The first four years of the Bush presidency brought unilateralism and the disastrous occupation of Iraq. In the second, he must turn around a war his own advisors admit America is losing and resolve the nagging issue of Iran and its nuclear ambitions. Meanwhile, the bridge across the Atlantic continues to burn.
In Washington, grand visions can be dashed to pieces on the cliffs of reality, even if President George W. Bush refuses to believe that this is the case. The Iraq campaign, for example, launched in a burst of self-confidence as the centerpiece of a mission to expand democracy, is descending ever more deeply into a chaos of daily violence.
Even the president's closest advisors are now voicing their pessimism about the campaign, but only when Bush is out of earshot. As Newsweek reported last week, Secretary of State Colin Powell privately concedes that the insurgents are currently winning the conflict in Iraq.
Coalition forces, helpless and deeply frustrated, are facing a wave of hatred and violence with which many Iraqis hope to chase their "liberators" out of the country. As soon as coalition troops leave their heavily guarded camps, they can expect to encounter bursts of machine gun fire, rocket-propelled grenades and car bombs. Military staff are reporting at least 100 attacks a day on US troops and their allies.
Tikrit, the home town of ousted dictator Saddam Hussein, as well as the Iraqi resistance movement's notorious strongholds, Samarra and Fallujah, have long since ceased to be the only places where violence is rampant. The revolt is raging throughout Iraq's entire Sunni heartland between the Tigris and the Euphrates rivers, where insurgents have taken control of many towns and villages. No-go zones, areas in which allied troops no longer dare to set foot, are now scattered throughout the entire country -- 18 months after Bush officially announced the "end of combat operations" in Iraq.
America's soldiers are paying a high price for trying to bring the chaos under control: more than 1,100 fallen GIs have already been taken home. The number of wounded soldiers is apparently being deliberately understated, so as not to alarm the country.
An injured American soldier is unloaded from a plane at the Ramstein military base in Germany. Thousands of other wounded troops have also made the journey from Iraq.
Zoom
AP
An injured American soldier is unloaded from a plane at the Ramstein military base in Germany. Thousands of other wounded troops have also made the journey from Iraq.
According to Gene Bolles, chief neurosurgeon at the US military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany, "at least 20,000 injured troops were flown" to his hospital by February 2004. To date, 26,633 US veterans of the campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq have applied for disability pensions -- a number that's difficult to reconcile with the low official count of 8,120 wounded.
Another factor working against the Americans is the notorious unreliability of freshly trained local forces. In some cases, entire companies of Iraqi soldiers have refused to fight. The Iraqi army is the weakest link among the few options the re-elected Bush administration currently still has in Iraq. The heavy-handed strategy now being employed to liberate Fallujah with a dramatic military offensive depends heavily on support from Iraqi forces.
The Bush warriors have never worked out anything but military options to deal with the resistance. Although some US politicians, in a fit of panic, have already called for what would be an overly hasty withdrawal, this is not an option. Iraq's descent into open civil war would only make the superpower's failure all the more apparent.
Even a gradual withdrawal of coalition forces following the election of a new Iraqi government in late January seems highly unlikely. Iraq's new rulers would lack the necessary personnel to hold onto their power. Meanwhile, even the Pentagon's hawks are willing to accept elections on January 27 that would preclude the participation of a large portion of the Iraqi population. The US government is in favor of anything that would help create the impression that the Iraqis would then be in charge of their own country.
Military relief for the levels of troop presence still needed in Iraq is unlikely to arrive anytime soon. Hungary will probably not be the last ally in the "Coalition of the Willing" to announce the withdrawal of its troops. And the idea that Iraq's Muslim neighbors, themselves everything but models of democracy, will expose their militaries to the Islamist propaganda of the Iraqi insurgents is likely to remain a pipe dream for now.
Nevertheless, Bush can no longer rely exclusively on a military solution. The superpower's military capacity is approaching its limits. The Pentagon simply lacks the personnel to replace the 140,000 troops currently stationed in Iraq when their tours of duty come to an end. Instead of the maximum six-month deployment for which they were originally scheduled, some troops are now being forced to serve twice as long at the front. America's troops are becoming increasingly frustrated, and recruiting offices in the United States are having trouble finding enough volunteers to serve in the American career military.
But the government cannot admit failure. At least not for now. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld prefers to talk about supposed successes. America's conservatives have taken to using the model of Nazi Germany as a yardstick for success in Iraq. Bush' advisors brag that it took only ten months to introduce a new Iraqi currency, whereas currency reform in Germany didn't come about until three years after the end of World War II. They also claim that a new Iraqi army was developed within only ten months, as opposed to ten years in post-Nazi Germany.
To prove how narrow-minded his opponents are, Bush likes to cite a 1946 article in the New York Times, which predicted that the American occupation policy in post-war Germany would fail. Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz recently comforted a US soldier wounded in Iraq by promising historic justice: "One day, you'll be remembered the same way those who won World War II have been remembered."
America's war on terror also isn't going as well as Bush was able to convince his voters. It's been three years since this war began, and both the CIA and the 9/11 Commission have now warned that America's standing in the world has dropped to an all-time low. They say that worldwide hatred for the Americans has already generated the next generation of terrorists.
Terrorism experts are worried that Osama bin Laden, after publicly mocking Bush shortly before the election, will launch another attack in an attempt to add new fuel to the disastrous cycle of terrorist attacks and powerful counter-strikes. "Today we are more feared than ever before," says Ted Carpenter of Washington's conservative Cato Institute. "But we're no longer admired, as we once were. That's not a good tradeoff."
It comes as no surprise that those who bragged, before the Iraq campaign, that the United States could fight its battles -- and, if necessary, its preventive wars -- on its own have started singing a different tune. In the dispute between the Europeans, who would like to see conflicts resolved within the framework of the international system, and the Americans, who are confident of their own strength, Bush, the supposed Prometheus Unbound, has long since lost at least some of the ability to do as he pleases. Even some members of Bush's own camp are now advising the president to make an effort to rebuild burned bridges, particularly with frustrated European allies. Former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, for example, says that Bush should demonstrate a willingness to talk about rules and conditions of future preventive wars: "No country, no matter how powerful, can handle international order on its own."
Whether the Bush administration intends to listen to Kissinger will become clear in the next few weeks. In the shadow of the election campaign, an international crisis has been developing that could once again propel the Middle East to the brink of disaster. Unless Iran abandons all efforts toward uranium enrichment, which has both military and civilian applications, the Vienna-based International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) could refer the controversy surrounding the mullah-controlled state's nuclear program to the UN Security Council. Unlike the situation in Iraq, there is now good reason to believe that the current nuclear threat in the Middle East is not just a chimera, but could become a very real problem. The IAEA's nuclear inspectors suspect that Tehran is not conducting its ambitious nuclear program solely for the purpose of obtaining fuel for nuclear power plants. Just last week, the Iranian parliament reaffirmed Iran's right to a comprehensive nuclear program. "Death to the USA," members of parliament called out after reaching the decision.
The administration in Washington has long since lost patience and wants to force the UN Security Council to impose sanctions against the oil-rich Middle Eastern country, which, in Bush's opinion, has no need for civilian nuclear power plants. Now a trio of European countries -- Great Britain, France and Germany -- has launched another last-minute attempt to prevent further escalation of the crisis. Some influential US hawks are already looking beyond economic sanctions, and are no longer ruling out the possibility of air strikes.
The EU negotiators are trying to entice Iran with a pledge to help it build a civilian nuclear power plant, generous trade agreements and technological aid. In return, they're demanding that the mullahs completely abandon their own uranium enrichment program, which could not only be used to produce fuel rods for civilian nuclear plants, but also nuclear weapons. However, the Iranian government still doesn't seem to be taking the Europeans too seriously, despite German Foreign Minister Fischer's uncharacteristically clear warning that his negotiating partners would do well to avoid a "fatal error in judgment." The Iranians would like to see the most important player -- the United States -- join the negotiations.
Despite having been urged to do so by the EU, Bush has refused to play any part in the European initiative. John Bolton, an undersecretary in the US State Department, rather brusquely dispatched the negotiators from Paris, Berlin and London when they traveled to Washington in October. After the three negotiators had explained their strategy, Bolton simply read a blunt statement and refused any further discussion of the issue, not even inviting his guests to lunch. Now Berlin is hoping that this unpleasant host will lose his job in the upcoming revamping of the administration.
The ongoing negotiations with North Korea, whose dictator, Kim Jong Il, has his American adversary reviled as a "political idiot and arbitrary ruler," are similarly muddled. Here, once again, the United States appears to be failing in its efforts to prevent the further proliferation of nuclear weapons. And at this point, they would probably be too late. The self-loving despot apparently already has the most effective of all weapons of mass destruction. According to the London-based Institute for Strategic Studies, the Iraq war has actually "encouraged Iran and North Korea to resist Western pressure to abandon their nuclear ambitions."
The catastrophe in Iraq and bin Laden's mocking videotaped message, but also the crippling standstill in the Middle East peace process and the fraternal feud between the United States and Old Europe, have kindled a debate in Washington that even the conservative's success in the polls cannot suppress. At issue is the theory of a "unipolar era," in which America should not pay attention to sensitivities and alliances. This dispute was triggered by historian Francis Fukuyama, until recently a valued member of the influential Neo-conservatives. Fukuyama derided the bizarre self-confidence of an administration that, in his words, believes that "it can create democracy through sheer expression of its political will."
Fukuyama refers to the missionary core of the White House's foreign policy as "excessive idealism," which has been a complete failure in Iraq, because "Americans lack both the sensitivity and the skills necessary for nation-building." Based on this line of argumentation, he concludes that the Neocons are fundamentally wrong, because "America is in truth a commercial republic that feels uncomfortable in the role of empire."
Even Henry Kissinger is once again writing about which "fundamental principles of a world order must be developed to replace the traditional principles that were incinerated in the smoke clouds of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon."
The master strategist is suggesting that the re-elected president consider the example of a former president, Harry Truman, who developed a system of international relations from UN to NATO after 1945. According to Kissinger, "international acceptance" is now a necessary condition of success for anyone who wishes to and indeed must assume the role of "trustee of global stability."
In making this argument, Kissinger takes a position somewhere in the middle of the conflict between unilateralists and multilateralists. He writes: "The goal of American foreign policy must be to transform superiority into shared responsibility -- that is, to pursue a policy based on the assumption that the international order consists of many centers of power, even though we are aware of our unique strategic position."
If one takes this logic a step further, Bush would be well-advised to acknowledge that America will be more successful in the real world with alliances that it forges itself than by pursuing neo-conservative pipe dreams of further unilateral action.
Do such considerations reach George W. Bush? Without being filtered?
In truth, the President is neither a Neocon nor a Kissingerite. In his first term, he succumbed to his habitual tendency to apply theological formulas to dress up political problems, a propensity that produced the "Axis of Evil" and the ominous phrase, "You're either with us or against us." This is unlikely to change during his second term. Bush is simply a man who says what he thinks.
Bush planned to spend the weekend at Camp David to think about changes in the cabinet and at the White House. "Some things will change," he said, "the work we do is exhausting. There's a reason why people feel burned out." He declined to mention who, in his view, feels burned out, or perhaps ought to feel burned out.
Just who stays and who goes will already signal to the Europeans where Bush intends to set his priorities. Richard Cheney, the eminence grise in the foreground, Bush's key advisor in the White House and the most influential vice-president ever, will definitely stay. Cheney, says Bush, is serving the country "with wisdom and honor."
Although Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld is 72, he doesn't appear to be interested in leaving the Pentagon. His decisions are responsible for the chaos in Iraq, and he is partly responsible for the scandals at Guantanamo Bay and Abu Ghraib. Nevertheless, Bush has continued his unwavering support for Rumsfeld.
Should Rumsfeld end up leaving, voluntarily or not, Condoleezza Rice is ready to take his place. She enjoys the president's confidence. Although she occasionally talks about her desire to return to academia, such an offer would probably convince her to stay: a woman at the Pentagon, an African American without a power base, an intellectual with a penchant for ideology and strategy -- Rice would be a spectacular choice.
Colin Powell, on the other hand, is the tragic figure of Bush's first term. He was right to be skeptical, but he rarely prevailed. Rumsfeld repeatedly gained the upper hand over Powell, and now Powell's only ambition is said to be to remain in office "one day longer" than the Secretary of Defense. Alternatives for Powell would be to return to private life or take the helm at the World Bank.
Attorney General John Ashcroft is the member of the administration with whom the religious right identifies most closely. He's pious, a purist and an unconditional proponent of the death penalty. But Ashcroft, citing personal reasons related to his health, has said he will not be part of Bush's second-term cabinet. Tom Ridge, who established and headed the Department of Homeland Security, also wants out: either to the State Department, if Powell leaves, or to a job in business.
Ashcroft could be replaced by John Danforth, a former senator and ordained minister, who conducted the memorial service for Ronald Reagan at the National Cathedral. Another possible choice would be Rudy Giuliani, New York's hero of Sept. 11, 2001. But whoever takes Ashcroft's position, things are unlikely to change much, except, perhaps, for a slight shift from foreign policy toward domestic policy. Whether the president intends to advance the conservative agenda or take more of a bipartisan approach in the future will be reflected in the composition of the Supreme Court.
Judging by the average age of its justices, the Supreme Court is a body of the elderly. Chief Justice William Rehnquist, 80, only waited until the election to leave the court, for health reasons, and two of his colleagues are likely to follow suit very soon. The religious right is already demanding that the president appoint a justice partial to its causes as a reward for its loyalty at the ballot box.
Bush already gave some indication of how he will react in the future last Thursday, in room 450 of the Eisenhower Office Building, next to the White House. It was his first press conference, and George W. Bush appeared as a reshaped man.
A relaxed Bush. A derisive Bush. And, most of all, a very self-confident Bush.
The president announced what he intended to do in the coming four years, describing a program tantamount to saving the world. He wants to clean up the environment and he wants democracy all over the world, especially in the Middle East. He also wants to nurture alliances, boost the economy, overhaul Social Security, make the faithful happy, but not forget the infidels, because, after all, "a president should never tell people what they should believe in."
Bush, who had an obvious aversion to the critical media for four years, who was known for sidestepping journalists' questions, was completely relaxed as he stood there in a dark suit. As always, he wore a small flag in his lapel, and he addressed reporters by their last names, like an officer addressing his troops. He joked about one journalist, saying "now that's a sensitive guy." And he poked fun at himself, at his frequently demonstrated ability "to butcher the English language." And then he giggled and chortled at his own joke.
The new George W. Bush has finally risen above his father. He spoke proudly of how proud his one-term father is that his son has now been re-elected. And then he casually mentioned how Bush Jr. had sent Bush Sr. to bed on election night, and it sounded like an act of liberation. The new George W. Bush didn't even need a written speech or a teleprompter. Condoleezza Rice and the other trusted members of his staff sat in the back and watched their boss at work, smiling as if transfigured.
At the end of the press conference, the boss asked the assembled reporters which of them planned to be there during his second term. Almost all raised their hands. And then Bush said: "Good. My God, we're gonna have a lot of fun."
This time, he probably also meant what he said.
KLAUS BRINKBÄUMER, SIEGESMUND VON ILSEMANN, GEORG MASCOLO, GERHARD SPÖRL
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)

No comments:
Post a Comment