|
|
|
Less than a year after Americans paraded in the streets to celebrate victory in the Gulf War...
|
View other pieces in "The New Yorker"
|
| By Mark Danner |
May 25, 1992
|
| Tags:
Iraq
|
|
Less than a year after Americans paraded
in the streets to celebrate victory in the Gulf War, the entire conflict,
which appeared so cataclysmic at the time, is rapidly receding from view.
The troops have long since come home. Kuwait has become once again an
obscure and wealthy desert land ruled by a medieval autocrat. And Saddam
Hussein has been reduced to the stature of a nasty Third World dictator-more
menacing than, say, Colonel Qaddaffi but hardly “Hitler revisited.”
One might have expected that in the months following the war our government
would undertake to explain how Saddam came to be in a position to threaten
“our jobs, our way of life, our own freedom,” as President Bush claimed
shortly after Iraqi troops occupied Kuwait-to explain, that is, how United
States policy toward Iraq ended in bloodshed. Administration officials,
however, have proved more eager to talk about the war itself than about
the decisions that gave rise to it, while leaders in Congress, sensing
themselves politically vulnerable because of their early skepticism about
Desert Storm, have been loath to seem to “second-guess” the Administration.
The entire matter would probably have been dropped were it not for a handful
of journalists and one maverick congressman, Henry Gonzalez, of Texas.
Thanks to their efforts, we now have a clearer picture of how this disaster
came about. It’s a picture not just of a mistaken policy ineptly applied
but of one that was corrupted almost from the outset by secrecy, arrogance,
and misguided pragmatism-a policy that ultimately betrayed the very values
it was intended to protect.
American courtship of Saddam Hussein began during the spring of 1980,
when Zbigniew Brzezinski, Jimmy Carter’s national-security adviser, struggling
to bring some order to a Persian Gulf policy that had been devastated
by the fall of the Shah of Iran and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan,
observed publicly that “Iraq wishes a secure Persian Gulf, and we do not
feel that American-Iraq relations need to be frozen in antagonism.” The
rapprochement had a certain logic: though Saddam’s regime was extremely
repressive at home, and though it had long been an especially virulent
foe of Israel, it was now all that stood between Ayatollah Khomeini’s
Iranian revolution and the fragile oil fields of the Gulf. When, that
September, Saddam invaded Iran, he had good reason to believe that the
United States would offer no opposition. During the Reagan Administration,
when it seemed for a time that Iran might actually defeat Iraq, American
acquiescence in Saddam’s policies turned to active support. The full extent
of our “tilt” toward Iraq remained secret, however-in part to maintain
an international fa?ade of impartiality but mostly to escape opposition
in Congress. As the war dragged on, the C.I.A. and the Defense Department
began sharing intelligence, including highly classified satellite photographs,
with the Iraqi military, diverting at least some of it through Jordan
and Saudi Arabia to avoid congressional scrutiny. And Jordan, Saudi Arabia,
and Egypt are reported to have obliged the Administration by secretly
shipping American weapons to Iraq. In February, 1982, the Administration
removed Iraq from its list of nations supporting terrorism-at a time,
as members of the House Foreign Affairs Committee pointed out in an angry
protest, when Abu Nidal himself had his main office in Baghdad-and thereby
cleared the way for economic aid. Soon the Administration was making use
of the Export-Import Bank, the Commodity Credit Corporation, and other
government agencies to funnel billions of dollars’ worth of subsidies
and credits into Saddam’s cash-starved and financially weakened regime.
On at least two occasions, Vice-President Bush intervened directly to
exert pressure on reluctant bank officials to approve loans they had already
turned down.
When Bush was elected President, in November, 1988, it might have seemed
a natural moment to re?valuate United States policy toward Iraq. Three
months earlier, the war had ended in a ceasefire that left Iran defeated,
exhausted, and in no position to threaten American interests in the Gulf.
As for Saddam, although his country had taken on a vast debt, he had not
decreased his purchases of weapons when the war ended but had stepped
them up, and was building by far the most formidable armed force in the
region. And, to the outrage of much of the world, he had sent his troops
to carry out a massacre against his own Kurdish minority.
Still, the American money continued to flow.
When Congress tried to apply sanctions as a punishment for Saddam’s use
of chemical weapons against the Kurds, the new Administration, aided by
the agriculture lobbies and supporters of other interests that had benefitted
from Baghdad’s lavish spending of United States money, fought off the
sanctions bill, contenting itself with pro-forma verbal protests. In 1988
and 1989, Iraq received more than two billion dollars in credits from
the Department of Agriculture. And in August, 1989, F.B.I. agents raiding
the Atlanta branch of the Banca Nazionale del Lavoro seized evidence that
Iraqi officials had engaged in fraud involving these loans, illegally
diverting the money and the commodities they subsidized to “third parties”
in exchange for weapons. Most disturbing of all, investigators reported
that some of the loan money might have secretly been used “to procure
nuclear-related equipment.”
Confronted with what could be a huge scandal, the Administration apparently
sought to slow, or even disable, the investigation. Moreover, in October,
1989, after Iraq’s Foreign Minister, Tariq Aziz, met with Secretary of
State James Baker and angrily complained about the Banca Lavoro investigation,
Baker called the Secretary of Agriculture and pressed him to extend the
Iraqis a billion dollars in additional credits. And that same month President
Bush pointedly reaffirmed his policy of support for Iraq, signing National
Security Directive 26, a top-secret document that ordered all agencies
of the government to increase and strengthen economic and political ties
with Iraq-in order, as Bush later put it, “to bring [Saddam] into the
family of nations through commerce.”
Throughout 1990, while Saddam Hussein took increasingly provocative and
threatening actions-delivering a vehemently anti-American speech in Amman
in February, publicly threatening five weeks later to burn half of Israel
with poison gas, and then, in late July, sending tens of thousands of
troops toward Kuwait-the Administration adhered doggedly to the line set
out by the President’s directive. At the end of May, according to the
Los Angeles Times, senior officials meeting in the White House Situation
Room discussed whether the President should send Saddam “a strong, personal
warning” but decided against it. Even as the Iraqi troops massed on the
Kuwaiti frontier, the American Ambassador, April Glaspie, was assuring
Saddam that the President had instructed her “to broaden and to deepen
our relations with Iraq.”
When the Iraqis crossed the border, and the failure of the American policy
was evident for all to see, President Bush reacted with all the indignation
of a suitor scorned, and all the fury of one who had finally recognized
that in pressing his suit he had drastically compromised our interests.
He hadn’t simply “tilted” toward Saddam; he had appeased him. Soon the
President was denouncing the ungrateful dictator more loudly than any
of his own critics in Congress had done, and listing the offenses-the
use of chemical arms, the unending accumulation of weapons, the program
to build a nuclear bomb, even the invasion of Iran-that he had pointedly
ignored at the time when a strong American protest might have made some
difference. Not surprisingly, Saddam’s response to the President’s sudden
turnabout was incomprehension and rage, for during a decade of extensive
contacts with Washington nothing whatever had occurred that could have
led him to expect it.
“Well, we tried the peaceful route,” President
Bush remarked as allied planes bombed Baghdad. “We tried working with
him [Saddam] and changing [him] through contact� The lesson is clear in
this case-that that didn’t work.” And yet in the entire sorry history
of American-Iraqi relations there is little or no evidence of any attempt
to use the increased American support of Saddam to effect a change in
his regime. No limits were set; no standards were upheld. If anything,
our behavior throughout the decade should have convinced the Iraqis that
any profession of American principles was so much empty air. Again and
again, depredations by the Iraqis were met by the Americans with weakness
and winks. If this was a policy of realpolitik, then it was a singularly
incompetent one-based more on self-delusion than on fact.
When the President asserted that “the lesson is clear” he was ignoring
the real lessons in the affair-lessons that we had failed to learn many
times before. Discounting the way dictators behave in their own countries
cannot form the basis for a “realistic” foreign policy, because all too
often their brutality and unpredictability toward their own people will
come to characterize their behavior abroad as well. And attempting to
escape the scrutiny of Congress and other parties legitimately engaged
in the forming of American policy is counterproductive, because it encourages
a fortress mentality and an inability to admit mistakes, and inevitably
leads to decisions that are based on wishes, not reality. Too frequently,
such decisions come to light only after some debacle, and the result is
cynicism and malaise on the part of the public, whose leaders, while professing
to take American principles seriously, have contrived to sell them short
at every turn.
|
|