Iraq: The big lie

Bush and Rumsfeld robotically repeat their Iraq talking points, ignoring the fact that their ambassador and generals are contradicting them.

By Sidney Blumenthal

Read more: George W. Bush, Politics, Sidney Blumenthal, Cold War, Middle East, Opinion, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Iraq War, Muqtada al-Sadr

Photo by AP/Manuel Balce Ceneta

President Bush delivers remarks on the Iraq war to the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies in Washington on March 13, 2006.

March 16, 2006 | On the eve of the third anniversary -- March 20, 2003 -- of the invasion of Iraq President Bush began the fourth of his series of speeches in his second term attempting to articulate his strategy for the war. None of his previous explanations had succeeded in bolstering public confidence, so he tried again. His speech on Monday was a reiteration of the theme he had elaborated in his last round. Bush is rigidly adhering to the guidelines suggested by public opinion specialist Peter Feaver, a professor at Duke University recently hired to serve on the National Security Council. He has advised the president that he must insist that the difficulties in Iraq are the price we must pay for victory and that just as Bush stands for "victory" his critics by implication represent defeat. In his peroration, Bush reached for that last point, his high note, sounding the clarion bell of certainty that is most familiar and comfortable for him. "The battle lines in Iraq are clearly drawn for the world to see," he said, "and there is no middle ground."

Yet Bush's speech provided a text contradicting his own key officials. On the crucial issues of Iranian involvement in Iraq, the worthiness of Iraqi security forces, the democratic nature of the Iraqi government, the cause of human rights, U.S. intentions about staying or leaving, long-term strategy and even the origins of the war, the words of the president and his men clash. The president contradicts U.S. ambassador to Iraq Zalmay Khalilzad, while the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Gen. Peter Pace, and the U.S. commander in Iraq, Gen. John Abizaid, contradict the president. At the same time, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld blithely contradicts the Joint Chiefs on the entire strategy.

The inconsistent story reflects the occasional weakness of Khalilzad especially for acknowledging harsh realities, letting slip the veneer of bravado and failure to armor with euphemism. Bush and Rumsfeld, of course, remain impregnable fortresses of denial.

It is already hard to remember the heady days when the Iraq adventure began, trumpets blaring and banners unfurled. Vice President Dick Cheney and the administration neoconservatives arranged for the airlift of exiled Iraqi leader Ahmed Chalabi and about 500 of his fighters into the country. He had been a major source of the disinformation about weapons of mass destruction that had provided the justification for the war. Now he was expected to assume power, restore order and make Iraq into a base for the projection of U.S. influence throughout the Middle East. Instantly, Iraq would become a beacon of democracy. Awestruck, the Palestinians would forswear terrorist groups like Hamas. From the Iraqi bastion, the U.S. would topple the regimes of Syria and Iran, by military force if need be. The Iraq example would serve for invasions elsewhere. Saudi Arabia and Egypt would have no resort but democratizing, their rulers yielding to secular figures in the inspiring mold of Chalabi. Like Saddam Hussein's regime, the entire region was supposedly a house of cards.

No one more conspicuously displayed the moral glamour and intoxication with absolute power of the moment than pundit Charles Krauthammer. The month before the war was launched, in February 2003, at a conference sponsored by the National Interest journal, and in columns in Time magazine and the Washington Post, he proclaimed that the Iraq war would transform the entire Middle East in the neoconservative image and that the task would be accomplished first in Iraq during a brief 18-month occupation.

At the conference of the National Interest, Krauthammer dismissed concerns about finding WMD, the casus belli of the war. "There is one thing that I think everybody has overlooked -- we are going to have retroactive evidence. Even though I would like us to be able to have a smoking gun, I don't know how close we are going to come to producing it when the President decides that it is time."

The war, Krauthammer continued, was necessary for "American credibility." It was time to end a "hands-off, offshore policy ... Iraq will be the first act in the play of an America coming ashore in Arabia ... It's not just about weapons of mass destruction or American credibility. It's about reforming the Arab world."

In a column in Time on Feb. 17, 2003, boldly titled "Coming Ashore," Krauthammer proudly embraced the arrogance of power. "Reformation and reconstruction of an alien culture are a daunting task. Risky and, yes, arrogant." Yet 9/11 justified not only invading Iraq but also, he insisted, overthrowing 22 other Arab governments. "Before 9/11, no one would have seriously even proposed it. After 9/11, we dare not shrink from it." And then again came out his bugle: "America is coming ashore."

Three years after coming ashore, some neoconservatives are experiencing the torments of disillusionment. Their most cherished dreams are encrusted with the blood and sand of Iraq. There are no second chances. Having proclaimed Iraq as the ultimate test, neoconservatism is being judged according to its own standard. Francis Fukuyama, neocon philosopher and signer of the original statement of the neocon Project for the New American Century, has produced a succinct synopsis of his disillusionment, "America at the Crossroads: Democracy, Power, and the Neoconservative Legacy." Like communists of a previous generation, he rejects a god that failed.

"I did not like the original version of Leninism and was skeptical when the Bush administration turned Leninist," he writes. Fukuyama chastises the neocons for believing that all societies and cultures share universal aspirations and can rapidly undergo the same path of modernization. He describes the administration's "bureaucratic tribalism" as "poisonous," and blames its close-mindedness for its failures. (Fukuyama, however, has not made a completely clean break. He is listed as a member of the advisory committee of the Scooter Libby legal defense fund. For a prolific writer, Fukuyama has pointedly neglected to explain his attachment to the cause of the accused former chief of staff to the vice president. Is this a case of Leninist morality or Straussian duplicity? Or is it an illustration of English novelist E.M. Forster's statement: "If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country."

But the administration brushes aside the laments of the disillusioned -- whether Fukuyama or William F. Buckley Jr. ("One can't doubt that the American objective in Iraq has failed"), mere scriveners. Bush no more pays attention to the criticisms of conservative Republicans than to those of liberal Democrats. He is consistent in his rejection of criticism of any kind from any quarter. But his granitic impassivity does not resolve any actual problem; nor does ignoring critics make his arguments more convincing.

Next page: The mission impossible of creating a strong Iraqi state