence by Sunni and Shia extremists, including some elements of the Iraqi Security Forces, is becoming the most immediate threat to Iraq's progress." Then the assessment reached its most dire conclusion: "Violence has acquired a momentum of its own and is now self-sustaining."

  At the bottom of the third page was a chart the president saw each day, summarizing casualties since the 2003

  invasion. On this day, as of 11 A.M. Eastrn Standard Time, the chart read:

  "U.S. forces killed in action: 2,015

  "Non-hostile deaths (not in combat): 532

  "Wounded in action: 19,057."

  * * *

  "Don," Hadley told Rumsfeld, "there are some tough questions we need to ask about where we are." Rumsfeld agreed.

  Hadley was delighted because he knew that Rumsfeld could have told him to stuff it or simply could have ignored the request, as he often did.

  So Hadley sent pages of questions to Rumsfeld, Casey and Khalilzad, and a secure video teleconference was scheduled for Saturday, July 22, which happened to be Casey's 58th birthday.

  The general was flabbergasted. There were 14 major questions, each with a series of subquestions. He counted a total of 50 and presumed they must be of the kind the media, Congress or even the president was asking. These were questions Hadley couldn't answer. It didn't take much to see the list was a direct assault on the current strategy. One question was "What is the strategy for Baghdad?" and one of the main headings was "Grand Strategy." Casey and Khalilzad decided beforehand that they wouldn't go down the list and try to answer every question. It was demeaning, especially after the president's expansive and public vote of total confidence for Casey two weeks earlier in Chicago.

  On July 22, Hadley called the secure video teleconference with Rumsfeld, Pace, Abizaid, Khalilzad and Casey to order. Other observersóincluding Meghan O'Sullivan and someone each from State, Defense and Cheney's officeówatched.

  Hoping to put off the questions, Casey and Khalilzad began the session with a routine update. But Hadley and O'Sullivan were determined to move past that.

  "Who is behind the sectarian violence in Baghdad?" Hadley asked. "Al Qaeda terrorists? Baathists? Sunni rejectionists? Badr Corps? Mahdi Army? Criminal elements?"

  Casey answered that it was increasingly "complex," with all of the above involved. In addition, Iranian support for violence was on the upswing. But he underscored that violence alone wasn't a good measure of success or failure when they were transitioning the security responsibility to the Iraqis. The main security challenge was the sectarian violence, which Casey and Khalilzad said was really a struggle between Iraqis for political and economic power.

  "What is the role that Prime Minister Maliki plays in providing political guidance?" Hadley asked.

  "Critic," Casey noted on his copy of the questions. He explained that Maliki was
standing on the sidelines with his arms folded, offering criticism but not accepting responsibility for the situation. He said he tried to accommodate political guidance from Maliki but in limited quantities so as not to paralyze the system. The prime minister wanted to approve all U.S. military operations, and Casey would say no. But he had promised the prime minister, "I'll come to you on the big ones, the things that have big political impact." Casey said he had kept that promise.

  Have there been disconnects about how to use the Iraqi security forces?

  Casey said he didn't trust them. Maliki's forces did not react quickly. For example, Casey said, Maliki tried to exert direct control over the Iraqi Special Forces, the most competent element of the Iraqi army and a group that prided itself on working with the United States, going after anyone against the government, including the Shia militias.

  Casey said he had told Maliki, "You don't want these guys taking their instructions directly from you. You want them under the minister of defense, because if you task them to do something and they wind up killing a bunch of people by mistake, then you're the one that gets blamed for that." Maliki seemed to understand that that made good sense, but he still wanted control.

  "Do security forces need to be more aggressive in Baghdad?" Hadley asked.

  Eventually, yes, Casey said, noting on his sheet that the security forces were "not empowered" by Maliki to act on their own. The prime minister had to prove that he was on their side.

  "Have we struck the right balance between one, not letting the Iraqis be overly dependent on us and two, putting too much responsibility on them too quickly?"

  That's the question I wrestle with every day, Casey said. While that was always the question, the strategy was to give the Iraqis ultimate responsibility.

  The next question was "Are additional resources, coalition and Iraqi, needed to bring greater security to Baghdad over a reasonable time frame, say six weeks?"

  Casey said that whenever the U.S. forces established security in a given area and then turned it over to the Iraqis to build and hold, it would gradually break down. So the truth was that the U.S. forces never completely turned security over to the Iraqis but rather found a way to stay in the area. His implied answer was "yes," he might shift more U.S.

  forces to Baghdad, but he did not say it directly. He also made it clear he did not think he needed more U.S. forces overall.

  How about the militias? "How long do the Iraqis think it will take before progress is tangible?"

  "Eighteen months to two years," Casey said. Demobilizing the militias, each of which had anywhere from 20,000 to 100,000 members, was a large task.

  "Is it part of the U.S. and coalition security mission to stem increasing levels of sectarian-fueled violence?"

  That was the question that weighed constantly on Casey. He wrote on his list, "Protect the population?"

  Classic counterinsurgency strategy held that the security of the population was the top priority. But the question mark reflected Casey's deep doubts. Undertaking that task would require more forces, and he was hesitant to ask for more because it was contrary to his overall strategy of preparing and training the Iraqis to take over. In addition, Maliki wasn't on board and had been putting restrictions on American operations in Baghdad. For example, the prime minister had canceled five U.S. and Iraqi Special Forces missions in Sadr City.

  It was a complicated story. During his first days as prime minister, Maliki had given Casey a "don't touch" list of about 10 politically significant people and elicited a promise that Casey would call him before they were attacked.

  Sadr headed the list, and many of his lieutenants followed. All were suspected of shady activities, such as sectarian attacks or cooperation with al Qaeda. U.S. Special Forces and the intelligence people would work hard to get actionable intelligence, often risking their lives to do so.

  Casey would then call Maliki or the Iraqi national security adviser, Mowaffak al-Rubaie, about going after the suspects, only to be told no on at least five occasions. "I understand that you're doing this for political reasons, but here's the impact on the military," Casey said he told them. The canceled operations were demoralizing and left his troops asking, quite openly and understandably, "What the fuck are we doing here?"

  Casey had kept pressuring Maliki on the bad guys, and Maliki had offered progressively less resistance. Most were picked up or killed. On one occasion, Casey went ahead with an operation without telling Maliki and the prime minister said nothing.

  Hadley continued. Under the heading, "Grand Strategy," he asked, "Is sectarian violence now self-sustaining and thus beyond the capacity of the political process meaningfully to influence?"

  What the fuck? Casey thought. If the answer was yes, then they might as well give up. "No," he said, and wrote "No"

  on his page of questions.

  "Are we convinced that Shia leaders in Baghdad are serious about reining in the JAM and Shia death squads?" JAM, the paramilitary force loyal to Shia cleric Moqtada al-Sadr, remained powerful in many neighborhoods.

  "No," Casey said, scribbling the answer in big capital letters on his sheet. He still attributed the Iraqi foot-dragging to inefficiency and incompetence rather than active delay so the Shia militia could increase its hold on parts of Baghdad. But he was watching Maliki and the others as closely as possible. There was some evidence, accompanied by deep suspicion, that the delays were intentional and that there was a purpose behind their lack of action.

  "Are we prepared and well positioned to address more confrontational issues with the Kurds this year (oil, federalism, Kirkuk)?"

  "No," Casey said. The United States had no leverage over the Kurds, the large ethnic group that lived in relative autonomy in northern Iraq.

  Overall, Khalilzad said, currently the Sunnis and Shia did not accept each other as credible partners and had not agreed on the terms of the partnership.

  Hadley then launched into a long discussion of what was called "a Dayton-like process," referring to the celebrated and successful negotiation in 1995 when Richard Holbrooke, the chief Bosnia envoy in the Clinton administration, had called the leaders of the three warring parties in Bosnia to Dayton, Ohio. Shuttered away in private for weeks with the three, Holbrooke, a gifted and wildly self-confident negotiator, cajoled and threatened them until they agreed to a peace settlement. It would end years of killing. The price was a U.S. commitment of 20,000 troops, a small deployment in retrospect.

  Casey felt there had not been a political strategy in Iraq since the December 2005 elections, and someone like Dick Holbrooke needed to be taken off the shelf to bring the Shia and Sunni leaders together, knock their heads together, and throw money at them to move the political process along. Back in the 1990s, Casey had been assigned to Holbrooke's team in the Balkans, and he considered Holbrooke a master. He had been there once when Holbrooke came out of the Belgrade office of Serbian President Slobodan Miloöevi ,

  ć the notorious thug and war criminal.

  "Okay," Holbrooke had said, "I want the B-52s taken out from England and on TV now!" It was part of the theater of coercive diplomacy. Ten days later, a NATO bombing assault began.

  On one of his many trips back to the States, Ambassador Khalilzad had looked for a building in which to hold a Dayton-like conference. He wanted to bring the Iraqi leaders to the United States and lock them in a room until they reached an agreement.

  Casey said, "You can buy reconciliation. You put $2 billion to this thing in investment, and you could turn the south"

  of Iraq, which was dominated by Shia and was home to the richest oil supplies in the country.

  But no Dayton-like conference was ever launched. Neither Holbrooke nor other Clinton officials involved in the Balkans issue were ever asked for advice or assistance.

  Rumsfeld made it clear he was not happy with the session. Likewise, Casey left feeling it was an affrontóHadley's birthday present wrapped in 50 demeaning questions.

  O'Sullivan prepared a SE
CRET summary of the July 22 discussion that was circulated to Hadley, Rumsfeld, Pace, Abizaid, Casey and Khalilzad. It began, "Overarching strategic question: What has changed about the situation in Iraq, and do these changes warrant alterations in our military and political strategies?"

  It was an argumentative question, but she and Hadley had effectively sparked a strategy debate.

  Hadley briefed the president about the results. The most pressing problem was that they didn't have a plan for securing Baghdad, where bodies were turning up each morning by the dozens.

  * * *

  In secure videoconferences during this period, the president asked whose job it was to bring security to Baghdad.

  Maliki would say Casey. Casey would say Maliki.

  Asked later if this was accurate, Bush told me, "True," but added, "My mind works this way: If the responsibility is muddled, let's clear it. Ideally, the Iraqis would be in the lead. And, you know, Maliki wanted to be in the lead. And Casey wanted Maliki to be in the lead. We all wanted Maliki to be in the lead, but the problem was the strategy wasn't working. He wasn't ready to be in the lead. And [the goal] was clear, hold and build, except [the reality] was clear, and no build and no hold."

  Bush said this showed "that the tactics are flawed, and we need to adjust. And that's what Steve's policy review was doing."

  * * *

  Rumsfeld had said over and over again that the United States needed to get its "hand off the Iraqi bicycle seat." Hadley told Rice and several others that he had come to disdain Rumsfeld's bicycle metaphor, in part because it triggered an unpleasant but relevant personal memory. In Hadley's telling, during the early 1950s, when he was in kindergarten in Toledo, Ohio, his father decided to teach him to ride a bike. Dutifully holding the bicycle seat, the father got his son going down the street at a fast clip.