The Unravelling: High Hopes and Missed Opportunities in Iraq by Emma Sky (2015)

‘The Coalition promised regime change but instead brought about state collapse.’
(Unnamed Iraqi general quoted on page 101)

This is a disappointing book.

Emma Sky is mentioned half a dozen time in Thomas E. Ricks’s book The Gamble: General David Petraeus and the American Military Adventure in Iraq, 2006 to 2008. Her story is extraordinary. Aged 35 she had travelled widely in the Middle East, working for various charities and NGOs. She was working for the British Council back in Blighty when the organisation sent round an email asking if anyone wanted to volunteer to work for the new Coalition Provision Authority (CPA) being set up in the immediate aftermath of the US-led victory over Saddam Hussein in Iraq (May 2003).

Although relying on the authority of the US Army, the CPA itself was an entirely civilian organisation, charged with reconstructing every aspect of Iraqi society, battered by 8 years of war with Iran (1980 to 1988) then 12 years of sanctions after the first Gulf War (1991 to 2003), and then a second bout of disastrously accurate US bombing designed to destroy its infrastructure. The CPA was desperate. Anyone from one of the main allies with experience of working in the Middle East was considered.

Indeed Sky describes the astonishing lack of professionalism about the process whereby she applied, was interviewed, was hired, and found herself on a plane to Baghdad. No-one met her at the airport and when she reported to the ‘Green Zone’ in Baghdad where the new authority was still setting itself up she was casually offered the role of ‘Governorate Coordinator’ of the province of Kirkuk in the north of Iraq, and just as casually accepted it. Within days she found herself based in a military barracks in Kirkuk deep in Iraqi Kurdish territory, one of only a handful of women among over 3,500 US soldiers, and sharing an office with the military commander, Colonel William Mayville of the 173rd Airborne Brigade (p.60).

On pages 17 to 21 Sky gives a potted biography of herself. She came from a broken home whose mother, nonetheless, managed to send her to prep and private school, from where she went on to Oxford and then the British Council. So, poor but pukka. This makes the sequence of events which led to her running an Iraqi province a bit more understandable, but not much.

Little did Emma realise at the time that her destiny was to be intertwined with Iraq for the next ten years nor that she would rise to play a key role as adviser to the head of the US Army in Iraq, General Ray Odierno. To be a bit more precise Emma had two periods of work in Iraq, punctuated by roles elsewhere, before she left altogether to move into academia. Her CV goes something like:

  • 2003 to 2004 Iraq: Governorate Coordinator of Kirkuk
  • 2005 Jerusalem: Political Advisor to General Kip Ward, the US Security Co-ordinator for the Middle East Peace Process
  • 2006 Kabul, Afghanistan: Development Advisor to the Italian and British Commanding Generals of NATO’s International Security Assistance Force
  • 2007 to 2010 Iraq: Political Advisor to US General Raymond T. Odierno, Commanding General of Multi-National Corps; and to General David Petraeus on the subject of reconciliation
  • 2011 to 2012 UK: Visiting Professor at King’s College London and a Fellow at Oxford’s Changing Character of War Programme
  • 2012 America: Senior Fellow at the Yale Jackson School of Global Affairs
  • 2015: Director of the Yale World Fellows international leadership development program

So during her two spells in Iraq, Sky was a central figure. She worked with all the key players on the US side, and met all the powerful Iraqi politicians and religious leaders, as well as countless Iraqis lower down the pecking order, regional administrators, tribal chiefs and so on, right down to the man and woman in the street. She sat in on meetings which made key decisions about Iraq’s future, advised on many of them, had to implement ones she profoundly disagreed with.

It’s a chunky narrative (363 pages), with maps and glossary, which take us from the early days of the occupation in 2003 through to the withdrawal of US troops by President Obama in December 2011 and then through the years of Iraq’s collapse which led to the advent of Islamic State, which rose at great speed to take control of much of northern Iraq by July 2014, which is when Sky’s narrative ends.

Wow. She covers the entire period, she is a clever, independent woman with strong opinions of her own, she isn’t shy about criticising the leaders of the US civilian and military administrations to their faces. She has hundreds of good anecdotes to tell. So why is her book so disappointing?

Two reasons: the flat limited quality of her political analysis, and her pedestrian prose style. Thomas E. Ricks’s highly analytical account of the periods 2003 to 2006 (Fiasco) and 2006 to 2009 (The Gamble) proceeds by ideas or themes. Events out on the street are only mentioned insofar as they influence high-level American political or military policy, which is what Ricks is really interested in.

Sky’s narrative, by contrast, is more like a diary, like the diary of a very clever, independent-minded, sixth form schoolgirl. I did this. Then I did this. I attended dinner with so and so. I met so and so for the first time. Next day we went to meet tribal chiefs. I suggested we set up a committee to ensure better representation / rebuild the economy / provide more schools. That evening there was a formal reception. About this time a religious leader became prominent. I met him at a meeting of tribal chiefs. And so on.

Instead of being arranged by ideas or issue the narrative reads like one damn thing after another. It lacks detachment and analysis, an impression not helped by her often very naive impressions of people. She meets all the key players but her assessments are surprisingly shallow. Ricks portrays all the politicians and religious leaders in post-war Iraq jostling for power, focuses on their roles in Iraq’s poisonous power politics. It’s a rogues gallery of crooks and players. By complete contrast, Sky tells us they’re nice people and have lovely eyes (I’m not kidding, she has a thing about people’s honest trustworthy eyes). She makes friends with lots of leading sheikhs or clerics and is always bursting into tears when it’s time to leave (again I’m not exaggerating; there’s lots of crying).

Her prose style is dead in the water, flat and factual with overtones of The Little House on The Prairie.

We celebrated America’s Independence Day with the Kurds by the shores of Lake Dukan. It was apparently the largest lake in Kurdistan, created by the construction of a dam on the Little Zab River in the 1950s. I sat watching the sun set over the mountains. (p.15)

Or:

In the evenings I would often sit with Colonel Mayville in his office describing the state of the province. Our partnership developed into friendship. To my surprise I found myself growing to like the Colonel as a person and respecting him enormously. I came to realise that behind the bravado was a deep intellect – and a wicked sense of humour. (p.37)

Or:

Kara took me into Kirkuk city one afternoon. We ate in a restaurant and then walked through the market. It felt great to escape the cage from which I viewed Iraq and plunge once more into the Middle East, inhaling deeply the smells of coffee and vegetables, and feasting my eyes on the colours and peoples. (p.61)

‘Wicked sense of humour’, ‘feasting my eyes’. These are magazine clichés and have a cumulatively deadening effect. To quote linguist David Crystal, clichés are phrases which have ‘lost their meaning through overuse. They have become automatic reactions, verbal tics, a replacement for intelligent thinking…’ (The Story of English in 100 Words, 2012).

Every chapter has an epigraph. The epigraph to chapter 1 is: ‘All we are saying is give peace a chance,’ the John Lennon song. I realised at that moment that the narrative was likely to be as obvious and clichéd as that choice of song, and so it turned out.

Moments of thumping obviousness this occur again and again throughout the book and steadily lower your opinion of Sky. She comes over as the kind of person who’d think putting a sign in her office reading ‘Keep calm and drink tea’ was original and funny. Shame. This book cost a lot of money (£10), took 3 or 4 days to read, and wasn’t worth it.

Looking for father figures

In the Ricks book Sky is cited as coming to enormously admire the senior US military personnel she met; in fact she is quoted as saying the US Army is much better than the country it serves. In the hard-headed, cynical context of Ricks’s narrative that feels like an astonishing thing for an outsider, and a pacifist-minded British woman, to say. Unfortunately, once you enter the world of Sky’s narrative with its tendency to gush and hero worship, it doesn’t seem at all surprising.

In this respect I came to realise that the most important fact in the book is when she tells us, really early on in the narrative, that her father left her mother when she was very small. She never knew him, she grew up without a father (p.17). In fact happened not once, but twice. After he biological father walked out her mother fell in love again, and it was this step-father who organised Emma’s education at private schools and then onto Oxford. But while she was at university this step-father ran off with another woman, ‘leaving my mother heartbroken, penniless and distraught’ (p.20). So it happened twice, being abandoned by a father.

I was an only child from a broken-down family. (p.163)

So deep was the wound that she openly tells us it was this that made her, on graduating from university, decide to set out on an adventure to North Africa, ‘to escape the grief and anxiety that family seemed to cause’ (p.20).

I’m not projecting this into her narrative. It’s she herself who devotes several pages right at the start to explaining all this. So it seems pretty reasonable to see these traumatic childhood and teenage experiences as explaining why Sky is so quick to hero worship the big, strong military men she was working with, most of whom are old enough to be, er, her father.

After a while you realise that everywhere she goes, she’s looking for Daddy. Judge for yourself this description of her first meeting with the man who would become the head of the US Army in Iraq:

I could not believe my eyes when I first caught sight of General Odierno. I had never seen such a large human being. He almost seemed a different species. His head was totally shaven. His hands were massive. Yet his face was strangely striking and his eyes were kind. (p.46)

And:

General O was our undisputed boss. He was so big, so confident, so decisive and so determined. I was in awe of him. I thought he was indestructible. As I was sure he could not be killed I felt totally safe when I was with him…(p.163)

And:

I loved travelling with General O and the Sergeant Major. There was so much warmth between the three of us and respect for what we each brought to the mission. (p.171)

And it’s not just big lovable General O. Sky finds father figures everywhere. Take General Mayville.

One evening we went to the local orphanage that we visited from time to time…After the dinner we distributed the presents that had been sent out by the soldiers’ families, keen as ever to support our efforts. It was wonderful to watch the children’s faces light up, loving the attention and gifts. Mayville naturally fell back into the role of father, playing with the kids. (p.74)

Again and again she’s quick to establish father figure-daughter relations with strong or older or important men. Sky’s concern and ability to listen impresses all the Iraqis she comes into contact with (she tells us). But quite often it’s difficult to tell whether she’s being respected or patronised.

Colonel Mayville and I decided in October that it was time to visit [prominent cleric Abdel-Fatah] Mousawi in the al-Husseini Mosque. Sheikh Agar, who frequented the mosque, agreed to take us. He brought me one of his daughter’s abayas and gave it to me as a gift. As we climbed out of the car I covered myself in the abaya, much to everyone’s amusement. Sheikh Agar beamed approval. ‘You are my daughter,’ he said. (p.64)

Or:

Somehow I never felt totally at ease with General Farouq. He kept saying that I was like a daughter to him. (p.192)

Or the extended scene towards the end when it’s announced that General O is being promoted and moving on. He asks about her plans, for example does she intend to marry, have kids maybe, a topic she finds ‘uncomfortable’, maybe because it’s none of his damned business, but also, the Freudian reader by this stage realises, because her unconscious desires (for protection and affection) are projected onto him. ‘He was being all paternal’ (p.341).

Crying

Sky not only converts the men she’s engaging with into father figures, but repeatedly casts herself as a little girl lost. When the tour of duty of the 173rd Airborne Brigade comes to an end and they rotate back to the States, Sky attends the elaborate army ceremony marking the handover to the replacement regiment and makes an emotional speech to the assembled regiment on how much she’s come to respect and admire them all. When their commander, Mayville, shakes her hand and leaves, she is inconsolable with grief. She tells us she spent the entire afternoon crying. Why? Another Daddy has left her (p.89).

Throughout the book this keeps happening; she makes close friends with the locals (pretty much 100% men) or with senior US military figures (all men); then she or they have to leave – when she moves from Kirkuk on to work in Baghdad, or when she leaves Iraq altogether – and there’s lots of crying.

Ismail Abudi came round to see me at the Northern Oil Company in Kirkuk where I was staying the night. We sat on the roof chatting…We discussed the 30 June deadline [when the CPA was due to hand over authority to the Iraqi transitional government]. I told him I would be leaving. ‘No…tell me it is not true,’ he said. We sat on the roof in total darkness with tears streaming down our faces. (p.115)

The Chinook helicopter carrying members of the CPA out of Iraq takes off and:

I had tears streaming down my face. (p.127)

Much later, when she’s leaving for the second time, she goes to visit Sheikh Anwar al-Assi to say goodbye and he tells her to write a book about her experiences. And then:

There were tears in both our eyes when we shook hands. (p.339)

The only woman among men

The other pattern which keeps repeating is the way Sky finds herself the only woman among men. This, also, stems back to her childhood. In that autobiographical sketch she tells us that when she was four her mother got a job as matron at an all-boys preparatory school near Oxford. When she was 7 she was accepted into the school as a boarder, one of only five girls in an all-boys school. When she was ten the stepfather mentioned above entered her life and took her to a new school, The Old Ride, in Bradford-on-Avon. Here she was the only girl at the school (p.17).

She claims to have hated it, saying it was a Lord of the Flies-type experience, with the boys being beastly etc. Nonetheless, it sheds great light on the experience most of this book is dedicated to describing, the way she ‘found herself’ the only woman in a US Army barracks of 3,500 soldiers in the remote north of Iraq, as if this is a completely unexpected surprise instead of, to the Freudian reader, a classic example of a lonely adult seeking to recreate the safe environment of their childhood.

What happens when you are the only woman in a US Army barracks of 3,500 soldiers? You are showered with attention. Lots of big tough men go out of their way to behave chivalrously, open doors, call you ma’am, shower you with attention. You become a very special and notable person.

Same happens when she attends the countless meetings of Kirkuki Arabs or Kurds or Turkmen, Sunni or Shia, religious officials, council meetings, army meetings, and so on: she is again and again the only woman in the room. From time to time she describes this as a great achievement but to the Freudian reader it feels like a situation she has engineered from deep psychological needs. She acquires affectionate nicknames, the Iraqis call her Emmasky, she is effusively greeted and hugged wherever she goes by sheikhs and mullahs.

On one level, obviously this all happened and she (presumably) performed an important function as adviser to the military and civil authorities, first in Kirkuk then in Baghdad. But because she herself has announced the themes of abandonment and loneliness, in some detail, right at the start of the narrative, it is hard not to read the book as the record of a partnerless young woman who again and again places herself in the almost exclusive company of men where she can be made to feel important, and showered with the male love and affection which she completely missed as a child.

I was met at the airport by an Italian colonel who greeted me with a big smile: ‘We are five hundred Italian  men with no women to dance with.’ (p.134)

Thus after her friend Sheikh Agar is assassinated, she attends the funeral and goes on to describe the way she has been virtually adopted by his family:

As I walked in I heard the whisper, ‘Emmasky has come’ being passed down the line. I spoke to the sons. The younger one, who I had often seen around the government building, had aged years. ‘Allah yarhamu,’ (May God have mercy on him), ‘Inna lillali wa inna ilaihi raji’un‘ (We are all from God and to him we return). Family members spoke to me. ‘You are our sister.’ ‘You are my brother’s daughter’. Sheikh Agar, bless him, had told all his family about me. And they were touched I had made the journey from Baghdad to pay my respects. Grief lay heavy in the air. I sat in the tent, the sole woman among so many men. (p.106)

This is just one of the surrogate families she is seeking in order to make up for the one she never knew in childhood:

I was on General O’s team. And no matter how badly we disagreed or argued he was not going to throw me out. This was a family that worked through its problems and did not break down. (p.197)

And so when her second tour of duty as adviser to General Odierno comes to an end, at the end of December 2007, there is the characteristic departure ceremony, with speeches and presents, during which Odierno very graciously thanks Emma for all her help and advice.

His loyalty towards me was extraordinary. And I knew, if ever called on again, I would follow him to the ends of the world – and that he would listen to my advice on how to get there.

Odierno is Emma’s Super Daddy. Then it’s her turn to make a speech, telling the assembled soldiers it had been an honour and privilege to be part of their team. And inside she knew:

I meant it. Amid the horror of war, I had experienced more love and camaraderie than I had ever known. (p.241)

When she has her second farewell, because she’s not just leaving Iraq, the Americans are leaving Iraq, and so she attends the passing out parade held by General O, at which he gives a long heartfelt speech to the assembled troops, then:

A long line had gathered to shake General O’s hand and say goodbye. I hung around saying my farewells to the military men who had made me feel so much one of their band of brothers. (p.342)

Solecisms

This is trivial, really, but your faith in her narrative is frequently rocked by small but symptomatic mistakes in English phraseology. Here she is describing how you ought to avoid a particular seat in an American military helicopter, the one right by the open door which is nicknamed the ‘hurricane seat’:

Whoever sat in the back right seat would have the wind soar through their face, with cheeks and mouth flapping furiously. (p.30)

‘Soar through their face’?

Then again

Then again let’s stop and take stock: Sky is a bureaucrat and maybe this is how effective bureaucrats think and write – in stock formulae, obvious clichés, with a shaky grasp of English. Thomas E. Ricks is a journalist, so he’s paid to make stories sound gripping and important, he’s paid above all to write. Sky is a bureaucrat: her job is to invite people to committee meetings, distribute the agenda, manage relationships with key stakeholders, maintain the organisation’s values, defuse confrontations, find negotiating positions. In other words, her job is to use the safe and uncontroversial language of large organisations, not to rattle cages, to soothe ruffled feathers, to seek consensus, not to stand out or be original.

Having worked in UK government departments and agencies for 15 years or so, I recognise the type and recognise the tone of voice, full of terms borrowed from the private sector – where they mean something – and imported into the public sector where they are neutered of all meaning and verve.

Thus Sky tells us that she held a series of meetings with a view to improving the ethnic balance of the Provincial Council – fair enough – but when she goes on to tell us that ‘”No change” was not an option’ you can hear the tone of the civil servant or bureaucrat, quietly priding themselves on their no-nonsense attitude and tough talk.

In reality Sky seems to have been a people person. Her key achievements aren’t setting up this or that committee (though the narrative is larded with references to them) but getting people to trust her. The stories about local leaders accepting her as family, welcoming them to meals, festivals or funerals which I’ve cited, and more like them, testify to what seems to have been her key skill: this was getting suspicious people, in very perilous situations, to trust her sufficiently that they could talk to her, make their demands clear, and then she work her magic at getting the cumbersome CPA or the military-civilian government which replaced it, to actually accede to these Iraqis’ requests and get them what they want. At which point they trust her even more, and decide to try to get their way without resorting to violence.

In this way, as the narrative develops, Sky becomes a kind of one-woman embodiment of the policy of Reconciliation which accompanied the US military surge in 2007.

And seen from this angle, her readiness to fall into father-daughter relationships with important men was a positive asset, because strong men let their guards down around their daughters, share their feelings and wishes, admit their weaknesses and worries a bit more than they would around rivalrous sons, especially in a very traditional, patriarchal society like Iraq.

Maybe she tells us about her broken family background right at the start, and drops scenes of older men hugging her and calling her their daughter throughout the narrative, because she knows that this – above and beyond all the day-to-day admin and bureaucracy and setting up meetings and getting former enemies to talk – was her secret superpower.

Factual learnings

Lack of native politicians

America was always going to struggle to find politicians and administrators to step into the vacuum they created by ousting Saddam and banning the Ba’ath Party. Most of Iraq’s educated middle class had long since fled the country and had no wish to return. Or Saddam had killed them. He took great care to wipe out potential leaders who rose to prominent in any of the country’s many ethnic or religious minorities or among his own minority Sunni community (p.49).

Debaathification

Sky repeats the account of Ricks and every other reporter, that Paul Bremer’s rash decision to ban all members of the Baath Party from holding any official position ever again in effect decapitated Iraqi government at every level, made it very difficult indeed to find new people with authority or experience to run anything, and turned hundreds of thousands of clever, educated people against the occupiers.

The Kurdish return

Sky arrives in Kirkuk to find the Arabs very pissed off indeed at what they saw as the Kurdish takeover of every level of the administration. Many Sunni Arab families had received cash incentives from Saddam to settle in the north under his policy designed to water down the Kurdish majority (10,000 dinars, p.350). These were referred to as ‘new Arabs’. But now they found the police run by Kurds, local councils run by Kurds, Kurds who had left decades previously being offered incentives to return etc. So many of the new Arabs were looking to allies across the border in Syria to help them. Arab resentment of the Kurds is the persistent theme of the first 100-plus pages of the book, covering her time in Kirkuk, and carrying through to the very last pages, where she revisits a resurgent Kurdish region in 2014.

The sectarianism of Nouri al-Maliki

Sunni leaders were convinced that Nouri al-Maliki’s government was not only dominated by Shias (after all, Iraq as a whole has a Shia majority) but included Shia figures who had spent their exile from Saddam in Iran and were thought to be actively working for Iran. Not only that, but there was evidence al-Maliki protected the firebrand Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, figurehead of the murderous Jaysh al-Mahdi or Mahdi Army or Badr Corps. (On page 253 she describes al-Sadr as ‘rash and irascible’, on the next page refers to his many psychological problems.) If the book has one thread it’s the growing authoritarianism and unpopularity of Maliki which goes hand in hand with the Obama administration’s bad decision to give him their full backing.

The extremists overplay their hands

This explains why many in the Sunni community not only joined the insurgency against the American occupying forces, but also tacitly or actively supported al Qaeda in Iraq when they began recruiting and operating in Sunni areas. However, during 2006 into 2007 al Qaeda overplayed its hand and began killing Sunni leaders who opposed them. When, as part of the so-called surge, US forces made it clear they would amnesty Sunni insurgents who had been fighting them, and even set up a scheme to pay them to join local ‘citizen defence forces’, many Sunni fighters decided they preferred this option and turned on al Qaeda who, as a result, escalated their atrocities, which in turn brought more fence-sitting Sunnis into the process of Reconciliation.

Something similar happened on the Shia side. Sky reports being surprised when al-Sadr announced a ceasefire of his forces against the US and Iraqi Army but it was at least in part because many on his own Shia side had become sick of the violence the Shia militias brought and the apparently endless round of  Shia attacks and reprisals either by US forces or Sunni insurgents. Sky describes the process with characteristic brevity i.e. in not enough detail, on page 238.

The surge

Other factors were at work too, such as 1) the huge shift in attitude among the US Army to the new mode of counterinsurgency, as described in such detail by Thomas E. Ricks, by the change in policy to break up America’s supercamps and set up small operating outposts embedded within towns and cities and communities. Also 2) the fact that the US government finally saw sense, realised they didn’t have enough boots on the ground, and allowed an additional 20,000 soldiers to be sent to Iraq.

British embarrassment

On page 232 she describes the British Chief of the Defence Staff, Sir Jock Stirrup, in a meeting with General Odierno, and visibly embarrassed that the British more or less gave up in Iraq while the Americans persisted and, despite their ongoing losses, were able to learn and change their tactics. (Read Frank Ledwidge’s book ‘Losing Small Wars: British Military Failure in the 9/11 Wars for a searing indictment of the British failure in Iraq.)

Terrible Iraqi politicians

Maybe so many of these countries are doomed because their leaders are blinkered and inept; their political class is irredeemably useless, incompetent and corrupt. This isn’t my view, it’s what many Iraqis say. Sky’s friend Abu Mohamed marvels at the way General Petraeus walked with them on a visit through the streets of a town named Jihad, not wearing body armour, talking to children, taking Iraqi dinars from his own pockets to pay for things in the market. Very clever, very savvy public relations, all of which leads a doleful Mohamed to conclude:

‘We don’t have leaders like that in Iraq.’ (p.250)

Other Iraqis make the same point. Abdul-Rahman Mustafa, former governor of Kirkuk, says:

‘Despite all the resources nothing gets done. Iraq is still going backwards. It is hard to see how the country will stay unified with such politicians in power. Iraq has good people but bad politicians.’ (p.354)

If your political class thinks only in terms of power grabs for themselves and their faction, your national politics will remain fractious. If, as soon as anyone gets power, they set about securing it for themselves, their family and clan, going to the extent of threatening and sometimes murdering rivals, then the only was a war of all-against-all can be brought to an end is by a very strong man, by authoritarian rule, by dictatorship. Which is what keeps happening again and again in Arab countries.

Iraqi politicians the problem not the solution

The American government kept hoping that once the level of violence had been brought down to an acceptable level, it would create the ‘political space’ in which Iraqi politicians could agree national plans of reconciliation and reconstruction. What the Americans were slow to grasp was that all the politicians put themselves and their tribes first and national Iraqi interest a long way second. In fact, many of the politicians were behind the violence the Americans were trying to control. They were using it to rally their own ethnic or religious communities behind them, to create followers and voting blocs to keep themselves in power. Rather as the nationalist leaders in Yugoslavia rallied their own communities and demonised other ethnicities, in order to remain in power (p.257).

Hollywood thinking

Mind you, the Americans have plenty of blind spots of their own. Sky puts into words something I noticed in Michael Ignatieff and Anthony Loyd’s accounts of former Yugoslavia and Ricks’s of Iraq which is that senior American politicians and military leaders have an astonishingly simplistic, black-and-white view of the world. They think in terms of the Good Guys and the Bad Guys, as if life was a Western, or a Hollywood movie. Bush and Cheney and Rumsfeld-level leaders are quoted talking about getting ‘the bad guys’ and helping ‘the good guys’. This incredibly naive way of thinking explains why it took the Americans at least 4 years to understand the polyphonic, multi-stranded political, ethnic and religious situation in post-Saddam Iraq, which was not only complex in itself, but continually shifting (p.230). Where are the good guys, they kept asking? But what if there aren’t any good guys?

This explains something else which is the mistaken belief that if you take out the top ‘bad guy’ you solve the problem. This betrays a complete failure to grasp that societies are complex entities made out of multiple tribes and ethnicities and religious groupings, regions and classes. The Americans were hampered by this simplistic Hollywood thinking right from the start when they thought all they had to do was overthrow the bad guy, Saddam Hussein, and Iraq would promptly turn into a shiny modern democracy like France or Germany. World class idiocy. Breath-taking stupidity and ignorance.

The same magical thinking was revealed in their over-excitement at the assassination of Osama bin-Laden, the same naive belief that if you take out the so-called leader of ‘the bad guys’ then everything will be alright. Whereas, of course a) by 2011 (the year he was assassinated), bin Laden had become irrelevant to the situation in both Iraq and the wider Middle East, which remained as fractious, unstable and violent as ever and b) al Qaeda has gone from strength to strength after his death, extending its reach far across North Africa.

Fear

Fundamentally, what drives the desperation of so many of the politicians in these countries to stay in power at absolutely any cost, is fear of what will happen to them and their people once they lose power. Arrest, exile, prison, execution is the all-too-common fate of political leaders in developing countries once they leave office. In countries like this you don’t cling on to power to serve; you cling on to power to protect yourself and your clients and lackeys from what will happen once you lose it. Fear is the key to the entire political system. Thus:

Even before the last [American] soldier had departed [at the end of 2011] Maliki had launched a political coup aimed at crushing Iraqiya. (p.345)

And Maliki proceeds to arrest, intimidate, threaten or drive into exile most of his political opponents (detailed list on page 360). Abdul-Rahman Mustafa again:

‘[The Americans] should not have tried to transplant Western democracy to Iraq. It is not possible. Iraq is not a democracy. Change takes time. There are no democrats in Iraq.’ (p.358)

Betrayal by Obama and Biden

The most surprising thing about the book is its finale. Sky comes down heavily against President Barack Obama and his Vice-President Joe Biden. Parliamentary elections were held in Iraq on 7 March 2010 to decide the 325 members of the Council of Representatives who would elect the prime minister and president. However, the elections didn’t show a clear winner and so negotiations for those posts proved fraught with tension and delay. A final decision wasn’t taken till November of the same year – after eight months of divisive, sectarian bickering and intimidation.

Sky’s claim is that Obama’s regime, its ambassador and envoys, proved inept at managing the situation. They seemed unaware of Iran’s growing influence in the country, and sitting Prime Minister Nouri Al-Maliki’s tendency throughout the year to become more sectarianly Shia, more prone to Iranian influence, and more authoritarian. Sky meets opposition politicians who are scared that they will be arrested, even tortured by Maliki’s security services.

And yet it was this creepy figure, Maliki, who the Americans now threw their weight behind. Obama had been elected president in November 2008, took office in January 2009, and ratified the deal signed by George W. Bush to withdraw all US troops by the end of 2011. As the Iraqi politicians dragged out the backroom wheeling and dealing about the next Prime Minister for most of 2010 Obama became impatient. He was facing mid-term elections for Congress in November and wanted a foreign policy win.

Thus it was expedient, it was the simplest thing, just to confirm Maliki in the post of Prime Minister which he already held. Thus it was that the US administration averted its gaze from Maliki’s worrying tendencies, including the embarrassing fact that Maliki was Iran’s favourite candidate to continue as Prime Minister, given that the leaders of the other parties were Sunnis.

And so it was that during Joe Biden’s flying visit to Iraq in November 2010, Sky is in the room, and at the table, and makes several attempts to get Biden to change the administration’s approach. She then accompanies him to a meeting with senior members of the Iraqiya party, a secular and diverse grouping more appropriate than Maliki’s State of Law Party. by her account Sleepy Joe Biden was already gaga, repeating an utterly inappropriate anecdote about his Irish grandfather who grew up hating the British and then applying it to the attending notables, as if it somehow shed light on the sectarian problems of Iraq. After Biden finally tottered out some of the Iraqiya Party asked Sky what he’d been on about.

Biden was a nice man but he simply had the wrong instincts on Iraq. If only Obama had paid attention to Iraq. He, more than anyone, would understand the complexity of identities and how people can change. But his only interest in Iraq was in ending the war.

I felt sad, angry and very afraid for Iraq’s future. Washington had reneged on the promises it had made to Iraqis to protect the political process and it had betrayed the very principles the US military believed it was fighting to uphold. (p.338)

Summary

As a personal memoir of a unique experience, The Unravelling is possibly, maybe, an acceptable read. But if you want to understand how the war came about, why it went so badly wrong, and how the Americans struggled to fix a terrible situation, forget it. Read Fiasco and The Gamble. Read Frank Ledwidge and Jack Fairweather.

The looting

Concrete example of Sky’s inadequate treatment: on page 98 Sky deals, in one sentence, with the central fact that the occupying forces left a security and policing vacuum right at the start, immediately after the Iraqi army had surrendered, and that the CPA was never able to recover from that initial loss of initiative and control. One sentence! Ricks devotes half his book to this fact, explaining why it came about, how it manifested itself in the first days and weeks, what the full political, military and social consequences were, returning to them again and again to give you an ever-deepening understanding of this catastrophic failure. But in Sky, just one sentence.

Abu Ghraib

Similarly, Sky records in her characteristic schoolgirl diary way, a visit with other CPA staff to Abu Ghraib prison after the photos were leaked and the scandal broke. Here is her analysis in its entirety:

At Abu Ghraib I saw evidence of the worst side of human nature. With weak supervision in the jail, a number of American soldiers had used their power to create a perverse world, breaking the monotony of their days with sadistic acts on detainees under their control. It was truly sickening. Abu Ghraib was one of those places that exuded evil. (p.94)

This is a wholly inadequate analysis, in fact no analysis at all, it’s just a comment by a tourist. By contrast, Ricks gives a detailed explanation of the complex causes of the scandal, the two most notable ones being: 1) the huge numbers of ‘insurgents’ some American forces were rounding up and indiscriminately sending to prison, instead  of questioning, assessing and probably releasing most of them in their own provinces; and 2) Donald Rumsfeld’s obsession with keeping the number of US forces cut to the bare minimum and his express refusal to send out enough US military police properly trained in running prisons. In their absence, inexperienced managers and completely untrained junior soldiers were lumbered with  a job they didn’t know how to do, with the disastrous outcome the whole world got to see.

Ricks’s account is thorough, well researched, fascinating in its own right, and an illuminating insight into the importance of properly running prisons and interrogation facilities during a conflict. Sky – a one-page description of a tourist visit and a Daily Mail-level comment.

She was there. She worked with the key players. She got to know the country and the situation. And yet her analysis repeatedly feels inadequate and superficial. Making lots of lovely friends and repeatedly bursting into tears is sweet but no replacement for analysis.


Credit

The Unravelling: High Hopes and Missed Opportunities in Iraq by Emma Sky was published by Atlantic Books in 2015. References are to the 2016 paperback edition.

Related link

New world disorder reviews

The Gamble: General David Petraeus and the American Military Adventure in Iraq, 2006 to 2008 (2009)

“All armies get it wrong at the beginning; the question is who adapts fastest.”
(British military historian Michael Howard quoted by Elliot Cohen, page 100)

‘All Americans make promises but nothing ever happens.’
Iraqi housewife complaining why there was still sewage in the street outside her house 5 years after the Americans invaded and promised to fix it (p.175)

Fiasco, a brief recap

Thomas E. Ricks won acclaim with his award-winning book, Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq, published in 2006. That book gave an extraordinarily detailed, high-level account of the mind-bogglingly stupid, arrogant, ignorant and incompetent decisions made by senior American officials (Vice President Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld, Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz and under secretary of Defense for Policy, Douglas Feith) in the run-up to the March 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq.

Within a year it had been conclusively proven that a) Saddam had no weapons of mass destruction and b) had no links with al Qaeda, the Islamic terrorist organisation which carried out the 9/11 attacks on New York and Washington. In other words, the instigators of the invasion (Cheney et al) had grossly misled the US political system, the media, the American public, and the world at large, via its utterly incorrect briefings at the United Nations.

Not just that, though. Ricks’s book is named Fiasco because he shows in excruciating detail, and with extraordinary access to senior officials in the Defence Department, State Department and, above all, the US military, how catastrophically bad decisions were taken all down the line, misjudgements and bad calls which led to the post-invasion ‘reconstruction’ of Iraq quickly degenerating into chaos out if which emerged the anti-occupation insurgency, alongside a civil war which developed between militias from the Sunni and Shia communities.

The stupidity can be boiled down to two main errors:

  1. Rumsfeld’s insistence that the invasion and occupation be carried out with far, far too few US troops on the ground; Ricks shows him consistently paring back Army estimates of how many troops on the ground would be needed
  2. the complete absence of a detailed plan for the reconstruction’ of Iraq, or even for the aftermath of the war, because the idiots in charge (Cheney et al) thought the Iraqi people would pick themselves up, return to work, set up a functioning government and rebuild their country using their own oil revenue, all within a couple of months of the overthrow of Saddam

These key assumptions and all the individual tactics and plans which were based on them – ‘the botched handling of the first three years of the war’ (p.116) – turned out to be disastrously wrong (p.102), but the entire situation was turned toxic when the man appointed as America’s viceroy in Iraq, head of the Coalition Provisional Authority L. Paul Bremer, took the intemperate (i.e. against a barrage of opposition and informed criticism) and catastrophic decisions:

  1. to deprive any member of Saddam’s ruling Ba’ath Party of their jobs, on the analogy of the denazification process applied to post-war Germany
  2. to disband the Iraqi Army, police and security services, with the naive idea that US forces would then train new ones, starting from scratch, inculcating democratic values etc

Thus, with the stroke of a pen, over 500,000 highly trained and motivated men and women lost their jobs, their careers and their incomes. After initial protests and appeals many of them went to form the core of the insurgent forces and militias which were to attack US forces and each other for the next 8 years.

More subtly, the Iraqi Army had provided a unifying force in a country made up of fractious ethnic and religious groups, namely (from south to north) Shia and Sunni Muslims, and the Kurds in the north. Removing one of Iraq’s core unifying institutions made the country’s collapse into disparate regions and ethnic civil war far more likely.

Add in the fact that Rumsfeld’s obstinate insistence on sending far fewer US troops than were required led, in the first days and weeks after the invasion, to Iraqi army barracks and ammunition dumps all over the country being left wide open to be looted by would-be terrorists, insurgents and militias, and you could hardly have created a more perfect recipe for a complete shitstorm.

And the shit really hit the fan when the steadily worsening security situation (i.e. widespread lawlessness, robberies, murders, rapes, attacks on occupation forces on a daily basis etc) crystallised into two contemporaneous uprisings: one among the followers of ‘radical’ Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, at first in the eastern slums of Baghdad and then spreading across the Shia south; at the same time as the mostly Sunni city of Falluja to the west of Baghdad was the scene of a massive uprising – both occurring in April and May 2004.

Suddenly the mostly US occupying forces were thrown into more intense urban fighting, with higher casualties, than in the initial invasion back in March and April 2003. And that was the point in the story – with the Fallujah and Sadr City risings – where Ricks ended his first book.

The Gamble

This book is by way of being the sequel to Fiasco, picking up exactly where its predecessor left off. It covers a very specific time period, from autumn 2005 to autumn 2008 – three years – and, although it is, like Fiasco, staggeringly detailed, with extraordinary access to senior military figures who talk with astonishing candour about the political and military foul-up the Americans had landed themselves in – it is, in a sense, a fairly simple story.

It describes the agonisingly slow process whereby senior figures in the US Army slowly came to realise that they were fighting the wrong kind of war. The occupying forces were continuing to fight a conventional war in which the aim is to identify your enemy (hopefully wearing a nice identifiable uniform) and kill as many of them, and degrade their military or civilian infrastructure to such an extent, that their leaders are forced to sign a peace treaty, and then You Have Won.

Only slowly, during the course of 2004 and 2005, did senior officers in the large unwieldy Army bureaucracy and the Pentagon, come to heed the voices that had been advising that the army was in fact fighting a completely different kind of conflict: it was battling an insurgency and thus had to completely switch tactics in order to implement a counterinsurgency.

The last 100 or so pages of Fiasco had, in fact, already expressed this idea at some length, repeatedly, and so there is quite a strong feeling of repetition about the start of The Gamble. Once again we are introduced to the gurus of counterinsurgency, from Lawrence of Arabia with his 27 Articles (1917), to the counterinsurgency manual of Frenchman David Galula, ‘Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice’ (1964), and John Nagl’s ‘Learning to Eat Soup with a Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam’ (2002) and then the 2007 paper, ‘Countering Global Insurgency’, by Australian soldier, David Kilcullen, which, amazingly enough, persuaded Petraeus to invite Kilcullen to come and work for him in Iraq as his counterinsurgency adviser.

Ricks repeats (and repeats again) the simple insight at the core of counterinsurgency theory which is that the population is the prize. Insurgents wear no uniforms, move freely among the general population, choose their own opportunities to emerge from the general population to mount ambushes, plant bombs and so on, before melting back into the crowd. They are able to do this in part because they terrorise the general population, often spending as much time killing their own fellow citizens for speaking against them or in any way helping the hated occupier.

So the only way to crush an insurgency is to separate the insurgents from the population and the only way to do that is to win over the general population to your side; and the way you do that is to break up the super-barracks the Americans had built around Iraq, and instead create scores of smaller posts embedded throughout the cities and towns; to patrol regularly and visibly; to create law and order on the streets. It is emphatically not to kick down the doors of then houses of suspected insurgents, terrify everyone inside and humiliate the man of the house in front of all his relatives; that merely adds one more fighter to the insurgency. The way to behave is with elaborate respect for all citizens, assure them of your protection, respect their culture (especially the sacrosanct nature of hospitality and the respect due to male heads of households, communities or tribes). Ditto detainees, who must be treated according to the Geneva Convention and legality.

Above all try to restore the sense of law and order on the streets – which the Americans had so decisively lost in the first few days of wild looting after the conquest of Baghdad – and protection for everyday citizens from violent criminals and homicidal militias.

Ricks’s narrative describes how these ideas were expressed by scattered officers, academics and teachers within the huge Army bureaucracy, and then were taken up by General David Petraeus who, through a series of complex political manoeuvres, was appointed commanding general of the Multi-National Force Iraq in February 2007 and then wangled the resources – i.e. extra money and five brigades of extra troops – to try and implement this complete turnaround in the Army’s policy.

The notable increase in soldiers on the ground came to be referred to, in the media and then more widely, as ‘the Surge’ and an awful lot, from President George Bush’s political career to the reputation of the US Army throughout the Middle East and around the world, came to rest on it.

That’s what the title refers to and the book describes: the enormity of the stakes involved in what amounted to a humongous gamble to try and wrest back control of an Iraq policy and an armed occupation which had spiralled out of control.

Failed hopes of handing over

My summary so far doesn’t refer to two other important points. From the end of the invasion phase in May 2003 onwards the administration (Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz) came to cling more and more desperately to two shibboleths: 1) that once the Americans had supervised elections and gotten a democratically elected government in place, the Iraqis would take over their own country; and 2) that this would be done via the Iraqi Army and police force which the Americans were training up. The mantra Bush kept repeating to the press was ‘We step down as they [the Iraqi security forces] step up’.

But both policies hit big snags. Not one but two elections were held in Iraq in 2005, in January and December, but had almost entirely negative consequences: The January one was to create a transitional government which would draft a constitution for a successive vote. But in January 1) much of the minority Sunni population boycotted them (voter turnout was as low as 2% in the Sunni Triangle of Al Anbar province) thus confirming what was likely anyway, which was that most elected officials and the government itself was dominated by Iraq’s Shia majority; 2) which, instead of defusing, crystallised and exacerbated sectarian divisions (and violence) across the country (p.32). Just during the January election there were more than 100 armed attacks on polling places including nine suicide bombers, killing at least 44 people.

(Reading statistic like this again and again and again and again makes you marvel at the Iraqis’ dedication and commitment to murdering as many of their fellow citizens, fellow Arabs and fellow Muslims as possible, and utterly screwing up their country as much as they could. It was the scale of the mayhem which prompted Petraeus’s adviser Emma Sky in 2007 to call Iraq a failing state, p.147.)

The same level of violence accompanied the December 2005 election, alongside accusations of fraud and vote-rigging, and extremist language from countless clerics denouncing democracy as an evil alien ideology. Just a few months later, on 22 February 2006, the bombing of the Golden Dome Mosque in Samarra, an important Shia shrine, really kicked off the hyper-violent sectarian conflict (p.32).

But while a violent civil war was kicking off, 3) it took Iraq’s squabbling political class five months to cobble together a ‘government of national unity’ under Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki. a) The excruciating slowness of the process, while car bombs and murders and kidnappings ran out of control across the country disillusioned many with the concept of democracy, which just seemed to be a synonym for inaction and corruption, and b) al-Maliki was in hock to his Shia supporters and, in Ricks’s narrative, becomes part of the problem for protecting the Shia militias carrying our murderous ethnic cleansing of Baghdad’s Sunni districts.

In Sunni neighbourhoods that had been ethnically cleansed, patrolling soldiers often found piles of executed bodies and vacant houses with blood smeared on the walls.(p.166)

Far from solving the problem, the Shia-dominated government turned out to compound the problem. One example: the Ministry of Health employed Shia militiamen who murdered Sunnis who applied for medical care (p.156). Another example: American officials meeting Iraqi government ministers could never be sure whether the ministers had tipped off the militias who would then try to assassinate the Americans en route to the meeting (p.158). Not really the beacon of democracy Cheney and Rumsfeld swore Iraq would become in a matter of months.

The neo-conservatives’ other hope was that ‘as they stand up, we can stand down’ i.e. as the Iraqi Army and police were trained and began serving, the Americans could reduce their involvement and begin to draw down their forces i.e. leave. This assumption (like all the neo-cons’ assumptions) turned out to be grotesquely flawed because the Iraqi Army and police force turned out to be useless. Army units refused to deploy anywhere but their home district – Ricks describes several occasions on which newly qualified Army units mutinied, tore off their uniforms and deserted their barracks rather than be shipped to another part of the country to support or replace American forces. And they were caught up in the sectarian division of the country i.e. were Sunni or Shia first and Iraqis second. And the police in particular, as well as turning a blind eye to militias from their own ‘side’ were breath-takingly corrupt. In Baghdad US forces found they had to ban the Shia-dominated police from even entering Sunni areas where they were regarded as murderers (p.168), reminiscent of Northern Ireland and Yugoslavia where the security forces ceased to operate above the conflict but became completely identified with one side.

Both these strategies came, by the new boys (Petraeus and his commander in chief Ray Ordieno and their council of advisers) to be referred to pejoratively as ‘rushing to failure’. They had to be dropped.

So George Bush’s decision to acquiesce to mounting calls to change strategy in Iraq referred not only to a change of narrow military doctrine (from war to counterinsurgency) but a wider acknowledgement that the policy of waiting for Iraqi politicians and security forces to take charge of their own country was also not working.

Fastabend’s essay

General David Petraeus was appointed senior military leader Iraq early in 2007. Lt General Ray Ordieno was appointed his number 2, in charge of day to day operations. Major-General David Fastabend was appointed director of strategic operations to Petraeus. He wrote an essay listing some of the complete turnarounds in American policy which were required:

  • there was a hole in the centre of the Iraqi state where the government should be, providing law and order but wasn’t; the militias had stepped in to provide it but the Americans had to occupy that space
  • eliminate extremists not by killing them (more will spring up) but working with them; convert them from terrorists and militia into neighbourhood watches – this was pursued by putting over 100,000 former Sunni insurgents onto the US payroll as ‘the Sons of Iraq’ (p.204)
  • reach out to the radical firebrand oppositionist Shia leader Moqtada al-Sadr – this succeeded when al-Sadr declared a ceasefire in mid-2007 (p.201)
  • ignore the national politicians; work at regional and local level to reconcile Sunni and Shia

Another way of conceptualising the US failure in Iraq is that it fought the war it wanted and not the war that was needed. Dazzled by their status as sole superpower and shiny weaponry and sexy drones and laser-guided missiles and supercomputers, the Yanks thought their technological superiority guaranteed victory in any war. I.e. they lost sight of the fact that war is about people. And war in a catastrophically failed state is about working with the people, over the very long term, to rebuild the state one village, one town, one tribe, one region at a time. Long-term, low-tech, high manpower commitment. ‘Slow, ambiguous operations built not around technology but around human interactions’ (p.162).

America’s reluctance to commit troops and resources, its reluctance to lose even one soldier in combat, its reluctance to admit to itself that it is now an empire, is the subject of Michael Ignatieff’s incisive criticism in Empire Lite.

Points of interest

‘There are two kinds of plan, those that fail and those that just might work’ (p.159).

Rather than recap the entire narrative, I’ll select points of interest:

Ethnic cleansing

I hadn’t realised that in 2005, 2006 and 2007 the Iraqis were practicing ethnic cleansing identical to that in former Yugoslavia: in Baghdad in early 2006 Shia militias carried out car bomb attacks and massacres on Sunni communities and Sunni militias struck back on a daily basis killing 20, 30, 40 civilians every day.

Abbreviations

The group within the National Security Council lobbying for an increase in US troops in Iraq called themselves ‘the surgios‘.

MAMs = middle-aged males, an army category of detainee or prisoner (p.107).

AQI = al-Qaeda in Iraq.

Wasta – Iraqi term for clout, pull, connections, the power to get things done, which in turn generates respect.

Communitarian values

The Americans at all levels were obsessed with their own Western mindset of one-man, one-vote democracy based on the primacy of the atomised individualism produced by advanced capitalist societies. Iraqi society, on the contrary, was based around communitarian values based on respect and dignity, ‘dignity and respect, the core values of Iraqi culture’ (p.213). It took the Americans four years to understand this.

Stability over democracy

Part of the rethink was recalibrating the goals; instead of the Rumsfeld-Wolfowitz aim of setting up Iraq as a beacon of democracy and transforming the entire Middle East, the new Petraeus doctrine was to stop Iraq disintegrating into civil war which spilled over into a regional bloodbath (explained on p.164 and p.224).

Victory and Liberty were replaced as goals by stability and accommodation. Realistic minimalism of the army versus the maximalist rhetoric of the poltroon politicians. (Ahead of his April 2008 testimony to Congress Petraeus referred to himself as a ‘minimalist’, p.287.)

Stability became the goal. Controversially, this involved assessing whether ‘democracy’ contributed to or undermined ‘stability’ and it turned out to be the latter. In other words, the Americans talked their way round to understanding why a failing state like Iraq needs a strong, Saddam-like leader. In fact, American tacticians consulted with Iraqi leaders on just how Saddam had controlled his unruly population and began to borrow his techniques, for example siting many of the troops just outside Baghdad, which is where Saddam based his Revolutionary Guards. Odierno asks himself: ‘What would Saddam do?’ (p.165)

Doing deals

Similarly, a central plank of the surge, and prime cause why violence against US forces fell off, is because the Americans did deals with local Sunni leaders. Many were sick to death of the violence of (Sunni) al Qaeda in Iraq. Interrogations or just conversations with many former insurgents revealed that most of them were hard-up and planted bombs etc for as little as $10 a day. Petraeus organised schemes to take Sunni insurgents onto the payroll which eventually were costing $30 million a month.

But a criticism was that this was also a tactic undertaken by Saddam, who bought off tribal opponents with bribes, allowing sheikhs to create their own tribal armies complete with RPGs, AK47s and so on (p.216). Insoluble problems of Iraqi society.

Examples of Iraqi on Iraqi violence on pages 32, 180, 185, 186, 221, 228, 241.

Contractors

Ricks barely mentions the tens of thousands of security contractors who made a tidy living in Iraq, because they are outside the military and therefore his frame of reference. It is bleakly funny to learn that many contractors paid hefty bribes to local militias to ensure the safety of themselves and those they were protecting, and that the militias then used this money to buy more weapons and ammo to attack the conventional US army – Americans paying militias to kill Americans; terrific system (p.168). At the peak of the surge there were some 156,000 US troops in Iraq but this was beaten by the 180,000 contractors (p.187).

The JAMsters

JAM = Jaysh al-Mahdi, the militia of radical cleric Moqtada al-Sadr, responsible for widespread ethnic cleansing i.e. massacring Sunnis; its members nicknamed JAMsters by many Americans (p.173). Being Arabs, or Muslims, or Iraqis, or just angry young men, JAM factions often fought among themselves. Ricks describes a situation in the Hurriyah neighbourhood of Baghdad when four factions of Jaysh were fighting each other, being Noble JAM, Golden JAM, criminal JAM and ordinary JAM. The Americans called JAM HQ in Najaf and asked them to come and sort it out. This worked because they were paying the JAM authorities respect.

Fear is the key

In Blood and Belonging Michael Ignatieff explains how ethnic nationalism arises when you no longer trust the police or security services to protect you but instead start to fear they will persecute you. Fear is the key motivator, as when, in Iraq, the national police became indistinguishable from the Shiite militias. Who can you turn to to protect you? People like you, ‘your people’, from your tribe or clan or ethnicity or religion. Once this starts to happen it is a downward spiral into tit for tat killings which push communities further apart. Eventually all you can do is physically partition the rival sides to stop them killing each other. Ricks describes the Americans building high concrete blast walls around the remaining Sunni communities in Baghdad to stop Shiite militias carrying out attacks. Peace walls. He appears not to have heard of the similar walls built in Northern Irish cities in the 1980s, the policed checkpoints needed between Serb and Muslim parts of Kosovo (p.173).

Asked in November 2008 what one word best describes Iraq [Ambassador Ryan Crocker] didn’t hesitate: ‘Fear.’ (p.310)

The Brits

The British are only mentioned 3 or 4 times, in the most striking instance when a senior American officer says they’ve basically ‘lost’ in the South i.e. Basra (p.177). As of 28 February 2014 the number of UK personnel deployed to Iraq was 141,640. 179 British Armed Forces personnel or MOD civilians died. Yet by the summer of 2008 Ricks says the Brits had just 4,100 troops at Basra airport ‘doing almost nothing’ (p.268). The dismal British performance is analysed pages 277 to 289.

Darwinian evolution of the insurgents

The insurgents and militias were smart, learned American tactics and behaviours and how and when best to attack. US troops liked to joke that all the stupid and amateurish fighters had been killed off early in the insurgency, leaving the smartest and most adaptive to fight on, becoming steadily smarter and more effective (p.180).

Iraqification

In the kind of high-level conceptualisation which makes his journalism so enjoyable, Ricks suggests that the ‘surge’ (and deals with Sunni insurgents) of 2007 represented the Iraqification of the war. For four years the Americans had been trying to Americanise Iraq; now, at last, they realised they had to let Iraq be Iraq (bloody, tribal, violent) and let themselves be Iraqified (p.219).

Murder board

Petraeus prepared for his September 2007 appearance before Congress by having his inner team submit him to a ‘murder board’ i.e. hit him with the hardest, weaselest questions they could think of (p.245).

Sayings

Good tactics can’t fix a bad strategy (p.160).

An old military aphorism has it that amateurs talk tactics but professionals talk logistics (p.197).

Andrew Krepinevich’s law of the conservation of enemies: Never make more enemies at one time than you absolutely need to (p.223).

It is axiomatic in military affairs that every strength carries its own weakness (p.255).

The cost

By early 2008 the Iraq War, which Cheney, Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz had said would pay for itself, had cost the United States $650 billion, at minimum (p.292).

Afterwards

There are two problems, not so much with the book itself as its place in modern history. The obvious one is that Ricks’s account stops at the end of 2008 (with an 8-page epilogue taking us up to late 2009) and with the whole situation in Iraq profoundly unresolved.

US forces were, in the event, to remain in the country until the very end of 2011 – but even then they left a country in crisis, with the supposedly democratically elected Shia government alienating much of the Sunni population. And this in any case proved to be a brief hiatus since, in summer 2014, US forces had to return to Iraq to combat the new threat of the Islamic State group, which declared a caliphate across parts of north-west Iraq and Syria. US forces were to remain in Iraq for a further seven years (!), from 2014 to 2021.

Written and published so close to the events it’s describing, I had the gnawing sense that The Gamble had been superseded by 15 years of subsequent events, and that therefore many of its judgments might have been rendered obsolete.

This seems particularly true of the second problem which is that, if you Google ‘counterinsurgency+iraq’ you get quite a few articles referring to the whole doctrine Ricks praises being discredited. This is a bummer because the final third of Fiasco is devoted to describing and praising counterinsurgency (COIN) as the way forward, and The Gamble is entirely premised on this military doctrine. If COIN has, indeed, been discredited, then so has the basis of both Ricks’s books.

Whatever detailed, modern (2023) assessments of counterinsurgency in Afghanistan and Iraq conclude, there’s no doubt that they didn’t work in the sense of securing long-term security for their countries, especially Afghanistan, where we all saw the US-trained army and security forces collapse and the Taliban surge back to power in little more than a week in August 2021.

Four thoughts

1. The complexity of the US military machine

As Ricks introduces us to members of the US Army at all levels, of all ranks, in Iraq, back in the States, to serving generals and retired generals, members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, to educators at West Point and Fort Leavenworth School of Advanced Military Studies, to officials within the White House, the Pentagon, the National Security Council and the State Department, to members of the Senate Armed Services Committee, all kinds of other bodies such as the Defence Policy Board, the American Enterprise Institute, the Iraq Study Group, as well as to academic experts on military history and strategy at place like the John Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, to commentators and specialist journalists — he builds up a picture of the extraordinarily complicated ecosystem which makes up the US political-military machine. And that’s without mentioning the other two services, the air force and the navy which, of course, have their own vast bureaucracies and hierarchies.

Ricks’s narrative shows that, not only is the US military establishment huge and complex and byzantine, but it is riven with politics and personalities, arguments and ambition, rivalries and debates, which add elements of complication and confusion at every level from the White House downwards.

Reading Rick’s portrait of this vast, lumbering, multi-faceted behemoth helps you really understand how difficult it is to mount a campaign in the first place, and then helps explain the manifold failings and setbacks and false promises and crap strategies which the army of the richest country in the world keeps experiencing.

2. PhDs in the US military

As a footnote to the above, it is also a bit staggering how well educated a lot of these army types are. A lot of the army officers have degrees (impressive) but a surprising number also have PhDs (very impressive). Ricks lists the PhDs in the team Petraeus built around him on page 135. Reminding me of Michael Ignatieff’s comment in ‘The Lesser Evil’ that the US Army is overflowing with frustrated intellectuals. Who’d have thought.

So how does an organisation bulging with over-educated, cleverclogs manage to foul up so often? See point 1. I’ve worked for a number of UK government departments and agencies and have seen at first hand the magical, almost supernatural way in which, the more you fill a room with clever medium and senior-level managers, the dumber the discussion and the worse the outputs.

I personally have sat in a meeting of board members and the chief executive and watched them discussing results which I, the most junior person in the room, charged with monitoring the stats and producing weekl reports, knew to be factually incorrect or were being distorted for political reasons, both internal and external (I mean real politics, deriving from Cabinet and the government).

Should I, the lowliest person in the room, interrupt the presentation being given by the Head of Strategy to the Board and the Chief Executive, and thus embarrass my boss and his boss and his boss; be put on the spot in front of the entire board of the organisation; and with no alternative strategy to propose, just negatively pointing out errors and inaccuracies? Am I likely to speak up in that situation? No, and so I repeatedly watched decisions being boldly taken based on incorrect data and misleading stats.

This is why I enjoyed both Ricks’s books so much, because they really dig down into the psychological reasons behind clichéd expressions such as ‘bureaucratic inertia’ to show why that kind of thing arises and is so hard to combat in practice. It boils down to people being scared of stepping out of the groupthink, being the only one in the room to point out that the emperor is naked, of any sane person preferring to avoid ridicule and rejection, and so going along with decisions they know to be wrong.

3. Iraqi voices but no Iraqi perspective

It’s an obvious point, but this is the account of a man who has for decades been a leading journalist on the Pentagon and the US military. His contacts, his quotes, his grasp of the internal politics and debates within the US Army, the Defence Department, the State Department, the White House, are exceptional.

So there’s lots and lots and lots about the situation in Iraq and America’s military strategy in Iraq and bringing democracy to Iraq and making Iraq a free nation and rebuilding Iraq and the history of Iraq and the religious and ethnic groups of Iraq – all seen from an American point of view, by lots and lots and lots of well-educated US military – but actual voices of actual Iraqis?

Well, it would be false to say there aren’t any, there are – a fair number, in fact, al-Maliki is quoted a lot, as are his advisers, other politicians, al-Sadr, and numerous sheikhs. BUT they are all quoted commenting on American initiatives and American plans and American shortcomings. For a real sense of the Iraqi experience, Iraqi history, Iraq’s political, religious and ethnic challenges, how the Iraqis see it – you’d have to go elsewhere. At the moment I’ve no idea where.

4. Ethnic nationalism

Ricks’s narrative is about the Big Shift within the extended behemoth which is the US political-military machine from a mindset based on winning a war to the mindset of counterinsurgency, which he repeats again and again and again. But my reading of the situation he’s describing is heavily influenced by having just reread Michael Ignatieff’s books about ethnic nationalism and Anthony Loyd’s books about the wars in former Yugoslavia. So what I see is that, while Ricks is praising his heroes for turning the supertanker of American policy in a completely new direction, from 1. a strategy of war-winning to a completely different 2. strategy of counterinsurgency; in the meantime the situation had already passed that point into 3. a civil war between ethnic or religious groups (Sunni versus Shia).

You know the old joke about the late-Victorian British government’s attempts to solve ‘the Irish Question’, that every time the British government thought it had found an answer, the Irish changed the question. Same here. It’s more complicated than that, and Ricks knows more about Iraq than I ever will, but I wonder whether, while he praises Petraeus et al for moving from approach 1 to approach 2, the Iraqis had outmanoeuvred them by moving on to zone 3.

And the thing can be posited about civil wars, especially when they reflect profound ethnic or religious divisions – as in Bosnia or Northern Ireland or Sri Lanka or Sudan – that they are very, very difficult to end, not without partition of the country (as in Ireland and Sudan) or extermination of one party (as when the Sri Lankan government wiped out the Tamil Tigers).

Obviously a huge factor is the well-known leftist position that most of the countries in the Middle East, as in Africa, are the impractical creation of ignorant bureaucrats back in the capital cities of European Empires (especially the British and French) who drew arbitrary borders dividing homogeneous groups and forcing together into new ‘states’ ethnic and religious groups who have nothing in common.

Classically, such naturally fissiparous ‘states’ have to be held together by authoritarian leaders and, when those strongmen are removed, show a strong tendency to collapse into smaller units dominated by one or other ethnic or religious group. Thus Yugoslavia after Tito died. Thus Iraq after Saddam was overthrown. Thus Libya after Qaddafi’s ouster.

Part of the arrogant ignorance of Bush Junior, Cheney and Rumsfeld was thinking Iraq was like Nazi-occupied France; all you had to do was kick out the Nazis and an integrated European nation with a strong secular identity, a citizenry with advanced awareness of their civic rights and responsibilities, would revert to being a peaceful democracy.

But Michael Ignatieff’s visits to the trouble spots he chronicles in his books highlight the problem with this assumption. Ignatieff’s investigations show that such a sophisticated sense of political rights and duties, a widespread sense of civic responsibility, the complex matrix of what development experts call ‘civil society’, take centuries to develop and simply don’t exist in many, probably most, countries in the world.

The Americans removed the dictator and instead of getting a generation of keen young citizens springing up to create a vibrant democracy they got hundreds of thousands of angry militiamen, insurgents and terrorists whose main aim became to massacre as many of the infidel invader or their fellow citizens as possible, in an escalating cycle of tit-for-tat terrorist atrocities.

This sounds exactly like the Bosnia and Kosovo described so vividly by Ignatieff and Anthony Loyd, except so much worse, because exacerbated by the deeply tribal and clan-based nature of Arab culture. It isn’t just the Bosnians against the Serbs as in Yugoslavia; Ricks portrays Iraq as a land with thousands of tribes who all have feuds and vendettas against each other, where tribal or clan loyalty, religious and ethnic allegiance come a long, long way before any thought of the ‘democracy’ or ‘civil rights’ spouted by the invader and their corrupt politicians in faraway Baghdad.

  • ‘One of the mistakes we made early on was not understanding the importance of the tribes,’ Lieutenant General Raymond Odierno (p.110)
  • ‘Tribal society makes up the tectonic plates in Iraq on which everything rests,’ Brigadier General John Allen (p.219)
  • ‘the most powerful socio-cultural dynamic in Iraq, the tribal system…’ Adam Silverman, political adviser to a brigade of the 1st Armoured Division (p.329)

Which begs the really basic question: can such a society ever become a peaceful democracy, as we in the West know it? To which my short answer is, no. Ricks ends his book with a string of first-person testimony from US officers who worked closely with Iraqi politicians, senior police or army officers. Without exception they describe individuals steeped in intimidation, fear and violence who were just waiting for the Americans to leave so they could set about exterminating their enemies. Many of the experts he spoke to predicted a return to civil war, a military coup, or the rise of a Saddam-like dictator.

Here’s highlights of the current Foreign Office advice about travel to Iraq:

The Foreign Office advises against all travel to Iraq and all but essential travel to the Kurdish provinces…Protests [in Baghdad] can, and sometimes do, escalate into violence…Iraq remains subject to regional tensions…You should remain vigilant, have robust security arrangements and contingency plans in place…Terrorists are still very likely to try to carry out attacks in Iraq. You should remain vigilant…There’s also a high threat of kidnapping throughout the country, including from both Daesh and other terrorist and militant groups, which can be motivated by criminality or terrorism.

In a 2006 Senate debate conservative Republican Lindsey Graham said: ‘The American people are beginning to wonder if the Iraqi people can get this right.’ (quoted on page 59). The police chief of Fallujah, a former insurgent named Faisal Ismail al-Zobaie put it simply: ‘No democracy in Iraq. Ever.’ (p.209). Were they right?

Since then

So where is Iraq today? This article gives a brief overview of the current situation. Twenty years after the coalition invasion there are some 2,500 U.S. troops still in Iraq. According to the article this is for two reasons:

  1. to help Iraqi forces in ongoing conflict with the remnants of ISIL in the north-west
  2. to disrupt supply lines from Iran in the east through Iraq, to Lebanon and its ally there, Hezbollah, where Iranian arms could be used in Hezbollah’s ongoing conflict against Israel

Maybe it’s just an awful part of the world and people born in Iraq are condemned to live their entire lives in a violent country, plagued by terrorist atrocities, criminality and continual, low-level religious conflict. So far from the naive imaginings of Cheney, Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz as to be surreal.

Iran

The darkly funniest thing about the whole sorry story is that Saddam’s Iraq had up till the invasion provided a strong, Sunni, Arab bulwark against the power of Shia Iran. With Iraq greatly weakened by the American invasion, Iran has been able to extend its power into Iraq (via tame Shiite politicians and militias) and onwards throughout the region. The biggest single outcome of the American invasion of Iraq has been the empowering of one of America’s bitterest enemies, Iran.

International affairs is undertaken by utopian idiots (Bush, Blair), sorted out by embattled realists (Petraeus), and provides endless black humour to armchair ironists (us).

Humanity

These are the best products of the richest, most powerful nation the world has ever known. Their net achievement? Stupidity leading to mind-boggling violence leading to complete strategic failure.

After immersing yourself in this swamp of arrogant incompetence I don’t see how anyone can believe the rhetoric you hear all the time about ‘combating climate change’ or ‘building a better, fairer world’. The richest, most powerful country in the world spent over a trillion dollars, lost thousands of lives, spent nearly 20 years, and still couldn’t even fix one medium-sized nation among the world’s 200 countries. Nobody is going to save us from our own stupidity.


Credit

The Gamble: General David Petraeus and the American Military Adventure in Iraq, 2006 to 2008 by Thomas E. Ricks was published by Penguin Books in 2009.

Related links

New World Disorder reviews

Absolute Friends by John le Carré (2004)

‘Everyone in Berlin knows Sasha.’
(Absolute Friends, page 58)

For three-quarters of its length this is the best, the most compelling, gripping and psychologically rewarding le Carré novel for years: for excitement and plausibility I would recommend this one over all its predecessors as far back as A Perfect Spy. It is a return to the full-blown world of Cold War spying, but now continued on into the more uncertain, violent and scary post-9/11 world and also, for the first time in his fiction, gives a real sense of age and frailty and remorse.

Then bizarrely, right at the end, the narrative turns into a rant against George Bush, Tony Blair and the US invasion of Iraq, our heroes get assassinated by the wicked, imperialist Americans and the whole thing is covered up in a finale that’s reminiscent of 1970s conspiracy thrillers, only without the wit or style.

Absolute Friends

Absolute Friends feels like yet another channeling of le Carré’s own life story. Like the author, the main protagonist Ted Mundy is brought up by a braggart father – this version is a British Army Major who stays on into post-Independence Pakistan, all bristling patriotism and military lingo, his mother having died in childbirth. When his father is cashiered from the Army in the 1950s, young Ted returns with him to grey, rainy England and, like the young JLC, is packed off to a succession of boarding schools which he hates, before – exactly like JLC – discovering a liking for German language and literature and so going abroad to study, in this fictional instance, to Berlin (le Carré went to study in Basel in Switzerland).

As with A Perfect Spy, the closer le Carré is to his own life, the more grounded the text and the language feel. Granted the entire childhood in Pakistan, the food and Muslim prayers and Urdu words for things, are not directly autobiographical but the product of research – nonetheless, the character’s feelings of being puzzled, isolated, seeking escape from a childhood world which is both smothering and the only support he knows, are powerfully conveyed and give the novel more psychological conviction than its four or five predecessors.

The plot

At Oxford Ted had taken a lover (le Carré heroes are never short of women, they luxuriate in an atmosphere of sustained sensuality – the ease with which Jonathan Roper or Oliver Single or Andrew Osnard or Ted Mundy attract and bed posh totty is one of the defining characteristics of these books).

Strident young Ilse introduces him to sex and radical politics, packing him off to Berlin with a letter of introduction to the city’s top student radical, Sasha (we never learn his last name).

‘Everyone in Berlin knows Sasha.’ (p.58)

Here we come to one of le Carré’s most irritating mannerisms – the way so many of his protagonists are in awe of super-famous, notorious, legendary figures. Thus everyone in Berlin knows Sasah, just as everyone in Panama knew Harry Pendel, everyone in the City knew ‘Tiger’ Single, and so on and so on.

Sasha is a small, intense, broken-looking chap but, again, like all le Carré leading men, the smirking ‘conqueror’ of numberless women – as well as being the much-admired brains behind radical student politics in the seething Berlin of 1969.

It’s rather a relief that, for the first time in five or six novels, the books features scenes which don’t involve chaps from Eton and Winchester pointing out to each other how legendary and/or what total rotters each other are, in that insufferably self-congratulatory public school way.

Indeed, the scenes set among the free love and ‘smash the system’ radical students of late 1960s Berlin felt powerful and persuasive – helped no end by being set among foreigners who don’t end each sentence ‘old boy’, and therefore sound like normal people, not the self-regarding ‘legends’ of Eton or Harrow or Shrewsbury who populate his other post-1990s novels.

Ted enjoys free sex with, inevitably, the most beautiful and aloof of the many beautiful young women in the squat. All women in le Carré novels are young and beautiful and carefree, personally I find this thread rather creepy.

They go sticking up posters calling for the workers to overthrow the system etc, and then there’s a big demonstration in which 6-foot-tall Ted a) rescues Sasha from a beating by the police b) is himself arrested, soundly beaten, handed over to the British Consulate and deported.

Time passes during which Ted does not resume his degree at Oxford but tries various life experiments and the narrative gives a good sense of the confidence and open horizons so many people experienced in the early 1970s.

Ted teaches at schools (inevitably he has affair with one of the other master’s wives), lives for a while in the stoned writer’s colony in Taos, USA (obviously has an affair with a painter’s wife), tries his hand as a radio reporter and newspaper journalist, before drifting back to London and getting a homely little job at the British Council.

He also lowers his sexual sights from artists and free spirits and falls in love with a practical young woman, Kate, teacher in a local state school (that is, not a fee-paying boarding school – crikey, there are a few around, apparently) who also happens to be an activist in the local Labour Party.

In his new British Council role Ted is tasked with accompanying a youth theatre group across north Europe and then around the Eastern bloc countries. This meandering account all leads up to the seismic moment when Ted is hailed by Sasha backstage in an Eastern European capital. Yes, Sasha, Sasha from the old days in the Berlin commune!

Quickly Sasha makes a rendezvous with Ted at which he tells the incredulous Englishman what’s happened to him in the decade since the glory years in Berlin. Briefly, he was lured by radical colleagues to cross the Wall into the East where he was at first interrogated and grilled in the notorious ‘White Hotel’ interrogation centre, and then, finally, rehabilitated, on condition that he became a lowly employee of the State Security Police, the Stasi.

Now, by the time of this backstage meeting with Ted, Sasha has become completely disillusioned with life in the East, whose authorities he dismisses as ‘red fascists’. He has begun copying incriminating documents and building up an archive of the State’s criminality against the long-awaited day, far in the future, when the communist regime will collapse. And then he was amazed to see his old friend Ted’s name on the manifest of a travelling theatre group. And hence this meeting…

Sasha tells Ted he wants to spy for the West. He has access to files and documents and information all of which he will give to the West, for nothing, just out of anger and hatred of the regime. Ted doesn’t know what to think, and has the latest of many out-of-body experiences he has throughout the novel whenever he finds himself out of his depth. However, Sasha stipulates that he will only hand these goodies over to Ted, in person, no-one else. To manage this, Sasha explains, to cement their bond, Ted must offer himself as a spy to his Stasi masters. This will provide the perfect excuse for their meetings.

Ted becomes a spy

Sasha even explains to Ted who to get in touch with when he gets back to the West, a drawling, upper-class Intelligence officer in West Berlin, Nicholas Amory, who becomes his case officer. Ted now undergoes training in a) how to collect Sasha’s information b) how to present himself as a candidate for recruitment by the Stasi, not being too earnest, playing hard to get, then ultimately giving in and agreeing to become a double agent.

This central part of the novel is familiar territory for le Carré, but fascinating nonetheless. His classic spy novels from the 1960s and 70s emphasised the human cost of the trade and this is no different. Ted has married Kate and they have a young son, Jake, but all of them find it wearing to cope with Ted’s more and more frequent trips to Eastern Europe, ostensibly attending conferences promoting British Culture, but in every instance a) pretending to the Stasi that he has vital espionage material to feed Sasha b) in fact collecting and transporting back Sasha’s top secret information to his British handlers.

The narrative makes a deal out of the multiple versions of himself Ted has to navigate: Mundy One, his ‘true self’, Mundy Two the British spy, Mundy Three the pretend Stasi spy. Throw in playing the roles of good father and dutiful husband, and you have a very confused public schoolboy, who wishes he could just go and play cricket. I found the narrative’s portrayal of this slightly hallucinatory sense of managing multiple selves very convincing.

Amidst all the spying Ted is introduced by Amory to a tall, shaggy, comfortable American, who interviews him in depth over a number of days, and who he grows to like, one Orville J. Rourke (‘call me Jay’), whose dear old mother, like Ted’s, is of Irish descent.

Then, one day, Jay disappears, without a goodbye or anything. Amory explains to Ted that he has just been vetted by ‘the cousins’ (i.e. the CIA) and passed clean. Good for him.

Over the years Ted and Kate drift apart. She finds herself promoted within the Labour Party and put forward as the PLP candidate for her home town of Doncaster, which requires her to move up there, along with Jake. Because of his work Ted remains in London, and is often abroad anyway. The inevitable happens and, some years later, they have a summit meeting where Kate announces she’s leaving him, for a shadowy man in the background, Philip, something to do with the shiny New Labour Project.

(Le Carré, who gives every sign of loathing Tony Blair, is heavily sarcastic about Kate and her steady rise in the New Labour hierarchy).

What rings most true from these sequences is Ted’s heartfelt sorrow at missing out on his son’s childhood, sadly meeting up with the teenage Jake and realising he is a stranger to him.

Then one day they all find themselves watching on TV the Berlin Wall being hammered to the ground, while the East German police look on in bemusement. Ted has a moment of concern for his friend Sasha, liable to be lynched by the mob in the anti-Stasi reprisals; and then panic for himself, as he realises his own Stasi file, proclaiming him a communist spy, might be published. But it doesn’t happen…

The present

All le Carré’s post-Cold War novels start in media res, i.e. in the middle of the complete sequence of events they describe. After establishing the situation in ‘the present’, they then go back to explain the often long and convoluted backstories which led up to this moment. Thus Absolute Friends opens soon after the Allied invasion of Iraq (March to May 2003) to find Ted adrift in Europe again and explains everything I’ve just summarised in a flashback.

Having lost his family in England around the same time the Cold War ended and his career as a spy came to an abrupt end, Ted has returned to Germany and set up a school for teaching English to corporate executives.

So as ‘the present’ of the novel opens, this school has shut down, bankrupted by the (possibly) criminal activities of Ted’s business partner Egon, and Ted has drifted down to Munich, where he has fluked a job as an English-speaking tour guide to one of the castles of mad King Ludwig of Bavaria, giving chummy, unfunny lectures to bemused tourists.

He has also fallen in love with a poor Muslim immigrant, Zara, who approached him one night in a bar offering to prostitute herself. The decent public schoolboy and soldier’s son in him turns this down and insists on buying her a nutritious dinner. She explains that she is the victim of an arranged marriage made back in Pakistan to a man who turned out to be a crook and wife beater, and who smashed out her front teeth among other assaults, before being arrested and sent to prison. Now she prostitutes herself to support her proud little son, Mustafa.

Ever one for a lost cause (and leaking a fair bit of sentimentality), Ted becomes Zara’s protector, paying for proper food, buying the suspicious Mustafa toys, behaving honourably for he is, like so many le Carré characters, at heart a jolly decent chap, an honourable schoolboy.

And now we realise the reason why le Carré had his protagonist born and raised in Pakistan. It makes him sympathetic to Muslim culture, it makes him ready to be taken along by Zara and Mustafa to their impoverished mosque in the backstreets of Munich, it contributes to his anger at the short-sighted stupidity of the Allies for invading Iraq on a trumped-up pretext.

But despite the naked contrivance of all this, the actual descriptions of Ted’s childhood in dusty Pakistan, of playing with the native children and the sweet memories which elude him in later life, are genuinely moving.

Above all, it is a relief not to be among the braying diplomats and their bitchy wives who have dominated JLC’s past few novels. It feels a little bit like actual modern life, in its poverty and anxiety and multi-cultural confusion. And it feels like an achievement for le Carré to have reached beyond the bubble of his age and class and grasped that.

The counter-university

And so all this brings us to the final act. Out of the blue Ted gets a letter from his old comrade in arms, Sasha, who makes his third great interference in Ted’s life. This time, when they meet, Sasha introduces him to a mad new scheme: there is a secretive billionaire who is so incensed at the West’s invasion of Iraq, and by the stranglehold the new, more virulent military-industrial complex is exerting over all aspects of Western media, culture and education, that he has a magic plan at hand – he wants to set up a Counter-University, which will provide a safe space for voices speaking out against the Complex, where alternative discourses and theories can flourish.

Sasha drives Ted out to an aircraft-hanger sized barn in the countryside outside Munich, where they transfer to a 4-by-4 driven by a stern female operative, and then up hill and through a maze of forests and valleys to a remote mansion.

It is like a James Bond lair, immaculate and clean in every detail, and Sasha leaves Ted to be processed by several sets of slick young receptionists and security guards before being admitted to the vast room of Mr Big, who turns out to be a tracksuited, twinkly old man of 70, who gives his name as Dimitri and delivers a long monologue about the evils of the US military-industrial complex. He outlines his plans to set up the Counter-University and even produces a reading list of the kinds of books they should be teaching, a list which could come straight from the pages of the Guardian:

  • Naomi Klein
  • Arundhati Roy
  • George Monbiot
  • Mark Curtis
  • John Pilger
  • Noam Chomsky
  • Joseph Stiglitz
  • Susan George

I’ve read articles or books by all of these authors and even attended lectures by some of them (Klein, Stiglitz). I am broadly sympathetic to their views, but I found le Carré’s decision to promote their views via the mouth of a wizened, old James Bond-style villain, bizarre.

‘I am speaking of something even more important to the development of western society than the ballot box. I am speaking of the deliberate corruption of young minds at their most formative stage. Of the lies that are forced on them from the cradle onwards by corporate or State manipulation, if there’s a difference any more between the two which I begin to doubt. I am speaking of the encroachment of corporate power on every university campus in the first, second and third worlds. I am speaking of educational colonisation by means of corporate investment at faculty level, conditional upon the observation of untrue nostrums that are advantageous to the corporate investor, and deleterious for the poor fuck of a student.’ (p.276)

In the fiction, Ted is driven back to his flat where he agrees the whole deal with Sasha. However, Ted is not that naive and the next night hops into a car and drives back out to the aircraft hanger, only to find it full of farm equipment, and then continues up to the James Bond mansion in the forest, only to find it stripped and bare. Spooky!

Stumbling back through the woods he is aggressively captured by a large force of armed and trigger-happy Austrian security police, stripped, hooded, bundled into a jeep and interrogated before it all comes to a halt with the reappearance of Jay, the CIA man from years before.

Jay reveals to Ted that they have their eyes on Dimitri and have traced his money back to Riyadh. The Saudis. Muslims, Ted. Has it crossed Ted’s mind that Dimitri might not be a peace-loving philanthropist but part of the new web of anti-Western terrorists spreading around the world?

Ted is cleaned up and dropped home where he is paid another visit by his old MI6 minder Nick Amory. For the first time since Ted’s known him, Nick is himself at a loss and puzzled. He reveals MI6’s uncertainty about Dimitri’s background and motives: is it to found a grand new liberal university in the venerable university city of Heidelberg? Or is that the facade for some evil ‘spectacular’ like blowing the city up?

And Nick tells Ted that Jay is no longer with ‘the Company’ i.e. the CIA: he’s been a freelancer, advising big US corporations for four years or more. So whose interests does he have at heart? Ted is right to feel confused, and the reader along with him. Thirty pages from the end Ted loads Zara and Mustafa onto a plane back to Turkey, to attend her sister’s wedding, glad to have them out of the way of whatever happens next.

The big shoot-out

What happens next is Ted drives to the big, empty school building where he’s made an appointment to meet Sasha. Sasha is late. After a few drinks, Ted takes a jemmy and opens the crates of books which have started arriving as preparation for the big new university and are piled up in the big main hall.

Sure enough, he finds lots of books on philosophy etc, but then… some on how to make home-made bombs, tips on arson, and then some crates full of hand grenades and guns. Oh. OK. In a very cinematic moment he sits back in the armchair in the big unlit atrium of the schoolhouse staring at the pile of cracked-open crates in utter silence, wondering what the hell he’s got himself into.

Then he hears the moan of a motor car, a screech of brakes and all hell breaks loose – the doors and windows are smashed in by black-clad US Special Forces firing machine guns in all directions and letting off small explosions. Ted runs to the stairs and stumbles up them despite being hit in the leg and shoulder. He makes it up to the attic where he swings open the skylight, looking down into the road in time to see Sasha being shot to pieces outside. At which point half a dozen SWAT troops burst into the attic followed by a balaclava-ed, tall, shaggy guy with a smooth Boston accent – God, it’s Jay! – who takes careful aim with a sniper’s rifle and shoots Ted through the head.

The cover-up

Exactly as in The Constant Gardener a) the hero is killed by the forces of evil b) le Carré embarks on an elaborate explanation of how a completely fictional cover story is manufactured by the State and media c) one good man speaks out in a bid to tell the truth but is stifled.

So official sources give out that US forces only just managed to prevent a major terrorist atrocity right in the heart of Germany. Huge stockpiles of ammunition and guides to terrorism were seized and two of the hardened terrorists shot dead but not before an intense firefight. Ted’s life is completely rewritten to make him look like an embittered loser who has turned to Islamic radicalism (even marrying one of them, godammit!) while Sasha is characterised as a former Stasi spy and failed radical. So much for the cover-up.

We go on to learn that Dimitri was a conman and actor hired to deceive both Sasha and Ted, who has taken a big payoff and retired to the States. We learn that Zara was arrested on arrival in Ankara and is being tortured until she corroborates the official story. We learn that a high-ranking British official published a ‘true’ account of Mundy’s life on an anonymous website (this would be Nick Amory), an account which was comprehensively rubbished by the powers-that-be and gullible journalists who, in le Carré’s view, are always easily impressed by the glamorous world of ‘intelligence’.

And the motive behind this elaborate and murderous scam? Germany had refused to join the ‘Coalition of the Willing’ which invaded Iraq. This entire incident and the deaths of Sasha and Ted were engineered to terrify German public opinion, helped along by paid articles from America-friendly journalists, designed to bring pressure to bear on the German Chancellor to fall into line with US foreign policy, with the American military-industrial hyperpower which, in le Carré’s view, has gone mad, and is undermining the whole world.


A spot of biography

Le Carré’s father, on the evidence of his own interviews and the recent biography of him, was a world class con-man, who gathered round him gangs of collaborators and conspirators who all agreed with the Chief and supported his mad schemes. Within this small world, tightly knit together by its secrets and conspiracies, to the growing boy John all the adult characters around him seemed larger than life figures, with superhuman qualities.

This sense of a small, claustrophobic world in which everyone is a legend to everyone else is one of the hallmarks of le Carré’s fiction. A Perfect Spy is a great novel because it has the force of a barely fictionalised recap of le Carré’s odd childhood. The same sense of a magic circle of large-than-life characters is strongly felt in Single & Single where the legendary ‘Tiger’ Single lords it over his gang, and also in The Night Manager where ‘the worst man in the world’, Richard Roper, lords it over another close-knit bunch of cronies.

The narrator of le Carré’s fictions is always an interloper into these secret worlds, an outsider, attracted and repulsed by their phony charisma, who ends up overturning them. Thus Tiger’s son, Oliver, betrays his father, and Roper’s protégé Jonathan Pine, betrays his slick arms dealer chief.

As part of his odd childhood, young le Carré was packed off to a series of boarding schools where he encountered another self-enclosed, self-regarding world full of ‘legendary’ masters and ‘fabled’ young stars of the cricket pitch or concert hall or whatever.

From which he progressed to Oxford University, also notorious for promoting its members, either undergraduate or faculty, to mythical status.

And then, after a spell of teaching at Eton (another institution not shy of turning its masters and pupils into legends) on to the Intelligence Service, another inward-looking organisation, also not slow to lionise its leading lights, such as good old Kim Philby, solid chap.

This background of a whole series of cliqueish little worlds full of people telling each other how terrific they are, I think, explains the often smothering cliqueyness of much of le Carré’s fiction, which consistently concerns itself with small groups of figures who all regard each other as legends and stars.

The Constant Gardener is ostensibly about criminality in the worldwide pharmaceutical industry and takes the hero (the Old Etonian Justin Quayle) from Africa to Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Canada and back in his quest for the truth. But in his mind he never leaves – and the narrative never really shakes free from – the small number of People Like Us in the Nairobi High Commission where we first meet him, their secrets and lies, all conveyed in dialogue dripping with the privileged slang and superior attitude of their gilded circle.

Use of the word ‘our’ in the fiction of John le Carré

Thus, in these later novels, all too many of the characters are ‘legendary’ and ‘fabled’, larger-than-life super-characters who simply everyone knows, darling. This verbal habit is like a chummy arm round the shoulder of the reader pushing you to buy into these cliquey circles, an over-familiar embrace which le Carré’s many fans eagerly welcome or don’t notice, but which this reader, for one, coldly resists.

It also explains why le Carré has a funny relationship with the word ‘our’. ‘Our’ is a ‘possessive determiner’ (according to linguistics) which, when used factually, simply conveys that something belongs to two or more people, one of whom is me. Our car, our house, our country.

But in le Carré’s hands it is used in a number of ways to compel the reader into the myth-making world of his ‘legendary’ characters, to pressure the reader into seeing things his, and their, way, to acquiescing in their overblown heroic status and the generally bombastic mind-set which surrounds them.

Thus JLC characters are regularly over-sold as ‘our’ hero this, ‘our very own’, ‘our dear old’ so and so. I noticed it prominently throughout this text:

… our own dear Neville Chamberlain… our beloved British monarchy… Ted Mundy, our Hyde Park Corner orator… our poor King Ludwig… our recently appointed misanthrope…

It is part of the general tone of smothering, over-familiar, hugger-muggerness, the sense that you are being jostled and coerced into a gang of upper-class twits who you would normally cross the road to avoid, which can make reading his novels feel more like an endurance test than a pleasure.

He uses the word ‘our’ to do a number of things:

1. To be vastly patronising – ‘… the photograph of our dear old queen…’ (p.148) conveys a sense that ordinary people like the Queen but you and I, dear boy, ha ha, we are so much more sophisticated and worldly wise, eh.

2. Appropriating historical or eminent figures to our cause or discourse, while simultaneously looking down on them – ‘our poor King Ludwig..’ (p.18)

3. To pour scorn and derision on political leaders – ‘Bush and Blair, our two great war leaders…’

4. To show how superior one is to history by mocking it – ‘When our Dear Führer came to power..’ (p.75) ‘… our dear Führer’s old Olympic stadium..’ (p.147) ‘our gallant British forces liberating the imperilled Suez Canal..’ (p.255)

5. To conceal anger beneath mockery – ‘As a young woman she [Sasha’s mother] was of course repeatedly raped by our victorious Russian liberators’ (p.78) Referring to the Stasi interrogation centre in East Germany as ‘… our White Hotel in East Prussia..’ (p.189)

6. To puff up his characters in that mock heroic, facetiously superior upper class drawl – ‘our very own hero of the hour’; one of the teenage actors is described as ‘Lexham, our Jamaican Macbeth…’ (p.136)

7. Loftily mocking the act of communication – ‘… for the benefit of our British and American readers…’ (p.86)

8. Normal, standard use of ‘our’, striking for its rarity – ‘Our targets for tonight are…’ (p.84) ‘our fellow activists..’ (p.90)

9. ‘Our’ as a dialect usage of working class people – Kate’s working class, northern father always refers to her as ‘our Kate’ (p.204)

10. Most of all for a self-mocking exaggeration of his own characters, as if the whole novel is a witty in-joke among public school People Like Us:

  • Ulrike our moral angel, our leading leftist, high priestess of the Alternative Life… (p.83)
  • Sasha our charismatic orator, our coming man for the leader’s throne, our Quasimodo of the social genesis of knowledge… (p.90)
  • Sasha our charismatic Socrates.. (p.119)
  • Sasha the great double agent (p.264)

This kind of pompous, overblown, superior, knowing mockery stands in for analysis throughout the book. What underlies all its forms is the breezily arrogant superiority of the true public school article, the upper-class disdain for the ordinary view, for normal phrasing, for anything which isn’t detached and ironised.

Cartoon characterisation

Something similar is going on with the tendency not just to name a character, but repeatedly to blow him up to mock-heroic proportions. We see and hear a lot of Ted’s thoughts and actions, but the narrator also overblows and mocks him in a series of comic, third-person cartoons as if he was a cardboard cutout of a human being:

  • First thing in the morning the chaste English boarding-school boy and as yet unbruised recruit to the cause of world liberation springs forth from his field bed… (p.71)
  • The good soldier is not fazed… The aspiring novelist likes to spread his notebook… (p.72)
  • ‘Ted Mundy, life’s eternal apprentice…’ (p.100)
  • ‘The former head prefect and cricketing hero signs up with a rural preparatory school…’ (p.106)

Why describe a character’s emotions when you can big him up with bombastic, if self-mocking, grandiosity? This mockery owes more to P.G. Wodehouse than the thriller tradition.

Endless comparisons to boarding school

So many English public school-educated writers seem never to escape their childhood, with the result that almost everything around them reminds them of their dear old alma mater:

  • Teddy tends to announce himself ‘in his best head prefect voice.’ (p.63)
  • Life in Berlin begins ‘for the chaste English boarding-school boy.’ (p.71)
  • Those students who don’t leave the squat in summer are ‘like uncollected children in a boarding school.’ (p.73)
  • When Ted meets his MI6 controller, his first thought is ‘whether Amory is one of the prefects who beat him in the washroom.’ (p.97)
  • As he starts his career as a spy, Ted is so scared ‘it’s like opening the bowling for the public schools at Lords every time…’ (p.225)
  • ‘To Mundy they look more like cricket umpires than removal men.’ (p.331)
  • When he puts her on the plane to Turkey, Zara clings so tight to Mundy, that ‘he imagines she is his daughter and he is sending her off to boarding school against her will.’ (p.345)

Is that really the most powerful comparison the text can think up for a terrified woman clinging to her only security in the world? This continual drawing of the wider world back into the bubble of upper-class English public school experiences, slang and attitudes, has a reductive effect on the imagination. Although the narrative travels widely across Europe and tells you it is taking in the world-spanning implications of the American military-industrial complex, it is fighting a losing battle against the narrowing impact of the le Carré’s relentlessly public school and cricket mindset.


The big issue

Belatedly, I realised that most of JLC’s post-Cold War novels gravitate around a Big Geopolitical ‘Issue’. (It reminds me a little of Charles Dickens’s early plan to write a novel about each of the vices, starting with Hypocrisy in Martin Chuzzlewit and then Pride in Dombey and Son, before he quietly dropped his plan.) Thus each of the novels deals with a Big Topic:

  • The Night Manager – the international arms trade
  • Our Game – not clear
  • The Tailor of Panama – US intervention in Latin America
  • Single & Single – City institutions laundering money for the wicked (Georgian drug suppliers)
  • The Constant Gardener – multinational pharmaceuticals resorting to conspiracy and murder to protect their profits
  • Absolute Friends – untamed aggression of global hyperpower (America) run riot

The big issue which this long fiction leads up to is the alleged stranglehold on Western culture, education and media exercised by a new, all-pervading and toxic American military-industrial complex.

‘If you tell a big lie long enough everyone will believe it,’ le Carré has Sasha yell at Ted – ‘and then anybody who speaks out against it can be labelled mad.’

Dimitri has a long speech about the evil of Bush and Blair, the wickedness of their war, the stifling of free speech. Ted nods his acquiescence.

Does it matter that a thriller contains or ends on some kind of political message? Not necessarily, no.

Len Deighton’s Bernard Samson novels contain references throughout to the wickedness of the East German state, without denting the novels’ plausibility because the thought is integrated into the narrative.

Similarly, Robert Harris’ terrifying bestseller Fatherland contains harrowing indictments of the Nazi régime, but the indictment is wholly integrated into the plot, and the seamlessness of that integration is a large part of the reason it is so satisfying as a novel.

Martin Cruz Smith’s novels manage to be very exciting but at the same time to shed fascinating light on the repressive nature of the countries and systems he is depicting (Russia, Cuba).

Even a comedy like Tom Sharpe’s Wilt On High can end on a page-long diatribe against the madness of nuclear weapons and not be damaged by it because it arises naturally out of the plot (and is all the more effective because Sharpe and his character Wilt are, on the whole, right wing and ridicule lefty politics so their anger is all the more impactful).

But it fails in this novel because it is simply so unsubtle. If JLC was already angry at the lies and hypocrisies of ‘our masters’ in the 1990s, he goes bananas after the invasion of Iraq. Just before this novel was published he wrote an opinion piece in the Times newspaper, The United States of America Has Gone Mad (link below) which I found embarrassing in its strident simple-mindedness.

If I was Arundhati, George, Naomi and all the rest, I would be flattered to be namechecked in a John le Carré novel, but also embarrassed at the guileless shoutiness of the context.

At key moments, and their central points, all these books lack analytical intelligence. Emotional depth? Often. Colourful ability with language? Yes (if much given to bombast and exaggeration). Cunning plotlines? Certainly. The artful creation of multi-levelled timeframes? Emphatically yes.

But when a character has to explain the exact geopolitical crux, the issue firing the whole narrative, the great wrong which must be understood – time and again JLC gives the speech to a drunk, bombastic, over-the-top or imbecile character: to the moronic Larry Pettifer in Our Game, to the oafish Jonah in Tailor of Panama, to the ridiculously implausible ‘Dimitri’ in Absolute Friends.

It is revealing that the first two characters are bigged up to ‘legendary’ status – ‘the one and only, the irrepressible, the immortal Jonah’ – because in these crux scenes le Carré doesn’t analyse (let alone dramatise): he creates a loud, shouty character and effectively says, ‘Look everybody – this guy is really famous and really clever and he thinks it’s a bad thing, so you should, too.’

It’s also dismayingly characteristic that these Voices of Truth swear a lot as if swearing guarantees the truth o what’s being sworn about:

‘I am talking world domination by the Yellow Man, and the end of fucking civilisation as we know it, even in the fucking Emerald Isle…’ (Jonah, Tailor of Panama, p.290)

‘West’s compassioned out, Timbo,’ he announces to the ceiling, not bothering to stifle a huge yawn. ‘Running on empty. Fuck us.’ (Larry, Our Game, p.138)

Instead of subtle and understated analysis, le Carré has the key explanations of the big theme of each of his post-Cold War novels delivered by over-hyped, swearing drunks.

What’s ultimately so dismaying and demoralising isn’t what le Carré is saying, it’s its complete unoriginality: when you read the long speeches the characters are given telling you that the invasion of Iraq wasn’t justified, that there were no weapons of mass destruction, that the Bush presidency was electorally invalid, that Tony Blair shamelessly sucked up to George Dubya for nothing, that the hysteria around the War on Terror was cranked up by the corporate-owned media in order to boost the profits of the arms industry, and so on – who among le Carré’s liberal readership is going to disagree with any of this?

Like all his readers I know al this already because I read about it in the papers all the time. I just don’t care very much because:

a) There is nothing I can do about it.
b) It is the way of the world. Which war in the past 150 years wasn’t good for the arms industry? Which British Prime Minister of the last sixty years hasn’t sucked up to an over-mighty America?
c) That was then. Things have moved on a lot since 2004.

Either le Carré’s arguments should be made much more forensically, analytically, dispassionately, and zero in on precise wrong-doings; or they should be woven much more cannily into the narrative (à la Robert Harris’s much more canny novels). But they do neither and feel too simple minded to be effective, too bolted onto the main plot to have as much dramatic impact as they should.

The combined effect, in this novel especially, is to make le Carré’s views look childish and shallow.

My little pony

I have a bet with my son that every post-Cold War le Carré novel will contain a reference to a private school character having a little pony. In his previous three novels key characters have shared memories of their first ponies or of competing in the local gymkhana (Oliver in Single & Single, posh totty Francesca in The Tailor of Panama, Quayle finds a photo of Tessa’s first pony in The Constant Gardener).

Disappointingly, the main character in Absolute Friends does not have a my-little-pony memory but… the receptionist at the Bedford Square house where Ted goes to see his back-up team during his spying days, is ‘a jolly girl called Laura with freckles and a pony club smile’ (p.210).

So I’m still just about winning my bet. I just need there to be a pony reference in his last four novels and I win a pound.


Credit

Absolute Friends by John le Carré was published in 2004 by Hodder and Stoughton. Page references are to the 2004 Coronet paperback edition.

Related links

John Le Carré reviews