Legitimacy and the Use of Armed Force: Stability Missions in the Post-Cold War Era (Contemporary Security Studies)

Legitimacy and the Use of Armed Force

This book examines the concept of legitimacy as it may be used to explain the success, or failure, of key stability operations since the end of the Cold War. In the success of stability operations, legitimacy is key. In order to achieve success, the intervening force must create an enduring sense of legitimacy of the mission among the various constituencies concerned with and involved in the venture. These parties include the people of the host nation, the host government (whose relations with the local people must be legitimate), political elites and the general public worldwide— including the intervening parties’ own domestic constituencies, who will sustain (or not sustain) the intervention by offering (or withdrawing) support. This book seeks to bring into close scrutiny the legitimacy of stability interventions in the post-­Cold War era, by proposing a concept that captures both the multi-­faceted nature of legitimacy and the process of legitimation that takes place in each case. Case studies on Liberia, Bosnia, Somalia, Rwanda, Afghanistan and Iraq explain how legitimacy related to the outcome of these operations. This book will be of much interest to students of stability operations, counterinsurgency, peace operations, humanitarian intervention, and IR/ security studies in general. Chiyuki Aoi is Associate Professor of International Politics at Aoyama Gakuin University, Tokyo. She has a PhD in Political Science from Columbia University.

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Legitimacy and the Use of Armed Force Stability missions in the post-­Cold War era Chiyuki Aoi

Territory, War, and Peace An empirical and theoretical analysis John A. Vasquez and Marie T. Henehan

Legitimacy and the Use of Armed Force Stability missions in the post-­Cold War era Chiyuki Aoi

First published 2011 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2011 Chiyuki Aoi This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2010. To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN 0-203-86576-6 Master e-book ISBN ISBN13: 978-0-415-55954-6 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-86576-7 (ebk)

Contents



Preface

xii

1 Legitimacy in stability operations

1

2 Liberia: creating peace in Africa

22

3 Bosnia-­Herzegovina: from peace support to coercive diplomacy

42

4 Somalia: from peace enforcement to disengagement

63

5 Rwanda: failure to stop genocide

85

6 Iraq: from pre-­emption to counterinsurgency

104

7 Iraq: transformation failure and intervention performance

122

8 Iraq: non-­support of pre-­emptive war

142

9 Afghanistan: from self-­defense to state-­building

159

10 Afghanistan: stabilization and counterinsurgency performance

180

11 Afghanistan: from adequate to dwindling support

200

12 Legitimacy and the conditions of success

216

Notes Bibliography Index

223 271 280

Preface

Since the end of the Cold War, armed forces around the world have been progressively assigned so-­called “non-­traditional” roles. Completely unforeseen, the strategic value of “stability operations” encompassing a broad range of purposes and roles was reinforced even further by the events which occurred following the terrorist attacks on the United States in September 2001. As I pursued my doctoral and subsequent research on international security and defense issues from the 1990s onwards, my conviction that stability operations merit closer academic attention has grown stronger. The transformation that may be observed in the roles played by armed forces over the past two decades is indicative of a now-­ compelling topic in the much broader transformation of the character of war and military/security-­related operations in the post-­Cold War world. With stability operations becoming more diverse in form as they respond to practical security needs, conventional approaches focusing on just one or a few types of missions—be they “humanitarian intervention,” peacekeeping or counterinsurgency—seemed to lose sight of the fact that stability operations deal with the creation of suitable conditions for enduring stability in a conflicted and highly complex environment, often in that critical stage immediately following a major combat phase. Despite the important place that stability operations occupy in contemporary security in that middle area between peace and war, scholarly attention to this category as a whole has been scant. It is my hope that this volume, which grew out of a project at the Department of War Studies at King’s College London (KCL) where I was a visiting fellow in 2008 to 2009, will contribute to filling this gap. In the new environment that evolved from the end of the Cold War, defense and security had to be creatively reconceptualized. Recognizing this drew me to focus on the notion of legitimacy to explain shifts in the way we define the interests and methodologies related to stabilization. My initial attempts during the 1990s to come to terms with the issue of legitimacy in cases of humanitarian intervention—research which forms the prehistory of my work for this book—remained caught in the traditional analysis of legitimacy and justifiability following the disciplinary frame-

Preface   xiii works of law, ethics, and politics. It was my encounter with Professor James Gow’s work, Legitimacy and the Military, reconceptualizing the notion of legitimacy as a “crasis,” or triangulation of complex elements, that gave me a new perspective, subsequently applied in the context of what he (and in joint work Christopher Dandeker) called “strategic peacekeeping.” Although I have developed the concept’s scope in the present study, the functions of legitimacy are the same: defining it as a sociological concept comprising bases, performance, and support allowed me to analyze its often overlooked internal workings—the critical processes through which operations—both their purposes and means—are formed. Those processes explain their particular outcome—success or failure. The field of stability operations has grown in importance and been further refined conceptually and methodologically in various defense and academic settings since 2001—particularly through the bitter experience of the Iraq War. As my research continued, I came to increasingly connect the issue of legitimacy with explanations of success or failure in stability operations. One aspect that struck me while researching the development of military doctrine in the area of stability (including and especially at the US Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute at Carlisle, where I was first introduced as a researcher in 2004) was how complex the operational environment had become. This came as no surprise, given the history of international intervention in the Balkans and in Africa during the 1990s, and my exposure to relief operations at two United Nations agencies. Still, the extent to which intervening parties, the military included, had come to engage in dynamic relations with local actors and other international actors was breathtaking. Indeed, the stakeholders and “audiences” of intervention had rapidly become far more diverse and multi-­dimensional. Another work that forms part of the foundation of this study is Milena Michalski and James Gow’s War, Image and Legitimacy: Viewing Contemporary Conflict, which, in its examination of the role of moving images in war, deals with the multidimensional nature of the operational environment and the way legitimacy relates to that complexity. The year spent in the dynamic and supportive environment of King’s College London was crucial in pulling together writing and research accumulated over several years, developing the key ideas for the book, and testing them with a critical audience. I am particularly indebted to Professor Gow for his advice and support. From the time I was pursuing my doctoral degree at Columbia University in New York, Professor Gow offered invaluable insights and suggestions that helped me focus my research. During my year at KCL, I was fortunate to have his close cooperation and guidance. This book would not have been possible without his conviction of its usefulness, and the practical steps he proposed leading to its actual publication. I also wish to thank the faculty and staff of the Department of War Studies, especially Professor Mervyn Frost, for making my research

xiv   Preface fellowship, associated with the International Peace and Security programme, such a fruitful one. Many other people and a number of institutions played an influential part in the process leading to the creation of this book. At Columbia University, while studying multilateral intervention in the regional civil wars of the 1990s, I benefited from instruction and encouragement by professors Jack Snyder and Richard Betts; other Columbia faculty members, former students, and colleagues introduced me to thinking related to great-­power intervention and other related themes. Professor William J. Flavin and the staff at the Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute (US Army, Carlisle) assisted me in pursuing my research on the transformation of US Army doctrine in the area of low-­intensity operations in the wake of the 2003 Iraq War. Professor Joseph J. Collins of the National Defense University (Virginia), former deputy assistant secretary of defense for stability operations, provided valuable pragmatic insights into the influences and thinking behind US government processes. Dr. Stephen Biddle of the Council of Foreign Relations (Washington D.C.), and other faculty members and students of the Summer Workshop on Analysis of Military Operations and Strategy (SWAMOS) organized by Columbia University’s Saltzman Institute of War and Peace Studies and hosted by Cornell University, who kindly made themselves available to discuss operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Interviews arranged more than a few times since 2006 with the kind cooperation of the UK Ministry of Defence Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre also greatly added to my research. The British Embassy in Tokyo, too, provided much-­needed assistance in obtaining critical information and contacts over several years in my research on UK military doctrine. Dr. Tim Bird of the Defence Studies Department, King’s College London generously gave of his precious time for interviews and assistance in other aspects of my research. I would also like to acknowledge the support and patience of Andrew Humphrys and Rebecca Brennan at Routledge, and my Tokyo-­based editor. Without them, this book would not have been born. I also wish to thank my colleagues in our dynamic research group on civil–military relations based in Tokyo, and at Aoyama Gakuin University, my home institution in Tokyo, for allowing me valuable opportunities to extend my research and teaching. I would also like to remember here the warm friendship, support, and inspiration which the late Professor Saki Dockrill extended to me, even as she struggled with illness, while I was at King’s. I dedicate this book, with deep gratitude, to my family, Katsuo, Mitsuko, Tomoaki and Naomi, who have stood by me completely as my research took me from one opportunity and place to another, often very far away.

1 Legitimacy in stability operations

This book focuses on the notion of legitimacy to explain the success (or failure) of stability operations in the post-­Cold War era. The end of the Cold War witnessed a dramatic and rapid rise in stability operations. In the immediate post-­Cold War era, the triumphant Western democracies embarked on a range of peace operations, intended primarily to address internal crises and their humanitarian consequences, which ended with varied levels of success. Efforts to support nation-­building with multilateral stability missions received a serious setback in Somalia in the early 1990s, after which the use of armed forces for stability purposes became more restricted, although it continued throughout the 1990s and into the 2000s in places such as the Balkans, East Timor and West Africa. In the aftermath of the Iraq War in 2003, too, lingering violence there led to deep-­ reaching re-­evaluation of the strategic value of stability operations. In Afghanistan, operations that started in 2001 entered a new phase as the Taliban re-­emerged around 2005 to 2006, posing a significant challenge to the Western nations involved. In the success of stability operations, I argue, legitimacy is key. The intervening force must create an enduring sense of the legitimacy of its mission among various parties such as the people of the host nation, the host government (whose relations with the local people must be legitimate), political elites and the general public worldwide (including the intervening parties’ own domestic constituencies, who will sway the course of the intervention by offering or withdrawing support), and states in the international community that will determine and establish conditions regarding legitimate intervention. The importance of legitimacy has long been recognised in the history of counterinsurgency and stability operations,1 but the difficulty of establishing it in specific intervention contexts is today felt even more acutely due to the complexity and diversity of actors, the difficulty of defining “success,” and the complications involved in setting specific goals and priorities in order to achieve that success.2 Hence, to closely scrutinize the legitimacy of stability interventions in the post-­Cold War era, this book proposes a concept that captures both

2   Legitimacy in stability operations legitimacy’s multifaceted nature and the process of legitimation that takes place in each case. The study radically reconceptualizes legitimacy by focusing on what James Gow calls the triangulation or crasis of legitimacy to capture its complex elements—elements relating to bases, performance, and support.3 Through analysis of each of these constituent elements, which are all mutually connected, the following chapters explain the outcome of specific operations, which, over the long term, define the operations’ justifiability and utility as means for the viable management of international relations.

Development of stability operations Stability operations have a long history. The United States, known for its proclivity for high-­intensity and high-­technology approaches to warfare, has fought 11 high-­intensity wars in its history, as well as “hundreds of other” military operations, most of which are now considered to be stability operations.4 Operations conducted on the soil of the Americas and elsewhere since the eighteenth century afforded the US military broad-­ranging experience in stability operations, and the occupations of Germany and Japan are considered by the US Army to be the precursors of modern stability operations.5 European and Japanese colonial powers had also long engaged in various types of stability operations in overseas territories during the colonial era, with varying methodologies and results. For the duration of the Cold War, however, as ideological confrontation locked international relations into a global balance of power between two major entities—the Western and Eastern blocs—stability operations, often dubbed “low-­intensity operations,” took a back seat to the predominant logic of strategic deterrence.6 Although national-­level commitment to operations belonging to this lower end of the spectrum varied depending upon the historical and strategic environment surrounding particular nations—and indeed, low-­intensity conflicts (LIC) were constantly being fought in various parts of the world7—in general, Cold War thinking pushed them to the periphery. After the 1991 Gulf War, these conflicts were placed in the category of “military operations other than war” (MOOTW)8 but continued to attract considerably little attention from policy-­makers as well as from military practitioners. Yet with the dramatic shifts that took place in the global balance of power when the Cold War came to an end, this neglected area of operations immediately assumed dominance. In some cases, the shift resulted in the resolution of Cold War-­fueled conflicts (such as in Cambodia) by implementing the transition to peace. In others, the shift took on a violent form, such as when the central authority of Cold War protégé regimes or former communist states became contested or broke down, giving rise to complex civil conflicts requiring international mediation. In places such as Liberia, Bosnia and Somalia, the mediation required some use of force.9

Legitimacy in stability operations   3 To deal with these internal crises, internationally mandated missions during the 1990s embarked on peace support operations (PSO) supervised through the UN or regional organizations. Starting from the 1990 allied intervention in Northern Iraq, the decade’s major multilateral civil–military interventions in Somalia, the former Yugoslavia, Kosovo, East Timor, and elsewhere responded primarily to humanitarian concerns and were conducted under insecure conditions. These experiences led to the reappraisal of both peacekeeping methodology and the basic rules or premises of humanitarian intervention. With regard to peacekeeping methodology, traditional peacekeeping (or UN PKO) missions were updated to peace support operations with more robust capabilities, filling in the middle area between peacekeeping and peace enforcement.10 With regard to rules and premises of humanitarian intervention, there were renewed and active debates about the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention, particularly in cases conducted unilaterally and outside the aegis of the UN.11 Interest accordingly arose in the “responsibility to protect,” a concept that is primarily concerned with the protection of civilians during conflict. Such responsibilities are seen as focused on sovereign states, and, should they fail, on the UN Security Council.12 Peace support operations and humanitarian interventions have since been generally categorized as “stability operations,” which have entered the mainstream policy discourse in most Western nations. But military organizations, especially in the United States and other Western nations, did not always engage seriously with stability-­related tasks. During the mid-­1990s, for example, the US military argued that in Somalia “mission creep” had transformed what had initially been a humanitarian venture into “nation-­building,” resulting in operations that were high-­cost, required protracted involvement and entailed numerous casualties. To the US military this experience meant that it would stay away from “nation-­building.”13 Since that time, the US military acquired some hands­on experience with stability missions through peace support in the Balkans. An early example of the mainstreaming of stability operations may be further observed in the US Army’s concept of the “full-­spectrum operation,” which since 2001 has placed stability as one of the four main activities the US Army simultaneously conducts in any war situation (the others being offense, defense, and support).14 Even so, until the early 2000s there was within the US military an ingrained de-­emphasis on “peace-­building” or stability-­related tasks, and the concept of peace-­building was scarcely developed in doctrine and training.15 Further, with the early Bush (Jr.) administration particularly averse to the US military performing “nation-­building” tasks, the implicit understanding during the early phase of the Iraq War was that while stability operations were part of US military missions, the primary responsibility for conducting such operations lay with civilian agencies.16 Only when the 2003 Iraq War dragged on, to the extent that destabilization grew unpredictably severe and persisting insurgencies endangered

4   Legitimacy in stability operations the realization of US global strategy, did the US military and government begin to seriously consider how they should conduct stability operations. It was thus not until 2005 to 2006 that the government started to actively invest in the implementation and development of the idea of stability operations and to promote an interagency process involving the government as a whole. The situation was much the same in the United Kingdom, a close US ally and one of the few countries that had deployed troops in Iraq since 2003. The United Kingdom was also caught largely unprepared to deal with the failure of the Iraqi state and the nation-­building tasks that ensued. The thinking about counterinsurgency operations in the British Army at the time was strongly affected by its experience with Northern Ireland counter-­terrorist operations. But the situation in Iraq, where the intervening force faced the breakdown of state administration and civil security, was quite different, presenting challenges for both stability and counterinsurgency operations.17 The experience in Iraq and the prolongation of stability/counterinsurgency operations in Afghanistan have forced Western nations to recognize that stability intervention requires a well-­planned, comprehensive, broad-­ranging civil–military mix of capabilities, including whole-­ofgovernment and comprehensive approaches, in order to deal with conditions of state collapse. Although definitions, concepts, and approaches differ from one nation and agency to another, “stability operations” may essentially be described as civil–military operations intended to assist in the achievement of a “viable political settlement between/among the state, significant elites and the broader society within the host nation.”18 Stabilization is thus a “process” that works toward an objective, which is a legitimate state and governance as perceived by the populace.19 Stability operations by definition also involve situations associated with failed or fragile states, including weak or lacking state apparatuses and administration; conditions of general instability, with or without a clearly identifiable “enemy”; extensive development challenges, including general poverty, illiteracy and poor health, sanitation and other infrastructure; weak capacity for economic production, capital accumulation, and self-­ sustainability; weak fiscal capacities; and weak and undeveloped media.20 Hence, the newly developed November 2009 UK Ministry of Defence doctrine on security and stabilization defines stabilization as: the process that supports states which are entering, enduring or emerging from conflict in order to: prevent or reduce violence; protect the population and key infrastructure; promote political processes and governance structures which lead to a political settlement that institutionalises non-­violent contests for power; and prepares for sustainable social and economic development.21

Legitimacy in stability operations   5 Moreover, it is important to note that today’s stability operations often draw their authority from an international mandate, a condition that distinguishes them from older colonial counterinsurgency operations, in which intervening national actors tended to have greater control over the host nation, regardless of the legitimacy of that control. Finally, today’s operational environment is by necessity “crowded” with numerous and diverse actors participating in civilian state-­building tasks.22 These may involve, aside from the military, various UN agencies, international and local NGOs, national development and other agencies, private firms and so on. Operational procedures and principles differ significantly among these actors, contributing to the difficulties of coordinating their different approaches.23

Success in stability operations24 In conventional warfare, the “end” of war equals “victory” over enemy forces. In stability operations, by contrast, the end-­point of operations is “success,” which entails the creation of certain “conditions” that enable intervening parties to achieve the political purposes for which force was used in the first place. Those conditions, hence, equal success, which is not synonymous with victory.25 Morris Janowitz’s studies of civil–military relations capture these differences between “success” in stability intervention versus conventional military operations, in which success is defined in terms of “victory,” or of “absolute” or “total” victory. Janowitz distinguishes between officers who are “absolutists,” or who favor total victory and minimal civilian interference in war, and those who are “pragmatists” characterized by their concern with the measured application of force and its political outcomes26 and their orientation toward “viable international relations, rather than victory.”27 He associates the second type with the “constabulary” concept. The notion of objective civilian control as defined by Samuel P. Huntington and the ensuing Janowitz–Huntington dichotomy of civil–military relations likewise capture the conceptual divide between constabulary force (as defined by Janowitz) and objective civilian control, which is a civil–military relationship that allows for the military to focus on its key task, namely the application and management of violence.28 Stability operations are by nature akin to the constabulary and pragmatic approach to “viable international relations.” General Sir Rupert Smith aptly put these ideas into a contemporary context when he argued that the modern-­day utility of force lies in creating “conditions” for the realization of diverse goals, not outright victory, in “war amongst the people.”29 Thus the definition of the end-­point of a stability operation has historically involved more diverse goals than “victory,” goals that have often been criticized as ambiguous.30 For example, peace support operations in the Balkans encompassed the broad goals of containing the spread and

6   Legitimacy in stability operations intensity of the conflict, mitigating its inhuman impacts and encouraging opposing parties to reach a political settlement.31 Numerous other operations in the early 1990s aimed similarly to enable delivery of humanitarian aid, prevent the recurrence of humanitarian crises, help implement cease-­ fire and peace agreements, and so on. Such tasks soon led to the even broader and longer term objective of “state-­building.” What began as short-­term humanitarian involvement in Somalia burgeoned into an expansive state-­building mission. In Bosnia, the UN-­organized peacekeeping mission eventually came to involve the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), resulting before its end in a multiagency project aimed at establishing a viable peace. Similarly, NATO intervention in Kosovo led to the establishment of a multiagency international administration. Whereas initially the objective of peace support had been to mitigate the impact and volatility of the conflict while creating conditions suited to encouraging and promoting diplomatic and political solutions,32 by the latter half of the 1990s, the end-­point had become the “building of a legitimate state.”33 The most recent version of the US Army stability operations doctrine, FM 3-07, thus, states that “legitimacy is a central principle for intervention: both the legitimacy of the host nation government and the legitimacy of the mission.”34 Tasks related to state-­ building were further defined: rebuilding state institutions, returning refugees, ensuring economic development, preparing for the rule of law, introducing democratic governance, and so on. In Afghanistan and Iraq since the Bush administration’s post-­2001 interventions, stability-­related tasks became directly linked with counterinsurgency. Failure in stability operations was seen as likely to invite or intensify potential insurgencies, as actually occurred in both countries. Hence counterinsurgency operations, for the United States, is a theme that encompasses stability. For the United Kingdom, counterinsurgency operations are part of stabilization.35 Although success in stabilization does not necessarily preclude the rise of insurgency, it certainly makes insurgency less likely to occur. On the other hand, success in counterinsurgency alone will not take care of all aspects of stabilization. In sum, success in stability operations may be conceptualized as the achievement of complex and fluid tasks and goals, which then creates “conditions” for a desired political outcome. The ultimate and broadest definition of such an outcome is the establishment of the legitimacy of a self-­sustainable government in the host nation; a narrower one might be the alteration of specific causes of humanitarian and other peacetime disasters.

Characteristics of stability operations Stability operations have three major characteristic tendencies: first, dynamic relations between the authority of the operation and local consent; second, ambiguous links between operation goals and rationales

Legitimacy in stability operations   7 and the national interests of intervening parties (or difficulties in justifying operations in light of those national interests); and third, difficulties in justifying the means necessary to achieve declared objectives, which often require long-­term and resource-­intensive commitment. Relations between authority and consent In the traditional UN framework, the issue of consent was clear-­cut. In peacekeeping, consent (of the local warring parties) was a given, static, and legal condition; in peace enforcement, consent was not required. Meanwhile, stability operations by nature neither take consent as a given nor assume it to be a lacking condition. Local consent is a dynamic and multifaceted process that operations expect to manage and often create. Hence, to replace consent as a legal basis, peace support operations employ a four-­dimensional “campaign authority” comprising mandate, manners, and expectations (of the local populace toward the intervention force) in addition to consent.36 Peace support operations emerged during the 1990s in response to the practical need to fill in the “middle ground” between traditional peacekeeping and peace-­enforcement operations, under conditions of strategic fluidity in which reliance upon local consent provided an insufficient basis upon which to implement a mandate.37 The PSO trinity of consent, impartiality, and limits on the use of force was accordingly replaced by the concept of campaign authority, which was derived from a mandate and was vested in an international coalition or security alliance.38 The relationships of later stability operations to local consent were even more complex. In stability operations, neither peace support nor classical counterinsurgency alone is adequate as the framework through which to tackle the problems at hand.39 The threat faced by the force is “hybrid,” consisting of varied actors ranging from criminal groups to a full-­blown insurgency.40 Stabilization also encompasses much broader tasks, including not only providing security and nurturing development but also helping to transform contests over legitimacy among forces in the society, elites and government of the host nation into a political settlement upon which long-­term peace can be founded. The authority of the host government is the key to sustaining a political settlement, and thus one task of the intervention force is often to facilitate and assist the process of authority-­building.41 Because of this dimension, the intervention force has much more complex relations with “local consent”; “legitimate in the eyes of whom?” becomes the question that is constantly asked. The concept of the four-­dimensional “campaign authority” remains relevant in stability operations, given that the intervention force’s essential role and function is to assist the process of legitimacy-­building.42 The authority of the intervention to serve in this manner is constantly under review by a variety of forces and audiences in the host nation. The authority is not a given, but must be built and worked out in everyday operations.

8   Legitimacy in stability operations The ambiguous linkage of stability goals and national interests As previously noted, the measure of the “success” of stability operations involves conditions that are significantly more vague or broad-­reaching than in more conventional military missions. In addition, stability interventions most likely entail dealing with contingencies in remote regions and undertaking operations that are expeditionary in nature. Hence, what the national interests are for those intervening are often not immediately evident. Stability operations may also be, as is illustrated by the case of Iraq, “wars of choice” attempting to address what is a less-­than-immediate threat to national security through humanitarian intervention or preventive war.43 The multiagency peace support operations launched during the 1990s, for example, were often humanitarian interventions that starkly demonstrated the dilemma of humanitarian impulses on the one hand and more traditionally perceived “national interests” on the other.44 Proponents of such interventions were often countered by voices concerned with more traditional or “realist” perceptions of national interest demanding that the use of armed forces be restricted to cases where the survival of the nation or national prestige is threatened, cases which might be likely to involve confrontation with great powers.45 Conditions of general instability, such as civil conflict, are sometimes of questionable relevance to the national security concerns of intervening states, as long as they are perceived according to the realist perspective. Especially difficult to justify are broad-­ ranging peace-­building or “nation-­building” tasks associated with the resolution of the internal conflicts of troubled states. These expansive goals are often cost-­intensive, as noted, and the long-­term deployment necessary for stabilization may run counter to preferences for the more restricted use of armed forces. Even when general destabilization was linked with the dangers of terrorism, as it was in Afghanistan and Iraq, the associated stabilization tasks were difficult to justify. The justification became particularly elusive when the counter-­terrorism rationale was linked with an expansive definition of goals encompassing counterinsurgency, by nature a comprehensive civil– military activity overlapping with state-­building.46 When the national interests involved are vague, as in the pre-­emptive strategy pursued by the United States in Iraq in 2003, the processes of justification or legitimation can be arduous. Whereas those who advocated “preemptive”47 war in Iraq argued for the right to remove a threat before it emerged and perceived the dual threat of Saddam Hussein’s regime and WMD terrorism as justifying such an approach, opponents of the war saw danger in this way of presenting the situation. They argued that while the threat was remote, the negative consequences and costs (including questions of legality, the need for postwar stabilization, alienation of allies, etc.) of eliminating Saddam were substantial and would override possible benefits.48

Legitimacy in stability operations   9 Difficulties may also be compounded by the previously noted dynamic relationship between intervention and local consent. For example, the often-­found situation of a host government’s legitimacy deficit (such as when it derives from a culture of corruption) makes an intervention’s mandate to assist in state-­building a very complex one. When the populace do not fully support their own government, the rationale for international assistance to that government may be seriously challenged, making it even more difficult for those intervening to justify their venture.49 The “ends” of any endeavor is a critical element in strategy, which concerns ensuring a viable ends–means link. But in stability intervention, the expansive and ambiguous nature of goals (especially in light of the national interests of those on the intervening side) often makes specific ends difficult to justify in a manner that balances the interests of all local and intervening parties. Difficulty in legitimating the means: management of resources Stability operations involve many resources and long-­term commitment, and those aspects are hard to justify in terms of the often less-­than-critical or ambiguous national interests perceived. Hence, stability missions frequently suffer from a lack of adequate resources to implement their mandates.50 Deployment of the means and capabilities necessary to accomplish the mission tends to be slow or delayed, and premature disengagement without completion of the mandate is often the case, as many would argue occurred in the case of Somalia. Even if the interests at stake are considered sufficiently high (for example, the eradication and prevention of terrorism), the extremely dangerous and resource-­intensive nature of missions may make it especially hard to justify the means, as we see in the debates concerning Afghanistan particularly following the re-­emergence of the Taliban in 2005 to 2006. This difficulty is compounded, too, by the ambiguities as to how to identify the precise “exit point” when the transition of tasks to local agencies becomes possible.51 States find it difficult to justify what appear to be unclear, expansive, and long-­term missions involving extensive resources and commitment. Thus, quite aside from the ends, in stability missions the other critical element of strategy—the means—is also difficult to define and to endow with sufficient resources.

Role of legitimation The need for stability operations in contemporary international security reflects shifts in the environment surrounding global security and operations, as well as a commensurate breakdown in the consensus on what constitutes the “national interests” of the parties implementing such

10   Legitimacy in stability operations operations. Legitimation thus plays a key part in ensuring the success of stability operations. Discussion of this subject must begin with an articulation of the bases of legitimacy in stability operations. These bases are diverse. I categorize them into two groups: ethical and power-­political. Ethical bases52 include legal bases. The most explicit of these are UN Security Council resolutions that authorize operations stipulating the use of armed force on a number of grounds; other cases may involve a resort to or use of force in self-­defense, either with or without UN backing. Some cases or specific incidences of the use of force may have an ambiguous legal basis when they are neither authorized by the UN Security Council nor clearly a part of self-­defense in response to armed attack,53 as seen in Kosovo in 1999 and in Iraq in 2003. Legality must, however, be distinguished from legitimacy. Intervention may be legitimated on a variety of ethical bases in addition to formal legal ones. Historically these ethical bases derive from general humanitarian concern as well as a growing body of law, notably international humanitarian and human rights law. In some extreme cases of rights violation, these laws form the basis of action in stability contexts, although by themselves they do not prescribe the use of armed force.54 Precedents also form the basis of action, justifying a sense of obligation to act when similar cases in the past resulted in action. The body of precedents for UN authorization to intervene in internal crises has grown since the end of the 1980s.55 Ethical bases further include concern for what I term multilateral security, or situations where domestic instability, including humanitarian crises and civil war, are defined as threats to international peace. Such situations have presented the conditions for a growing body of practice, particularly since the 1990s.56 That practice follows the often-­cited declaration by the UN Security Council on 31 January 1992, S/23500, which states that “[t]he absence of war and military conflicts amongst States does not in itself ensure international peace and security. The non-­military sources of instability in the economic, social, humanitarian and ecological fields have become threats to peace and security.”57 Accordingly, another ethical basis is the interest in strengthening peacekeeping and other intervention mechanisms as tools for addressing internal sources of threat to international peace. Historically, such interests have resulted in the use of the UN’s collective security mechanisms and institutions of peacekeeping, including regional organizations and arrangements in strengthened roles, most notably in West Africa and in Europe. Specific manifestations of the regional approach to peacekeeping have taken the form of peace support and peace creation. The idea of stabilization builds upon newer experiences, especially in Afghanistan and Iraq, in which the breakdown of state authority and administration, absence of local consent, and prevalence of irregular and hybrid threats characterize the operational environment.

Legitimacy in stability operations   11 In addition, ethical bases can involve state-­building and reconstruction tasks, including democratization, all of which are closely associated with stabilization and counterinsurgency. The other group of bases of legitimacy is power-­political. Normally, ethical bases alone are insufficient to legitimize the deployment of armed forces for stability operation purposes. Power-­political bases for intervention are associated with national security requirements (although not necessarily those of the type traditionally associated with “realism” or great-­power balancing), and may be further subdivided into “positive” and “negative” bases of legitimacy. Containment is one of the leading power-­political bases on which intervention missions may be justified. For example, a low-­profile peace support mission often derives legitimation from a combination of humanitarian concerns and containment. Containment refers to efforts to limit the geographical area affected by a war, mitigate a war’s various consequences, or avoid a domino effect. Missions are often driven by the imperative to mitigate or defuse sources of regional destabilization or to prevent the further growth of terrorism, potentially with global implications. Policy-­makers often take the domino effect quite seriously, believing that failure and defeat will lead to further failures in dealing with similar future crises. Especially where unstable states are geographically contiguous, ethnic tensions are likely to spread, and state boundaries are disputed, the domino effect can be a serious concern. In recent stability operation contexts, the crucial power-­political justification for intervention is often the link between instability and terrorism. This link provided the most important rationale for prolonged stability operations in both Iraq and Afghanistan. It is the single strongest power-­political source of legitimation that comes into play in intervention missions; it is strong enough to override other concerns, including those of cost. Countering local or global insurgencies is another power-­political basis for stability operations. Counterinsurgency is by definition a comprehensive activity carried out through not only military means but also socio-­ economic and governance/political assistance. However, precisely because of the expansive nature of these activities, the justification for specific operations or missions may be disputed. The link that is sometimes cited between counterterrorism and counterinsurgency can cause controversy in the legitimation process. While prevention of terrorism is a strong power-­political, security-­related basis for action attracting much support, the fact that counterterrorist strategies may require counterinsurgency operations, as was the case in Afghanistan, has been scrutinized by policy-­makers as well as by the general public. This scrutiny has intensified partly owing to the expansive nature of counterinsurgency operations or tasks, which may involve far broader issues than counterterrorism, such as socio-­economic development, narcotics, and other illegal forms of trade and so on, as again witnessed in Afghanistan.

12   Legitimacy in stability operations Power-­political legitimation may moreover involve concern for “status,” or positional interest aimed at augmenting an intervening party’s relative position in world affairs.58 The combination of this type of legitimation with the ethical type was most evident in some cases of humanitarian intervention during the 1990s, where it resulted in more coercive forms of intervention. Status-­related interests can in theory involve either material gain or reputation,59 but in contemporary stability operation contexts legitimacy is not found in purposes related to purely material gain from another state. The more important status interests have concerned either augmenting or maintaining reputation. States consider reputation to be the key to their credibility. Credibility, in turn, is considered to be a source of power that is connected to the ability to influence others’ behavior and that forms an especially significant precondition for successful deterrence.60 These positive forms of power-­political legitimation may not, however, always counterbalance “negative” dimensions, making the process of justifying stability operations even more complex. As already noted, stability missions are characterized by difficulties in justifying the means, and so one of the most notable forms of negative legitimation is the tendency of states to be parsimonious with precious resources (“blood and treasure”) when facing stability tasks. To be drawn into a long-­term and costly stability mission is harmful to a state’s power base and may diminish its status in world affairs.61 This may occur if the mission is, as is often the case, a long-­ term, open-­ended one, prone to escalation. Fear of overstretch is often cited in this context,62 as is the danger of “moral overstretch,”63 which could invite local or international backlash against those who undertake the intervention. These concerns are the bases of the perception of “tradeoffs” existing between stability-­related objectives and strategic interests. Finally, an intervention may be legitimated or delegimated on the basis of performance. How well the intervention force performs expected functions, either declared or de facto, is inevitably important. Because of the multiple bases of legitimacy in stability operations, evaluation of performance is complex. Nonetheless, in general, the better the performance, the more legitimate the mission is perceived to be. If it falls short of expected levels of performance, an intervention force risks losing critical support from various quarters. Further, because contemporary stability operations influence a variety of stakeholders and are scrutinized by more complex and diverse audiences, the question of “performance for whom” becomes an important and sometimes intricate matter which can determine overall perceptions of the intervention.

Legitimacy as a triangulated notion64 Recognizing the important yet complex nature of legitimacy in stability operations, this study seeks to analyze the overlapping or competing bases

Legitimacy in stability operations   13 as well as the multiple audiences involved in the process of legitimation. Legitimacy is most fundamentally defined as a quality that justifies a power relationship (in this case, use of armed force) and may be analyzed as consisting of three elements: the bases on which stability intervention is justified, the performance of the intervention, and the level of support it receives from broad, multiple, multidimensional constituencies.65 Legitimacy, in sum, denotes the close and sustained links among the claims for legitimacy by those with the authority to use power, and the support for (or acceptance of ) those claims based on both their content and the effectiveness with which the authority is exercised. Legitimacy is thus an outcome of various political processes through which, by way of persuasion and approval or disapproval, collective understandings of what is justifiable or unjustifiable use of force are defined and redefined. The triangulated concept of legitimacy brings with it some distinct advantages. First, it greatly facilitates empirical observation and assessment of legitimacy. While in the past legitimacy has been examined in light of existing laws or moral rules, such a mode of analysis is normative and subjective in nature. It does not help to explain power relations that are not based upon established sets of law or are founded on moral rules that have yet to be accepted. Yet by breaking down the elements of legitimacy to bases, performance, and support, any part of the content of legitimacy may be observed and described empirically and objectively.66 Second, the concept captures legitimacy as a dynamic process. Although few previously published works on legitimacy or legitimation have taken the category of stability operations as a subject of analysis, existing studies of the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention (a type of stability operation) compartmentalize legitimacy into the distinct categories of law, ethics, politics, and, most recently, practicality or effectiveness.67 But to discuss legitimacy in terms only of these traditional traits misses the central characteristic of legitimacy, namely that it is best understood as a compound of all of these related considerations, which together sustain or devalue authority regarding the use of armed forces. By contrast, this book construes legitimacy as a process occurring among all these dimensions that serves to explain intervention outcomes and success/failure. Third, perceiving legitimacy as a triangulation of bases, performance, and support incorporates multidimensional actors, audiences, constituencies, and processes, making it a highly suitable approach for analyzing the success of a mission as determined by the relationship between the government, security (armed forces), and the people—the Clausewitzian trinity.68 In today’s stability operations, that trinity has become far more complex and multidimensional, and maintaining a balance among its elements has become even more important to success. That ever-­more complex trinity, which Michalski and Gow call “Multidimensional Trinity Cubed Plus” (Trinity3(+)), has become a defining feature of warfare today, and legitimacy as conceptualized as the triangulation of invoked bases,

14   Legitimacy in stability operations performance, and support is in a closely related internal dynamic to it.69 An analysis based on the concept of triangulation will thus have implications for thinking about the nature of contemporary warfare, where the use of force is almost always embedded in a broader scheme with political, social, economic, and informational dimensions, and is intended to lead not to military victory but to the successful creation of conditions toward the realization of political purposes.70 The bases of legitimacy are law, rules, norms, and statements.71 They can be explicitly stated (formal) or unstated (informal or de facto). The bases in most interventions are plural (again, the content of any claim of legitimacy may be analyzed by the formula proposed above) and complex. They can either be ethical or power-­political, as already discussed. Likewise, various bases may be invoked to delegitimize intervention. The intricate interaction between ethical and power-­political rationales has actual political, strategic, and operational impact that accounts for variations in behavior in different cases of intervention. Support, a second element of legitimacy, refers to the degree to which the exercise of power (use of force) is accepted by others. Support is expressed in the form of approval or disapproval of intervention decisions, the manner in which intervention is carried out, or the actual outcome of the intervention. The audience may include the domestic publics of the intervening parties (both political leaders and the populace), international partners and allies and their domestic constituencies, the broader global public, and, last but not least, the host population, whose relationship to the host government is of most critical concern. The level of support from these audiences influences the intervention process and outcome, especially in democracies but also in the international sphere. Support is often predicated upon the bases that are invoked to justify the intervention, and level of support often varies depending on these bases. Performance is a third element of legitimacy and an important determinant of level of support. For instance, level of support for humanitarian intervention is often determined by level of achievement of purported goals, particularly considering that humanitarian principles are now widely supported as the basis for intervention. But more recent stability operations involve far more complex sets of justifications and goals, and evaluation of performance has accordingly become an intricate matter. Given the “comprehensive” nature of many operations, failure in one area signifies failure in other areas; success in one area, in addition, does not necessarily guarantee success in other areas or in overall performance. In both Iraq and Afghanistan, failure early on in various stability-­related tasks eventually resulted in the rise of insurgency. Poor performance as well as actions that diverge from the justifications originally given is most likely to lead to loss of support. Intervention lacking in support is more difficult to sustain, resulting as it inevitably does in lack of cooperation or loss of material assistance.

Legitimacy in stability operations   15 Legitimacy has a real, practical impact. It motivates certain types of actions while discouraging others. For example, I argue that the ethical legitimacy of the use of armed force, most notably for humanitarian intervention, became established through the experiences of the 1990s. In the cases during that decade analyzed here (Liberia, Bosnia, Somalia, Rwanda), humanitarian principles and imperatives were sufficiently supported. Loss or lack of support for intervention was caused not by opposition to humanitarian principles, but rather by poor performance in achieving those goals or by incompatible power-­political imperatives that often compromised the process or effectiveness of the intervention. The problem in the justifiability of humanitarian intervention no longer lies in the realm of principles but in procedures and dissenting concerns vis-­à-vis self-­interest that enter into the equation. As may be seen in the cases of Somalia and Rwanda, without compatible power-­political legitimation these interventions cannot be sustained or succeed in the long run. In more recent stability operations, notably those in Afghanistan and in Iraq, the legitimation process has been far more complex. These cases again indicate the key importance of legitimacy in achieving success. I argue that, unlike the use of armed forces for humanitarian purposes, pre-­ emption as attempted in Iraq has been discredited as a security strategy due to both lack of support for its ethical bases and its dismal performance. The controversial nature of the preventive war cast a shadow over the legitimacy of the entire venture, including the stability and counterinsurgency operations that ensued from the war itself. In addition to poor acceptance of the case for war by broader audiences, dismal performance in the follow-­up stability and counterinsurgency operations compromised security (belying the Bush administration’s initial claims) and caused support for the intervention to almost completely evaporate by the end of 2006. From the outset policy-­makers’ faulty assumptions about and idiosyncratic rationalizations for the war precluded proper attention to postwar planning and preparation, and critically shaped the handling of later stability operations, which would prove ineffective. In this context, the “surge” strategy adopted by the United States in 2007 to 2008 was intended to provide a basis on which to legitimate the continuation of the mission beyond that point. Once the surge strategy proved successful, support was sustained and legitimacy restored just enough to allow the United States to conclude the mission on its own terms. In Afghanistan, likewise, the failure of stabilization was notable. As in Iraq, the initial rationalization of the war—to thwart Al Qaeda—influenced the way in which the stability operation was organized. The negative power-­political incentive to keep the reconstruction and nation-­building assistance to a “light” one especially hurt the mission’s performance and led to a breakdown in security after 2006. Although in Afghanistan there was less of a legal problem in justifying the intervention than in the case of

16   Legitimacy in stability operations Iraq, the dismal performance shown by stabilization efforts and the recurrence of the insurgency there, in addition to the extremely high cost of assisting socio-­economic development, made support for the mission extremely difficult to maintain. Without persuasive legitimation for continued presence, the mission there faces the danger of collapse and failure, even with the augmentation of forces. Legitimacy is crucial to success. How states justify the use of force is important, and that justification must be made on a sound basis. Empirical findings suggest that such a basis need not strictly adhere to the norm of non-­interference or of use of armed forces exclusively for the sake of pursuing the core national interests of the intervening countries. Broader justification for the use of armed force in the interests of both humanitarianism and stability has found support in the past, with interventions with sufficient support being more likely to succeed. Thus the management of an intervention’s legitimacy, which is a political process, constitutes a highly challenging yet vitally important task.

Structure of the book The following chapters present case studies which demonstrate the role of legitimacy in producing certain intervention outcomes. In order to fully describe the process of legitimation, each discussion is structured as follows: 1 2 3

Introduction Brief explanation of the crisis and characteristics of the operation Ethical and power-­political bases of intervention: Formal ethical bases De facto ethical bases Formal power-­political bases De facto power-­political bases Performance Support (or limits of support): ethical Support (or limits of support): power-­political

4

Conclusion

Analyses of ethical and power-­political bases are repeated for every major change in the features of the intervention. Six case studies are examined: key 1990s stability interventions in Liberia, Bosnia, Somalia, and Rwanda, followed by analyses of ongoing stability operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. The sequence of the case studies, rather than being chronological, follows approaches to intervention and their impact on the conduct of later operations. For example, although intervention in Afghanistan started in 2001 prior to the 2003 invasion of Iraq, it is discussed after Iraq, because the experience in Iraq

Legitimacy in stability operations   17 prompted a re-­evaluation of the strategic value of stability operations and a changed approach to the handling of insurgency in that country, both with repercussions for the way the war is now being fought in Afghanistan. Because of the complexity of the legitimation process in these two later cases, the Iraq and Afghanistan interventions are each treated in three chapters covering the topics of bases, performance, and support, respectively. Chapter 2 discusses peace creation in Liberia. The intervention in the Liberian conflict of 1989 to 1997 by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) Cease-­fire Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) demonstrated the interaction between ethical and power-­political legitimation and the effect their dynamics had on determining the process and outcome of the intervention, which eventually succeeded after a costly seven years from 1990 to 1997. Through the process, the use of force by a sub-­regional organization primarily for humanitarian purposes, albeit unprecedented, became accepted and supported by international audiences. Additional concerns for the creation of mechanisms to benefit regional security maintenance in the post-­Cold War context also served as the basis of a newfound legitimacy for West African peacekeeping endeavors. Legitimacy comprising these bases and support for them explains the ultimate success of the venture. Chapter 3 analyzes the case of Bosnia, focusing on the transformation of intervention from peace support to coercive diplomacy. In summer 1995, the initial UN-­organized peace support, which for three years remained a limited intervention, turned into a more coercive military intervention involving NATO, which finally led the operation to success in the form of the Dayton agreement. This transformation is accounted for by a shift in the bases of operations from a combination of humanitarian and stability concerns to another set of interests that derived from the humanitarian crisis in Bosnia and a crisis of credibility in the capacity of NATO. The emergence of the NATO credibility issue, which was triggered once the failure of UNPROFOR to protect the civilian population weakened support for the original peacekeeping arrangement, nullified the initial tradeoffs that had been perceived to exist between humanitarian and strategic imperatives and altered the conditions of peace support. Chapter 4 focuses on Somalia, where the initial humanitarian/peace enforcement mission ended in premature disengagement and failure. Strong ethical bases for the intervention combined with weak strategic bases proved to be the recipe for the radical transfiguration of the international response in Somalia in 1993 from peace enforcement to disengagement. Both the US-­led Unified Task Force (UNITAF ) of 1992 to 1993 and UN Somalia Mission (UNOSOM) II were organized in response to humanitarian imperatives (ethical bases) and the need to strengthen UN security institutions to handle post-­Cold War crises. Both the US and UN operations, despite their unprecedented authorization of the use of force,

18   Legitimacy in stability operations attracted support from other member states on the basis of humanitarian principles, indicating a shift in the once-­cardinal norm of non-­ interference. However, UNOSOM II ultimately lost support at both the international and national levels, especially within the United States, when its performance deteriorated. Excessive use of force and lack of attention to political reconciliation blunted the mission’s effectiveness, and, given Somalia’s relative insignificance in strategic affairs, the rising costs were not seen as justifiable in a humanitarian mission. The legitimacy of the whole humanitarian-­enforcement venture broke down, resulting in premature withdrawal. Chapter 5 focuses on Rwanda, where the international community failed to intervene, and the genocide that claimed 800,000 lives in 1994 was not stopped. As with the UN/US disengagement in Somalia, the failure may be explained by the combination of a strong ethical basis and a weak strategic basis. The situation presented an ethical basis for action that was recognized, although belatedly, by the states concerned. Once genocide was identified, the UN moved to authorie the second UN mission in Rwanda and the subsequent French Operation Turquoise. Also important was the presence of precedents that had involved large UN humanitarian deployments elsewhere, creating a sense that Rwanda merited similar attention. The decision to intervene in Rwanda was ultimately not implemented, however, because the risk-­averse Western democracies could not overcome their misgivings about the perceived high costs—especially political costs—of the mission. The lack of a strong power-­political basis of intervention lay at the crux of their reluctance. There were also fears about another UN failure in peacekeeping (such as in Somalia, and also the Bosnia debacle, which was much debated at the time), which would have further damaged the reputation of the peacekeeping institution. The fear of failure most profoundly shaped the position of the United States, which had earlier led the UN in establishing the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention but then retreated from it after the Somali crisis. Negative power-­political legitimation, hence, worked to limit the impact of ethical legitimation. Chapter 6 discusses the bases of legitimation of the operations in Iraq, which during the course of the intervention shifted from pre-­emption to counterinsurgency. The 2003 Iraq War was based on the perceived need for enforcement of UN Security Council resolutions as well as for pre-­ emption to ensure self-­defense. Another important basis was the democratization of Iraq, seen as the end-­point of regime change. These bases were underlined by the Bush administration’s belief that the global war on terror was an ideological struggle between democracies and totalitarian regimes. Also critical was the optimistic view that US primacy allowed for the pursuit of such ambitious goals, as well as the assumption that the war would achieve regime change swiftly and that handling the aftermath would be easy. These rationales comprised a strategy of pre-­emption that

Legitimacy in stability operations   19 had been worked out in response to the transformation of the strategic environment in the post-­9/11 world. The so-­called “surge” strategy (2007–08), involving an increase in the troop level, was an attempt by the Bush administration to defeat the insurgency that since 2003 had gripped the country enough to gain the initiative. Chapter 7 analyzes the performance of the Iraq operations, which were characterized most starkly by a failure of mission transformation—in other words, the failure to transition their role from combat in the initial stages to stabilization later on. The Bush administration’s unilateral decision to resort to force was followed by the dismal performance of the stability operation. Success was thwarted primarily by lack of attention to the necessary means to achieve postwar stability and establish political legitimacy for the new Iraqi state. Clearly, the initial rationalization for the war had focused on a set of mutually reinforcing power-­political and ethical bases and had been supported by an optimistic (and ultimately faulty) assessment of US capabilities and realities on the ground. These approaches influenced how stabilization was conducted, producing unintended and disastrous results. Notably, the key features that failed were the central tenets of US policy—rapid democratization and Iraqization of security forces. Contrary to expectation, attempts toward these ends resulted in an ethno-­sectarian war. It was not until strategy changed through the surge that a degree of trust among Iraqis in their own government, as well as a renewed sense of confidence in the United States, was restored. The degree of political legitimacy created in Iraq by the surge—and the more broad-­based, if fragile, domestic support it generated—became the critical basis for further international involvement. Chapter 8 discusses the issue of support in the Iraq case. Overall, the strategy of pre-­emption did not win legitimacy because it did not attract support in light either of the existing legal and strategic order or of performance. The surge, on the other hand, was able to enhance the legitimacy of the Iraqi government and to create a basis for continued international presence. Thus strategy alone could not form the basis of legitimacy; without a firm grounding in international law or the ability to create a new conception of legitimacy—and, internally, without the ability of the international intervention to form a solidly legitimate Iraqi government—the situation would not be resolved. Chapter 9 moves to the case of Afghanistan, beginning with discussion of the bases of the Afghan mission. The initial military operation, Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF ), focused on the overthrow of the Taliban regime and on ensuing counterterrorist activities vis-­à-vis Al Qaeda; as such, its primary basis was the ethical one of self-­defense. The stability operation in Afghanistan had a slow start, following a “light footprint” approach under the aegis of the UN. The Afghan operation was marked by an expansion of the bases of intervention from self-­defense and counterrorism (combined with international assistance under the light-­footprint

20   Legitimacy in stability operations approach) to broader goals of counterinsurgency. The initial conditions of intervention had been premised on relatively small costs and risks associated with ostensibly benign state-­building efforts, but the expansion ran counter to these conditions in ways that had a significant impact on both performance and support later on. The Obama administration’s “surge” in Afghanistan—which called for increasing the troop level initially by 17,000 and introducing a range of changes in regional strategy—was designed to relegitimize the intervention by reinforcing its core purpose, namely defeating the Al Qaeda terrorist network and its extremist allies. This strategy was followed by the additional decision in December 2009 to increase allied forces by a further 30,000 US and 7,000 NATO troops. Thus the original focus on counterterrorism re-­emerged in Afghanistan, although the latter decision also involved a stronger focus on counterinsurgency operations. Chapter 10 discusses the performance of the Afghan operations, which followed a path similar to that experienced earlier in Iraq: an initial failure to achieve stabilization, leading eventually to the need for counterinsurgency operations. The lack of coherence among the different bases of legitimacy had a negative impact on performance. The assumption of low cost in achieving various high-­minded goals, and reluctance to admit the necessary risks and sacrifices, had telling consequences. Some bases that are logically and realistically linked (e.g., counterterrorism and counterinsurgency) were interpreted to be quite separate and, while the narrower focus was understood to be counterterrorism, many states failed to associate this goal with the broader tasks of counterinsurgency and state-­building. Thus neither the counterterrorist nor the stability operations were matched by resources sufficient for satisfactory results. Again, not unlike in the case of Iraq, the rationale and implementation (use of only a small number of ground troops) of the initial OEF influenced the way in which later counterterrorism (i.e., the hunting down of Al Qaeda remnants) and stability operations were conducted. Poor attention to the importance of stability operations especially in the first several years significantly narrowed the chances that Afghanistan could establish a legitimate government, a failure that still haunted the coalition in December 2009. Taking advantage of the scant security presence (especially in the first years), the lack of progress in reconstruction and development, the absence of an effective administration and the deteriorating legitimacy of the Afghan government, the Taliban regained strength. Instability in Pakistan’s border regions, where currently both Al Qaeda and the Taliban have headquarters, is also strongly linked with the instability in Afghanistan. Chapter 11 discusses the support for various aspects of the Afghan operations—a support that may best be summarized as “weakening.” Initially, the intervention in Afghanistan received notable support from the global public. States also supported the need to cooperate in the reconstruction

Legitimacy in stability operations   21 of Afghanistan. However, as operations on the ground shifted from counterterrorism combined with limited peacekeeping and state-­building to counterinsurgency, public support dwindled. Although interests at stake in Afghanistan (and later Pakistan) were serious, and governments made efforts to justify the war, the public hesitated to accept the high cost that would be required to achieve results. Particularly before the surge, paucity of public support was a factor behind governments’ reluctance to contribute more resources for the Afghan mission, in contradiction to the proclaimed importance of interests in Afghanistan. The public perceives—quite rightly—the two factors of effectiveness and the legitimacy of the Afghan government in view of the local populace to be those that matter most. Yet the fraudulent process of the Afghan presidential election in August 2009 defied the high expectations held toward the legitimation of the government. The legitimacy of the intervention also hinges critically on the Afghan people’s perception of their own government. The concluding chapter draws together the main findings and arguments, stressing the interconnectedness of the three elements of legitimacy and highlighting the impact of legitimacy on the actual outcomes of intervention. The bases of intervention are becoming ever more complex, and intervention in our time is centrally defined by the dynamics whereby policy-­makers and multiple, multidimensional audiences alike attempt to sustain or devalue authority regarding the use of force. Legitimacy, which is a dynamic political process, is thus a positive quality that determines the success or failure of intervention.

2 Liberia Creating peace in Africa

The Liberian civil war of 1989 to 1997 claimed 200,000 lives out of a population of 2.6 million and turned more than one million people into refugees.1 The war was accompanied by the complete collapse of the state and was fought largely by nonprofessional recruits, often children. Responses to the crisis by the Western democracies were muted, but the West African nations, acting within the framework of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), intervened by organizing a “peace creation”2 mission through the ECOWAS Cease-­fire Monitoring Group (ECOMOG). This chapter analyzes the tenacious efforts and eventual success of the intervention (1990–1997) through a focus on the triple elements of legitimacy as explained in the preceding pages. In the case of Liberia, the ethical and power-­political legitimations of intervention coexisted and were compatible. At the basis of ECOMOG’s peace creation were both humanitarian and strategic concerns—regional stability, containment, and the national interests and reputations of the intervening parties. West African states considered it important both to alleviate civilian suffering at the initiative of the sub-­region and to prevent the conflict from spreading to neighboring countries. An effective and credible peacekeeping institution was held to be indispensable for the sub-­region’s post-­Cold War security, and the Liberian conflict became a test case for its management of regional conflict. Nigeria, in heading the intervention, regarded the success of the mission to be imperative to maintaining its prestige and leadership in the region. Following the successful election in Liberia in 1997, ECOMOG’s venture was much hailed as an exemplar of African conflict resolution, especially given the lack of UN and Western interest in intervening. The ECOMOG case indicated an important shift in the legitimate purposes for which force would be used in post-­Cold War security management. The mission was limited and humanitarian in nature, and the objectives of intervention—such as creating safe havens, maintaining cease-­fires, and preparing conditions for a peace agreement—replaced the traditional purposes of military victory and occupation. These declared goals created political accountability for the intervention force, whereby

Liberia   23 the support it received depended on how well it performed its role. Despite various controversies aroused by the sub-­regional organization’s unprecedented use of force to meet the humanitarian crisis, the ECOMOG intervention came to be accepted and supported from outside West Africa primarily in view of humanitarian and stability concerns. As a result, the sources of controversy surrounding humanitarian intervention shifted from the level of principles (sovereignty vis-­à-vis human rights) to that of procedures, such as political representation, proportionality of means, and impartiality. The UN praised the sub-­regional effort to resolve conflict as a precedent for similar undertakings. The following sections first briefly review the ECOMOG intervention and then analyze two types of legitimacy, focusing in turn upon the ethical and power-­political bases of intervention. The ethical bases were humanitarian concerns, a view of multilateral security in which internal conflict is defined as a threat to international security and interest in developing mechanisms for regional peacekeeping; the power-­political bases were Nigeria’s concern for its own national security and containment of the conflict. The chapter then examines ECOMOG performance and support, clarifying the shifting conditions of legitimacy.

The Liberian crisis and ECOMOG peace creation On Christmas Eve, 1989, a few hundred rebel soldiers of the National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) led by Charles Taylor, a civilian who had received military training in Libya, invaded Liberia from neighboring Côte d’Ivoire. Fighting quickly spread through much of Liberia, attracting in the process thousands more recruits from among opponents of the Samuel Doe regime. While the ethnic Gios and Manos, against which the regime had been committing gross human rights violations for some time, showed enthusiastic support for the rebels, Doe’s retaliation against them was particularly harsh. By early June 1990, Taylor’s force had captured more than 90 percent of the country and reached the capital, Monrovia, where a military stalemate quickly developed among the NPFL, the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL) loyal to Doe, and a splinter rebel faction, the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia (INPFL). Complete breakdown of law and order in the capital ensued. The situation in Liberia did not arouse international interest, but ECOWAS leaders intervened by organizing a peacekeeping force and launching a peace process. The ECOWAS peace plan, adopted in a five-­ member ECOWAS Standing Mediation Committee (SMC) meeting held in Banjul, Gambia, on 6–7 August 1990 incorporated three key elements: an immediate cease-­fire to be monitored by ECOMOG, a free and fair election to be held under ECOWAS monitoring within 12 months, and the formation of “a broad-­based” interim government consisting of Liberians and headed by a civilian who would administer the country’s civil

24   Liberia authority until general elections were held.3 Accordingly, a national conference held in Banjul from 27 August to 2 September 1990 set up an interim government to be placed under ECOMOG protection. Taylor’s NPFL, however, did not consent to the ECOWAS peace plan. ECOMOG was set to support the ECOWAS peace process by “conduct[ing] military operations for the purpose of monitoring the cease-­fire [and] restoring law and order to create the necessary conditions for free and fair elections to be held in Liberia.”4 ECOMOG’s peace creation alternated between peacekeeping and peace enforcement to create and maintain a “mutually hurting” military stalemate among the factions under which mediation could be attempted. ECOMOG was deployed in Monrovia on 24 August 1990, with Nigeria providing more than 70 percent of the troops and materiels, even before the ECOWAS Authority endorsed the SMC decision. Initially, the 3,500-man ECOMOG concentrated on evacuating foreign nationals and refugees. After the 7 September murder of Doe by INPFL rebels at the ECOMOG headquarters, however, ECOMOG was forced to change its strategy. Nigeria expanded ECOMOG into a full-­fledged peace-­enforcement operation involving 14,000 ground troops and heavy artillery. In October and November 1990, ECOMOG resorted to peace-­enforcement actions, establishing Monrovia and its surroundings as a safe area that became a wartime home to more than three-­quarters of the Liberian population. Taylor was driven out of the capital, and a formal cease-­fire agreement was signed by all parties for the first time in Bamako, Mali in November 1990. The ECOWAS Authority formally endorsed the SMC peace plan and ECOMOG as a peacekeeping force. By December 1990, ECOMOG had reverted to peacekeeping. Although ECOMOG continued to be conducted as peacekeeping, it resorted on two occasions to peace enforcement. The first such action was to counter Operation Octopus, launched by Taylor in October 1992 to capture Monrovia, and the second was in April 1996 when the armed militias fought each other in Monrovia. In both cases, concerted land, air, and sea operations were used to repel attacks. Further, following the Cotonou Accord of July 1993, the UN Observer Mission in Liberia (UNOMIL) joined ECOMOG to implement the peace agreements.5 Peace negotiation proved the most difficult aspect of the ECOWAS intervention. There were no less than 17 peace agreements before the Abuja II Accord of August 1996 was successfully implemented under the supervision of ECOMOG, the Organization of African Unity (OAU), and the United Nations. ECOMOG completed its mission only in 1997, when general elections were held and Taylor was elected president. Formal ethical bases The most important ethical—explicitly stated—basis of the ECOMOG intervention was humanitarian concern. The intervention cannot be

Liberia   25 understood without considering the deteriorating security and humanitarian situation and the total breakdown of government in Liberia, the effects of which were felt immediately in neighboring countries.6 The SMC decision to send in sub-­regional forces in August 1990 was influenced especially by the situation in Monrovia that summer. By then, the Doe regime had broken down, and the capital was ravaged by war. Reports increasingly told of the indiscriminate killing of civilians, often in the thousands, by all of the warring parties.7 The massacre by Doe’s forces of 600 civilians hiding in a church at the end of July as well as their indiscriminate attacks on civilians hiding in the UN compound and the Nigerian embassy, all widely reported in the press, particularly shocked leaders in the region.8 Also of concern was the dangerous military stalemate in Monrovia, where a final attack by Taylor could have caused massive civilian casualties.9 In addition, several hundred foreign citizens including Nigerians were held hostage by the NPFL in an attempt to forestall intervention. The INPFL engaged in similar practices.10 President Ibrahim Babangida of Nigeria had been particularly disturbed since May by the deepening crisis in Monrovia, prompting him to propose the establishment of the SMC to mediate the crisis.11 He called the July church massacre an “embarrassment for Africa.”12 By early August, Babangida made public his support for “whatever step” ECOWAS devised “to stop the bloodshed in Liberia.”13 Humanitarian concerns were widely shared by ECOWAS leaders, especially those from the neighboring countries directly affected by the crisis, such as Sierra Leone and Guinea, which hosted some 30,000 and 250,000 refugees, respectively.14 There was also concern for ECOWAS nationals trapped in Liberia: Nigeria as well as Ghana were concerned that their citizens in Liberia would be subject to brutality and hostage-­taking, and domestic pressure urging the governments to evacuate them was increasing. The sense of urgency led on 5 July to the holding of an emergency meeting of the SMC in which modalities for a cease-­fire in Liberia were discussed. This was followed by a fact-­finding mission by the SMC and shuttle diplomacy conducted by the ECOWAS executive secretary Abass Bundu himself.15 However, ECOWAS pledges went entirely unheeded by the warring parties, and by early August the recognition emerged that force might have to be used.16 By the time the SMC met on 6–7 August, there was already a general consensus that military intervention was needed in Liberia.17 The fact that the meeting was attended by heads of state provided a measure of the seriousness of the sub-­region’s concern for Liberia. The Final Communiqué of the First Session of the SMC on 7 August 1990 thus referred to the ongoing humanitarian disaster—the flood of refugees, the massacre of civilians, the destruction of property, the danger to foreign nationals—as well as the breakdown of law and order and resulting anarchy.18

26   Liberia The intervention of ECOMOG was justified as a peacekeeping operation to monitor cease-­fires and restore law and order, not as an occupation force.19 Thus, the Final Communiqué stated that ECOMOG “[s]hall be established in Liberia for the purpose of keeping the peace, restoring law and order and ensuring that the cease-­fire is respected.”20 In fact, ECOWAS leaders insisted on the plan to make the ECOMOG mission a peacekeeping operation by trying to arrange a cease-­fire agreement before deploying force. After the initial peace enforcement in Monrovia, ECOMOG’s status as a cease-­fire monitoring force became more established with the Bamako agreement of 1990.21 ECOMOG, however, proved highly controversial for legal and procedural reasons, and the high cost proved burdensome to those contributing resources. Overriding those concerns, ECOMOG was justified primarily by the humanitarian and exceptional nature of the operation. Critics were concerned about the issue of sovereignty. The ECOMOG intervention, the critics argued, violated Liberian sovereignty and the principle of non-­interference as set forth in UN Charter Article 2(7) and OAU Charter Article III-­2, which prohibit those organizations from interfering in the internal affairs of member states. Earlier in 1990, the United States had taken the position that the Liberian civil war was an “internal affair,” and the Security Council had rejected dealing with Liberia partly because African members had judged that intervention there would create an undesirable precedent.22 Critics also questioned the compatibility of the intervention with ECOWAS’s constitutive documents. The applicability of the 1981 Protocol Relating to Mutual Assistance and Defense to the particular situation in Liberia, especially, was not clear, as this defense pact seemed intended to provide assistance to an existing member government challenged by external subversion, in addition to which there was also an absence of effective consent by Liberia, by then with a dysfunctional government.23 Moreover, ECOMOG was presented as a “neutral” peacekeeping force. It was thus questionable if ECOWAS heads of state possessed the legal authority to ratify the SMC decision to use force. Still another issue raised by critics was the SMC’s legal competence in deploying ECOMOG before consent by the whole of the ECOWAS summit. It was not clear whether the creation of the SMC meant that the ECOWAS Authority had ceded part of its powers to the SMC.24 Those who opposed the intervention considered the SMC to have overstepped its responsibilities, charging that it was mandated to mediate the war, not to militarily intervene. President Blaise Compaore of Burkina Faso, joined by the region’s other Francophone states, Côte d’Ivoire, Senegal, Togo, and Mali, claimed that the mediation committee had “no competence to interfere in member states’ internal conflicts.”25 These legal positions notwithstanding, the ECOWAS action is better understood as an exceptional response to mitigate the acute humanitarian

Liberia   27 and other effects of the conflict given the lack of existing mechanisms to deal with such a crisis. The ECOWAS summit decision to create the SMC enabled the organization to develop the capacity to deal with crises of this kind in a timely manner.26 In mounting the unprecedented intervention, tacit endorsement from the Organization of African Unity (OAU) was important. OAU Secretary General Salim A. Salim was among the first to vocally defend the ECOWAS intervention, thereby legitimating the sub-­region’s venture. He argued that the principle of non-­interference should not be interpreted to mean indifference to suffering, stating that the OAU charter was “created to preserve the humanity, dignity, and the rights of the African.”27 The reasoning expressed in the official decisions and communiqués of ECOWAS shared Salim’s view. The SMC noted that the domestic atrocities had not only “traumatized the Liberian population” but also “greatly shocked the people of the sub-­region and the rest of the international community,”28 indicating that humanitarian situations within one country were a legitimate concern of the sub-­region. The ECOWAS Authority reaffirmed ECOMOG’s intervention later in November 1990, and, citing humanitarian concerns, it endorsed ECOMOG’s role in securing Monrovia and enabling humanitarian access to the capital.29 In addition, the ECOWAS Secretariat argued that events preceding the deployment of ECOMOG indicated that there was no government in Liberia capable of providing security for the civilian population.30 ECOMOG’s explanation of its role as a “peacekeeping” force was broadly challenged. There was the question of consent, which was required of a peacekeeping force. Taylor’s NPFL accepted neither ECOMOG deployment nor the ECOWAS peace plan. Further, ECOMOG use of limited offensives to repel attacks on Monrovia was understood to diverge from the established rules of peacekeeping. These features cast doubt on the legal position of ECOMOG as a peacekeeping force. ECOMOG defended its use of force on the basis of the right granted to peacekeeping forces to repel attacks obstructing their mission using the minimum force necessary.31 The ECOMOG offensives in 1992 and 1996, while possibly posing problems in defining the nature of such “minimum force,” were less problematic, given that they were taken to counter violations of formal cease-­fire agreements signed by the warring parties.32 There was, however, less legal ground on which to defend the 1990 offensives, as no formal agreement on which to base peacekeeping had been made. The 1990 use of force to place Monrovia under ECOMOG control was defended by ECOMOG and accepted by the ECOWAS Authority as a whole on the ground that it was necessary for humanitarian purposes. The November 1990 summit of the ECOWAS Authority endorsed the SMC peace plan, referring to ECOMOG only as a cease-­fire monitoring force “to keep the peace, restore law and order and ensure respect for the

28   Liberia cease-­fire,”33 and acknowledged its success in securing Monrovia. The Final Communiqué stated that this success enabled ECOMOG and international relief agencies to carry out humanitarian relief work and to evacuate refugees.34 Likewise, the use of force in 1992 was understood as necessary to defend Monrovia as a humanitarian safe haven, although this time more emphasis was placed on the consistency of ECOMOG’s actions with the Yamoussoucro IV agreement of November 1991. The more difficult allegation against the ECOMOG peacekeeping rationale was that it compromised the impartiality required of a peacekeeping force. This claim stemmed from ECOMOG’s use of force against the NPFL, which had initially held more than 90 percent of the territory of Liberia and was virtually the only challenger to ECOMOG. The key Francophone countries of the region, long-­term enemies of Doe, actively supported Taylor’s rebellion against his regime, and this political division within the community initially exacerbated claims of bias.35 Meanwhile, Nigerian president Babangida, whose country claimed a dominant position in ECOMOG, had close relations with Doe and was reportedly concerned for Doe’s welfare.36 The criticism was voiced that ECOMOG was an “Anglophone force” and a Nigerian bid for regional supremacy. By summer 1990, however, Nigeria’s position had visibly shifted to a more neutral one.37 Nigeria’s long-­term interest in mounting a successful humanitarian and security intervention in Liberia outweighed the short-­ term and less important goal of saving Doe.38 By the time it was announced in August, the ECOWAS peace plan clearly required that Doe “withdraw from Liberia” and demanded an interim government headed by a civilian. The composition of the ECOMOG forces was also later modified to reduce the impression of Anglophone dominance and partiality, when the United States, in a strategy of support for ECOMOG, induced Senegal to participate in ECOMOG in 1992 (although this participation was withdrawn by early 1993). The UN Security Council’s decision to create UNOMIL following the Cotonou Accord in July 1993 was also intended to broaden the political basis of ECOMOG by bringing in UN observers to  monitor and supervise, thereby modifying the apparently Nigeria-­ dominated nature of the force.39 Tanzania, Uganda, and Zimbabwe also joined forces with ECOMOG in 1993. After 1995, claims of partiality receded, owing to the fact that by then Taylor’s position as the main challenger to ECOMOG had given way to interfactional rivalry as warring parties proliferated, and ECOMOG’s peacekeeping status in Liberia became more established after a series of peace agreements incorporating ECOMOG’s role. Relations between Nigeria and Taylor became more conciliatory, with Taylor himself attending peace negotiations in Abuja, the Nigerian capital, in 1995.40 By the time of the April 1996 crisis in Monrovia, it was clear that warring factions had reached a stalemate. These developments led the majority of Francophone states to participate in the Abuja II implementation in 1996.

Liberia   29 Another source of controversy surrounding ECOMOG was the high cost of the operation. In Nigeria, which provided the bulk of the human and material resources for ECOMOG, there was no consensus that Liberia held sufficient interest, particularly given the poor state of Nigeria’s economy.41 Nigeria’s Sani Abacha regime avoided withdrawal from Liberia for fear of aggravating the humanitarian crisis there and inviting destabilization of the region.42 Financial restraints nonetheless did prompt Nigeria to push for acceleration of the peace process, including taking a more reconciliatory stance toward Taylor to allow the NPFL greater political representation in the peace process. De facto ethical bases Against the backdrop of prevailing humanitarian concerns, the de facto ethical basis of ECOMOG had to do with the recognition that the increasing occurrence of civil war in Africa would require security mechanisms for dealing with such crises. The 1990 to 1997 intervention in Liberia was based on the view that the internal situation of a state, including the humanitarian situation, was a matter of international security, and that there was a need for institutions to deal with problems compromising international security that arose from conditions internal to individual states.43 Liberia’s crisis was particularly alarming for states in the sub-­region. It confirmed the conviction that the threat facing Africa stemmed primarily from conflicts that were internal in origin.44 In many cases, a government—often a Cold War protégé regime—would be challenged by various types of groups within the state, and irregular fighting would ensue that lacked clear geographic definition. Rebels were often supported by cross-­ border aid and transactions, and widespread destruction often accompanied the collapse of the state, resulting in turn in destabilization of the surrounding region. Liberia’s 1989 to 1997 civil war seemed to fit the image of such a destructive conflict. The limits of existing conflict management mechanisms in facing such threats were clear.45 Although the UN and the OAU conducted peacekeeping missions amid the civil wars in Congo and Chad, respectively, both cases exposed the difficulties of managing intra-­state conflicts complicated by other external involvement.46 In particular, the OAU focus on “sovereign and juridically equal states” was understood to cause difficulty in the post-­Cold War era, when internal war became the dominant form. Indeed, at the time of the Liberian crisis, no regional mechanism was in place for conflict containment, resolution, or peacemaking, a serious pitfall given increasing UN disinterest in intervening in African conflicts during the 1990s. ECOWAS interest in Liberia clearly reflected concern about the lack of a regional security mechanism to deal with internal crises. ECOWAS

30   Liberia defined the humanitarian crisis associated with the civil war, which would traditionally have been considered a domestic issue, as a matter concerning the international security of the sub-­region. Further, the decision to install its Standing Mediation Committee (SMC) in May 1990 was influenced by the Nigerian view that a mechanism within ECOWAS for immediate discussion and management of this and similar crises was urgently needed.47 The text of the decision to establish the SMC was deliberately unclear as to the exact nature of the crisis it was to deal with, most likely because of the lack of a legal or institutional basis for creating a mediation committee to deal with a civil war. However, in deciding on 7 August 1990 to deploy a peacekeeping force in Liberia, the SMC clearly specified the nature of the threat that it presumed to tackle with the force, recognizing that “the tragic situation in Liberia poses a threat to international peace and security.”48 This indicated a substantial shift in the attitude of ECOWAS member states concerning the role of the SMC and the community. In this context, for the ECOWAS leaders, peacekeeping was a realistic method of conflict management.49 The leaders perceived peacekeeping as an effective means of containing the conflict without risking being branded as an “invasion” force. Further, peacekeeping, or in this case peace creation, was also more within the capacity and intentions of the West African community than sustained peace enforcement or peace imposition. Nor could sufficient political will be mobilized for a peace-­ enforcement mission, which in practice would have meant stronger action against the NPFL, and so was highly controversial. ECOMOG’s peacekeeping, then, reflected the West African community’s interest in developing an institutional mechanism for dealing with internal wars in the region so as to better manage those wars and maintain the common security of the region’s states. ECOMOG thus became an integral part of the community’s strategy for sub-­regional security and stability. ECOMOG was also justified under UN Charter Chapter VIII, which provides for the role of regional mechanisms to deal with threats to international peace and security, including the use of enforcement measures with the approval of the UN Security Council. ECOMOG became an example of partnership in peacekeeping between the UN and regional organizations as endorsed in the UN Secretary General’s 1992 Agenda for Peace.50 ECOWAS presented ECOMOG as a regional attempt at resolving a regional war, and, in justifying its actions in the UN Security Council, cited UN Charter Article 52, which provides for peaceful regional measures.51 However, the fact that ECOMOG resorted to enforcement measures, and without Security Council authorization as required under Article 53, makes justification of ECOMOG actions under UN Charter Chapter VIII less credible. This lack of previous authorization should nevertheless be seen against the background of the already noted inactivity of the UN Security Council during the summer of 1990, and the fact that when Nigeria, following the

Liberia   31 UN Charter Article 54 requirement, reported the ECOWAS Peace Plan to the UN Security Council on 8 August 1990, the Security Council declined to adopt a resolution on the issue.52 Further, despite the irregularity of ECOWAS actions in light of UN Charter Chapter VIII provisions, it is clear that the UN Security Council retroactively accepted the ECOWAS intervention as a regional attempt to restore peace. UN Security Council Resolution 788 (1992), the first of its resolutions on Liberia, cited Chapter VIII and welcomed ECOWAS efforts, thus effectively accepting the ECOWAS justification. The Security Council members referred to ECOMOG as a peacekeeping force without specific reference to its peace-­enforcement functions or making a clear distinction between ECOMOG actions that might constitute peaceful regional measures under Article 52 of the UN Charter and those that might comprise regional enforcement measures under Article 53.53 The report of the UN Secretary General in March 1993 did not mention the irregularity of ECOMOG actions, stating on the contrary that Liberia represented a “good example of systematic co-­operation between the United Nations and a regional organisation, as envisaged in Chapter VIII of the Charter.”54 This acceptance of the Liberian intervention under UN Charter Chapter VIII was compatible with the emerging post-­Cold War tendency for security management in Africa to be considered the responsibility and interest of Africa as a region. As will be demonstrated below, Africa’s efforts to resolve its own conflicts provided the basis for Western support for ECOMOG. Reluctant to intervene in Africa, the West saw ECOMOG as a commendable initiative by the sub-­region to resolve its own problems in a way that needed to be encouraged in the future. Formal power-­political bases In addition to ethical bases, the ECOMOG intervention had power-­ political bases which were strongly invoked by policy-­makers. One quite explicit basis was the link between the intervention and national defense of Nigeria, the regional power which led ECOMOG. The Nigerian government’s view was that its leadership of the ECOWAS intervention was “perfectly consistent with the country’s national interests, military tradition and defense of the nation’s territorial integrity and sovereignty.”55 For this reason, there was strong support within the Nigerian military for intervention even when economic hardships and popular discontent with a troubled democratization process stirred domestic criticism of the country’s participation. Moreover, active involvement in ECOMOG particularly suited Nigeria’s bid for supremacy in the sub-­region. Nigeria’s national defense policy based upon “the theory of concentric circles”56 provided a suitable basis for ECOMOG’s participation in terms of national interest. Formed in response to security challenges following the civil war of 1967 to 1970, the theory was designed to rationalize use of

32   Liberia the nation’s military resources to meet both external and internal threats and envisaged a three-­level defense perimeter, depending upon the immediacy of the threat. The first perimeter was defense of Nigerian national sovereignty and territorial integrity against aggression, whether instigated internally or externally. The second perimeter encompassed relations with the country’s immediate neighbors, namely the Francophone states of Benin, Cameroon, Chad, and Niger, relations that needed to be maintained on the basis of peaceful coexistence. The third perimeter was the West African sub-­region, where stability and prosperity were considered vital to Nigeria’s national interest. It was in this context that Nigeria took the initiative in the 1970s in creating ECOWAS, which aimed at economic integration and prosperity of the sub-­region. By that time already having had considerable experience in peacekeeping, Nigeria also developed a serious interest in putting it to use to establish security in the sub-­region. From this perspective, a crisis in Liberia, even though it did not share a border with Nigeria, could be seen as threatening Nigeria’s vital interests. Nigeria’s most immediate concern was protection of its citizens in Liberia,57 since, especially as it became clear that the Nigerian-­led ECOMOG would be deployed in Liberia, Taylor’s NPFL forces targeted the Nigerian embassy and its citizens there. Nigeria could therefore further justify its intervention as necessary to protect its nationals and “territorial integrity.”58 The ECOMOG decision reflected fears that the Liberian crisis would spread insurgency and civil war in the sub-­region, particularly as Taylor’s rebel forces included recruits from anti-­government rebels from several neighboring countries such as Gambia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone.59 It was widely predicted that Taylor, once in power, would support civil wars in those countries.60 The threat of insurgency also directly affected Nigeria, as Taylor’s forces included Nigerian dissidents trained in Libya.61 The fact that Taylor was a civilian whose small-­scale rebellion had managed to overthrow Liberia’s military regime greatly worried the military establishments of states in the region.62 The concentric circle theory had an economic component: stability in the sub-­region was considered the foundation for economic prosperity. The destructive nature of the Liberian war was understood as threatening economic prosperity in the region, the ECOWAS goal of integration, and thus directly Nigerian national interests.63 The Nigerian military establishment especially accepted that peace and prosperity in the sub-­region was of vital interest to Nigeria that justified the commitment of troops and the financial outlay.64 Nigeria also had an interest in limiting external military influence in the sub-­region, which it considered “imperialist,” and so its action in Liberia was in part a step to stave off involvement from Libya, France, and the United States.65 Nigeria was particularly wary of Libya, a rival familiar from the 1979 to 1982 civil war in Chad and a giver of assistance to the

Liberia   33 NPFL. Although direct French military assistance to the NPFL was unlikely, French arms, most likely provided by Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso, were a source of concern. Nigeria did not entirely trust US intentions in Liberia either, fearing that the United States was supporting the INPFL as an alternative to both Doe and Taylor. Such security concerns, essentially related to regional stability, were connected to Nigeria’s long-­term interest in promoting its primacy in the region. Both power and prestige were at stake. Nigeria saw its national security connected to its ability to forestall instability in the sub-­region. Advocates of intervention were convinced that failure in Liberia would result in “falling dominos,” triggering further insurgencies in surrounding states, damaging credibility for the capacity of Nigeria and the sub-­region to deal with its own problems and handing dissidents the chance to jump on the “bandwagon” on the potential gains accruing from rebellion.66 It was also understood to be to Nigeria’s interest to create the reputation that “regional security and peacekeeping in West Africa is not possible without the participation of Nigeria.”67 The desire for prestige went beyond the sub-­region to a global level: this venture in regional peacekeeping was seen as helping Nigeria’s bid for an eventual permanent seat on the UN Security Council.68 Thus, for Nigeria, humanitarian intervention in Liberia was perfectly compatible with the interests of national defense and security. For Nigeria’s military regime, the power-­political rationales outweighed the high cost of intervention, leading it to reinforce ECOMOG at various junctures. The regime spent some US$3 billion in Liberia, and casualties among Nigerian soldiers were high, totaling more than 500. De facto power-­political bases The de facto power-­political basis of ECOMOG’s intervention legitimacy had primarily to do with containment of the crisis. The conflict needed to be prevented from spreading elsewhere in the sub-­region or beyond it, and its effects needed to be mitigated. Containment had two aspects: external and internal. Externally, it was especially important to prevent the spread of the war to neighboring countries. If left to play itself out, the war seemed likely to nurture armed groups in neighboring countries and spread insurgency, particularly in Gambia, Guinea, and Sierra Leone, expanding the geographical scope of conflict. Internally, the purpose of intervention was to contain the level of violence and volatility affecting the civilian population. ECOMOG’s peacekeeping functions thus included monitoring cease-­fire agreements, separating warring parties and demilitarising and disarming militias. Particularly important was ECOMOG’s role in maintaining Monrovia as a humanitarian safe haven and base for the interim government. What

34   Liberia motivated the members of ECOWAS to continue the tenure of ECOMOG in Liberia for seven costly years until the formal resolution of the war in 1997, despite repeated difficulties in implementing peace agreements, was this perceived necessity to contain the conflict given the recognized threat to regional stability.69

Performance Especially relevant in the assessment of ECOMOG’s legitimacy was its performance as a humanitarian-­peacekeeping mission and as a containment mechanism. ECOMOG was most successful in maintaining Monrovia as a safe haven and in contributing to the level of stability, while being less successful in containing the conflict. Humanitarian action and peacekeeping A decisive legitimizing factor of ECOMOG was its protection of Monrovia, where more than three-­quarters of the Liberian population resided during the war. Control of Monrovia and its ports and airports allowed vital humanitarian aid to flow into the country. ECOMOG’s presence was also critical in ensuring a general security environment in which humanitarian agencies could operate. After 1995, ECOMOG and UN humanitarian agencies established a cooperative mechanism for humanitarian assistance, and there were marked improvements in the coordination of the humanitarian and military components of the mission.70 ECOMOG protected the interim and transitional governments, which managed to provide a semblance of civil administration in Monrovia. The ECOMOG mission was notable in that it was able to alternate between peacekeeping and peace enforcement at a time when it was still understood that once peace enforcement had been launched, it would not be possible to revert to peacekeeping. This methodology generally allowed ECOMOG to combine coercion with monitoring and other peacekeeping tasks over an extended period of time, while supporting and implementing peace agreements. When necessary, enforcement was used to maintain Monrovia as a safe haven. ECOMOG leadership was thus successful in balancing ECOMOG’s humanitarian and peacekeeping roles against the necessity to resort to coercive measures, with Nigeria prepared to reinforce missions when challenged. There were, nevertheless, serious pitfalls. One of the most problematic features of the operation was, as noted, the allegations of partiality made especially by the NPFL and its supporters, which rejected ECOWAS peace initiatives as illegitimate. This presented a serious obstacle to the peace process, particularly before UN observers joined ECOMOG in 1993, and before Taylor himself had lost credibility due to his own problematic activities, including committing gross human rights violations and inciting war.

Liberia   35 The accusations of partiality were exacerbated by the fact that ECOMOG used local warring factions to enforce cease-­fires, which in practice meant that ECOMOG formed temporary tactical alliances against the NPFL when it was the main violator of peace agreements. ECOMOG’s insufficient knowledge of Liberian terrain heightened such tendencies.71 For instance, in 1990, both the INPFL and the AFL were neutralized by ECOMOG, but their forces were not prevented from fighting alongside those of ECOMOG. In 1992, ECOMOG fought against the NPFL with the aid of the INPFL, the AFL, and a new warring faction, the United Liberation Movement of Liberia for Democracy (ULIMO). There are allegations that ECOMOG armed the AFL and ULIMO, and further, that ULIMO had been created with the help of ECOMOG.72 With the NPFL area of control reduced by the end of 1994 by the proliferation of warring factions, ECOMOG’s relations with factions inevitably became more neutral. However, ECOMOG’s practices compromised its credibility as an impartial peacekeeping force. In addition, the conduct of the groups allied with ECOMOG was not particularly commendable, causing ECOMOG severe embarrassment. ECOMOG left warring factions from which it had enlisted aid in areas surrounding Monrovia without surveillance, and in some instances those rebels went on rampages in Monrovia, inflicting suffering on civilians.73 ECOMOG’s practice of enlisting such groups as allies and sometimes giving them assistance, together with its inability to control them, grossly compromised its legitimacy as a force for humanitarian intervention. There was also collateral damage on several occasions when ECOMOG turned to peace enforcement.74 ECOMOG’s reversion to a peacekeeping approach, on the other hand, resulted in a political and military stalemate in which it became unable to implement peace agreements. This difficulty arose mainly from the inability of ECOWAS, particularly before 1993, to compel the NPFL to respect peace agreements. The ECOWAS peace initiatives were also hampered by newly armed factions such as ULIMO, which were not initially represented in the peace process. ECOMOG’s inability to disarm militias and to impose an arms embargo further resulted in the prolongation of the war. Containment Although ECOMOG was largely successful in keeping Monrovia as a safe area and shielding it from the worst of the warring parties’ military activities, the limited capacity of ECOMOG to control the NPFL turned the much-­feared spread of the conflict to neighboring Sierra Leone into a reality. This occurred when a new armed group, the Taylor-­supported Revolutionary United Front (RUF ) led by Foday Sankoh, invaded Sierra Leone in March 1991 in a plot to undermine the Momoh regime, which was active in ECOMOG. The invasion triggered a civil war and a chain of

36   Liberia events which, interacting with local forces, led to the fall of the Momoh regime in 1992. The emergence of the RUF in turn led to the formation of ULIMO in Guinea in 1991; the group soon joined the war in Sierra Leone in addition to operating in Guinea.75 ULIMO also included many former AFL soldiers who had been loyal to Doe in the fight against Taylor. Following the NPFL-­supported incursions, ECOMOG troops were deployed on Sierra Leone’s Liberian border, and a small ECOMOG force remained in Sierra Leone thereafter.76 In regions outside Monrovia, ECOMOG could control neither the proliferation of warring factions nor the fighting among them. Fighting between the NPFL and ULIMO was severe throughout the first peacekeeping phase of 1991 to 1992, and in the northwest following the Cotonou agreement in 1993. In the latter half of 1994, fighting spread throughout Liberia, and, immediately after the signing of the Akosombo agreement in the same year, two of the main warlords were expelled from their headquarters—the NPFL’s Taylor from Gbarna, and ULIMO-­K’s Kromah from Tubmanburg. The Abuja peace agreement in August 1995 brought relative calm again, but it was broken by the January 1996 crisis in Tubmanburg and by the April 1996 crisis in Monrovia.

Support: ethical dimensions Despite various setbacks and operational problems, the reaction to ECOMOG’s intervention from outside West Africa was generally receptive. States and international organizations clearly accepted ECOMOG’s intervention on the basis of humanitarian concerns, peace and security for the region, and promotion of a regional initiative in resolving regional conflicts. External actors also made attempts to collaborate diplomatically and financially in areas where ECOMOG fell short, although, as will be reviewed in the following section, these efforts often proved insufficient, particularly in material and financial terms. Sharply diverging from established practice during the Cold War, the rationale for ECOMOG as a humanitarian mission was supported by the majority of states, indicating that in this case humanitarian concerns trumped claims about sovereignty. ECOMOG in turn cited humanitarian reasons in order to attract support for its presence in Liberia. Albeit belated, UN support for ECOMOG’s humanitarian role was clear. As early as summer 1990, despite accusations by the NPFL and its supporters of ECOMOG partiality, then-­UN secretary general Perez de Cuellar wrote to the ECOWAS chairman to wish the peace initiative success.77 The first statement issued by the UN Security Council simply “commended” ECOWAS for its role in “promot[ing] peace and normalcy,” implicitly on humanitarian grounds, without mentioning the irregular circumstances in which ECOMOG was deployed.78 Likewise, when the UN adopted its first resolution on Liberia, imposing an arms embargo against

Liberia   37 warring parties (i.e., the NPFL) refusing to comply with the Yamoussoukro IV accords under UN Charter Chapter VII, it expressed its support for the ECOMOG mission while making no mention of the intervention’s use of force.79 The Security Council exempted ECOMOG from the arms embargo and called on member states to adhere to the peace process. The OAU similarly expressed its support for ECOMOG. As has been noted, the chairman vocally supported the ECOMOG intervention on humanitarian grounds, in a radical departure from past understandings of the OAU Charter.80 The OAU Council of Ministers, which met in Addis Ababa in March 1991, noted the “devastating consequences,” including humanitarian, of the civil war, and applauded the ECOWAS effort, expressing “its total support” for ECOMOG and calling upon the warring factions to cooperate.81 Even the controversial ECOMOG use of force in October and November 1992 did not sway OAU support. The OAU also supported ECOWAS mediation efforts in the aftermath of the October 1992 crisis and endorsed the range of measures adopted by ECOWAS (imposition of an arms embargo, enlargement and strengthening of ECOMOG, and the use of force to repel attacks against Monrovia). The United States, too, supported ECOMOG on the basis of humanitarian concerns. The ECOMOG presence was understood to have “ended the killing, separated the warring factions, allowed relief assistance to flow to avert starvation, and established a cease-­fire and framework for peaceful negotiations.”82 The United States continued to support ECOWAS mediation efforts and ECOMOG’s use of force after the controversial 1992 crisis on the ground that a failure of ECOMOG could cause further humanitarian catastrophe. The role of ECOMOG in regional security also attracted much support from the UN, OAU, and major states. In its first resolution on Liberia, the UN stated that the deterioration of the situation in Liberia “constitutes a threat to international peace and security, particularly in West Africa as a whole,” and welcomed the efforts of ECOWAS toward producing a peaceful resolution of the conflict.83 UN observers joined ECOMOG in 1993 partly as an expression of the world body’s recognition that ECOMOG’s presence and performance would favorably affect the peace and security of the entire sub-­region.84 The OAU, in its support of ECOMOG, emphasized the “grave implications” of the Liberian conflict and the need for a lasting peace.85 The United States also recognized the security impact of ECOMOG, noting that its presence was “critical to peace, free elections and regional stability,”86 and offered assistance on this basis. ECOMOG was also supported as a regional attempt to resolve a regional conflict. At the UN, the ECOMOG intervention was treated under the provisions of UN Charter Chapter VIII. The UN sought to keep Liberia off the UN agenda until it had established UNOMIL, judging it best to leave the task of resolving the conflict to a sub-­regional actor. This was one

38   Liberia reason why the irregular circumstances surrounding ECOMOG’s deployment and ECOMOG’s controversial use of force were not discussed in UN forums. The United States likewise recognized that ECOMOG was an “unprecedented African determination to take the lead in regional conflict resolution” and considered it imperative that ECOMOG succeed not only in addressing the humanitarian catastrophe but also in establishing a precedent for future African attempts at conflict resolution.87

Limits of support: power-­political dimensions Support based upon the above considerations notwithstanding, material assistance to ECOMOG was not forthcoming, indicating the limited nature of the interest external actors identified in the conflict. Initially, ECOMOG’s intervention received a cold response from the region’s Franco­ phone countries. The nature of their opposition varied according to their interests, and hence was not a principled opposition based upon sovereignty. The most vocal rejection came from Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso, which branded ECOMOG “illegal.” These countries actively supported the NPFL and sought a different outcome, namely victory for Taylor. Their support for Taylor, along with Libya’s, enabled him to continue fighting and compromised the effectiveness of ECOMOG. The majority of other Francophone countries, however, had no direct concern in the Liberian war and took little interest in the intervention. Some, such as Senegal, complained that they were not consulted prior to the intervention decision and expressed doubt over its “wisdom.”88 In 1992 the United States persuaded Senegal to join forces with ECOMOG in an attempt to broaden the political basis of ECOMOG and include more Francophone states, thereby showing conciliation toward Taylor’s position. On the level of principles, the major powers and international actors accepted ECOMOG’s humanitarian intervention. Nevertheless, moral support did not extend to more than minimal material or military assistance by these states. This reflected the low priority that their governments, particularly the Western ones, accorded the Liberian crisis. Western governments welcomed the ECOWAS initiative mainly for humanitarian and regional security reasons, but also because it suited the emerging expectation that Africa should deal with its own security problems.89 This meant in practice that Africa was to do so without much outside help. In reality, Liberia’s case was no exception to the general tendency of “cynical disengagement”90 from Africa by Western governments. The inadequacy of financial and material support handicapped ECOMOG’s effectiveness, especially in costly disarmament operations and encampment. The United States was accused of not helping the peace process despite its close historical ties with Liberia and its endorsement of ECOMOG. US

Liberia   39 objectives in Liberia remained consistent: a negotiated settlement under ECOWAS leadership, full disarmament of all Liberian warring factions, the return home of nearly one million displaced Liberians, free and fair internationally monitored elections, and the establishment of a unified government based on respect for human rights, democratic principles, and economic accountability.91 The United States affirmed its support for ECOWAS’s actions as early as November 1990, saying that they were “reasonable” and “moderate.”92 US assistance to Liberia was, however, initially limited to humanitarian aid, and no other material or military help was forthcoming to assist ECOMOG in 1990. US financial assistance to ECOMOG began in 1991, when a grant of US$2.8 million was announced in January to support ECOWAS’s objectives in Liberia, followed by US$500,000 in September 1991 to assist peacekeeping and another US$3.75 million to support the ECOWAS peace process.93 The United States also offered ECOMOG US$3.3 million to defray the cost of the Senegalese participation in ECOMOG in 1991, in addition to forgiving Senegal’s debt to the United States worth US$42 million. These sums, however, were claimed to be too unsubstantial by some ECOWAS officials,94 in light of ECOMOG’s total cost of more than $3 billion. The US assistance of ECOMOG, however, was in line with that of other Western governments, which provided financial and military aid but still tried to minimize costs and involvement, and did not send in their own troops. As a US State Department official remarked, the motive behind promoting and assisting a regional solution to regional problems was in the option it offered “between direct military intervention and doing nothing at all.”95 In the beginning, controversies surrounding ECOMOG’s use of force made it difficult for Western governments to support the mission too overtly. The United States, while accepting the objectives of ECOMOG, was particularly concerned about ECOMOG’s use of limited offensive strategies, seeing them as compromising the intervention’s impartiality as a peacekeeping force. The United States supported ECOMOG’s humanitarian and security roles but was against a military solution to the war and against being associated with the use of force against Liberians.96 Problems in Nigerian domestic politics—aborted democratization, human rights violations, and corruption—and the bad press they received increased US reluctance to explicitly endorse the use of force by the Nigeria-­led ECOMOG. Despite these problems, the perceived humanitarian crisis as well as the need for a regional mechanism for conflict resolution in Africa was such that Western governments did not soon abandon ECOMOG. Even so, the cost-­averse Western governments’ stance effectively amounted to “disengagement” from Liberia, with grave operational consequences. After 1994, the reluctance of major Western governments to hold the “financial bag” for ECOMOG left the force with many operational difficulties, especially

40   Liberia when disarmament and demobilization became an urgent task under the Cotonou and subsequent peace agreements including the Abuja I accord of August 1995. From 1995, more financial and military assistance for disarmament and demobilization was forthcoming from the United States and other Western governments; for instance, the United States became increasingly involved in diplomatic peacemaking efforts, gave an additional US$10 million to ECOMOG and US$200,000 to the UN, and sent military specialists from around October 1995. However, as some ECOMOG officers complained, this assistance was still belated and too small.97 In fact, when the April 1996 crisis occurred, ECOMOG was so undermanned for financial reasons that it was not able to effectively prevent the outbreak of violence in Monrovia. Only after the crisis did the United States and other Western governments contribute more to ECOMOG to implement the Abuja II accord. Also by that time, the major world states had ceased to view the Nigerian-­led ECOMOG offensive to regain control of Monrovia with suspicion as a breach of impartiality, resulting in more assistance.98 Thus, the argument for “regional solution to regional problems” in reality meant moral support without much financial or material support, leading inadequate resources to compromise the effectiveness of the operation. Politically, however, these circumstances paved the way for greater leverage for the sub-­region, especially Nigeria.

Conclusion The ECOMOG case demonstrates the coincidence of ethical legitimation based primarily on humanitarian concerns and of power-­political legitimation based on security interests. This compatibility allowed the key contributing countries to sustain the intervention mission despite extremely high costs. Ethical justifications included humanitarian concerns as well as multilateral security concerns in which domestic humanitarian crisis was defined as a threat to the peace and security of the region. There was a widely shared interest in developing sub-­regional mechanisms to deal with internal conflicts, in the expectation that internal wars would be the predominant form of conflict in the future. As for power-­political justifications, it was notable that Nigeria, which bore the greatest burden of the intervention, found intervention in Liberia compatible with its national security and considered stability in the sub-­region to be an integral part of its national defense. Concern for prestige and reputation was also an important basis of the intervention, and this made escalation of the use of force and long-­term commitment possible, particularly under the influence of domino-­theory concerns about spreading violence and perceptions of the interconnectedness of events. Nigeria considered it imperative to succeed, as failure in Liberia was seen as damaging its future ability to deal with similar crises.

Liberia   41 The fear of failure was accentuated by Taylor’s skill at mobilizing dissident groups and the tendency in the region for instability to propagate itself. An important ECOMOG purpose was thus containment. Interest in containment and sub-­regional stability thus went hand in hand, providing the essential basis of legitimacy for ECOMOG’s venture. Despite its unprecedented and controversial features, ECOMOG attracted support from the UN Security Council owing to the important role it played in handling the humanitarian crisis and securing stability. It established a precedent for permitting intervention to address the internal, including humanitarian, conditions of a sovereign state. Another important source of support was the interest in developing a (sub-) regional mechanism for conflict resolution. The primary source of opposition to ECOMOG’s intervention turned out to be not the principle of sovereignty, but concern about procedural issues related to ECOMOG, especially political representation, use of force, and impartiality. Initially, incompatible interests (i.e., supporters of the rebels) were behind the strongest opposition to ECOMOG. Eventually, however, as external assistance led to modification of the makeup of ECOMOG amid the stalemate in the war, peace creation was accepted internationally based on the ongoing humanitarian and security needs of Liberia. The findings presented in this chapter thus indicate the extent to which humanitarian and stability concerns had shifted, both as legitimate purposes and features of military intervention. ECOMOG pursued limited military and humanitarian purposes, the especially important ones being the safeguarding of Monrovia, the securing of immediate stability, and the development of a security institution in the sub-­region to deal with similar crises in the future. ECOMOG’s performance in these areas, although it had its limitations, was the key to support for the force, thereby sustaining costly intervention. The sustained legitimacy of the intervention explains the mission’s eventual success.

3 Bosnia-­Herzegovina From peace support to coercive diplomacy

The Bosnian conflict of April 1992 to December 1995 resulted in more than 250,000 deaths, thousands of cases of rape, and an exodus of more than one million refugees. The majority of the war’s victims were Bosnian Muslims subjected to the “ethnic cleansing” campaign by the Bosnian Serbs, although similar tactics were employed by all three warring parties—Bosnian Muslims, Croats and Serbs. The international response initially comprised peace support organized as a United Nations peacekeeping mission with a relatively small number of lightly equipped ground troops (fall 1992 to spring 1995), but later shifted to coercive diplomacy involving the use of force by the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in summer 1995 to pressure the Bosnian Serbs into accepting peace negotiations. The purpose of this chapter is to explain this transformation through an analysis of the triangulated legitimacy comprising bases, performance and support. The bases of the peace support combined humanitarian concerns and stability interests. The Bosnian case highlights the importance of humanitarian concerns, which propelled the UN intervention and NATO’s later entrance into the international peacemaking process. Humanitarian concerns were also the basis for the shift seen in the UN Security Council’s application of international humanitarian law. Limited outside interest in the humanitarian issues involved and in regional stability, however, confined the scope of international involvement. Opposition to legitimizing the use of force in Bosnia stemmed from the absence of strategic interests in Bosnia. The shift to coercive diplomacy may be explained by the breakdown of the legitimacy of the initial peace support regime. Throughout 1994, the deteriorating performance of the mission in deterring attacks on safe areas had already caused support to dwindle and undermined the credibility of the UN and NATO, but the crisis of reputation culminated with the fall of Srebrenica to Bosnian Serb forces in summer 1995. Ultimately, this crisis in legitimacy changed the initial conditions of peace support. The addition of strategic-­reputational interests further tipped the balance between ethical (humanitarian) and power-­political legitimations of the use of force, creating the conditions for coercive diplomacy.

Bosnia-Herzegovina   43 The following sections first clarify the ethical and power-­political bases of the peace support. The ethical bases were humanitarian concern and threats to multilateral security (internal crises defined as threats to international security). The power-­political bases were perceptions of the strategic insignificance both of Bosnia and of containment of the conflict, which worked to limit military engagement. The analysis follows with an examination of the deteriorating performance of, and support for, the initial peace mission. Finally, by examining the ethical and power-­political bases of the coercive diplomacy that ensued, the discussion demonstrates how the credibility issue became a key concern of the Western democracies, accounting for the final decision to use force.

The Bosnian conflict and international responses The war in Bosnia and Herzegovina started in April 1992 following a national referendum in which the country’s Muslim and Croat populations voted for the Republic of Bosnia-­Herzegovina to become independent from Federal Yugoslavia, a move vehemently opposed by Bosnia-­Herzegovina’s Serb population. The war was fought among Bosnia’s main ethnic groups—Muslims (43.7 percent), Croats (17.3 percent) and Serbs (31.3 percent). The Serbian nationalist regime of President Slobodan Milosevic and the Federal Yugoslav Army (Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija; JNA) played key roles in the process leading to the war.1 The political aim of Belgrade and the Bosnian Serb leadership was the creation of a “Greater Serbia”—a set of contiguous Serb-­held territories connected to Serbia proper and incorporating Serb-­inhabited areas in Croatia, and western, northern and eastern Bosnia. Belgrade conspired with the leadership of the nationalist Serbian Democratic Party (SDS), based in Pale, to further this plan. The presence of the JNA and its offspring, the Bosnian Serb Army, in Bosnian territory made the war especially brutal. The JNA had already started military preparations for a war in Bosnia in August 1991, and its activities later caused a gross imbalance in heavy weapons between the Muslims and the Serbs. The Serbs’ superiority in armaments, coupled with the Serb Army’s smaller size, turned the Serbs to reliance on siege tactics using heavy weapons, as well as on paramilitary forces carrying out “demonstrative” atrocities2 for the purpose of terrorizing and harming civilians, thereby inducing a mass exodus from targeted territories. This tactic of “ethnic cleansing” achieved immediate success, enabling the Serbs to establish hold over more than 70 percent of Bosnian territory by early 1993. The major world capitals responded to the Bosnian crisis by organizing a UN-­sanctioned “peace support,” the United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR), which was initially deployed at the Sarajevo airport in June 1992 and in Bosnia in September 1992. At the outset UNPROFOR consisted of 1,500 troops mandated to maintain Sarajevo airport for the delivery of

44   Bosnia-Herzegovina humanitarian aid.3 UNPROFOR was expanded on 14 September 1992 by the adoption of UNSCR 776 (1992), which authorized the creation of the UNPROFOR Bosnia-­Herzegovina Command and the deployment of 7,000 troops in Bosnia—but not under UN Charter Chapter VII. The first mandate of UNPROFOR was humanitarian assistance. The mission provided escorts for humanitarian aid convoys to various parts of Bosnia, using its weapons in self-­defense when these convoys were attacked. The mission’s second mandate was protection of safe areas. Its responsibility was to “deter attacks” against core safe areas—namely the Muslim enclaves of Srebrenica, Sarajevo, Tuzla, Zepa, Gorazde and Bihac, as stipulated in UNSCR 819, 824 and 836 (1993). The safe-­areas mandate accompanied the authorization of an additional 7,600 troops as well as of the use of force under UN Charter Chapter VII in response to bombardments, obstructions, or to armed incursion (UNSCR 836 [1993]). At the same time, the use of air strikes (by UN member states or regional arrangements) “in and around the safe areas” was authorized to assist UNPROFOR in implementing its mandate. This eventually brought NATO into the peacemaking process to provide UNPROFOR with the necessary deterrent capabilities. In summer 1995, following the Bosnian Serbs’ capture of the eastern Muslim enclaves of Srebrenica and Zepa following brutal but strategically successful offensives, international strategy shifted from peace support to coercive diplomacy. The decision to use force to coerce the Bosnian Serbs into respecting cease-­fires and accepting international mediation was made at the London Conference on 21 July 1995, and the subsequent North Atlantic Council (NAC) meetings on 25 July and 1 August, which authorized the initiation of air strikes to help defend safe areas “for as long as was considered needed” in the common judgment of NATO and UN military commanders. When another Serb shelling of Sarajevo killed 37 civilians, NATO implemented this decision. NATO’s Operation Deliberate Force, begun on 30 August, was conducted in two phases. The pressure of overwhelming force, combined with US-­led diplomacy and Serb military losses suffered from counteroffensives by Croat-­Muslim Federation and Croatian forces in summer 1995, brought all three parties to agree on 5 October to a countrywide cease-­fire, to be followed by comprehensive peace negotiations. The Dayton Agreement was signed in December 1995 and formally ended the war. Peace support: formal ethical bases The most important basis of UNPROFOR deployment was humanitarian concern. Humanitarian concerns grew widespread among the major capitals as the war spread in Bosnia and the Bosnian Serbs completed the siege of Sarajevo in early spring 1992, blocking water and other vital supplies to Muslim-­inhabited enclaves. Although the lack of a cease-­fire made the UN

Bosnia-Herzegovina   45 Secretary General reluctant to conduct a peacekeeping operation in Bosnia,4 the European Community (EC) started in May to discuss the possibility of defending humanitarian aid convoys using UN peacekeepers. By the end of May, this proposal was being discussed in the context of using UNPROFOR, which then covered only Croatia, to open and control Sarajevo’s airport to prevent the surrender of Sarajevo; this led to the Security Council decision in early June to deploy UNPROFOR to guard the airport.5 The Security Council’s 14 September decision to expand UNPROFOR to cover all of Bosnia was likewise based on the worsening humanitarian situation during summer 1992. Numerous reports of wide-­ranging human rights abuses in Bosnia, including of the existence of mass detention camps, were reaching the major capitals and relevant UN bodies.6 The United States, which since June had obtained reports suggesting thousands of deaths of Muslims and Croats through summary executions and other atrocities,7 stepped up its accusations that the Bosnian Serbs were orchestrating a policy of ethnic cleansing. The UN Security Council decision on 13 August to authorize member states to use force for humanitarian assistance (UNSCR 770 [1992]) and the subsequent decision of the London Conference to deploy a UN force to implement this decision were made amid these revelations of serious human rights violations in Bosnia and thus were attempts to alleviate the level of civilian suffering. The major capitals supported the deployment of UNPROFOR, reflecting the judgment at that stage that while a large military intervention could not be justified, providing a UN peacekeeping mission with stronger arms to defend itself made sense; it would help alleviate the humanitarian crisis, assuring the delivery of much-­needed support and supplies. The United Kingdom, which held the presidency of the EC during the latter half of 1992, pushed for EC support of a limited UN humanitarian intervention involving the escort and protection of humanitarian aid convoys while diplomatic negotiations to end the war continued. The United Kingdom also sponsored the International Conference on Former Yugoslavia (ICFY) to form the basis for a political settlement.8 In this context the United Kingdom pursued UK troop participation in a small armed forces unit that would be effective in ameliorating human suffering. As soon as UNSCR 770 (1992) was passed, the John Major Cabinet accepted the UK military assessment that 800 troops would be sufficient to escort and protect humanitarian aid convoys, and that 1,800 would better ensure the safety of British soldiers, be more self-­contained and allow broader humanitarian missions to be accomplished.9 Although domestic opinion was hardly united over the desirability of the intervention,10 the country committed 1,800 troops to the UN humanitarian mission in Bosnia. The Major Cabinet argued that humanitarian concerns, as well as the prevention of a trans-­Balkan war, were an important part of UK interests in Bosnia and therefore merited UK troop participation in UN peacekeeping.11

46   Bosnia-Herzegovina France, too, sought to provide small armed forces to protect humanitarian aid convoys. The French interest in humanitarian intervention led it initially to support a Western European Union peacekeeping force in Bosnia, but when the EC failed to achieve a cease-­fire, France pressed for greater UN involvement in negotiation efforts, humanitarian assistance and peacekeeping.12 Backed by public and political enthusiasm over “droits d’ingerence” (the “right” or “duty” to intervene), the French government pursued its own active humanitarian involvement as well.13 President François Mitterrand himself paid a surprise visit to Sarajevo at the end of June 1992, successfully negotiating with the Serbs to reopen Sarajevo airport, thereby breaking the siege of Sarajevo. France was the largest troop contributor to Bosnia throughout the war.14 The French government argued that in line with the allied operation in northern Iraq to protect the Kurds, the UN decision to implement humanitarian assistance by expanding UNPROFOR signified a further development in the way humanitarian intervention was being received, marking a milestone in international law.15 Although the United States was clearly concerned with human rights abuses in Bosnia, most of which it attributed to the Serbs, US initiatives had thus far been limited to diplomatic measures. In May 1992, the United States pressured the reluctant and disunited Europe, particularly the traditionally pro-­Serb countries of France and Greece, into imposing sanctions against Belgrade. The United States began to press the question of war crimes following the revelations of Serb atrocities, especially of detention camps such as the one in Omarska.16 As far as the policy of President Bush, and Europe as well, was concerned, humanitarian assistance was the focus of the proposed intervention,17 and it was on this basis that the United States pushed for adoption of UNSCR 770, proclaiming it “absolutely critical” to humanitarian efforts. At the London Conference in August 1992, the United States supported UN humanitarian assistance as the best available means of ameliorating the suffering. The Bosnian situation transformed the UN Security Council’s application of international humanitarian law. The deployment of a UN peacekeeping force in an ongoing civil war mainly to provide humanitarian aid, although not initially a UN Charter Chapter VII operation, was unprecedented. Further, as it designated safe areas in Bosnia, the UN Security Council itself came to assume a military responsibility for maintaining them. For the first time, UNPROFOR was pushed into a Chapter VII operation and was tasked to protect safe areas.18 Although the designation of safe areas was a political compromise to cover the failure of the ICFY-­ sponsored Vance-­Owen Peace Plan, and would later itself fail, the rationale of the designation itself was humanitarian: deployment of UNPROFOR was expected to deter Serb aggression, maintain humanitarian access, and blunt Serb tactics of ethnic cleansing. Further humanitarian concerns aroused after summer 1993 led the Western nations, under strong pressure from the Clinton administration,

Bosnia-Herzegovina   47 to introduce NATO air strikes to stem Serb offensives. Thus, one practical consequence of the humanitarian rationalization of intervention in Bosnia was NATO’s entrance into the area of humanitarian enforcement, or the use of force for humanitarian purposes. Given the UN Security Council’s focus on the situation in safe areas following the adoption of UNSCR 836 (1993), NATO’s involvement meant, in practice, that it could function as necessary to assist UNPROFOR in carrying out its safe-­areas mandate.19 NATO’s first ultimatum over the crisis in Sarajevo in summer 1993 established a major precedent in this context. Responding to the Serb advance on the strategic heights of Mount Igman overlooking Sarajevo, the NAC meeting on 2 August discussed, at the urging of the United States, the use of air strikes. This led on 9 August to the adoption of the first joint UN–NATO air-­strikes mechanism, in which the UN was given authority for final approval.20 At the threat of NATO air strikes, Serb forces withdrew from Mount Igman. Subsequent humanitarian crises in safe areas led to more pressure on NATO to use force. Profoundly concerned with the situation in Sarajevo, the Bosnian Serbs’ obstruction of the planned UNPROFOR rotation in Srebrenica, and the need to reopen Tuzla airport for delivery of humanitarian aid, the UN Secretary General supported NATO’s decision in January 1994 to conduct air strikes to prevent the “strangulation” of Sarajevo and other threatened areas.21 After the shelling of a Sarajevo market killed 69 people, NATO issued an ultimatum on 9 February that it would carry out an air raid against any party failing to withdraw or to give up heavy weapons to UNPROFOR within ten days, and a weapons-­exclusion zone was set covering the area within 20 kilometers of Sarajevo. In a major concession, the Bosnian Serbs agreed to lift the siege of Sarajevo in exchange for the deployment of Russian peacekeepers, who arrived on 20 February. In late February, NATO enforced the no-­fly zone above Sarajevo, shooting down two Serb aircraft that violated the air space.22 During the subsequent crisis in Gorazde, NATO carried out its first raid, giving close air support to UN troops. NATO also issued an ultimatum calling on the Serbs to withdraw beyond a perimeter of three kilometers around the city or face punitive air strikes within a 20-kilometer radius. Serb compliance with UN demands was spotty, but did enable the establishment of a weapons-­exclusion zone as in Sarajevo. The UN and NATO agreed to simplify the procedure for launching air strikes to require authorization by only NATO’s southern command and the overall Commander of UNPROFOR in Zagreb.23 In September 1994, NATO conducted limited air strikes on an unmanned tank near Sarajevo in response to two Serb attacks on French peacekeepers in the city. As the Serbs, undeterred, attacked civilians in Bihac, NATO carried out its first strategic air strikes, targeting Ubdina airfield in the Krajina region of Croatia.24 The move followed a unanimous decision by the UN Security Council to extend to Croatia, based upon the

48   Bosnia-Herzegovina evidence of Krajina Serb interference in Bihac, the UNSCR 836 (1993) authorization granted to member states to use force in and around safe areas.25 The expansion of UN and NATO military activities in Bosnia thus responded to humanitarian concerns and continued defiance by the Bosnian Serbs to UN authority over safe areas. This expansion was incremental: what started as a low-­cost humanitarian assistance mission gradually involved stronger military activities. Peace support: de facto ethical bases Another, more pragmatic basis of intervention was the safeguarding of Western democratic values, especially the belief in civic society, democracy and human rights, considered the basis not only of Western democratic polities but also of international human rights and humanitarian law. “Ethnic cleansing,” especially as practiced by the Serbs, directly challenged these core Western values and was deemed unacceptable. Hence, denying the Serbs the full effect of their ethnic cleansing campaign formed an important de facto objective of the Western nations involved in the intervention; it was hoped that the humanitarian presence of UNPROFOR would blunt these Serb tactics.26 Diplomatically, reluctance to allow ethnic cleansing to go unchecked led the West to reject the idea of any simple truce accepting Serb gains. While the Serbs held more than 70 percent of all Bosnian territory for much of the four years of the war before losing ground to the Muslim-­Croat Federation in 1995, proposals by the ICFY and the Contact Group allowed them to keep about 50 percent, less than what they actually held. Other specific truce proposals were also rejected for fear of freezing the status quo.27 Another de facto ethical basis of Bosnian intervention was multilateral security, whereby internal crises, including traditionally “non-­military” humanitarian issues, were considered a matter of international security. On this basis, the UN Security Council came to assume responsibility for enforcing international humanitarian norms in internal conflicts, resulting in an emerging recognition of the legitimacy of the use of force for humanitarian purposes. The Security Council’s interest in dealing with internal situations was evident when it imposed an arms embargo on all of Yugoslavia in order to suppress the fighting, even though Yugoslavia retained its sovereign status and the fighting there was thus purely “internal.”28 Further, the Security Council adopted a declaration at the level of heads of state on 31 January 1992 that loosely defined “threat to international peace” to include aspects of “non-­military” situations such as a humanitarian crisis.29 The Security Council acted on internal humanitarian and human rights situations in Bosnia under UN Charter Chapter VII, and in so doing linked humanitarian issues with international peace and security. In May

Bosnia-Herzegovina   49 1992, the siege of Sarajevo prompted the UN Security Council to declare that the humanitarian situation in Bosnia constituted a threat to international peace, and it demanded the immediate creation of “the necessary conditions for unimpeded delivery of humanitarian supplies” to Sarajevo and other areas under Chapter VII.30 UNSCR 770 (1992) took a further step by declaring that humanitarian assistance constituted an important aspect of the Security Council’s effort to restore international peace, and, under Chapter VII, it authorized member states to take “all necessary means” to deliver humanitarian assistance, acting either nationally or through regional arrangements. The deployment of UNPROFOR initially did not take place under Chapter VII, but the designation of safe areas pushed it into a Chapter VII operation involving a greater degree of enforcement.31 Again, human rights and humanitarian norms provided the basis for the UN Security Council’s enforcement of its mandate to protect safe areas. UNSCR 787 (16 November 1992) for the first time singled out the Bosnian Serbs for their practice of “ethnic cleansing”;32 it also reaffirmed the applicability of the Geneva Conventions and individual responsibility for war crimes.33 UNSCR 819 (1993), which established Srebrenica as the first UN safe area under UN Charter Chapter VII, made a reference to the International Court of Justice’s provisional ruling which, citing the Genocide Convention, affirmed Belgrade’s responsibility to prevent genocide in Bosnia.34 The resolution then reaffirmed “that any taking or acquisition of territory by the threat or use of force, including through the practice of  ‘ethnic cleansing’ is unlawful and unacceptable.” Citing UN Charter Chapter VII, UNSCR 836 (1993) authorized much stronger measures including responding to bombardments of and armed incursions into safe areas. The resolution condemned “the obstruction, primarily by the Bosnian Serb party, of the delivery of humanitarian assistance” and “persistent refusal of the Bosnian Serb party to accept the Vance-­Owen plan,”35 Clearly, the Security Council was no longer treating human rights in Bosnia as a matter of “domestic jurisdiction” but as an international security issue that came directly under its own supervision and responsibility and that was subject to measures not excluding military ones. Peace support: formal power-­political bases Significant as it was from the humanitarian standpoint, the Bosnian crisis was a regional matter not of “vital” importance to the major capitals, although it could have had important security implications for Europe had it been left to spread.36 Emphasis on delivery of humanitarian aid and the use of UN peacekeepers for this purpose was thus preferred to more forceful military intervention. Indeed, the July 1992 London Conference and the 24 August NATO summit ruled out NATO intervention on the

50   Bosnia-Herzegovina grounds that the UN could take care of such a humanitarian mission.37 In 1992, humanitarian reasons alone could not be the basis of a military intervention. In terms of cost, too, the major capitals estimated that separating the warring parties in Bosnia would require 400,000 to 500,000 troops—a number considered to be out of the question. The conflict was moreover understood as a complex civil war caused by “ancient hatreds and ambitions,” and this perception also inspired hesitation to intervene,38 as did the shifting tactical alliances among the three sides.39 Yet another source of reluctance was the potential for military escalation inherent in peace support operations, a danger that was cited by domestic opposition to involvement in all the major capitals. The lack of appetite for military involvement directly resulted in UNPROFOR’s relative impotence in the face of hostile action. Whereas, following the designation of UN safe areas and the expansion of the mandate under Chapter VII, the UNPROFOR Commander recommended that the force be supplied with 34,000 troops, the Security Council adopted the “lighter” option of 7,600 troops, and even that was not achieved until a year later.40 Most critically for UNPROFOR’s credibility and effectiveness, the United States refused to participate in UNPROFOR, citing the lack of vital national interest, danger of entanglement, high cost, and unclear definition of success. Ostensibly, the objective was to keep supply routes open and to protect civilians, but the troops, in the Bush administration’s verdict, were highly “vulnerable and ineffective.” Likewise, then chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell argued that committing US troops without a clear mission “had cost the lives of 241 Marines in Lebanon.”41 Further, the US military believed that the limited intervention could prove ineffective and inevitably lead to ground combat.42 The Clinton administration carried on its predecessor’s policy of non-­participation in UNPROFOR, claiming that UNPROFOR’s rules of engagement were not adequate and that there would be no support from the Congress and the public.43 The United States was also hesitant to become overly involved in what it considered to be a European problem.44 The US refusal to join UNPROFOR in turn significantly reduced the incentives for other Western nations to contribute more. Rather, the preference was to keep involvement low so as not to provoke the Serbs. The limited nature of the initial international intervention thus reflected the cost-­averse attitudes of the major capitals. Peace support: de facto power-­political bases UNPROFOR served the important purpose of containment. UN peacekeeping missions were established in each of the former Yugoslav republics of Croatia, Bosnia and Macedonia, and their purposes were connected,

Bosnia-Herzegovina   51 as they were all focused on suppressing conflict and preventing region-­ wide hostility. Serb nationalism was perceived to be at the heart of this spreading hostility, and thus containment essentially meant checking the Serb nationalist project, which covered from Bosnia and Croatia to Kosovo and Macedonia. Operating on both sides of the Bosnian–Croatian border, UNPROFOR served to contain the volatility within each country and to prevent unrest in one from affecting the other. Although intervention in Bosnia caused a bitter cross-­Atlantic rift especially concerning the use of air power, the United States and its European allies had a common interest in containing the conflict. The UN arrangement in the former Yugoslavia grew largely out of European concern for stability in the Balkans as well as the preference of the United Kingdom and France for dealing with the situation through the UN Security Council. The United States was also concerned about the spread of hostilities, in particular the possibility that a war in the southern Balkans might cause Greece and Turkey to take opposing sides, thereby damaging the strength of NATO. Such concern led the United States to send 315 troops as a preventive deployment force in Macedonia. Containment was an important but clearly “limited” interest, and this explains the restrained level of international intervention in Bosnia. The United States wanted involvement to be “proportional” to the scale of its perceived interest.45 Like the delivery of humanitarian aid, containment was an alternative to direct Western military intervention.46 In 1992, it was hoped that deployment of a limited UN force would be adequate to reduce suffering and prevent the fighting from spreading, and thus UNPROFOR was a deliberate attempt to control events on the ground within the limited resources available.47 However, from summer 1993 into 1994, as attempts to reach a diplomatic settlement continually failed, the need grew for UNPROFOR to play a greater role in containing the violence and mitigating its effects.

Performance UNPROFOR was in the end unsuccessful. Its poor performance led to gradual loss of support and undermined the reputations of the UN and NATO. The key rationale for UNPROFOR was the mandate to provide humanitarian assistance. An especially important achievement of UNPROFOR in this context was its early taking of Sarajevo airport, which it maintained until summer 1995.48 During the winter of 1993 to 1994, UNHCR/ UNPROFOR Operation Lifeline sustained 2.2 million civilians.49 However, in January 1994 UNPROFOR was able to deliver only 30 percent of the minimum necessary aid.50 Due to Serb retaliation following the NATO raid on Ubdina airfield, only 70 percent of aid reached Zepa, Gorazde and Srebrenica in October 1994, and less than 50 percent in November 1994.51

52   Bosnia-Herzegovina When UNPROFOR received the mandate to protect safe areas, the differing premises of its mission made its humanitarian operations more complex. The contradiction between its vulnerable ground presence, which relied for effectiveness on consent and perception of impartiality, and the NATO air strategy was immense. Humanitarian assistance across Serb-­held territory was obstructed each time NATO threatened air strikes.52 In 1994, the limited use of force progressively reduced UNPROFOR’s ability to provide humanitarian assistance.53 UNPROFOR’s performance as regards containment was mixed. Its presence helped maintain some Muslim enclaves, especially Sarajevo and Gorazde, where weapons-­exclusion zones were established, and territories in Central Bosnia, where from mid-­1994 British units conducted peacekeeping to consolidate the Washington-­backed Muslim-­Croat Federation. However, these safe areas remained under constant threat of Serb advances and created a difficult and volatile situation, especially in the northwestern enclave of Bihac, which was subjected to cross-­border infiltration by Krajina Serb forces. UNPROFOR was unable to defend the eastern enclaves. UNSCR 836 (1993) mandated UNPROFOR to deter attacks on and reply to bombardment against safe areas. UNPROFOR’s performance in implementing this mandate, however, proved poor, in what was perhaps the most visible evidence of its ineffectiveness. The failure stemmed from mismanagement of coercive measures, as exhibited in the handling of the crises in Gorazde and Bihac in 1994. Especially troublesome was the absence of synchronized strategies for ground and air operations. Initially, the threat of NATO air strikes was effective; NATO ultimatums helped establish and enforce the weapons-­exclusion zones around Sarajevo in August 1993 and February 1994. However, in Gorazde, Bihac and other enclaves later in 1994, NATO threats and actual use of air strikes produced less compliance by Bosnian Serb parties. One reason was that the Serbs had by then discovered the effectiveness of hostages as a countermeasure to the threat of air strikes. UNPROFOR’s vulnerability to Serb reprisals was widely recognized, and those fears, voiced publicly by troop-­contributing countries, were quickly exploited by the Serbs. The allies nonetheless failed to solve the problem of ground-­troop vulnerability even as they made a public commitment to deter attacks against safe areas. Coordination was lacking in the strategies of NATO and the UN, with the former concentrating on air power and the latter on ground deployment, reflecting the policy differences of their constituent nations. While the United States pressed for the use of air power through the NAC, the European troop-­contributing countries resisted this pressure through the UN.54 In Gorazde, NATO carried out its first raid, giving close air support to UN troops. However, this restrained use of force—targeting a tank and an armored personnel carrier—did little to improve deterrence. The Serbs soon resumed their offensives unabated. NATO then threatened air strikes

Bosnia-Herzegovina   53 in a push to establish a Sarajevo-­style weapons-­exclusion zone, but the Serbs thwarted this by holding 200 UN personnel as hostages for several days. The dual-­key arrangement whereby the UN, along with NATO, had to authorize air strikes resulted in a major political rift between the NAC and the UN as well as between the United States and the European allies. At the field level, discord arose among UNPROFOR personnel of different ranks as requests for close air support from the field commanders were repeatedly delayed or canceled by higher UN authorities in Zagreb, discouraging any operations from initiating the use of force.55 The result was UN acceptance of less-­than-satisfactory Serb compliance with the demands for a weapons-­exclusion zone. In the Bihac crisis of fall 1994, Serbs from Bosnia and Krajina advanced into the enclave, disregarding the threat and actual use of air strikes and increasing the number of UNPROFOR hostages they held, which was already more than 400. NATO’s first strategic air raid, on Croatia’s Ubdina airfield on 21 November 1994, only invited more Serb reprisals on civilians. The UN Secretary General thus concluded that UNPROFOR troops were too vulnerable and that political considerations had become too much of a constraint for threats of air power to function as an effective tactic.56 In March and April 1995, after Muslim government forces resumed their offensive to retake areas surrounding Sarajevo, breaking the four-­ month cease-­fire arranged by former US president Jimmy Carter at the end of December 1994, crises again developed. Sarajevo airport was shut down by the Bosnian Serbs, and Gorazde, Zepa and Srebrenica faced imminent danger of collapse under heavy attack. More than 370 French, British, Dutch, Spanish and Ukrainian UN peacekeepers were taken hostage by the Bosnian Serbs in reprisal for the ineffective NATO raids on weapons ammunition depots in Pale in May 1995. In Srebrenica, the 370 Dutch peacekeepers manning the enclave were easily overcome by Serb forces. The peacekeepers had called in air strikes, but technical miscommunication and cancelation from the UNPROFOR command in Zagreb again resulted in entirely ineffective air support. The city surrendered to the Serbs on 13 July; most male residents were taken away and massacred, and the Dutch peacekeepers were held hostage for several days. Zepa, another eastern enclave, fell on 27 July 1995.

Declining support for the UN and NATO Support for UNPROFOR had initially relied on its humanitarian assistance mandate, but with the highly visible crises in Sarajevo, Gorazde and Bihac, support for UNPROFOR and NATO became directly dependent on how successfully they implemented their mandate to protect safe areas. The ad hoc handling of these crises by the UN and NATO, however, damaged their reputations, forcing them to find a way to more firmly respond to

54   Bosnia-Herzegovina subsequent crises so as to restore their credibility. The crisis of reputation reached its peak in summer 1995 with the fall of Srebrenica; at that time the basis of support for international intervention shifted from humanitarian assistance to coercion of the Serbs into accepting peace negotiations. Initially, the basis of support for UNPROFOR was humanitarian. In the UN Security Council, UNSCR 758 (1992), which authorized UNPROFOR to guard Sarajevo airport for humanitarian aid delivery, was adopted unanimously. UNSCR 770 (1992), which authorized the use of force by member states to deliver humanitarian assistance, and UNSCR 776 (1992), which established the UNPROFOR-­BH Command, were adopted with majority votes, with Western members supporting the efforts for the sake of humanitarian aid.57 Zimbabwe, India and China abstained in the vote for UNSCR 770, however, as they opposed the authorization of individual nations to intervene, indicating their concerns about infringement of sovereignty. However, they did not oppose a UN humanitarian action, even though it diverged from the pre-­Cold War interpretation of the Charter. The same countries abstained also for UNSCR 776, as this was intended to implement UNSCR 770, but they expressed their support for the UN Secretary General’s concept of the operation.58 Notably, China voted in favor of the critical UNSCR 836 (1993); although it expressed reservations over the resolution’s authorization of the use of force, the country did not oppose the establishment of safe areas by the Security Council, given the lack of other available measures to protect civilians.59 The goal of containment inherent in the UNPROFOR mission was also a source of support in the UN Security Council, although not overtly at first. In 1994, as the crises in the safe areas became acute, the consequences “for the situation in other areas of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina” and beyond became a serious concern.60 The UK and French governments explained their involvement in UNPROFOR on the grounds of both humanitarian concern and need for containment, and their respective parliaments accepted those explanations. The United States also defined its interest in Bosnia and the Balkans as being humanitarian- and containment-­ related, although Congress did not accept that explanation as sufficient.61 Public opinion in the major European capitals strongly supported deployment of troops for humanitarian purposes. Indeed, the public tended to prefer action stronger than that which their governments were prepared to back. In early 1993, more than 80 percent of the British public supported the multilateral use of force to protect humanitarian aid, and about 70 percent supported enforcing a cease-­fire.62 In France, nearly 90 percent supported protecting humanitarian aid and enforcing a cease-­ fire.63 In opinion polls, Europeans showed support for the use of military force by their country and indeed even for unilateral humanitarian intervention.64 Even as the Bosnian situation deteriorated in June 1994, support levels in the United Kingdom and France remained unchanged.65

Bosnia-Herzegovina   55 American public opinion was more divided and registered less support for a US role in humanitarian assistance or peacekeeping. In December 1992, there was 58 percent support for US participation in peacekeeping in Bosnia; in mid-­1993, the figures were 76 percent (PIPA), 68 percent (Gal) and 44 percent (CBS). However, support for US troops taking part in “active involvement/peacemaking” in Bosnia was less, at between 13 to 40 percent.66 Where UNPROFOR attracted criticism was not on the issue of infringement of sovereignty, but on the insufficiency of national interests. Even in key European troop-­contributing countries, opposition cited lack of “vital” interests in Bosnia.67 Of most concern to critics was the possibility that UNPROFOR would lose public support if it were drawn into combat. In the United States, both the Bush and Clinton administrations treated the issue of American troop participation in UNPROFOR cautiously, believing that the public did not support it. Support was in fact lacking on Capitol Hill, which viewed UNPROFOR and UN peacekeeping as generally inefficient and therefore not warranting of active US assistance or troop participation. Congress essentially shared the Bush administration’s and later the Clinton administration’s policy of ruling out the use of US ground troops in UNPROFOR given the lack of “vital” interests in Bosnia.68 After the failed Somalia operation in October 1993, Congress opposed financing UNPROFOR, arguing that UN peacekeeping was dangerously overused, the UN hopelessly inefficient, and US foreign policy was becoming the victim of ill-­defined multilateralism.69 The greatest criticism of UNPROFOR, however, concerned its “weakness”—its inability to deter Serb advances on safe areas. This was the view of the Clinton administration, which called for a stronger stand against the Serbs and a reversal of their territorial gains, charging them the party responsible for the war and ethnic cleansing. The administration first advocated a “lift and strike” policy—a lifting of the arms embargo that had been in place over former Yugoslav territories since 1991 and that critics said was depriving the Bosnian government of the means of self-­ defense, together with the employment of NATO air strikes. Failing in this, it continued to push for the use of air strikes and offered only minimal support to UNPROFOR. Although the European allies did not support the “lift-­and-strike” policy, UNPROFOR’s inability to effectively stave off Serb challenges, as demonstrated by the 1994 crises, was the source of increasing contention and frustration, especially among the public. Even as Serb shelling of civilian targets resumed in Sarajevo in January 1994, NATO had not yet decided to launch air strikes against Serb artillery positions, despite the August 1993 NAC decision to take “stronger measures including air strikes against those responsible.”70 Nor did NATO decide to use force to facilitate the planned rotation of UNPROFOR troops in Srebrenica or to open Tuzla airport for humanitarian relief. The

56   Bosnia-Herzegovina inability of the UN and NATO to live up to their promises provoked statements questioning the credibility of the August 1993 NAC decision.71 The success of the February 1994 Sarajevo ultimatum in establishing a weapons­exclusion zone was received with relief by the major capitals. However, the reputations of the UN and NATO would later be considerably tarnished by the persisting confusion in their chains of command and control, and their acquiescence to Serb violations of the weapons-­exclusion zone.72 The failure of UNPROFOR/NATO to deter attacks against Gorazde, and soon thereafter Bihac, also brought charges of incompetence, leading the UN and NATO Secretary Generals to declare that priority must be given to restoring UN/NATO credibility within the international community.73 Especially in the United States, concern heightened when, even after the strategic air raid on Ubdina airfield, hostages were taken and the situation worsened. The Clinton administration’s call for more punitive use of air power triggered a bitter cross-­Atlantic dispute.74 Europe rebuffed repeated US proposals to create Sarajevo- and Gorazde-­ style weapons-­exclusion zones around the remaining safe areas as well as the French–US proposal to reinforce UNPROFOR and relocate it to a defensible position. Through these highly visible UN/NATO failures, support for existing operations was gradually lost and pressure to change course intensified. In the U.S. Congress, calls to unilaterally lift the arms embargo gained force; especially following the February 1994 Sarajevo market incident, many accepted the argument that the arms embargo had denied the sovereign right of self-­defense to Bosnia-­Herzegovina.75 By the end of 1994, the Clinton administration ceased enforcing the arms embargo in the Adriatic. Critics increasingly opposed the continuation of the UNPROFOR mission. By acquiescing to the existing peace support scheme, it was charged, the Clinton administration had become accomplice to genocide.76 As the crisis deepened in 1994, many Congressmen came to share the opinion of a prominent academic, Albert Wohlstetter, who criticized UNPROFOR’s role in Bosnia, seeing it as prohibiting the use of force by NATO to stop genocide.77 Europe likewise grew frustrated with the limits of the peace support arrangement. By the end of 1994, ineffective UN/NATO responses to the crises in the safe areas had led France to declare that the existing intervention policy was at a “total dead end.”78 Along with the repeated hostage crises, these developments increased the reluctance among the European capitals to keep their ground troops exposed to hostilities for much longer. Support for the existing scheme further deteriorated in April and May 1995 as the Serbs launched a new round of offensives aimed at permanently capturing remaining safe areas. In the United States, Congressional leaders, notably Republican Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole and House

Bosnia-Herzegovina   57 Speaker Newt Gingrich, called for a cut-­off of US funding for the “hopelessly incompetent” United Nations, objected to authorizing funding for the new 10,000-strong UK–French Rapid Reaction Force (RRF ), and pressed for UNPROFOR withdrawal.79 In the end, the Clinton administration was unable to obtain Congressional authorization for the requested US$130 million, but managed to obtain US$60 million that could be spent without Congressional authorization to assist the RRF. In Europe, too, the hostage crisis in May 1995 resulted in the call either to withdraw or to strengthen the existing force. The events led to the announcement to send the RRF, although the decision to form the force had itself been made prior to the crisis.80 With the U.S. Congress poised to lift the arms embargo unilaterally, the European capitals began to debate the withdrawal of UNPROFOR. NATO started to prepare an operational plan for UNPROFOR withdrawal, and the NAC discussed a contingency plan to that end in June 1995.81 The fall of Srebrenica marked the end of support for UNPROFOR/ NATO. The public deplored their failure to prevent the Serb offensive, which was followed by grisly atrocities against Srebrenica’s civilian population. The UN Security Council’s meager response intensified public frustration.82 When the London Conference met to discuss responses, it failed to mention any measures to save Zepa, then on the verge of collapse. This led Tadeusz Mazowiecki, the UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights, to resign in protest. Pressure to lift the arms embargo mounted among the non-­aligned and Islamic countries. The fall of Srebrenica and Zepa forced Europe to finally admit that international policy had failed in Bosnia.83 UK Conservative politician Robin Cook argued that “the tales of slaughter and rape trickling out of Srebrenica” demonstrated that international efforts had “failed even to stop a programme of genocide.”84 The same questioning of the credibility of international diplomacy was heard among the French leadership and public.85 In the United States, Congress moved to force the administration to unilaterally lift the arms embargo once the Bosnian government had requested UNPROFOR to leave. Both Houses passed the “Bosnia Self-­ Defense Act” with sufficient margins to overcome a presidential veto.86 Congress harshly questioned the Clinton administration’s handling of the Bosnian impasse. Dole, in particular, chided the administration for allowing the UN to decide when and whether NATO would use air strikes; he pressed for an alternative policy.87 Coercive diplomacy: formal ethical bases Although largely foreseen, the fall of the eastern safe areas of Srebrenica and Zepa was nevertheless politically significant. As speculation about the extent of the mass murders of Srebrenica’s Muslim residents grew, public

58   Bosnia-Herzegovina outcry in the Western democracies demanded that the UN and NATO defend the remaining enclaves or admit failure and withdraw. This finally pushed the Western allies to reassess strategy.88 France again took the most vocal position, proposing to recapture Srebrenica and defend Gorazde as well as offering to send 1,000 RRF troops with logistic support from the United States. French President Jacques Chirac’s proactive stance and public declaration that France would not become a “passive witness or accomplice in the unacceptable” won him broad popularity.89 Now the United States was forced to take a decisive leadership role.90 The moral outrage sparked by the Srebrenica massacre was one factor that strengthened support for the option of use of overwhelming force vis-­à-vis cautious views within the Clinton administration. It was what committed Clinton personally to pursue tough actions that “make military sense” and to convince the allies of the need for them.91 The United States accordingly worked from the previous French proposal, proposing instead the use of air power to defend the remaining safe areas.92 It then pressured the allies to accept its approach at the London Conference and subsequently at NAC meetings, where it was decided to introduce air strikes to defend first Gorazde and then other remaining safe areas, and to abolish the UN veto over the initiation of the air strikes.93 London, moved by the brutality of Srebrenica’s fall and fearing that the same fate would soon face Gorazde, where 200 British troops were stationed, dropped its long-­time opposition to the use of punitive air strikes.94 At the London Conference, the United Kingdom agreed to the US-­ proposed scheme to employ punitive air strikes to defend Gorazde. Later, it yielded further to US pressure to include other safe areas in a similar arrangement. The country also agreed to join French forces to reinforce the RRF in defending Sarajevo. Mobilization of NATO air power and the RRF were thus the outcomes of Western attempts to defend the now critically endangered credibility of its effectiveness in facing humanitarian disasters. Operation Deliberate Force responded to yet another Serb shelling of Sarajevo on 29 August. Implementing the decision at the London Conference, London and Paris regrouped their national contingents under the RRF and UNPROFOR on key supply routes on Mount Igman, securing a ten-­mile radius of Sarajevo for humanitarian access. The Western public, frustrated over past failures, overwhelmingly supported these actions.95 Coercive diplomacy: de facto ethical bases By summer 1995, clearly the base principle of humanitarian intervention in Bosnia had shifted from the neutrality required for humanitarian assistance to the impartiality needed to enforce peace and human rights. Implicit in the summer 1993 designation of safe areas was that the UN

Bosnia-Herzegovina   59 Security Council would take enforcement measures in securing human rights norms. As the crisis over safe areas deepened through 1994, the perception started to emerge that neutrality was no longer suitable if the situation was to receive fundamental redress, and this opened the way for the introduction of enforcement through international humanitarian action. Coercive diplomacy: formal power-­political bases Even with the serious humanitarian concerns at stake, the allies might have withdrawn rather than escalate the intervention after the fall of Srebrenica if not for the presence of other motivations, most notably saving UN/NATO credibility. Even as it discussed the defense of Gorazde in London, the United Kingdom argued not for reinforcing its 200 peacekeepers manning the enclave but for withdrawing them, citing both the lack of vital interests and the impracticality of defending the city with ground troops.96 Likewise, Europe hesitated in the use of NATO air power for the defense of Gorazde and beyond as stipulated in the “London principles.” It argued that implementing a military solution in Bosnia would lead to a “longer, wider, more brutal war.”97 It also continued to fear the possibility of Serb reprisals: although efforts were made to consolidate UNPROFOR forces in more defensible positions as soon as the London principles were adopted, troops were still vulnerable in Sarajevo and elsewhere.98 Thus, there was ample potential for a breakdown of the new Western unity in favor of using force.99 Nor was opinion strongly united within the United States in favor of sustained air campaigns in Bosnia. Most difficult was the issue of whether force should be used to reverse the territorial division of Bosnia resulting from the Serb offensives. US Secretary of Defense William Perry did not believe that US interests were sufficiently involved to merit deployment of military power, especially ground troops, to support the Bosnians in their effort to recover all or parts of territories.100 He preferred to terminate the bombing campaign as early as was feasible.101 The United States and Europe were also aware of the possible unwanted political effects of the air campaign. It was feared that NATO air strikes might encourage the Muslim-­Croat Federation to keep fighting, instead of negotiating. In mid-­August, renewed Muslim-­Croat offensives were launched in Western and Central Bosnia, encouraged by the earlier success of the Croatian offensive to capture Krajina. The United States acquiesced to such moves as long as they helped advance peace negotiations, but when the Bosnian government started to delay negotiations in a bid for better deals, the United States was compelled to exert strong pressure to curb it.102 There was also concern that Serbia might intervene to assist the Serbs if the bombing proceeded too far, or if the Muslims gained too much territory.103 Indeed, after the Muslim-­Croat Federation, assisted by Croatian forces, neared Banja Luka and NATO used cruise missiles to

60   Bosnia-Herzegovina destroy air defense near the city, Milosevic announced that Serbia would intervene if its “vital interests in Bosnia” were endangered.104 Another concern was the reaction to NATO use of force from Russia, whose cooperation was considered essential for postwar peace.105 Although Russia initially expressed support for the US-­led peace process, it grew increasingly bitter about the NATO military campaign and demanded that it be ceased. A broader issue was NATO’s post-­Cold War relations with Russia, which, it was feared, would be impaired by the air campaigns.106 Moreover, should the bombing raids and new diplomatic talks fail to produce a peace agreement, the West, and especially the United States, would suffer another embarrassment, followed by a costly and humiliating UN withdrawal. Such perceived high cost and risks lead to the conclusion that had NATO’s credibility not been involved, the UN forces would probably have been withdrawn, even at the expense of dealing a lethal blow to UN authority and to the pride of the troop-­contributing countries. Coercive diplomacy: de facto power-­political bases The most important basis of coercive diplomacy in August and September 1995 was preservation of the credibility of the Western alliance, particularly of NATO. To the Western democracies, the crisis of credibility inspired by the fall of Srebrenica transformed what was once a humanitarian mission into a strategic challenge. What also made the difference in 1995 was the leadership of the United States, which was deeply worried that the loss of NATO credibility would have grave security implications for the future. By summer 1995, as already noted, the likelihood that the UN might have to disengage itself from Bosnia had mounted. Withdrawal, nevertheless, was undesirable to the major capitals for a variety of reasons, including the high material, financial and, most seriously, political costs.107 Withdrawal would represent the humiliating admission of UN and Western failure in handling the crisis after three years, and the European aversion to yet further humiliation led to a more proactive policy concerning use of force. France and the United Kingdom in particular viewed failure in Bosnia as harmful to their own status in world affairs.108 The United Kingdom believed, also, that without introducing air power, the UN would “probably die in Bosnia.”109 Given the strategic implications, the key US interest was to prevent a situation in which NATO would have to admit failure in Bosnia and thereby lose credibility. Although unilateral US insistence on the use of force risked damaging relations with Europe, the United States nonetheless informed the allies that Serb countermeasures (such as hostage-­taking) would no longer deter it from using force.110 Failing that, the US was determined to call for UNPROFOR withdrawal. The United States was nonetheless reluctant to see a UN withdrawal without first attempting to shore up the situation, as withdrawal would not

Bosnia-Herzegovina   61 only be humiliating but would also require American ground troops to support it. The NATO withdrawal plan, known as “OP 40104,” was likely to be high-­cost and combat-­prone, and thus the administration concluded that if it had to use force, it would be better to do so to reinforce a success than a failure.111 Equally important was the emerging concern that the United States might lose its leadership position in NATO and the Western world by failing to effectively take the helm in Bosnia. This concern had been expressed since 1994 by key officials, especially US ambassador to the UN Madeleine Albright, who feared that the United States was sending a message to the world that it was not willing to commit itself deeply to European security affairs.112 That perception seemed to be echoed by America’s European allies; Chirac’s remark that “the position of leader of the Free World is vacant” was “chilling” to administration officials.113 By summer 1995, the general consensus in the US administration was that not only NATO credibility but the leadership and hegemonic position of the United States in world affairs had come to directly depend on how successfully it could lead its allies out of the Bosnian impasse, although there was disagreement as to how much cost was warranted, especially in military terms. This perception of “crisis” in credibility and leadership enabled a number of changes in US policy. Most importantly, Clinton abandoned the notion that Serb military gains were to be completely reversed. Accordingly, the United States agreed to suspend and eventually lift the economic embargo against Belgrade in exchange for its participation in a peace agreement and recognition of Bosnia-­Herzegovina. The United States was also now ready to push the Bosnian government to collaborate with international peace efforts on the exact configuration of the map. In effect, these diplomatic concessions placed the United States on the path which the European negotiators had already been treading. For the first time, too, the United States extensively supported UNPROFOR’s presence on the ground, particularly with RRF reinforcements, in order to avoid a UN withdrawal. In the end, it was mutual concessions—Europe on the use of air power and the United States on diplomatic goals—that finally enabled a unified approach, pushing both the Bosnian Serbs and the Bosnian government to agree to an imperfect but more realistic peace plan. This new cross-­Atlantic cooperation was in turn enabled by the critical sense of the risk that failure in Bosnia posed to Western and NATO credibility, and to the standing in world affairs of the countries involved, especially the United States.

Conclusion This chapter has focused on legitimacy to explain the transformation of international intervention in Bosnia from peace support to coercive diplomacy. The legitimacy of peace support rested predominantly on meeting

62   Bosnia-Herzegovina the humanitarian crisis, together with another ethical basis—multilateral security—and the power-­political priority of conflict containment. Initially, support for the intervention relied on its performance in supplying humanitarian aid. After summer 1993, however, the basis of support clearly shifted to how well the UN/NATO implemented the safe-­areas mandate. As the performance of the force deteriorated in this area, the legitimacy of peace support could no longer be sustained, and the loss of reputation for those intervening grew more serious. When the crisis of reputation reached its peak with the fall of Srebrenica, the peace support regime was abolished and coercive diplomacy was introduced. The breakdown of the legitimacy of peace support had paved the way for this transformation. Although of critical importance to the Western democracies, humanitarian concerns alone proved an insufficient basis for intervention backed by the use of force. Given the perceived lack of vital interests in Bosnia, policy-­makers found it difficult to justify the high cost—both material and political—of using force. Nonetheless, frustration with and disapproval of intervention became more pronounced as the intervening parties failed to implement their mandate to defend safe areas. The powerful impact of that disapproval ultimately transformed the entire basis of intervention, enabling the parties to muster the political commitment to use sufficient force.

4 Somalia From peace enforcement to disengagement

In late 1992, a civil war-­induced famine endangered the lives of 330,000 people in Somalia. The United Nations responded to the humanitarian concerns that spread over the crisis by authorizing, first, the Unified Task Force (UNITAF ), a US-­commanded, 32,000-strong multinational force; and, second, the Second UN Operation in Somalia (UNOSOM II), a 28,000-strong multidimensional peacekeeping mission authorized to take actions, including enforcement measures, necessary to implement its mandate of nation-­building. The optimism that UNOSOM II would mark a new generation of active UN peace operations soon vanished, however, when the operation was withdrawn after two years without completing its mission. Inevitably, the failure of UNOSOM II discredited the idea of humanitarian intervention. This chapter seeks to explain the radical transformation of an intervention that started with peace enforcement to alleviate humanitarian suffering but ended in withdrawal. The predominant bases of UNITAF and UNOSOM II intervention were ethical—humanitarian concerns and multilateral security interests—but no overarching strategic interest sustained the venture. Despite the previous cardinal norm of non-­interference in the domestic affairs of states, the serious humanitarian crisis in Somalia initially attracted support from UN member states and made possible an unprecedented authorization to use force to alleviate the situation. Another critical basis of the intervention was the US perception that the mission could be organized and completed at relatively low cost, and that the burdens of longer term peacekeeping activities and disarmament would be performed by the UN after the UNITAF mission had ended. UNOSOM II’s poor performance in implementing its mandate was exemplified by its bungled attempt to arrest local militia leader Mohamed Farrah Aideed. Excessive use of force in this and other incidents damaged the effectiveness of the political reconciliation, nation-­building, and other work the mission had sought to implement. Thereafter, the perception of failure and rising costs, seen as unjustifiable in a humanitarian mission, led to loss of support for the intervention, undermining the conditions of its legitimacy and leading eventually to the US/UN disengagement.

64   Somalia The following sections review the international responses to the Somali crisis and then analyze the ethical and power-­political bases of UNITAF and UNOSOM II, respectively. An analysis of the performance of the missions is followed by a discussion of the nature of the support for them.

The Somali crisis and US/UN intervention In 1988, armed insurrections against the military regime of Siad Barre, President of Somalia since a 1969 coup that replaced the civilian government, spread throughout the country. The country descended into civil war, fought largely along clan divisions. By 1990, the government had completely collapsed. By 1992, there were increasing signs of mass starvation in southern and central Somalia caused by the war’s devastation of agricultural centers and by the blocking and looting of international food aid by warring factions. Early international humanitarian efforts proved ineffective, failing as they did to address underlying security problems. UNITAF In late November 1992, the George H.W. Bush administration decided to send US forces to Somalia to lead a UN mission to establish secure conditions for delivery of humanitarian assistance. On 3 December, the UN Security Council authorized UNITAF under UN Charter Chapter VII to conduct Operation Restore Hope, with forces deployed under US command.1 UNITAF was to be strictly focused on humanitarian assistance and to be of limited duration. It was withdrawn in May 1993, and its mission was taken over by UNOSOM II. The United States agreed, however, to participate in logistical and other special capacities.2 UNOSOM II UNOSOM II was a “multidimensional” peacekeeping operation authorized under UN Charter Chapter VII. It replaced UNOSOM I, which had been established in April 1992 to monitor the cease-­fire and deliver humanitarian assistance. UNOSOM II’s mandate was “nation-­building”: rebuilding the Somali state so that the underlying causes of the humanitarian crisis could be remedied. To this end, UNOSOM II was authorized to take appropriate actions, including enforcement measures.3 It was charged not only with the peacekeeping-­related tasks of disarmament, securing key facilities and monitoring and enforcing cease-­fires, but also with rehabilitating state institutions and the economy, and promoting national reconciliation. The US presence was central to UNOSOM II. A 3,000-strong US logistics unit supported the mission and a retired US admiral, Jonathan Howe, led the mission in his capacity as the UN Secretary General’s special repre-

Somalia   65 sentative in Somalia. Major General Thomas Montgomery of the US Army served simultaneously as Deputy Force Commander of UNOSOM II and as Commander of US forces in Somalia. A 1,500-strong Quick Reaction Force (QRF ) was stationed offshore from Mogadishu, under the sole and direct command of Montgomery, to assist UNOSOM II when CENTCOM judged it necessary. UNOSOM II was given another mandate on 6 June 1993: the arrest of General Aideed of the United Somali Congress/Somali National Alliance (USC/SNA). This followed the murder on 5 June of 24 UNOSOM II soldiers by a local militia group, later identified as members of USC/SNA.4 On 17 June, Howe issued an arrest warrant for Aideed, offering a reward of US$25,000 for his capture. The result of this mandate was military escalation. UNOSOM II and the USQRF conducted raids to arrest Aideed and to confiscate USC/SNA heavy weapons. In late August, the Clinton administration dispatched 400 US Army rangers and Delta Force personnel to Somalia under the command of Major General William Garrison, US Joint Special Operations Command. Although in September the Clinton administration shifted its focus to achieving political reconciliation in line with the UN mandate, on 3 October 1993, US Army rangers launched a raid to arrest Aideed, capturing 24 senior USC aides, but not Aideed himself. The operation, under the independent command and control of the United States, resulted in the deaths of 18 rangers. Following this incident, Clinton announced on 7 October that US forces would be withdrawn from Somalia by 31 March 1994, after first bolstering the force level with an additional 5,300 troops, but US forces dropped peace-­enforcement functions from their mission. Other Western nations, whose contingents had depended on US logistical support, also withdrew. As performance of the functions mandated to the mission came to a standstill, a final decision was made in November 1994 to terminate the UNOSOM II mission.5 UNOSOM II’s last contingents were withdrawn on 3 March 1995. Formal ethical bases UNITAF The UNITAF intervention is best seen as based on prevailing humanitarian concerns.6 By November 1992, US president Bush had become concerned about the ineffectiveness of the humanitarian actions that had been taken thus far in Somalia, including a token UN force (UNOSOM I) and the air-­lifting of food by the US military.7 At the National Security Council Deputies Committee meeting on 25 November, he expressed his alarm over the likelihood of a large number of immediate deaths from starvation—estimated at 5,000 a week.8 Those involved were surprised

66   Somalia when Bush made the decision to send in US forces, as the prevailing view had been that the United States would simply endorse a UN intervention without participating itself. Nevertheless, the use of US forces immediately became Bush’s preferred choice after being informed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) of their assessment that the United States would be the only country able to provide the necessary capability to break the hunger cycle at short notice, and that it would take about six months—too long to address the crisis—for UN forces to organize.9 Bush’s decision also reflected the humanitarian concerns and pressures building up more widely within the United States in the previous months. Key members of Congress, such as senators Nancy Kesselbaum (Republican from Kansas) and Paul Simon (Democrat from Illinois), were increasingly campaigning for more UN action and US support and participation. Two fact-­finding missions to Somalia were organized by Congress, and the participants actively lobbied the administration for an increased troop presence in Somalia and a stronger UN role in mediating the civil war.10 In early October, both houses passed resolutions on Somalia asking the President to pursue US participation and support to a UN force there to ensure relief activities.11 Since early November 1992, the understanding within the administration was that only armed intervention could address the root situation of the starvation.12 The assessment was shared by UN Secretary General Boutros Boutros-­Ghali, who—aware of the ineffectiveness of UNOSOM I—proposed a UN peace enforcement mission, without a US troop presence. The US State Department’s Bureau for African Affairs and the US Agency for International Development (USAID)’s Office of Foreign Disaster Assistance (OFDA), which had been arguing for a “security intervention” by the UN since early 1992, likewise considered the situation in Somalia to be not a mere humanitarian crisis but a security problem.13 By November, Under-­Secretary for International Security Affairs Frank Wisner and Assistant Secretary for Political-­Military Affairs Robert Gallucci moved to back efforts by the Bureau for African Affairs to support Boutros-­Ghali’s proposal to organize a UN intervention under UN Charter Chapter VII.14 These were the mounting domestic concerns and pressures for action to which Bush was responding in November 1992. Bush explained his decision to send in troops by arguing, “It is now clear that military support is necessary to ensure the safe delivery of the food Somalis need to survive.”15 The United States also pressed its case in the UN Security Council, affirming its “commitment to resolving the human tragedy in Somalia—a crisis of immense, almost indescribable proportions.”16 Thus, humanitarian concerns strong enough to override the cardinal rule of non-­interference in the internal affairs of a sovereign state generated a critical shift in the norms governing the application of international humanitarian law and the use of force under UN Charter Chapter VII. The United States recognized that enforcement measures would be

Somalia   67 necessary to protect humanitarian convoys and that, given the lawlessness that gripped Somalia, its forces needed to be authorized with the right to protect themselves using appropriate degrees of force, should they be attacked.17 The lack of a functioning government in Somalia was another justification for US intervention.18 Some congressional leaders disagreed with the President’s decision, questioning whether the situation in Somalia constituted a national interest for the United States vital enough to justify intervention—the factor that had previously held sway in determining the use of its armed forces overseas. For those leaders, the main concern was not infringement of Somali sovereignty, but the implications of the intervention for US national interests. Senator Sam Nunn (Democrat from Georgia), for example, remarked that issues such as nuclear proliferation, democratization and liberalization in Eastern Europe were more central to US security than the humanitarian crises in Somalia or Bosnia.19 The question was also raised of what role the US military should play in the post-­Cold War world now that the country had become the world’s sole superpower.20 Such skepticism and opposition was overridden, however, by a presidential decision that was made without prior consultation with Congress.21 In the US bureaucracy, too, there was questioning over the value of US intervention in light of its national interests. Smith Hempstone, Jr., the US ambassador to Kenya, argued, Aside from the humanitarian issue—which admittedly is compelling (but so it is in the Sudan)—I fail to see where any vital interest is involved. . . . To what end? To keep tens of thousands of Somali kids from starving to death in 1993 who, in all probability, will starve in 1994 (unless we are prepared to remain through 1994)?22 There was also a concern in the U.S. State Department over the skyrocketing UN peacekeeping bill.23 The US military and the CIA shared cautious views as well. Worried about the already rising costs of UN peacekeeping, the Pentagon considered Somalia “a bottomless pit” as far as US involvement was concerned.24 The airlift of humanitarian materials for Somalia was only reluctantly begun in August 1992. CIA officials, too, typically expressed the view that any US commitment in Somalia would be unnecessary, ill-­advised and long term. CIA Director Robert M. Gates argued that anarchy was “so sweeping” and “the warring factions so firmly entrenched” that the United States risked taking on responsibility for maintaining stability in Somalia.25 Opposition from the US military to intervention in Somalia continued until mid-­November 1992, when, in a sudden shift, the Joint Chiefs of Staff presented the view that a US-­led, large-­scale, short-­term military intervention could be conducted effectively—that it would be clearly defined,

68   Somalia limited and not intended to achieve any long-­term military or political goals. Citing this view, the White House countered reluctance from the bureaucracy, justifying involvement on humanitarian grounds. UNITAF would be succeeded by a UN peacekeeping mission, it argued, taking pains to explain that the operation was not open-­ended but had a clear exit point.26 The US delegation to the UN Security Council similarly stressed the “early transition to an effective UN peace-­keeping force.”27 The other critical factor that propelled the decision to intervene was the expected effectiveness of UNITAF. Acting Secretary of State Lawrence S. Eagleburger said, “This is a tragedy of massive proportions, and, underline this, one that we could do something about” [emphasis added].28 This statement was based on the Joint Chiefs of Staff assessment and it became key in the President’s decision. Bush understood the military task involved to be relatively simple—a matter of pushing the bandits away from supply routes—and the likelihood of becoming mired in the civil war was not considered. If, however, the purpose had been “peacekeeping”—to separate the warring parties, disarm them and enforce a cease-­fire—the administration would not have intervened.29 Once the decision was made, relatively little discussion of the financial cost of the operation or of congressional strategy followed.30 The attitude was that the United States would provide necessary resources to conduct a large enough intervention along the lines set forth in the Powell-­ Weinberger doctrine. Formed during the 1980s out of the experience of the Vietnam War, this doctrine dictated that the US military should only be used in cases where there was a clearly defined and attainable political and military objective vital to the national interest of the United States or of its allies; such a war, the doctrine also asserted, should have popular and political support and should be fought with sufficient resources in such a way as to guarantee a successful result. The deployment in Somalia was advanced, hence, with the provision that the intervention would not step into peacekeeping and that it would be handed over to a UN peace mission within six months. UNOSOM II The key basis for launching UNOSOM II was the UN resolve to seek a long-­term solution to Somalia’s humanitarian crisis as well as to ensure that what UNITAF achieved would have a lasting impact. The UNOSOM II mandate was thus greatly expanded from UNITAF ’s in the interests of restoring security, achieving political reconciliation and rebuilding a functioning state—all conditions considered necessary for long-­term resolution of the humanitarian crisis. United Nations Security Council Resolution 814, which authorized UNOSOM II, clearly reflected such concerns. Noting “widespread violations of international humanitarian law and the general absence of the

Somalia   69 rule of law in Somalia” and “the need for continued humanitarian relief assistance and for the rehabilitation of Somalia’s political institutions and economy,” the resolution determined that “the situation in Somalia continues to threaten peace and security in the region.” UNOSOM II moreover emphasized disarmament as a condition for the long-­term success of its mission.31 The Clinton administration, too, supported UNOSOM II primarily on humanitarian grounds, but also according to the critical perception that the United States, having initiated the mission during the previous Bush administration, had a responsibility to ensure UNOSOM II’s success.32 Thus political accountability, too, was a decisive factor. With regard to costs, the administration believed—at least until the situation in Somalia deteriorated in late summer 1993—that the mission would be effective. Indeed, the eventual takeover by the UN was welcomed in terms of costs, since the United States would be responsible for only about 30 percent of the costs of UNOSOM II, as compared with the 75 percent it had shouldered for UNITAF operations.33 As will be detailed later, UNOSOM II received considerably less support from Congress than did UNITAF. Much of the opposition once again focused on the lack of strategic or vital national interest justifying involvement in UN peacekeeping, particularly given that the mission was expected to be long term.34 In May, the House authorized US participation in UNOSOM II only after four months of debate, in which the expansion of the UN mission and the US role therein were closely questioned.35 The Senate did not even discuss UNOSOM II or US participation. Nevertheless, humanitarian concern and the perceived US responsibility for ensuring the mission’s success formed the bases for the House authorization. A further impetus was the fear that US withdrawal might undermine UN strength and credibility and make a waste of previous US efforts.36 De facto ethical bases UNITAF On 31 January 1992, the Security Council noted in a declaration by the President the changing sources of threats to international peace in the post-­Cold War era: “The absence of war and military conflicts amongst States does not in itself ensure international peace and security . . . non-­ military sources of instability in the economic, social, humanitarian and ecological fields have become threats to peace and security.”37 The UN Secretary General, too, wrote in his 1992 Agenda for Peace that sources of insecurity included “ecological damage, disruption of family and community life, greater intrusion into the lives and rights of individuals.”38 The growing awareness that the UN needed to strengthen its capabilities in the area of security management was clearly behind the UN Somali venture

70   Somalia and the US interest in launching UNITAF.39 UNSCR 733 (1992), the Security Council’s first resolution on Somalia, imposed an arms embargo under UN Charter Chapter VII and made it clear that the crisis, although an internal matter, was considered a matter of multilateral security. The connection was reaffirmed by UNSCR 794 (1992), which established UNITAF. Strengthening UN peacekeeping was behind the US initiative in establishing UNITAF. This reflected the globalist worldview of George H.W. Bush, who argued for “a new world order” based on active US involvement in the UN.40 Bush announced in the UN General Assembly in 1992 that the United States would support an active UN role in peacekeeping and that the US military would play a major role in UN peacekeeping efforts.41 Thus the Bush administration hoped to conduct UNITAF as a US-­led military operation under the UN flag and spearheaded the UN authorization of a comprehensive peacekeeping mission to succeed the operation.42 The United States thus headed the UN peacekeeping mission in Somalia, although a proposal for that purpose was initially rejected by senior UN officials and other UN Security Council members, who argued that it did not fit the traditional scheme of UN peacekeeping.43 Moreover, although it passed without much notice, the Bush administration’s decision to allow US forces to participate in the UN mission that would follow UNITAF signaled a significant shift in US policy toward UN peacekeeping.44 During the Cold War, neither superpower had been involved in UN peacekeeping as a basic rule, and the Pentagon continued to show reluctance to do so, even though it sometimes provided observers and logistical support for peacekeeping operations. However, on hearing Bush’s announcement on 4 December 1992 of the launching of UNITAF, Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Colin Powell and Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney indicated immediately the possibility of US participation in UNOSOM II. Powell announced that the US military would remain involved in the succeeding UN mission in a special capacity to provide capabilities other countries would not be able to offer.45 Immediately before the end of its tenure, the Bush administration adopted National Security Decision Directive (NSDD) 74, which focused on strengthening UN capabilities in planning and communications, logistics and training. The document remained vague on specific US troop participation, but nevertheless set forward for the first time a commitment to playing a role in UN peacekeeping when the “unique” military capabilities of the United States were necessary for success.46 UNOSOM II As evident in the UNSCR 814 (1993) statement that “the situation in Somalia continues to threaten peace and security in the region,” the idea of multilateral security was relevant also for UNOSOM II. The mission was

Somalia   71 based on the broadened post-­Cold War perception which saw humanitarian crises, civil war and other internal situations to also comprise threats to international security. US foreign policy interests, too, had diversified in the post-­Cold War era. The Clinton administration argued that those interests included a range of economic situations, civil wars in remote places and threats from non-­ democracies. US Ambassador to the UN, Madeleine Albright, argued, “Peacekeeping has become instrumental in meeting three fundamental imperatives of our national interest: economic, political and humanitarian.”47 National Security Advisor Anthony Lake stated that the primary objectives of US foreign policy would be the defense of human rights, enlargement of democracy, and support for market-­based economies, now that the end of the Cold War had enabled the United States to pursue these goals.48 The United States and other UN Security Council members interested in strengthening UN peacekeeping recognized the need for an active UN in the civil war-­ridden post-­Cold War era. UNOSOM II, which was seen by the UN Secretariat as one of the most demonstrative examples of “multidimensional” peacekeeping, aimed at restoring state administration and a secure environment, as suggested by the UN Secretary General in Agenda for Peace. The document envisaged a UN role in “nation-­building,” or “peace-­building in its differing contexts: rebuilding the institutions and infrastructures of nations torn by civil war and strife.”49 It called for “comprehensive efforts to identify and support structures which will tend to consolidate peace.”50 The idea of multidimensional peacekeeping to rebuild “failed states”51 was embraced by the United States. Support for UNOSOM II became the cornerstone of the Clinton administration policy of “assertive multilateralism,” the idea of which was that US national interest required it to take leadership when necessary in multilateral forums such as the UN. The United States thus promised to “work with the UN Secretariat and key peacekeeping contributors” to strengthen the UN in its capacity to plan and organize peacekeeping activities.52 Even though its emphasis on multilateralism did not differ in substance from the Bush administration’s globalist policy, the Clinton administration’s placing of US logistical troops under a foreign (UN) command in UNOSOM II represented a shift in US peacekeeping policy. Presidential Review Directive (PRD) 13, which in July 1993 proposed that US forces could “help plan, train and participate in U.N. peace-­keeping activities when justified by general U.S. interests, not just when the United States could make a unique military contribution,”53 confirmed the Clinton administration’s interest in active US participation in UN peacekeeping. As mentioned above, some congressional leaders opposed US support for the UN Somalia mission on the grounds of lack of sufficient national interest. However, as was made evident by the House deliberations in May over the authorization of US participation, criticism of a US peacekeeping role in Somalia also stemmed from a more general critique of the Clinton

72   Somalia administration’s policy of multilateralism.54 Some Congressmen questioned the justifiability of putting US troops under a foreign command, in this case the UN.55 The administration countered this opposition by arguing that UNOSOM II was in the interest both of the United States and of its responsibility to encourage multilateral responses to security challenges. Supportive legislators likewise argued that UNOSOM II and US leadership therein was “a wise investment”56 and that American interests were best protected when it was part of multilateral action.57 The margins for authorization, however, were not very substantial, as will be discussed below. Formal power-­political bases UNITAF Once the Cold War was over, Somalia represented no significant strategic interest for the United States. The US naval/air facility at Berbera, located 3,000 kilometers south of the Persian Gulf, had once been strategically important for the United States and vital for the defense of the Gulf region; that significance declined, however, once victory in the Gulf War allowed the United States to acquire new military bases in the region, particularly in Saudi Arabia.58 The low strategic relevance of Somalia had direct operational consequences for the minimalist approach of the Bush administration. The decision to deploy US troops for UNITAF was conditional on short-­term duration and on a limited mandate concentrating on the purely humanitarian goal of eliminating starvation without commitment to further security and political roles, especially those involving disarmament or “nation-­building.” UNITAF operations were moreover limited geographically to those areas most affected by starvation. Thus, the power-­political basis of the US intervention in Somalia was based on the “negative incentive” of avoiding undesirable costs in terms of time, finances and casualties. The underlying perception was that Somalia did not constitute a serious enough threat to US national security to merit long-­term engagement in policing or combat.59 The Bush administration’s limitation of the US mission also clearly reflected the traditional tendency in US policy vis-­à-vis Africa to relegate responsibility to other powers, such as former colonial powers or international organisations, which would presumably be better able to resolve the continent’s problems.60 Africa also had never been a priority area for US foreign policy, particularly in that post-­Cold War period when it was more preoccupied with Eastern Europe.61 Although US intervention in Somalia represents an anomaly when seen against this background, the decision to avoid a long-­term, costly involvement was a self-­interested choice consistent with the tradition of relegation of responsibility.

Somalia   73 UNOSOM II Somalia’s lack of strategic significance for major states continued to have operational consequences for UNOSOM II, given that it motivated states to limit their involvement in important ways. Even as UNOSOM II’s security-­related mandate was heightened, the number and quality of the forces deployed were in fact drastically reduced as key UN member states showed reluctance to contribute to the mission. The United States rejected UN requests to have UNITAF stay one month longer to allow the UN more time to prepare for taking over the mission. Other countries with competence in peacekeeping withdrew along with the US forces.62 With the troop level in May at 16,000, as opposed to the required 28,000, the UN was concerned that the force’s capabilities would perceptibly drop.63 Shortages of basic supplies, such as flak jackets and tanks, were also a problem. Although the United States had an interest in making the UN mission in Somalia a success and in strengthening UN peacekeeping in general, those interests were predicated on the assumption that the costs of this particular mission would be moderate. The United States delegated routine mission tasks such as disarmament and policing to other nations. It was not until August 1993 that the Clinton administration formally recognized the need for a serious disarmament program.64 Nor did the Clinton administration relinquish unity of command over US reserve forces, a factor that prevented coordination between the UN political mandate and military operations by US forces on the ground. Although some UNOSOM II contingents, such as the French force, successfully achieved stabilization through active disarmament campaigns and policing,65 efforts of this kind remained insufficient. Particularly as tensions mounted after the adoption of the mandate to arrest Aideed in June 1993, increased security risks inspired more operational difficulties and even less contribution to and cooperation with UNOSOM II. Overall, contributions from key member states to UNOSOM II were limited in critical ways, signifying that the UN was unable to match mission objectives and the means to achieve them. De facto power-­political bases UNITAF While the strategic interests of launching UNITAF may have been low, the political interest at stake was to avoid charges of bias. Developing countries were critical of UN actions in the former Yugoslavia as favorable to Western nations’ interests, with the UN Secretary General himself accusing the UN Security Council of intervening in “the rich men’s war” in Yugoslavia while neglecting Somalia. For Bush, Somalia represented a

74   Somalia perfect opportunity to demonstrate that the UN Security Council represented global, not parochial interests: it was in the southern hemisphere, black, and Muslim.66 The last characteristic, in particular, meant Somalia would serve well to prove that the United States was neither biased against Muslims nor solely absorbed with its own interests, unlike what might be suggested from its refusal to intervene in Bosnia, where the majority of victims were Muslims.67 Indeed, Somalia was seen as useful in deflecting criticism over non-­ intervention in Bosnia. In summer 1992, detention camps in Bosnia and starvation in Somalia alike captured world attention, and pressure mounted on the United States to intervene in both countries. However, as then acting secretary of state Lawrence Eagleburger recounts, the administration decided in mid-­November to deploy forces in only one of these cases, if at all.68 The Joint Chiefs of Staff also made non-­intervention in Bosnia a condition for intervention in Somalia.69 The perception of “effectiveness” appears to have been important in the choice between the two. The Somali operation seemed more feasible, as the United States would not need to become involved in peacekeeping functions (i.e., disarmament and separation of warring parties), whereas the UN mission in Bosnia was already perceived to be murky, ineffective and long term.70 The utility of Somalia as an “excuse” not to participate in Bosnia was especially significant for the US military, which, as already discussed, in mid-­November 1992 suddenly abandoned its strict non-­interventionist position toward Somalia. Once a definable mission had emerged as regards Somalia, the administration judged that it would prevent accusations that the United States was being dilatory in responding to “aggression” in Bosnia.71 Finally, there was the perception that strengthening UN peacekeeping under US leadership would heighten US prestige and position, and serve the country’s political interest. Operation Restore Hope thus reflected US hegemonic interests in leading the establishment of a “new world order” and thereby enhancing its prestige as the sole remaining superpower. Such a need for leadership responded to the shift in the international balance of power from the bipolar to the unipolar, wherein the United States was envisaged to be the sole power able to respond to contingencies involving regional conflicts and humanitarian crises. UNOSOM II The US interest in exercising leadership in multilateral security engagements also continued into the Clinton administration. In the words of Madeleine Albright: Though sometimes we will act alone, our foreign policy will necessarily point toward multilateral engagement. But unless the United States

Somalia   75 also exercises leadership within collective bodies like the United Nations, there is a risk that multilateralism will not serve our national interest well—in fact, it may undermine our interests. These two realities—multilateral engagement and US leadership within collective bodies—require an “assertive multilateralism” that advances US foreign policy goals.72 Thus, for both the Bush and Clinton administrations, the question of US roles and leadership in UN peacekeeping was connected with the specific case of Somalia.

Performance of UNITAF and UNOSOM II: appeasement and confrontation Although UNITAF achieved its declared goal of addressing starvation, its refusal to commit to the task of establishing security in Somalia hampered the following UN mission. The inability of the UN and the US to coordinate policies in such key areas as dealing with warlords and conducting disarmament resulted in gaps between ambitious mission goals and the means and mechanisms of implementation. UNOSOM II’s performance in nation-­building suffered further once the initial policy of appeasement toward local warlords was replaced by military escalation in response to Aideed’s defiance. Failure to contain the crisis resulted in loss of support for the mission and, ultimately, disengagement. Humanitarian crisis assuaged UNITAF had a strong humanitarian impact. It reached about one million out of the four million Somalis facing starvation, saving the lives of 110,000 out of 330,000 at immediate risk of death by starvation.73 The UN Secretary General reported that within the first month of UNITAF ’s deployment, humanitarian assistance increased considerably owing to improved airport security, repair of harbors and the clearing of land mines along supply routes.74 Rehabilitation of agriculture and health and other social services also began. Neither was the humanitarian relief effort a failure under UNOSOM II, hampered as it was by lack of security and political reconciliation. Fighting in Mogadishu in mid-­1993 forced some relief agencies to suspend their work in the capital, but efforts continued in other areas of the country.75 By the end of 1993, famine had been overcome in the rest of Somalia, owing to nutrition programs, food aid and resumption of agricultural production. During 1994, however, humanitarian assistance was disrupted by reduced security and the resumption of clan-­based warfare. In January and February, some aid agencies were forced to withdraw from areas such as

76   Somalia Buale and Kismayo. In April, the World Food Program (WFP) suspended its agricultural programs in Kismayo and Belet Weyne. By July, access to Mogadishu port was being periodically blocked by militias, reducing food deliveries by half. The water-­supply rehabilitation program in Mogadishu was suspended for a time. In Kismayo and the Juba valley, signs of malnutrition among residents reappeared, but UNOSOM II efforts to rehabilitate agriculture were somewhat successful, so that the hunger level of 1992 never returned. Mismanagement of the security situation Despite its positive humanitarian impact, UNITAF failed in its implicit purpose—to prepare the ground for strengthened UN peacekeeping—by refusing to stay longer in Somalia and play a security role, especially in disarmament, despite repeated requests from the UN Secretary General. The United States was, in William Durch’s words, “too willing to define success in terms of clearing self-­defined sets of hurdles.”76 The justification given by the UNITAF leadership for avoiding general disarmament in Somalia was that such a politically sensitive exercise would only delay much-­needed humanitarian aid.77 UNITAF ’s contribution in this regard was thus limited to arranging agreements for voluntary disarmament, storing weapons in weapons sites and maintaining security in areas of operation.78 Under these arrangements, however, militias were often allowed to hide heavy weapons,79 leaving the impression that UNITAF was not challenging their power bases. The warlords thus calculated that in six months after the US forces left, UN pressure on them could be easily countered.80 Hence, following UNITAF, the US presence was replaced by a weaker, fragmented UN command which attempted to lead nation-­building in a situation where security had not yet been established. The situation was aggravated when the UN Secretariat delayed planning for general disarmament following the January 1993 cease-­fire agreement, hoping unrealistically that the United States would agree to conduct it.81 The relationship between the intervention force and warlords presented another serious concern. In Somalia, the mission’s effectiveness was undermined because the United States and the UN pursued both options—appeasing and directly opposing those who held arms. The UNITAF approach to securing safe humanitarian access for its forces was to negotiate directly with the warlords.82 This stance, coupled with the lack of attention to general disarmament, had the effect of legitimizing and empowering the warlords, giving them authority they had never possessed before.83 UN-­sponsored peace processes were likewise excessively focused on the armed militias. The Addis Ababa Conference on National Reconciliation, which produced an agreement in March 1993, was signed by 15 armed

Somalia   77 factions. Although its plan for a Transitional National Council (TNC) called for a “bottom-­up” approach where elections to select District Council members would be key to the eventual compositions of the Regional Councils and the TNC, the armed factions sought to increase their influence in the Regional Councils and TNC through reversing this provision, both by way of a secret agreement and by not abiding by the official agreement.84 In the end, the plan for a TNC failed because, among other reasons, it was designed to give the warlords more power in the future government, therefore making compromises among them virtually impossible.85 As detailed below, this initial period of heavy diplomatic focus on the warlords with virtually no efforts to control their arms was followed during UNOSOM II by the opposite approach of military confrontation. The most profound problem was the lack of a coordinated, long-­term policy to deal with the military and political dynamics of Somali society, which had long been saddled with its failed state. The United States presented UNITAF as “purely humanitarian,” but inevitably the US entry into the Somali political scene shaped it in critical ways, while also obligating the United States to assist the forthcoming UN mission.86 UN lack of expertise and resources for planning and organizing such a large-­scale, multidimensional mission further hampered effective coordination and implementation. National reconciliation It was in the area of political reconciliation and nation-­building, considered the key to a long-­term solution to Somalia’s humanitarian crisis, that UNOSOM II’s failure was most obvious. The March 1993 Addis Ababa Agreement failed to be implemented because it was vague on procedures and was biased toward warring factions, which lacked genuine commitment or incentives to abide by it. Disarmament proved difficult as the armed factions distrusted one another and sought to delay compliance for as long as possible.87 In particular, Aideed, who had long rejected UN deployment, challenged the legitimacy of the agreement and the authority of UNOSOM II. The prospects for political reconciliation were critically damaged by the UN’s inability to contain Aideed’s USC/SNA. After the murder of twenty-­ four UNOSOM II soldiers by USC/SNA members on 5 June, fears that failure to respond effectively would damage UN credibility and undermine the role of peace enforcement88 led the UN Security Council and Secretariat to decide on firm measures. UNSCR 837, authorizing UNOSOM II to arrest those responsible, was accordingly adopted unanimously. Although the resolution neither specifically demanded military action nor named Aideed, the members of the Security Council understood that force had been authorized and that any use of it would be against Aideed and his

78   Somalia faction. The United States fully endorsed this interpretation, fearing that failure to show a strong stand would lead to further instability in Somalia and elsewhere as well as to a loss of UN credibility.89 Having initiated the humanitarian mission and thus staked its prestige on success, the United States was further reluctant to see the mission fail in the face of a local challenge.90 It was on this basis that the country brought in the Quick Reaction Force, and later the Army rangers, to implement the arrest mandate. These US/UN military actions during summer 1993 ended up hampering UNOSOM II efforts to promote political reconciliation. They changed local perceptions of the intervention force and compromised the conditions for UNOSOM peace support. The issuing of an arrest warrant for Aideed on 17 June by the special representative of the Secretary General (SRSG) not only further skewed the mission toward Aideed, but alienated the Somalis. The Somali perception of UNOSOM II and of the United States critically changed after the 12 July US QRF raid on Aideed’s C2 center, which failed to capture Aideed but caused dozens of Somali civilian casualties.91 Thereafter, the USC/SNA became visibly militant and started to target American soldiers, attracting clan-­based support. UNOSOM II’s military operations escalated in response. The US involvement not only gave a strong American orientation to the UN mission but also compromised the unity of the UNOSOM II command. As already noted, US Special Forces in Somalia were under independent US command, and the deputy UN force Commander/Commander of US forces in Somalia was only informed of the rangers’ activities. The Quick Reaction Force, too, was under separate US command, although the dual role of the deputy force commander as Commander of US forces had been expected to assure coordination of operations. The military and civilian activities of UNOSOM II, thus, were not well coordinated under its political leadership, which had serious implications for the effectiveness of operations. In addition, US forces in the field operated with many limitations. For instance, Jonathan Howe has argued that the Special Forces were not sent in early enough to capture Aideed expeditiously.92 Also critical was the lack of intelligence capabilities, most of which had been withdrawn with UNITAF. The material needs of the field, such as tanks, also went largely unheeded, given that Washington feared congressional backlash over escalating military operations in Somalia.93 The coordination, supply and logistical difficulties culminated in the costly 3 October Army ranger raid. This dramatic incident exposed the inherent dangers of the Somalia mission and led troop-­contributing countries to reassess the nature of their support. By late 1993, the ineffectiveness of UNOSOM II was evident, and the UN effort to bring Aideed to justice was called off and its peace enforcement functions dropped:94 although the US sent in reinforcements, its forces ceased their

Somalia   79 peace-­enforcement functions and withdrew in March 1994. UNOSOM II also abandoned its mission in the capital, allowing the militias to rearm.95 UNOSOM II was still formally committed to its mandate to assist political reconciliation and building of democratic institutions in Somalia, but it failed in this area as well, with Aideed’s USC/SNA accusing the UN of siding with Ali Mahdi’s Group of 12 and excluding it from the reconciliation process.96 By mid-­1994, UNOSOM II, having lost logistical support from the US forces as well as participation of the European contingents which withdrew following the US departure, was confined to its camps and incapable of enforcing security as warfare returned. Given the dim prospect of a lasting peace, the UN Security Council decided to terminate the mission in May 1995.

Support From the standpoint of the use of force and application of international law in relation to humanitarian crises, the UNITAF and UNOSOM II operations were unprecedented. The UN Security Council was nevertheless unanimous in authorizing them, an indication that humanitarian concerns had come to override the previously cardinal rule of non-­interference. The eventual loss of support for UNOSOM II resulted not from principles but from poor performance. Especially in the United States, the prevailing view was that there were no interests beyond the humanitarian that could justify the mounting costs of the operation. Although UN credibility, for the sake of which the military escalation had initially been made, was at stake, that alone did not provide sufficient reason to overcome the reluctance for further costly engagement. UNITAF The Bush administration’s decision to deploy UNITAF was internationally and domestically well received on humanitarian grounds. The UN Security Council unanimously supported the US intervention. The representative of France specifically argued that UNSCR 794 established the “right to humanitarian assistance.”97 Some Security Council members endorsed UNITAF as a step toward strengthening post-­Cold War security management by the UN.98 Some voices called for UN Security Council oversight of the US operation.99 China and India cautiously advanced the opinion that intervention could be justified given the “exceptional” or “unique” circumstances of the lack of government in Somalia, but at the same time indicated reservations over the “precedent” it would set.100 Theirs was clearly a minority view, however, and did not prevent these countries from supporting the resolution, confirming the centrality of the humanitarian rationale behind Security Council support.

80   Somalia In the United States, congressional support was tentative. Bush’s decision to intervene received bipartisan support from the Congress on humanitarian grounds, with congressional leaders reacting positively to the decision.101 However, no hearings had been held on the intervention decision prior to it, and subsequent debates in Congress showed support to be predicated on the limited mandate of the mission, i.e., that the operation would be strictly humanitarian and short term as Bush had proposed. When the Senate retrospectively authorized UNITAF on 4 February 1993, it adopted the narrow definition of the intervention, limiting it to a short-­term and strictly humanitarian operation and making no reference to the upcoming UN mission or to US participation therein. It also endorsed a swift US withdrawal.102 The American public supported UNITAF and its humanitarian purpose. A poll taken immediately after Bush’s address to the nation in December 1992 showed that 81 percent of the public supported the operation “to make sure food gets to the people there,” while 70 percent viewed the operation worthwhile even if there were American casualties.103 However, there was not a substantial support (44 percent) from the public for long-­term US involvement which would last until peace was established in Somalia.104 In January 1993, 41 percent indicated support for a US role in disarmament, a figure that dropped to 22 percent in September.105 UNOSOM II Initial support UNOSOM II attracted support both internationally and in the United States until the situation deteriorated and the overall effectiveness of the mission decreased. UNSCR 814 (1993), which established the mission, was unanimously adopted, with the Security Council deferring to the US proposal. Support for the expanded UN mandate was based on the recognized need for a long-­term solution to Somalia’s humanitarian crisis. There was broad support, too, for creating a strong UN capable of dealing with civil wars and failed states.106 The unanimous support in the Security Council extended to the more controversial task of disarmament, covering all of Somalia.107 The question of infringement of Somali sovereignty was again raised by China, Djibouti and Cape Verde, which stressed the lack of an effective government in Somalia.108 Again, this was a minority view in the Security Council, with these countries supporting the resolution despite their concerns. Domestic US public opinion supported UNOSOM II, even though this support was not broad-­based due to UNOSOM II’s expansive mandate and the controversial question of US participation. Support was based upon

Somalia   81 UNOSOM II’s humanitarian and security missions and their long-­term goals of promoting peace, democracy and reconstruction.109 Proponents also claimed the need to uphold UN credibility and recognized US accountability in seeing to the successful end of the mission.110 On 24 May 1993, the House of Representatives passed its version of the Senate Joint Resolution authorizing the use of US forces in Somalia. The House version included authorization for US participation in UNOSOM II for up to a year and retroactively authorized the UNITAF operation. However, the resolution passed only by a narrow margin of 64 votes, 243 to 179, and even then after several months of heated debates.111 During the deliberations, the House Subcommittee on Africa passed the resolution along party lines. In the House Foreign Affairs Committee, the resolution met staunch opposition from the Republicans, who argued that no vital national interests were at stake justifying US participation or long-­ term commitment in UNOSOM II; it passed by a mere one-­vote margin. The Senate did not even debate the House version of the resolution because Senate majority leader George Mitchell would not allow it.112 Opposition to involvement in Somalia in both houses was to gain ground as the performance of UNOSOM II came increasingly into question. Loss of support As noted earlier, UNSCR 837 (1993), which decided to bring to justice those responsible for the 5 June 1993 attack on UNOSOM II personnel, was adopted unanimously on the grounds that it was consistent with the UN goal in Somalia and necessary for upholding UN credibility and deterring future attacks on UN troops. The UN Security Council also unanimously backed subsequent UN and US military actions, citing the overall purposes of UNOSOM II. As the violence in Mogadishu escalated in summer 1993, however, the troop-­contributing states started to doubt the nature of the UNOSOM II mission, even though the Security Council continued to express its public support.113 When, in mid-­July, bombing raids in Mogadishu killed more than 50 Somali civilians but failed to capture Aideed, Italian Foreign Minister Fabio Fabbri requested “a cooling off period, the suspension of combat operations, a resumption of dialogue and a call for disarmament.”114 The national contingents participating in UNOSOM II increasingly took orders from their own capitals rather than from the UNOSOM II Commander. After images of the war in the capital were televised, international financial support for UNOSOM’s humanitarian program dropped significantly. The deterioration of support was most profound in the United States. The hunt for Aideed was initially accepted, albeit reluctantly, by UN supporters in Congress, who hoped that pursuing him would resolve the tension in Somalia and facilitate political reconciliation.115 Again, these

82   Somalia proponents justified their support by citing US responsibility to uphold UN credibility.116 Some legislators noted that failure in Somalia would harm “U.S. leadership, prestige, credibility and national self-­respect.”117 Nevertheless, as violence escalated in Mogadishu and US casualties increased from August onward, doubts over the US role in Somalia dominated Congress. On 9 September, the Senate passed by a vote of 90 to seven a non-­binding resolution urging the President to report to Congress by 15 October on the administration’s goals in Somalia and to seek congressional authorization by 15 November for continuation of the mission. On 28 September, an identical measure was adopted in the House by a vote of 406 to 26. The opposition was not convinced of the “security rationale”118 for UN peacekeeping, indicating that some congressional leaders did not think US security interests were involved in the multilateral peacekeeping mission. Senator Daniel R. Coats (Republican from Indiana) remarked: “When our interests are clear, thousands of casualties may not be too high a price to pay, but when our goals are uncertain, one death is too many.”119 After the 3 October incident and the horrific televised images of Somalis dragging dead US soldiers through the Mogadishu streets, the reaction in Congress was immediate and determined: there would be no more support for a US role in Somalia. Congress successfully set a deadline of 31 March 1994 for the termination of US support for the UN mission. Although Congress accepted Clinton’s decision to avoid an immediate withdrawal and to augment the US troop presence before withdrawal took place, the administration conceded to hard-­line opposition by agreeing to drop its support for the UN peace-­enforcement and nation-­building mandate, thus limiting US involvement to strictly humanitarian tasks. Congress also succeeded in limiting US support for UN peacekeeping by canceling a range of planned payments to the UN Secretariat and by demanding that the US share of peacekeeping budget be lowered from 31.7 to 25 percent.120 Congressional criticism was directed mostly against specific administration policies regarding Somalia and centered on the lack of clear goals and the “open-­endedness” of the US commitment in the country.121 “Command and control,” i.e., the placement of US soldiers under UN command, and congressional authorization pursuant to the War Powers Act, were other issues taken up by critics. However, the additional measures adopted by Congress to bar US support for UN peacekeeping in general indicate that opposition was also directed more broadly against the administration’s policy of “assertive multilateralism” and its mismanaged implementation of that policy in Somalia.122 The core issue was US national interest and how it related to UN peacekeeping, or to the US role in the post-­Cold War world. Amid the controversy, the argument made with great energy in initiating the intervention—that active US participation was necessary to uphold a credible UN—virtually vanished;

Somalia   83 congressional leaders in general were more concerned about the costs of continuing the US military in the operation. The reaction of the US public, in contrast, appeared to be much more nuanced. Americans generally looked favorably upon UN peacekeeping and on the idea of humanitarian intervention to ameliorate civilian suffering. In February 1994, a month before the planned US withdrawal, 80 percent of those polled favored the idea of UN peacekeeping. More than 60 percent favored sending UN peacekeeping forces to end civil wars, and more than 80 percent favored doing so to stop atrocities.123 The majority also supported US participation in these operations even if there were US casualties. Shortly after the 3 October incident, 71 percent still supported contributing US troops to UN peacekeeping operations.124 These findings contradict Congressional leaders’ claim that the American public was opposed to UN peace operations, the placement of US troops under UN command and US casualties. Even in the specific case of Somalia, the public response to US casualties was less reactive than the response of Congress would suggest. The fatalities by themselves did not cause the public to demand US withdrawal, as Congress assumed they would, because the majority had already wanted the United States to withdraw at some point, if not immediately, and not wait until the country was fully stabilized.125 Even after the fatalities, the percentage of those who did not want the United States to withdraw until the situation had been stabilized (27 percent) was almost equal to that wanting immediate withdrawal (28 percent). Forty-­three percent supported the Clinton compromise according to which the United States would increase its presence in the short run and withdraw in six months. Even though public opinion in the United States was thus more tolerant of UN operations than Congress was, there are grounds for concluding that US support for UNOSOM II could not have been sustained, particularly had the mission become prolonged. Majority support never existed for a long-­term US involvement in Somalia once famine had been averted.126 The majority did not want the United States to become involved in the disarmament operation, the activity UNOSOM II so strongly emphasized. A poll registered only 22 percent support for US troop participation in the disarming of Somali militias.127

Conclusion The radical shift from humanitarian peace enforcement to disengagement demonstrated in the Somalia intervention reflects the strong impact of legitimacy, which began to break down as the performance of the humanitarian peace enforcement mission deteriorated. The two UN-­authorized operations in Somalia were launched out of strong ethical concerns—the commitment to ending starvation and eliminating its causes through nation-­building—and out of the intent to

84   Somalia strengthen the UN capacity to deal with post-­Cold War conflicts. These good intentions were initially accompanied by critically flawed perceptions of the cost-­effectiveness of the intervention. Those optimistic perceptions, especially for UNITAF, gave such impetus to the idea of intervening in Somalia that questions of more serious strategic interests were pushed aside. There was both international and domestic support for the humanitarian mission and the backing of UN peace operations, indicating a new level of permissibility for intervention based upon humanitarian concerns. But support—the condition for which was the cost-­effectiveness of the mission—quickly dissipated as the performance of the mission deteriorated. The shaky bases of UNOSOM II’s ambitious and long-­term nation-­building operations went largely unnoticed until the strategic failures that followed on the heels of military escalation. As performance suffered and support declined, the intervening parties decided to abandon the mission, even if withdrawal risked delegitimating the idea of UN multidimensional peacekeeping. Once support was lost, there was no altering of the bases of intervention, as occurred in Bosnia, where strategic reputational interests added a new dimension to the operation. In Somalia, the loss of support led only to the breakdown of legitimacy. There arose an enduring sense that “nation-­building” was not a justifiable operation, and that such operations should not be repeated in the future.

5 Rwanda Failure to stop genocide

In 1994, genocide in Rwanda claimed more than 800,000 lives, and yet— unlike in the cases examined earlier in this book, where armed force was used to contain a crisis or stop violence—the international community failed to take effective action. The initial response by the United Nations to the outbreak of violence was to extract most of the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR I), which had been stationed in the country since 1993 to oversee implementation of the Arusha Accords (or Arusha Peace Agreement) ending the war that had been fought between Rwanda and the Uganda-­based Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF ) since 1990. Later, when the genocide was recognized, an expanded peacekeeping force was belatedly authorized, but ultimately not implemented. Only after nearly three months of genocidal rampage was there an intervention by a UN-­sanctioned multinational force organized by France, but even that was to only partial effect. This chapter examines the international failure to halt genocide through analyzing the bases, performance and support of intervention (or non-­intervention) in Rwanda. Initially, UN member states failed to recognize that genocide was taking place. Once it was ascertained that genocide was taking place, potent ethical bases were cited, albeit belatedly, for actions to stop it, including the above-­mentioned French-­led multinational force. The eventual UN authorizations of the expanded UN force and French intervention were finally prompted by the moral significance of genocide as defined in the 1948 Genocide Convention. Other recent UN deployments to address humanitarian crises (in places such as Bosnia and Somalia) played an important role as well, reminding UN member states that Rwanda merited similar international engagement. The UN and its key members had realized, all too tardily, that they were politically accountable to take action, as well as that the situation was so appalling as to transcend questions about the “permissibility” of intervention. However, reluctance on the part of the major powers to intervene caused further delay, ultimately leading to failure to implement the UN decision in time. This reluctance stemmed largely from the lack of viable power-­political bases, or in other words strategic reasons, for the use of

86   Rwanda force in Rwanda; indeed, the power-­political bases the major powers invoked were negative. The United States, in particular, expressed doubts over the cost and effectiveness of taking military action against genocide. Given the fresh memory of the debacle in Somalia, the perception that another intervention in Africa would likewise fail was strong, and there was reluctance to risk another failure and further damage to UN authority. Only France found sufficient power-­political, in addition to humanitarian, incentives to intervene. The most important of these incentives was the interest in defusing accusations of French complicity in the genocide through its past involvement with ethno-­nationalists in Rwanda. After a brief discussion of the international reaction to the Rwanda genocide, the following sections will review the ethical and power-­political bases of international action/inaction. The formal ethical bases for action included humanitarian concerns, and the de facto bases a focus on international interests in multilateral security. However, unlike with past cases, in Rwanda, these bases were disconnected from discussion of military action. The de facto ethical interest for inaction was the protection of UN authority—the avoidance of the failure of another, sure-­to-be-­complex operation by not intervening. The formal power-­political bases for inaction included the lack of strategic or political interests for most of the Western nations, with the exception of France. The more important de facto power-­political basis, too, was a negative one: the impact of the failed Somalia mission, which had greatly discouraged the UN’s security role. As regards performance, the Rwanda case appallingly proved that belated activism can do little to save lives. In terms of support, the lack of a strategic stake in Rwanda for most Western nations led to a failure of norm-­based shows of support to translate into more tangible forms.

Genocide in Rwanda and the international response What would ultimately be recognized as genocide in Rwanda began with the downing on 6 April 1994 of an airplane carrying Rwandan President Juvenal Habyarimana and Burundi President Cyprien Ntaryamira. The event precipitated organized violence against Rwandan Tutsis by the Hutu­based Rwandan state authorities, who sought to wipe out the Tutsi population base as a way of preventing implementation of the interethnic power-­sharing arrangement included in the 1993 Arusha Peace Agreement. The 800,000 civilian victims were slaughtered for no other reason than that they were ethnic Tutsi; Hutus with moderate political beliefs were also killed. The killings were conducted mainly by members of militias known as the interahamwe or impuzamgambi, which were associated with the Hutu-­based ruling party, the Mouvement Révolutionnaire National pour le Développment (MRND), and the far-­extremist Coalition pour la Défense de la République (CDR), respectively.1

Rwanda   87 During the genocide, civil war broke out between the Tutsi-­based rebel group RPF and the self-­proclaimed ethno-­extremist interim government of Rwanda. The genocide was halted only when the RPF emerged victorious. The fighting drove two million Hutu civilian refugees into neighboring Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo) and Tanzania. It was an exodus that was more-­or-less orchestrated, however, by the retreating Armed Forces of Rwanda (FAR) and by the interahamwe militia, which forced Hutu civilians to flee before the RPF arrived on the scene in order to deprive the latter of control over the country’s majority population. Apparently oblivious to the distinction between genocide and civil war, the United Nations initially responded to the violence in Rwanda by attempting to arrange a new cease-­fire between the interim government and the RPF.2 It was not long, however, before the UN recognized that its efforts were failing and instead shifted focus to withdrawing UNAMIR I in the face of deteriorating security. On 14 April, the Belgian government decided to withdraw its contingent from UNAMIR I after ten Belgian peacekeepers on duty to protect the opposition prime minister were kidnapped, tortured and brutally murdered by Hutu extremists. A UN decision soon afterward on 21 April reduced UNAMIR I to a symbolic presence of about 270. Yet the continued slaughter of civilians compelled the UN Secretary General to recommend a more proactive approach. An initiative by the Secretary General and non-­permanent Security Council members led to a UN decision on 17 May to expand UNAMIR to a force level of 5,500. The new UNAMIR II was charged with establishing secure humanitarian areas for civilians, providing security and support for the delivery of humanitarian supplies and continuing its efforts to negotiate a cease-­fire, but without the cover of UN Charter Chapter VII.3 The deployment of UNAMIR II was authorized by the Security Council on 8 June.4 The actual deployment, however, did not proceed, despite the 5,500 troops offered by African nations by 10 May. In mid-­June, UNAMIR II had only 503 troops on the ground. Seeing the delay, France offered to intervene as a stopgap measure. Its “Operation Turquoise,” conducted with the participation of Senegal, was authorized under UN Charter Chapter VII to “maintain a presence pending the arrival of the expanded UNAMIR” and to contribute to the security and protection of displaced persons, refugees and civilians in danger in Rwanda.5 By 2 July, the French force had established control in the southwest over more than one-­fifth of Rwandan territory, proclaiming it a “safe humanitarian zone.” On 29 July, the force began its withdrawal and completed it by 21 August, handing over the humanitarian safe zone to the new Tutsi government of Rwanda. Ironically, it was only after the civil war had ended that the full complement of 5,500 troops was deployed under UNAMIR II. However, the new Tutsi-­based Rwandan government favored UNAMIR’s departure, and the UN Security Council agreed to end the mission on 8 March 1996.6

88   Rwanda Formal ethical bases Humanitarian concerns over escalating tension and violence in Rwanda during summer 1994 formed the basis of efforts to intervene in the crisis, although they came too late and in the end proved futile. There had been sufficient information and warning that genocide might take place in Rwanda unless effective action was taken. As early as August 1993, specialist and intelligence reports indicated the genocidal tendencies of the Rwandan authorities and ethno-­extremists. The first such report was made by the special rapporteur on extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary executions for the UN Commission on Human Rights on 11 August 1993, a mere week after the signing of the Arusha Peace Agreement. Contrary to the general expectation that the agreement would enable a peaceful transition to power-­sharing between the Hutus and the Rwandan Tutsis/RPF, the report clearly pointed to evidence of serious ethnic-­based human rights violations, and, citing the Genocide Convention, suggested that they amounted to genocide.7 UNAMIR I, too, held persuasive evidence of systematic planning and preparations for genocide by early 1994. On 11 January, the UNAMIR Field Commander General Romeo Dallaire, and Special Representative of the UN Secretary General Roger Booh-­Booh, communicated to the UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations (UNDPKO) information regarding the registration of all Tutsi in Kigali for extermination, training by the interahamwe of 1,700 men in FAR camps in Kigali, the existence of a weapons cache with at least 135 weapons to be distributed quickly and a plan for the murder of Belgian soldiers to provoke the withdrawal of the Belgian battalion.8 Dallaire further told the UNDPKO that he intended to take action, including seizing arms from the cache and protecting the informant. Ultimately, however, the United Nations PKO headquarters authorized none of these actions.9 Nevertheless, during January and February, further evidence of weapons distribution, death squad target lists and plans for civil unrest and demonstrations prompted the force commander to repeatedly urge deterrent operations against confirmed arms caches to prevent “catastrophic consequences.”10 That extremists had a careful plan to “eliminate the Tutsi” was open knowledge in diplomatic circles in Kigali during the early months of 1994. The UNAMIR force commander himself briefed the US, French and Belgian ambassadors on 13 January on weapons distribution, death squads and civil militias, target lists, plans to incite violence against Belgian troops, etc. The Belgian ambassador immediately passed the information to Brussels. On 17 January, Booh-­Booh informed diplomats in Kigali that the UN had proof of the existence of “training camps for many recruits [as interahamwe].”11 In mid-­February, target lists of Tutsi to be eliminated started to circulate in diplomatic circles in Kigali.12

Rwanda   89 The major countries, especially the United States, France and Belgium, also possessed individual embassy and intelligence reports on the plans for genocide.13 Belgian intelligence predicted in mid-­January that the interahamwe might attack UNAMIR, particularly its Belgian soldiers.14 France, which had extensive military and political ties with Rwandan authorities, had known of the risks of genocide as early as 199015 and, according to Georges Martres, the French ambassador in Kigali, had foreseen it by October 1993.16 At the end of January 1994, a US government intelligence analyst told Human Rights Watch that if conflict was renewed in Rwanda, the worst-­case scenario would involve the deaths of half a million people.17 In mid-­February, the US State Department reported the existence of death squads.18 Alarmed by these developments, Belgium began campaigning in late February to alert the UN Security Council and proposed strengthening the UNAMIR mandate in Rwanda to prevent conditions from deteriorating, expressly citing the risk of “genocide”19 and warning that “public opinion would never tolerate having Belgian peacekeepers remain passive witnesses” to it.20 Initial rejection of the proposal by the United States and the United Kingdom did not daunt Belgian efforts. On March 22, in a discussion with French and US representatives, Belgium proposed again a shorter but strengthened and more flexible mandate for UNAMIR.21 The call was joined by the UNAMIR force commander, who cited the ongoing distribution of arms to militia members, training of militia personnel and assassinations, and demanded reinforcements of 150 well-­trained troops and heavy weapons to control violence and defend the airport. On 5 April, the UN Security Council adopted UNSCR 909 (1994), which extended UNAMIR—but for less than four months. The extension of the mandate stipulated nothing about enforcement despite repeated requests from the field and the Belgian government. The following day, the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi were killed and the genocide began. Belgium was again quick to respond. As soon as the airplane was downed, Belgian Foreign Minister Willy Claes reiterated his government’s earlier warning, citing the possibility of mass civilian murder and proposing the protection of foreigners by UNAMIR. The following day, Belgium further proposed the protection of Rwandan civilians. On 8 April, the UNAMIR force commander informed New York of “the appearance of a very well planned, organized, deliberate and conducted campaign of terror initiated principally by the presidential guard since the morning after the death of the head of state . . . not only against the opposition leadership but . . . against particular ethnic groups”22 (upper case in original), going on to say that “UNAMIR camps have sheltered civilians terrified by the ruthless campaign of ethnic cleansing and terror.”23 The US government certainly knew “within ten to fourteen days” of the 6 April downing of the airplane

90   Rwanda that a “premeditated, carefully planned” mass slaughter “was being executed according to plan with the full connivance of the then-­Rwandan government.”24 But the ethnic-­based violence was not reported by any of the major states, and the 7 April statement of the President of the UN Security Council merely indicated the Council’s awareness of many civilian deaths in Rwanda, placing the responsibility for them and the murder of the Belgian peacekeepers on “the Rwandese security forces and military and paramilitary units.”25 On 13 April, Nigeria and non-­aligned countries circulated a draft resolution in the UN Security Council calling for the authorization of a broader mandate for UNAMIR and expressing “shock” over the deaths of “thousands of innocent civilians,” but this was not formally presented, as there was no support from the major capitals. On 21 April, the UN Security Council issued its resolution declaring the withdrawal of most of UNAMIR. However, as it became increasingly clear that the killings perpetrated in Rwanda were large scale and ethnically motivated, the UN Secretary General shifted position at the end of April and started to advocate a more active stance toward the crisis. Smaller states in the UN Security Council, such as the Czech Republic, New Zealand, Spain and Argentina, likewise started to act on their own instead of leaving the matter to the UN Secretariat and major states. Only then did the UN Security Council move to recognize the gravity of the event. The most profound basis of that recognition was the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, which defines genocide as a punishable crime. Article II provides that any act “committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such” is “genocide,”26 and states that genocide, “whether committed in time of peace or in time of war, is a crime under international law” which the ratifying states must “undertake to prevent and punish.”27 The systematic and intentional nature of the ethnic killings in Rwanda, where Tutsi individuals were targeted with the intent of eliminating or destroying them as an ethnic group, closely fit the definition of genocide, and thus signatories to the convention were obligated to identify these killings as a crime, and to prevent and suppress them as well as to punish those responsible. At the end of April, the UN Secretariat publicly acknowledged the ethnic targeting of civilians on a mass scale and recognized it to be quite separate from the civil war that was simultaneously taking place between the interim government and the RPF. In his letter of 29 April to the UN Security Council, the UN Secretary General reported that as many as 200,000 people might have died since the beginning of April, although without directly using the term “genocide.” He recommended a reversal of the decision to reduce the force level and urged the Council to consider “what action, including forceful action, it could take, or could authorize Member States to take in order to restore law and order.”28 The Secretary General’s

Rwanda   91 report followed a call for more resources from the UNAMIR force commander during the last week of April, in which he claimed that “[U]nless the international community acts, it may find it is unable to defend itself against accusations of doing nothing to stop genocide.”29 The UN Security Council President’s statement the next day declined to respond to the Secretary General’s letter. However, it acknowledged for the first time that killings had occurred, “especially in areas under the control of members or supporters of the armed forces of the interim Government of Rwanda.”30 It further recognized, without using the term “genocide,” that “the killing of members of an ethnic group with the intention of destroying such a group in whole or in part constitutes a crime punish­ able under international law.”31 From then on, UN member states increasingly cited the Genocide Convention and stressed the need and obligation to address the humanitarian crisis in Rwanda. The smaller states in the Security Council, especially, urged the Council to consider a peace enforcement mission in Rwanda, in the recognition that the killings constituted genocide. The UN Secretary General’s proposal to expand UNAMIR gained support from the United States—albeit with many conditions—and from other permanent members on the basis of “the unabated hostilities and killings.”32 On 16 May, French Foreign Minister Alain Juppé proclaimed the killings in Rwanda “genocide”—the first from a permanent Security Council member country to do so.33 The UN Security Council’s decision to create UNAMIR II on 17 May was based on the recognition that genocide was taking place; although the resolution, UNSCR 918 (1994), did not specifically use the term, it stated surprisingly clearly, given the Council’s past reticence, that “the killing of members of an ethnic group with the intention of destroying such a group, in whole or in part, constitutes a crime punishable under international law.”34 The 31 May report of the UN Secretary General determined for the first time the occurrence of “genocide.”35 Based on this report, UNSCR 925 (1994), which authorized the deployment of UNAMIR II, noted “with the gravest concern the reports indicating that acts of genocide have occurred in Rwanda.”36 Although recognition of genocide by the UN Security Council was thus significant in the decision to expand UNAMIR, an added factor was that UN actions in Rwanda, with or without direct reference to the Genocide Convention, were considered both justifiable and even required given past UN involvement in other humanitarian crises. The Bosnian case had particularly strong relevance to the Genocide Convention, as exemplified in the 1993 International Court of Justice ruling recognizing the responsibility of the Serbian authorities to prevent and stop genocide by the Bosnian Serbs. Thus, the failure of the UN member states to act in Rwanda led to the Secretary General’s widely reported proclamation that the situation was “a scandal.” African states also demanded UN action and later

92   Rwanda offered troops to UNAMIR II, recognizing that Rwanda “has security and humanitarian implications which are clearly of universal concern.”37 But implementation of UNAMIR II was much delayed, and so France’s Operation Turquoise was organized in part in response to domestic public opinion and humanitarian pressure—although the timing of the decision and several ambiguities in the operational concept indicate the existence of other interests, as will be discussed below. By early May, French public opinion took it for granted that genocide had occurred. Active media and NGO lobbying, including by Doctors Without Borders,38 led Foreign Minister Juppé to declare that the killings in Rwanda specifically constituted “genocide.”39 What was more important, however, was the public denunciation of the genocide accompanied by guilt over the past French role in arming and training the FAR and extremists.40 As the realization spread that the perpetrators of genocide were former French protégés there was a strong public reaction, a reaction that attested to the moral significance of the Genocide Convention. It would be highly problematic if the French government were to become known as an accomplice to genocide. By mid-­June, it had become difficult for the French authorities to be silent about the past or ignore the present situation.41 Thus President François Mitterrand made the decision to conduct a humanitarian operation in Rwanda. Juppé, himself active in promoting the right to humanitarian intervention as exemplified by his efforts concerning Bosnia, defended the decision in a humanitarian context.42 In the UN Security Council, France explained the strictly humanitarian and impartial nature of the operation.43 The Security Council, given the delay in organizing UNAMIR II, endorsed the French decision on humanitarian grounds, although not unanimously.44 In the French Parliament, Prime Minister Édouard Balladur sought to counter the impression that Operation Turquoise was traditional French involvement in Africa in modern disguise; he emphasized the multilateral and humanitarian nature of the operation as being in line with other UN practices in the 1990s. He justified the intervention on the basis that, among other factors, the operation would be authorized by the UN, would have a clear time limit, and would be strictly humanitarian with no explicit military tasks.45 In sum, the UN recognized the humanitarian imperative to intervene, acknowledging the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention and its duty to do so in the face of a clear case of genocide—although its decisions based on this imperative were not implemented. De facto ethical bases Following the pattern established in Bosnia, Somalia and elsewhere since the 1990s, in Rwanda, too, multilateral security—the idea that internal

Rwanda   93 situations (such as humanitarian crises) were linked to international peace—was a relevant concern. However, unlike in other cases, a direct link was not established between the use of armed force and multilateral security, despite the obviously grave nature of the humanitarian crisis. UNSCR 918 (1994), which authorized and expanded UNAMIR, determined that “the situation in Rwanda constitutes a threat to peace and security in the region” and imposed, under UN Charter Chapter VII, an arms embargo against Rwanda. However, Chapter VII did not apply to the UNAMIR II mandate stipulated in the same resolution.46 The role of the force vis-­à-vis genocide was also kept vague. UNSCR 925 (1994), which deployed UNAMIR II, indirectly mentioned genocide and the Genocide Convention as the bases of its action, and expressed the Council’s “outrage that the perpetrators of these killings have been able to operate and continue operating within Rwanda with impunity.”47 However, the resolution mentioned no explicit link between international humanitarian law and international peace, nor was the deployment authorization based on Charter Chapter VII. Another de facto ethical basis was a negative one, i.e., the wariness felt especially among UN Security Council permanent members regarding further erosion of UN authority. Unlike in Liberia or Somalia, where global and regional powers had found it in their interest to develop peacekeeping as a multilateral security mechanism, in Rwanda no such interest was recognized. On the contrary, UN peacekeeping was perceived by the major powers to have been overused, and the tendency was for them to want to restrict its use, particularly after the Somalia experience.48 The failure in Somalia, and increasingly the situation then unfolding in Bosnia, was damaging the reputation of the world body, and it was seriously feared that another UN failure in intervention would be detrimental to its authority. Concern over the danger that the UN would again be called into a difficult peace enforcement mission, as in Somalia, was high in the UN Secretariat. The concern was only intensified by the fact that in contrast to Somalia, there was no authority in Rwanda for the UN to conduct peace enforcement.49 The United States in particular believed that a hasty UN intervention in the complex Rwandan civil war would bring failure, as in Somalia.50 Formal power-­political bases The first among the formal power-­political bases of international inaction in Rwanda was the lack of strategic and security interests. Like Somalia, Rwanda was not a country with significant security or strategic interest for the major powers. Even though the Rwandan crisis was a threat to regional stability, particularly to Zaire and Burundi, this aspect of the situation was of relatively little concern to key UN member states. The lack of vital national interests in Central Africa was the key factor explaining the position of the United States,51 which maintained a

94   Rwanda hands-­off policy even after the confirmation of genocide. The reasons for US unwillingness to support a larger UN peacekeeping force in Rwanda were clearly cost-­related. The United States (like the United Kingdom) was worried about financial costs.52 In addition, the administration opposed the dispatch of more UN peacekeepers because it “did not want to have to extract them later,”53 a reference to the perceived likelihood that the mission would be high-­risk; the United States also feared it would be asked to provide the greatest share of any intervention force.54 The tardiness of the United States in acknowledging the Rwandan situation as genocide had roots in its reluctance to assume such responsibilities.55 Rwanda was not a priority even for Belgium and France, despite their colonial and linguistic ties to the country. Belgium, which had been Rwanda’s colonial patron until the country’s independence in 1962, had some interest in reviving some of its ties there. Belgium’s decision to provide the largest Western contingent in UNAMIR I reflected to a degree both such interests and its colonial-­historical ties with Rwanda.56 The interests, however, were at most marginal; participation in UNAMIR was seen also as a convenient justification for withdrawing troops from Somalia, following on the heels of the United States.57 After 1990, Belgium’s postcolonial status in Rwanda was supplanted by France, which continued to assist the Habyarimana regime.58 Nevertheless, Rwanda and Central Africa were relatively inconsequential even for France. The Gulf War, the European Union, Bosnia, Serbia, even Somalia, were more important issues for the Mitterrand presidency, as were domestic problems concerning “cohabitation” with conservatives in the cabinet.59 Rwanda did, however, have some weight in terms of linguistic politics, or in other words French hopes of maintaining a Francophone linguistic sphere of influence in Africa. Throughout the postcolonial era France sought to expand its sphere of influence in the former Belgian colonies of Central Africa, and during the 1970s it formed close relations with Habyarimana’s regime, including through the signing of a 1974 military cooperation treaty. For Paris, Rwanda and Zaire were the keys to containing Anglophone influence in Central Africa. In the years immediately preceding the genocide, the French objective in Rwanda had been preservation of the Francophone sphere and prevention of an RPF victory.60 In 1990 and 1993 France intervened to prop up the Habyariamana regime when the RPF launched incursions from neighboring Uganda. In both cases, French paramilitaries and military planners assisted the FAR to repel RPF advances. French perceptions of the RPF were entirely shaped by the linguistic factor: the RPF was an Anglophone organization led by an English-­educated leader with the support of Uganda that was attacking a French client state.61 Pursuing the same logic, the French supported FAR during 1990 and 1994. According to a French parliamentary inquiry into the French role in

Rwanda   95 the Rwandan genocide, while “France did not participate in battle,” France nevertheless “on the ground was extremely close to the Rwandan armed forces.”62 French military advisors participated in the making of battle plans and assisted the general staff and sector commanders. From 1990 to March 1994, France also provided arms to FAR, whose size increased during the same period from 6,000 to 35,000. Although there is no official French statement on the matter, arms deliveries were reportedly continued into June 1994.63 The French also discreetly backed the extremist CDR in various ways.64 After 1990, France pursued a policy of not recognizing the internal ethnic war in Rwanda, focusing instead on the “external Ugandan threat” (as it termed the RPF invasion) to justify its assistance to the Habyarimana regime. This was done in full knowledge of the explosive nature of ethnic tensions, the problematic nature of Habyarimana’s regime and predictions that French assistance might be given to the wrong cause.65 De facto power-­political bases By far the most important basis of international inaction in the face of genocide in Rwanda was the debacle in Somalia. In the immediate aftermath of that failure, it was difficult for the UN Security Council to justify another risky, costly humanitarian intervention. The predominant de facto power-­political interest, thus, was negative: to discourage further use of UN peacekeeping and humanitarian intervention. Reluctance toward intervention in Rwanda was shared among the Western democracies, but it was particularly strong in the United States, where the perception that UN peacekeeping was dangerously overused had prompted the Clinton administration to review its conditions for supporting UN peacekeeping. Rwanda presented the first test case for the resulting less proactive approach to US multilateral engagement that was spelled out in Presidential Decision Directive (PDD) 25.66 Born out of the Somalia experience, PDD 25 not only set conditions for US support for and participation in UN peacekeeping under UN Charter Chapter VI and Chapter VII, but also emphasized the need to scrutinize the practicability of proposed missions regardless of whether they would receive US support and called for attention to an achievable plan with a clear ending point, including concrete political solutions. The administration accordingly determined to ask the UN to set a timetable as well as specific objectives each time it authorized a mission. It also indicated its expectation that the UN would ensure sufficient troop levels and a realistic budget. The Clinton administration did not favor intervention in Rwanda either by the United States or the UN because it did not believe the situation could be handled under the criteria defined by PDD 25. There were neither clear political solutions nor a cease-­fire, and the crisis was internal, posing no apparent threat to peace and security and without relevance to

96   Rwanda US national interests. The expansion of UNAMIR that was proposed by the UN Secretary General likewise appeared to the administration as too murky in purpose and limited in resources to succeed.67 The administration therefore pressured the UN Security Council to postpone the actual deployment of UNAMIR and to require that the Secretary General report to the Council with a more refined concept of the operations, including, among other elements, available resources. Clinton administration officials believed that there would be no support for US military action in Rwanda from Congress, the military or the public.68 The greatest cost of intervention, therefore, was perceived to be political—a “fear of domestic political backlash” resulting from the increasing distrust in the United States of the UN as an organization and peacekeeping as an international project.69 Since Somalia, Congress had been reluctant to endorse any sort of peacekeeping approach, and Rwanda was no exception. The already general tendency of Congress to discount African affairs only intensified after Somalia. In May, Senator Paul Simon (Democrat from Illinois), then chair of the Subcommittee on Africa, and Senator James M. Jeffords (Republican from Vermont) wrote to the White House calling for US/UN intervention in Rwanda, but were told ten days later that the administration believed such an intervention would receive no public support.70 Both houses held hearings in which several lawmakers expressed interest in enhancing the peacekeeping presence in Rwanda,71 but the predominant reasoning in Congress held that there was no “national interest” at stake that could justify US involvement.72 The Pentagon was also against another large peacekeeping operation, particularly after the Somalia disaster.73 It considered the proposed 5,500strong UN force too limited to be effective,74 although this assessment was in direct opposition to that made shortly after the genocide by UNAMIR Force Commander General Dallaire, who argued that with 1,800 additional troops, an appropriate mandate and armored vehicles he could have saved a significant number of lives, if not stopped the killing altogether.75 There were also financial considerations, as UN peacekeeping costs were eating away at an already reduced defense budget.76 The US military subsequently discussed jamming the genocidal hate-­radio broadcasts being made from Zairian territory, but even this option was rejected in view of the risks and costs.77 As to the public, although by June the major media were criticizing US policy in Rwanda, demanding at least UN intervention and US logistical support to stop what was clearly genocide,78 public pressure was much weaker than it had been for Somalia. Thus the administration judged it unwise to follow public demands for action too meekly for fear that another US/UN failure would not be tolerated.79 The open reluctance in Washington was joined at the UN by Belgium’s swift decision to close its participation in the UNAMIR mission after the

Rwanda   97 murder of its peacekeepers. Brussels argued that, given the lack of a cease-­ fire, the existing UNAMIR I arrangement was ineffective and incapable of ensuring the safety of Belgian troops.80 The security rationale for UN peacekeeping was actively downplayed by the Belgian Cabinet as it became evident that the peacekeepers’ deaths were causing a major political crisis.81 France was the only country among the major Western democracies whose political interests were sufficient to motivate intervention in Rwanda. In doing so, France took advantage of the situation to turn the world’s attention away from its traditional pro-­Hutu policy and instead toward its contribution to “humanitarian” rescue. France’s immediate reaction to the April civil war and reports of genocide was to quietly distance itself from the killings and from its past protégés.82 Although the country remained fundamentally pro-­Hutu and pro-­interim government,83 it still had no intention of playing a direct role in the civil war. This was largely an admission that continued support of its past client state was unsustainable, but also reflected the judgment that too proactive a policy would only bring up the politically sensitive question of France’s past involvement with the FAR. Thus, Mitterrand’s response was to “wait and see”:84 in the UN Security Council, France did not press for the “right to humanitarian assistance,” as it had in earlier cases, and, at that time, voted with others to reduce UNAMIR presence. The decision on 15 June to intervene thus represented a significant shift in post-­genocide French policy. The decision presented a new, multilateral, humanitarian rationale of intervention quite different from that traditionally employed by France (i.e., protection of French nationals, intervention by invitation, and fulfillment of treaty obligations).85 The shift was, however, based on factors more suggestive of political maneuvering than purely humanitarian motives: in the transition from a traditional pro-­Hutu policy to a multilateralist policy, Operation Turquoise fundamentally reflected the desire of France to recover and promote its position in world affairs as a morally responsible great power as well as to maintain its participation in the linguistic politics of Francophone Africa. In this context, the operation was intended to demonstrate French intentions and ability to shape events in what it considered to be its sphere of influence. These geopolitical interests explain the timing of the intervention two months after the start of the genocide. By then, the collapse of the FAR had become apparent, and the military situation was not quite so complex. In addition to pressure from French public opinion for action, there was the apprehension that rising concern about the crisis would motivate Anglophone leadership on the continent to seize the initiative in dealing with it. South African President Nelson Mandela’s call for action in Rwanda at the Organization of African Unity (OAU) meeting in Tunis on 13 June86 appeared to be a sign of Anglophone influence extending into

98   Rwanda the French sphere, and it is significant that Mitterrand made the decision to launch Operation Turquoise the following day, on 14 June.87 Turquoise was a demonstration to the ineffective UN Security Council that France was capable of projecting its power in Africa.88 There had been resistance in the UN to French participation in UNAMIR I and II, but Turquoise was conducted under France’s own command and control. It was, above all, a “public relations device.”89 France seized the opportunity to take a moral-­political stand with a humanitarian exercise that would counteract the negative publicity generated by accusations that its past involvement in Rwanda made it accomplice to the genocide.90 Criticism of France’s role in Rwanda from 1990 to 1993 had been quite strong from the media, human rights organizations and academics. In particular, the arming and training of the FAR by French military advisors was an embarrassment to the Mitterrand administration. Thus French officials denied any alleged French “complicity” in the genocide and underlined France’s moral duty to end it.91 Finally, there was a need to prevent the Rwandan crisis from affecting regional stability, especially in northern Zaire.92 An uncontrolled flow of refugees from Rwanda to this area was predicted to be highly destabilizing, due to the similar ethnic compositions of the two. In already politically fragile Zaire, that was a situation to be much feared.

Performance In Rwanda, international inaction had grave consequences. As the UN looked on, having withdrawn most UNAMIR peacekeepers, the genocide continued unabated, resulting in 800,000 deaths. Even after UNAMIR was expanded, the authorized force level of 5,500 was ultimately not fully dispatched until after the genocide had already ended, due to bureaucratic tardiness and the failure of member states to quickly and adequately provide logistical support. In the meantime, UNAMIR lacked troops and adequate equipment, such as armored personnel carriers; APCs could not be sent until the end of June, by which time the genocide had run its course.93 Although the UNAMIR Force Commander, General Dallaire, nevertheless managed to save an estimated 20,000 to 25,000 lives, the small number of troops (some 270) deployed during the genocide precluded large-­scale protection tasks.94 The French-­led Operation Turquoise, although it saved an estimated 10,000 to 13,000 lives, had only limited humanitarian impact in southwestern Rwanda, where it was deployed.95 The operation had clear limits even within the safe humanitarian zone (SHZ). Protection was limited to major towns or large assembly points,96 and Tutsi civilians scattered in small numbers, often hiding in the hills, and could not be rescued, even within the SHZ. The French force, suited more to combat than to humanitarian operations, was occasionally unable to provide the necessary help for

Rwanda   99 smaller groups of Tutsis, such as relocating them in lorries to safer places before they were identified and killed by Hutus. These pitfalls in performance led some to observe that the French intervention allowed genocide to continue for another month in the SHZ.97 An equally serious shortfall was the failure of French forces to disarm those responsible for the genocide as they fled with civilian Hutus. This led to the accusation that the SHZ in fact protected the interhamwe and ensured them safe passage into Zaire,98 where they reasserted themselves in refugee camps. The French operation did manage to stabilize southwestern Rwanda, where 1.2 million were displaced, reducing the outflow of refugees to parts of northern Zaire—a result consistent with French interest. When the forces withdrew, however, there was an additional refugee exodus, mainly of Hutus from the southwest to Bukavu in eastern Zaire. The transition from Operation Turquoise to control by the Rwandan government was marred by difficulties because many of the refugee camps protected by the French contained armed Hutu militia that tried to prevent Hutu civilians from being left under RPF control.99 The Security Council’s initial intention had been to preserve UN authority by not risking another peacekeeping failure, but its handling of the Rwandan crisis ultimately did little to salvage either the authority or the prestige of the UN that had been put on the line by the failures in Somalia, Bosnia and UNAMIR I. Once the genocide was publicly identified, supporters of an expanded UNAMIR II argued that UN failure to act would be considered a derailment of its legitimate duties and would harm its credibility.100 The delays in UNAMIR II deployment only further exacerbated fears of a decay in UN authority. As an editorial in Washington Post warned, The members of the United Nations are doing something seriously wrong in Rwanda . . . it is not putting in effect even its own minimal program to deal with one of the great human rights tragedies of contemporary times . . . the implications of this detachment are grave.101

Support Despite the initial lack of support from key member states for UN intervention in Rwanda, once the fact of genocide was established, the decision to expand UNAMIR was made unanimously by the Security Council.102 The discourse on intervention, now citing the Genocide Convention, recognized that non-­interference was not a tenable option and stressed UN political accountability and responsibility to act. In this context, the Convention had the effect of making support for operations dependent upon how well the UN was able to prevent or suppress genocide. Once genocide was identified, the issue of infringement of sovereign boundaries was no longer raised as a point of contention. In this sense,

100   Rwanda the Rwandan case was consistent with earlier interventions in which sovereignty was overridden by humanitarian concerns. Nevertheless, it was clear that in Rwanda, recognition of genocide was not enough to overcome the fundamental reluctance of the major powers to intervene. Persuasive power-­political bases for intervention were still distinctly lacking. The major Western democracies, despite their superior intelligence capabilities, initially denied the occurrence of genocide and actually discouraged intervention, delaying force deployment and providing only sparse resources for UNAMIR II. The basic problem was their reluctance to assume costs given the lack of “national interests” in Rwanda. No major Western state, moreover, supported UNAMIR with the intention of using their own troops. The condition implicit in their support was that other countries, especially those in Africa, would provide such military personnel as were necessary. As noted above, major countries, especially the United States, feared that intervention in Rwanda’s complex civil war would fail as it had in Somalia, and they were equally unwilling to involve the UN in such a venture. Although the recognition of genocide meant that UN inaction would also be detrimental to its moral standing, the major states chose to ignore this latter possibility; given the complete lack of strategic rationalization for intervention in Rwanda, the reputation of the UN alone was not a sufficient reason for states to deepen engagement. With regard to Operation Turquoise, the pattern of support in both international and French domestic opinion showed the operation to have been, ironically, more successful as a public relations campaign than as a humanitarian mission. Turquoise received support on the basis of its humanitarian cause, but that support only marginally hinged on the actual performance of the operation, which did save some lives but only after the genocide had already run its course. Support stemmed more, rather, from the operation’s obvious political roles—demonstrating to the world that France was a moral power and that the UN Security Council and its Western members were doing something to stop the genocide. Indeed, much of the support for the operation came from French domestic political constituencies and the UN-­intervention-fatigued Western democracies, which basically deferred to the French the decision to intervene. Support was less vocal from those affected by the intervention—the majority of the Rwandan Tutsi, who either had already died or were in areas unreachable by the French; the RPF; UNAMIR—or from those who had argued from the beginning for an expanded and active UNAMIR. Support in the UN Security Council for the French intervention was not unanimous. Five states, mainly developing nations, abstained from the vote, citing concerns about past French involvement in Rwanda.103 They asserted that the UN should swiftly strengthen UNAMIR II instead of simply condoning a humanitarian operation led by a particular member state.104 Senegal was the only country that actively supported the French

Rwanda   101 105

initiative, contributing about 300 troops to the mission. No Western democracies offered to participate. The most skeptical reception of Operation Turquoise came from the RPF, which flatly denied that French intentions were “humanitarian.”106 Although the French sought an RPF pledge not to attack French forces before the launch of the operation, and maintained communication with the RPF throughout the mission, ultimately they failed to receive RPF endorsement. The UNAMIR Force Commander did not welcome the French initiative either. Dallaire was troubled by the idea of having a separate lead nation-­ commanded peace-­enforcement mission while his forces were still on the ground conducting peacekeeping. Indeed, the RPF threatened to attack UNAMIR soldiers from countries that had expressed support for Operation Turquoise (Senegal, Zaire and Togo), and the Force Commander responded by evacuating military observers from those countries.107 In France, where past French involvement with the FAR had been increasingly the target of censure, the government’s plan to intervene was popular with the public. Politically, the plan received bipartisan support on humanitarian grounds, including from both the Socialists and core conservative parties. The National Assembly, where there had been a call for French action in Rwanda,108 accepted Prime Minister Balladur’s explanation of the conditions of intervention—that it would be multilateral, authorized by the UN, strictly humanitarian and limited109—as well as Defense Minister François Léotard’s explanation that the Turquoise force possessed the strong capability to defend and protect the civilian population without becoming involved politically in the war.110 After its successful end, the operation was lauded in France as a matter of glory and Francophone influence: Prime Minister Balladur remarked, France sees itself as a world power. . . . This is its ambition and its honor and I wish for it to preserve this ambition. And its main field of action is Africa, where it has an important role to play because of longstanding tradition—especially in French-­speaking Africa.111 The main sources of opposition within France were based upon concerns over national interest and cost, particularly should the intervention turn long-­term.112 However, this view was overshadowed by the popularity of the operation and its humanitarian (albeit limited) and political success, which did much to allay French feelings of “guilt” over past involvement in Rwanda.113 With regard to UN authority, the organization’s slowness to take action greatly damaged its moral and political authority in international affairs. The range of inquiries into the handling of the Rwanda situation that was afterward conducted by various governments, the UN and the OAU114 confirmed that the Genocide Convention still carried moral authority and

102   Rwanda attested to the failure of the world organization to live up to its responsibility. One indication of the UN’s diminished prestige was the unwillingness of the new Rwandan government to accept UN authority to monitor developments and implement human rights provisions in the country. The government, rather, favored the departure of UNAMIR, which had earlier deployed for the first time at the full required level of 5,500 troops—well after the genocide. The new government was also angered by the charges of human rights violations made against it by the UN as well as by the UN focus on reintegrating Hutu refugees in Rwanda. On 8 March 1996, the Security Council agreed to end the mission.115 To this, Rwandan Vice-­ President Paul Kagame reportedly commented, “They’ve been basking in the sunshine, burning fuel, doing nothing and receiving the credit for creating this peaceful environment. We do not accept that. We’re happy they’re gone.”116

Conclusion Rwanda represents a case of “non-­intervention”—operations too late or too ineffective to prevent humanitarian crisis or stop genocide, despite the clarity of the ethical basis for doing so. The factor explaining these failures was the lack of sound power-­political bases for intervention for the majority of UN member nations. The power-­political rationalizations were, indeed, negative. The cost of the proposed mission could not be justified domestically, especially in the United States, particularly after the failure in Somalia. There was also apprehension that UN peacekeeping in such a complex situation would result in another failure, to the further detriment of UN authority and prestige. Any intervention, it was moreover understood, would require vast resources and much commitment in order to be effective. Yet as reports confirmed the existence of genocide in Rwanda, the moral authority of the Genocide Convention asserted itself, and recently established precedents for humanitarian intervention added weight to its tenets. The major states then recognized their ethical imperative to intervene. France’s Operation Turquoise was one visible representation of this Genocide Convention-­based political accountability: the behest to assert moral-­political authority and counter the onus of past associations with the practitioners of genocide provided France with its most important reason to intervene. For the UN, slowness to take action resulted in further loss of its moral-­ political authority. Yet the danger of diminished UN authority alone was not a sufficient condition to convince the Western democracies to escalate military involvement. Lacking any sort of strategic interest in Rwanda, most Western nations judged the costs of an operation in Rwanda, potentially high in terms of materiel and human lives, to be unjustifiable. Above all, there was the fear that mission failure might result in disastrous

Rwanda   103 political consequences. In other cases such as Bosnia or Liberia, leadership by the United States or African countries had enabled intervention, often causing it to take a more coercive form as intervening parties sought to defend their own reputations; but, importantly, no such leadership was forthcoming in Rwanda. With the United States unable to justify the cost of leading intervention—indeed, finding it in its interest to discourage another costly operation without the guarantee of effectiveness—international action failed to coalesce. Thus the Rwandan case demonstrates that the use of armed force for stability purposes demands the existence of both ethical and power-­ political rationales. While the defense of human rights has increasingly been a legitimate reason for intervention, in Rwanda that reason alone was insufficient to back timely and effective international action. Strategic rationalizations for the use of armed force, which had contributed to the process of legitimation in other cases, were critically missing in Rwanda.

6 Iraq From pre-­emption to counterinsurgency

The intervention in Iraq that began in March 2003 was based on a set of complex but mutually reinforcing rationales. The primary bases of US-­led unilateral military action in Iraq were the perceived need for enforcement of UN Security Council resolutions requiring Iraq to comply with a range of disarmament and inspection obligations, and the doctrine of pre-­ emption, which stated that the US had a right to pre-­empt threats before they form in an era when threats to security were perceived to be transforming. Both of these rationales were extremely controversial especially in light of the existing understanding of international law concerning self-­ defense. Another important basis of intervention was the democratization of Iraq, which was given as the end-­point of regime change to result from the war of pre-­emption. What underlined these ambitious goals was the deeply held belief within the Bush administration that the global war on terrorism was an ideological struggle between democracy and totalitarianism, and optimism that US primacy would enable it to successfully pursue such ambitious goals. Power-­political bases—namely that the threat of terrorism had to be rooted out from Iraq, that failed states posed dangers to security that had to be confronted, and that Iraq had to be disarmed to protect US and international security—also played a role. The assumption that it would be a swift war of regime change with easy postwar stabilization was also critical in shaping how the war was fought. Taken together, these rationales were consistent with the emerging strategy of the Bush administration, which centered on the idea of pre-­ emption in response to the way the strategic environment was transformed by the events of 11 September 2001. In essence, this new strategy, termed “the Bush doctrine,” was intended to replace deterrence, which the administration argued was ineffective in the face of threats from individual terrorists and rogue states with potential access to destructive technologies and weaponries. The 2003 Iraq War was the first application of the new strategy, with Iraq fitting the image of danger represented in the doctrine. The so-­called “Surge” strategy (2007–08), involving an increase in troop level by five army brigades and two marine battalions, to provide

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   105 security and to protect the population in key areas, was an attempt by the Bush administration to finally defeat the insurgency that had raged in the country since 2003, and to avoid a humiliating withdrawal in the face of intensifying violence. The Surge was an attempt to increase the legitimacy of the operation and create conditions for the sustained impact of the operation, which in itself formed one source of legitimacy. The Surge was intended to help enhance the political legitimacy of the government under Prime Minister Nouri al-­Maliki by providing a secure environment and pressuring it to develop more even-­handed policies and more broad-­ based support. The success of these endeavors, which in the end was achieved, would become the basis for further US involvement. Thus, the Iraqi case shows clearly how both strategy (in this case resting on the new doctrine of pre-­emption and relevant rationalizations) and law (formal UN resolutions and the claim that the boundaries of self-­defense should be changed as set forth in the doctrine of pre-­emption) form the bases of legitimacy, both affecting level of support, independently and through performance.1 These bases were also highly consistent internally, and were presented as a new strategy to affect change in the existing order based upon the traditional doctrine of self-­defense and deterrence. How the bases of war were articulated by policy-­makers, in addition, was important because the initial rationalization of the war later had a profound influence on the way the war was planned and executed, thereby determining war’s performance. In the case of Iraq, the initial ambitious and optimistic view of the validity of the pre-­emption doctrine, as well as the ideological conviction of the rightness of the strategy based on that theory, combined with the assumption of an easy postwar restoration of peace, resulted in disastrous consequences. This chapter examines the bases of the March 2003 Iraq intervention. Due to the highly complex nature of the case, the examination of performance and support will be the subject of the subsequent two chapters. In the following sections, after a brief review of the Iraq War, the ethical bases on which it was fought, and then the power-­political bases of intervention will be discussed, demonstrating the complex but internally consistent nature of the rationalization for the war. The formal ethical bases were enforcement of UN resolutions, the doctrine of pre-­emption, and the democratization of Iraq, while the de facto ethical basis was belief in so-­called democratic peace. The formal power-­political bases were the need to disarm Iraq of its weapons of mass destruction and delivery technologies banned under UN Security Council resolutions, to eliminate the threat of terrorism perpetrated from or assisted by Iraq and the assumption of a swift war. The de facto power-­political bases were the  need to deal with failed states and their implications for security and the need for an increased troop level (2007–08 Surge) to defeat the insurgency.

106   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency

From Operation Iraqi Freedom to counterinsurgency Even while the war in Afghanistan was still being waged as the first response to the 9/11 attacks, marking the beginning of the “Global War against Terrorism,” the US expanded the war to Iraq, where its initially more intensely fought frontlines of that war unfolded.2 Based on the assessment that Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq was in violation of the terms of 17 UN Security Council resolutions demanding its complete disarmament of WMD and their delivery systems and its compliance with international inspection regime/obligations, the United States, joined by the United Kingdom and other coalition forces, resorted unilaterally to force to topple Saddam Hussein’s regime. Earlier, in October 2002, both houses of the US Congress had passed resolutions by a large majority to authorize the US President to use force in Iraq.3 Operation Iraqi Freedom was launched on 20 March 2003, and the US and the coalition forces quickly advanced to the capital. On 9 April, the US forces advanced to the center of Bagdad. On 1 May 2003, President Bush declared the end of the “major combat operations.”4 After a swift defeat of the Saddam regime, an ill-­organized stabilization phase followed. The Bush administration had organized, in January 2003, the Department of Defense (DoD)-led inter-­agency Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance (ORHA) to plan for postwar reconstruction,5 and retired Lt. General Jay M. Garner, U.S. Army, was appointed coordinator. ORHA, however, was given only two months to plan for the reconstruction, and was allowed to deploy much later than the combat forces, with Garner entering Baghdad only on 21 April.6 In May 2003, no sooner had it been deployed, however, than ORHA was replaced by the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) led by Ambassador L. Paul Bremer III.7 The CPA was mandated “to restore conditions of security and stability, to create conditions in which the Iraqi people can freely determine their own political future, . . . and facilitate economic recovery, sustainable reconstruction and development.”8 On 22 May 2003, the UN Security Council recognized the “Authority,” by passing resolution 1483 (2003) under UN Charter Chapter VII, and ended the economic sanctions that had been imposed on Iraq since 1990.9 The same resolution also called upon member states to assist Iraq in its efforts to reform its governmental institutions and to rebuild as well as re-­establish security. The CPA period was marked by a few controversial policies, namely de-­ Ba’athification (i.e., the purge of Ba’ath party officials from government positions), and disbanding the Iraqi Army, while maintaining the existing Iraqi police force.10 The CPA also scrapped what had been the apparent US position under ORHA that authority would be returned to an Iraqi interim government immediately.11 Instead, Bremer decided that the interim representative body, the Iraqi Governing Council, consisting of 25 representatives appointed by the CPA, would be advisory, rather than one

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   107 endowed with legislative or executive power.12 On 15 November 2003, a plan was announced that the US-­led coalition would hand over power to an Iraqi interim government by June 2004.13 In March 2004, an interim constitution was agreed upon and signed into the Transitional Administrative Law (TAL), which incorporated a bill of rights and recognized Islam as a source of legislation, although not the sole source. It also granted the Kurd people of Iraq a measure of autonomy.14 In June 2004, according to the announced plan, Iraq’s sovereignty was restored and Iyad Allawi became the interim Prime Minister. The political process that ensued in general strengthened the position of the Shia and Kurds over the previously dominant Sunni, which created a tense situation. In the January 2005 election for the 275-seat Transitional National Assembly, provincial councils in all 18 provinces, and a 111-seat Kurdistan regional assembly, Sunnis boycotted the election, and accordingly won only 17 Assembly seats and one seat on the 51-seat Bagdad provincial council.15 The United Iraqi Alliance, an alliance of Shia Islamists that included Fadilah, the Sadr faction that boycotted the election, the powerful Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (SCIRI), and the Dawa Party, acquired the largest share of 140 Assembly seats, and the Shia-­based SCIRI appeared as the dominant party. Ibrahim al-­Jafari, of the Shia-­based Dawa Party, became Prime Minister and Jalal Talabani of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan became President, while Sunnis occupied the posts of assembly speaker, deputy president, a deputy prime minister, and six ministers, including defense.16 In October 2005, a referendum approved a new constitution that was opposed by Sunnis, who feared it would allow Shia and Kurds to dominate the country. The central points of contention involved relations between regional prerogatives and central power, especially with regard to the possibility of autonomy for the provinces and control over new oil revenues.17 The December 2005 election for the Council of Representatives to form the permanent government of Iraq, in which the Sunnis this time participated, again produced a Shia and Kurd dominance, although the Iraq Accord Front, a broad-­based Sunni bloc, acquired 44 out of 275 seats, whereas the United Iraqi Alliance occupied 128 seats, the Kurdistan Alliance 53 seats, and the Iraqi List (a secular cross-­sectarian alliance including both Sunni and Shia, as well as communists) 25 seats.18 Talabani continued as President, and his two deputies were chosen from SCIRI and the Accord Front. Nuri Kamal al-­Maliki of the Dawa Party was elected Prime Minister. In the meantime, the security situation dramatically deteriorated. As Baghdad fell, and US forces looked on, with no manpower or appropriate rules of engagement,19 and with no effective Iraqi security forces, looting and criminal activities became widespread, leading to lawlessness. The already fragile Iraqi infrastructure was further damaged in this process.

108   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency Taking advantage of the power vacuum and lawlessness, insurgencies also quickly took root. In July 2003, General John Abizaid, Commander of CENTCOM, admitted that the attacks on US forces in Iraq were best characterized as “guerrilla tactics.”20 By summer 2003, terrorist bombings increased rapidly, and in August 2003 the bombings of the Jordanian embassy and the UN headquarters in Baghdad resulted in the immediate withdrawal of the latter. As noted above, the new arrangements being forged under the CPA threatened to marginalize the Sunnis, prompting majority Sunnis to side with the rising Sunni insurgency. Intense fighting developed between the US forces and Sunni militias, the most brutal of which included Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) led by the Jordanian militia leader Abu Musab al-­Zarqawi.21 Soon, the so-­called Sunni Triangle to the northwest of Baghdad became engulfed in violence.22 There was especially fierce fighting in Fallujah, where two rounds of battles were fought between Sunni militias and the US forces before the city was retaken by the latter in November 2004.23 Fighting was also intense in cities such as Ramadi and Samarra.24 There were also Shia uprisings that clashed with the US and coalition forces. The Shia-­based Mahdi Army, or Jaish al Mahdi (JAM), led by Moqtada al Sadr, posed particular difficulties for coalition forces in the east of Baghdad and the southern regions.25 Several Shia militias also accumulated influence particularly in the South, such as those affiliated with the Sadrist movement or with the SCIRI.26 Their infiltration into the local police and attacks on both the Sunni and the Shia, as well as on the British-­commanded multinational force in charge of the south, destabilized the region. By 2006, sectarian violence had grown in intensity. The Mahdi army under Sadr had regrouped following a series of battle defeats in 2004, and Sunni militias were intent on creating sectarian violence,27 as seen in the AQI’s bombing of the al-­Askari Mosque in Sammara in 2006, one of the  holiest of Shia centers, which triggered a wave of retaliations against the Sunnis. By 2006, full-­fledged ethno-­sectarian civil war had broken out in Iraq, combined with active insurgency and terrorist attacks against the coalition forces. The lack of political reconciliation among the Iraqi parties and increasing attacks on the US forces prompted various urgent strategy reviews in and outside of the US government from mid-­2006 onward.28 Among them, the review conducted by the American Enterprise Institute, involving retired US Army general Jack Kean and military historian Frederick Kagan,29 developed into what later came to be known as the Surge strategy. The plan involved an increase of troops by five Army brigades plus two Marine battalions designed to secure key cities. It also scrutinized the ongoing focus on kinetic military operations while acquiescing to sectarian politics permeating from the highest levels of the Iraqi government and administration, while at the same time building up Iraqi security forces so that security tasks

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   109 would be transferred to them. The new policy called instead for the use of additional troops to secure key cities as well as to protect the local population, with a particular focus on Baghdad, so that sectarian violence could be curtailed while at the same time targeting key insurgents.30 Combined with existing local conditions, the most important of which was the rejection of the AQI by the Sunni population and their resulting realignment with the US/Iraqi forces, the troop Surge made it possible to restrain the level of sectarian-­motivated violence, and a number of advancements were made on the Iraqi political front.31 Prime Minister Maliki, who had been viewed as a party to the sectarian violence, reversed his position and ordered a major offensive against the Sadr faction and other Shia militants in Basra in March 2008.32 This action significantly improved government–Sunni relations, allowing for some stalled political processes to resume.33 In the provincial elections held in January 2009, the previously dominant Shia-­based SCIRI appeared as the main loser, while secular parties with preferences for a strong central government (such as the parties led by Maliki and Allawi) gained strength.34 The election also brought more Sunnis into the political process.35 As of summer 2009, although there were still disturbances that could destabilize Iraq, and problems with entrenched corruption and the weak rule of law,36 as well as continuing sectarian strife,37 the US Army withdrawal had begun, implementing the agreement with the newly negotiated Status of Force Agreement (SOFA), forged in November 2008, which included provisions that would limit US prerogatives of action in Iraq and set a timetable for US withdrawal.38 As stipulated in the SOFA, US forces withdrew from the cities in June 2009.39

Formal ethical bases The primary formal basis for the intervention leading to the Iraq War was the perceived need to enforce Iraqi compliance with past UN Security Council resolutions regarding disarmament and the related cease-­fire arms control terms, particularly the inspection regime.40 UNSCR 687 (1991), which had been adopted in the aftermath of the first Gulf War as the centerpiece of the war settlement, spelled out disarmament obligations with which Iraq was expected to comply.41 The resolution required Iraq to renounce unconditionally any biological, chemical or nuclear weapons and ballistic missile programs. The resolution also provided for a system of international inspection and weapons destruction through a UN Special Commission (UNSCOM) to be established as well as through the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) and set a time limit for Iraqi disarmament. The resolution also left the economic sanctions in place until full Iraqi compliance was achieved. Citing this and other resolutions,42 UNSCR 1441 (2002) held Iraq in “material breach” of its obligations under previous resolutions, and decided

110   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency to give Iraq “a final opportunity to comply” with the disarmament obligations.43 It created an enhanced inspection regime aimed at verifying completion of the disarmament process established under UNSCR 687 (1991). Iraq was to first issue a declaration to the UN Monitoring and Verification and Inspection Commission (UNMOVIC) and IAEA and the UN Security Council on all aspects of its programs to develop chemical, biological and nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles, and other delivery systems. The resolution further warned that any false statements or omissions in the declaration would be considered a “further material breach.”44 UNMOVIC and IAEA was also to have “immediate, unimpeded, unconditional and unrestricted access” to any sites and buildings in Iraq.45 Using vague language that provoked much disagreement afterward, the UN Security Council declared it would convene again at the report of Iraqi wrongdoing “to consider the situation,” and that Iraq would face “serious consequences” if it continued to violate its obligations under past UN resolutions.46 When Iraq’s 12,000-word declaration on its banned weapons program was presented, the US judged it to contain some significant omissions, which it declared an additional “material breach”; that situation, according to the US interpretation of Resolution 1441, justified the use of force without waiting for a further resolution.47 Some members of the UN Security Council, most notably France, Russia and Germany, did not take this position,48 and when an attempt made to adopt a further resolution by the US, UK and Spain failed to produce results, the US-­led coalition resorted to force on 20 March 2003. The United States justified the use of force against Iraq by arguing that the basis of the 1991 ceasefire with Iraq as stipulated in UNSCR 687 had been removed when Iraq was found in material breach of its obligations under relevant Security Council resolutions—as indeed resolution 1441 (2002) already found Iraq to be—a condition that led to reviving authorization of the use of force against Iraq under UNSCR 678 (1990). In its letter to the UN, the US held that the use of force was “authorized under existing Council resolutions, including its resolutions 678 (1990) and 687 (1991).” It asserted that Resolution 687 (1991) imposed disarmament and other obligations on Iraq as conditions of the cease-­fire, and that the US had long considered that Iraq’s material breach of its obligations would “remove the basis of the cease-­fire and revive the authority to use force under resolution 678 (1990).” The US alleged that “Iraq continues to be in material breach of its disarmament obligations under resolution 687 (1991), as the Security Council affirmed in its resolution 1441 (2002).” Declaring that Iraq had defied the “final opportunity” to comply, and that it had committed additional violations, the US determined that the basis for the cease-­fire was removed and that the use of force was authorized under Resolution 678 (1990).49 In addition, the US justified its use of force against Iraq as defense of the United States and the international community from the threat posed

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   111 by Iraq. Further, it held that such action was aimed at restoring international peace and security.50 The UK letter to the UN defended the use of force against Iraq based on the right to enforce the Security Council resolutions requiring Iraqi disarmament.51 The UK government argued that the use of force “followed a long history of non-­cooperation by Iraq” with UNSCOM and IAEA and “numerous findings by the Security Council that Iraq has failed to comply with the disarmament obligations imposed on it by the council, including in resolutions 678 (1990), 687 (1991) and 1441 (2002).”52 Iraq’s abrogation of the conditions of the cease-­fire, as argued by the US, was also cited in a statement to the House of Lords by the British Attorney General as well as in the document “Iraq: Legal Basis for the Use of Force” issued by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office on 17 March 2003.53 Some legal experts use the term “continuing authority thesis” to describe the idea that there could be a continuity and resumption of the authority to use force contained in previous UN Security Council resolutions.54 Despite the fact that the positions presented by the US and the UK proved highly controversial, the two nations proceeded with the use of force on the claim that, at the most formal level, the war against Iraq was legal and in accordance with UN Security Council resolutions. The second formal ethical basis of the Iraq War was pre-­emption, which was perceived as a way to ensure self-­defense in an era when the threats to security were perceived to have changed radically. The doctrine of pre-­ emption, as endorsed by the Bush administration, held that because threats to security today cannot be addressed under the traditional doctrines of deterrence and containment, such threats must be dealt with at source through the pre-­emptive use of force.55 The doctrine further held that such pre-­emptive action may be taken unilaterally, if deemed necessary.56 As President Bush noted in his 2002 United States Military Academy Commencement address in West Point, the basic recognition was that “the gravest danger to freedom lies at the perilous crossroads of radicalism and technology.” Bush stated that the utility of deterrence was limited against non-­state actors with “no nation or citizens to defend,” and that containment was likewise ineffective against state actors that will provide weapons and missiles to “terrorist allies.”57 The doctrine was formalized in the Bush administration’s first National Security Strategy, published in September 2002, which stated that because defense may not be possible against these terrorists and rogue states, “as a matter of common sense and self-­defense, America will act against such emerging threats before they are fully formed.”58 This doctrine hence formed a formal basis of the 2003 war on Iraq: President Bush’s statement on the launch of military operations in March 2003 noted that the danger of terrorists using weapons of mass destruction acquired from Iraq would be “removed” “before it is too late to act.”59

112   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency The Bush administration also argued that the doctrine of pre-­emption is an evolved form of international law doctrine of pre-­emptive self-­ defense,60 although the legal justification provided by the US to the UN did not rely on this logic but on the past UN Security Council resolutions. Hence, the National Security Strategy of the United States in 2002 claimed not only that international law recognized that nations had the right to pre-­empt an attack, “to defend themselves against forces that present an imminent danger of attack,”61 but also that the US must “adapt the concept of imminent threat to the capabilities and objectives of today’s adversaries.” It then argued that the US had “long maintained the option of preemptive actions to counter a sufficient threat to our national security” including the right to “taking anticipatory action to defend ourselves, even if uncertainty remains as to the time and place of the enemy’s attack.”62 Under international law, however, pre-­emptive self-­defense has remained controversial.63 As the official US interpretation had always been that pre-­emptive self-­defense is illegal, the Bush administration became the first American government to argue for pre-­ emptive self-­defense.64 To complicate the matter further, the concept of “pre-­emption” as used by the Bush administration was closer to “preventive war,” or use of force to stop a threat before it can arise—which is considered unlawful under international law—than to “pre-­emption,” in which case a threat is imminent; there may have been some conflation of these distinctions.65 The doctrine of pre-­emption was critically grounded in the perception of American primacy. The Bush administration contended that pre-­ emptive strategy was within its reach given the unprecedented primacy of US power, and that it was a historic opportunity for the US to pursue expansive goals in foreign policy.66 Further, not only was preventive war considered an available option for the US, it was deemed more effective than pursuing individual terrorists alone. Richard Perle, Chairman of the Defense Policy Board, an advisory panel to the Defense Department, observed: We can’t stop acts of terrorism, but we can reduce it to the occasional violent act of an individual or two if we can separate the terrorists from the state sponsorship that provides them with the essential means of carrying out their evil acts.67 As the United States waged war against Iraq, the democratization of Iraq became another important formal basis. Indeed, not only regime change, but building a “free, stable and representative Iraq,”68 was the intended end-­state. Although the legitimacy of pre-­emption and Iraq’s WMD capabilities attracted much public scrutiny in the run-­up to the war and the Bush administration’s defense of focusing on Iraq tended to rely on these points, the President made it clear during the planning

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   113 phase that not only stability but also democracy was to be established in Iraq.69 In practical terms, plans for a postwar transition phase involved the objective of “beginning the process of economic and political reconstruction, working to put Iraq on the path to become prosperous and free and . . . part again of the international community,” among the other stated objectives of disarming Iraq and eliminating the infrastructure of terrorism and its ties to terrorism.70 The Bush administration consistently presented Operation Enduring Freedom as the “liberation” of the people of Iraq,71 and, as the President declared the end of major combat operations, he again emphasized the US commitment to democratize Iraq.72 Once it became apparent that security was deteriorating rapidly in the wake of the “end of major combat operation,” however, and as it became increasingly likely that the WMD claimed to have existed were not likely to be found, the democratization of Iraq, making Iraq “an example of democracy and prosperity throughout the region,”73 became the more pronounced justification for the long-­term stability mission. The Bush administration argued that such a “long-­term undertaking is vital to peace in the region and to the security of the United States.”74 As was the case in Afghanistan, the operation in Iraq was compared with the post-­World War II Marshall Plan in Europe, whose “transformative” nature—its success in rebuilding Western Europe into prosperous and democratic region—was often emphasized. In 2002, President Bush had likened America’s global war on terrorism to the Allied victory over Germany and Japan and the success in rebuilding the defeated powers as allies.75 When the CPA requested an additional $20 billion for Iraqi reconstruction in summer 2003, these additional funds were justified citing the goal of democratizing Iraq in line with the historic US mission to spread freedom and democracy, as well as to prevent terrorism.76 The CPA was understood as presenting a similar opportunity to “transform” the region, just as the Marshall Plan had transformed Europe.77 This new rhetoric was ironic, as the Bush administration had come to office pledging that US military would not be used for “nation-­building.”78 Yet it became clear that democratization came with certain specific nation-­building tasks: “we will help them to restore basic services, such as electricity and water, and to build new schools, roads, and medical clinics.”79 Although comparisons to the Marshall Plan were considered out of place given the slow start and confused implementation of reconstruction assistance in Iraq, the amount of reconstruction assistance pledged soon reached an unprecedented level in US postwar reconstruction operations.80 Bush defended US involvement in nation-­building by asserting that the US goal is “not only to defeat an enemy; it is to give strength to a friend—a free, representative government that serves its people and fights on their behalf.”81

114   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency

De facto ethical bases Both the doctrine of pre-­emption and the Bush administration’s focus on democratization were linked closely to the administration’s belief in “democratic peace”—that is, in democracy as a value underlying international peace. The administration also believed that it was a historic mission for the United States to spread democracy, and that the time was now opportune to pursue it given the unprecedented primacy of US power.82 The National Security Strategy of the United States in 2002 claimed that democracy was the “single sustainable model” for national success,83 and the spread of democracy would make the world “not just safer but better.”84 Because the US enjoyed a position of unparalleled national strength, its role would be to “create a balance of power that favors human freedom.”85 Although the liberal belief in democratic peace is a part of American foreign policy tradition, the administration’s tendency to see US primacy as an opportunity to spread democracy made its foreign policy particularly “anti-­status quo,” coupled with its conviction that simply promoting stability in various places such as the Middle East was no longer enough to achieve security.86 Indeed, the administration’s “global war on terror” became a binary struggle between the extremists and “tyranny” (illiberal regimes) and the democracies. For the Bush administration, further, democratization was not merely the moral mission of the United States, but a strategy to ensure US security. The second National Security Strategy report published in 2006 thus recognized that “survival of liberty at home increasingly depends on the success of liberty abroad.”87 It thus endorses the promotion of “effective democracies”—defined as governments that honor basic human rights, are responsive to their citizens, effectively exercise sovereignty that safeguards order, justice and the rule of law, and protects civil society (with only minimum government interference).88 Building effective democracies, indeed, became the administration’s national security goal, which it pledged to pursue by pragmatic means. The links between the doctrine of pre-­emption and the notion of democratic peace thesis were evident in the Bush administration’s belief in the possibility of a democratic Middle East, with Iraq being the starting point of democratization in the region. By proving that Iraq, one of the longest-­ lasting and most brutal totalitarian regimes in the region, could be democratized, the administration hoped that regime change and democratization in Iraq would set a dynamic “example” in the Middle East. Underlying this view was that over the long term, peace requires liberty.89 The vision for a democratic Middle East was supported by optimism that this was possible given the unprecedented supremacy of the US, and given the persuasion that democracy is the aspiration of all individuals and nations. Democracy is, according to Bush, a “natural order” that will prevail, all other things being equal.90 The role of the United States, went the argument, is to help that natural order come about by creating conditions favorable to it, using force if necessary.

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   115

Formal power-­political bases The first category under formal power-­political bases was the disarmament of Iraq, another central justification for the war. In the run-­up to the war, the Bush administration claimed that Iraq had violated obligations to disarm under UN Security Council resolutions, and that it “possessed and produced” chemical and biological weapons and was seeking nuclear weapons. Further, the US argued that Iraq had given shelter and support to terrorists.91 As already noted, the US claimed that Iraq was in “material breach” of UNSCR 687(1991), as well as committing additional violations to the terms of UNSCR 1441. The initial war against Iraq was thus justified on the basis of what later proved to be the faulty assumption that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction and the capability to produce them, in violation of past UN Security Council resolutions. The Bush administration argued that Iraq had stockpiled weapons of mass destruction, including 30,000 liters of anthrax and other biological agents, and “thousands of tons” of chemical agents including mustard gas, sarin and VX nerve gas.92 It also claimed that photo surveillance revealed that the Iraqi regime was rebuilding chemical and biological weapons production facilities. Iraq still allegedly possessed ballistic missiles banned by the UN with “a likely range of hundreds of miles.”93 President Bush further claimed that Iraq was rebuilding its nuclear weapons program. Citing satellite photographs, he claimed that Iraq was rebuilding facilities at sites formerly known as nuclear sites. The President further asserted that Iraq had attempted to purchase aluminum tubes and other equipment used to enrich uranium for nuclear weapons.94 To make matters worse, the administration claimed, all these biological and chemical weapons risked being transferred into the hands of terrorists with whom the Iraqi regime cultivated links, such as Abu Nidal and Abu Abbas.95 Iraq and Al Qaeda had high-­level contacts in the previous decade, he went on, had given refuge to Al Qaeda leaders fleeing from Afghanistan, and had trained Al Qaeda members in “bomb-­making, poisons and deadly gases.”96 In the United Nations, speaking at the General Assembly a year after the 9/11 attacks, President Bush had been fixated on the threat posed by Iraq’s supposed weapons of mass destruction, citing its alleged violation to past UN Security Council resolutions and demands, and warned that the US was prepared to act militarily against Iraq even without the UN if Saddam Hussein would not comply with UN demands to disarm and allow inspectors in Iraq.97 Indeed, his speech was essentially a warning for the UN to act decisively if it were to retain its relevance. In the UN Security Council, Secretary of State Colin Powell also famously claimed that Iraq had WMD capabilities. Citing UNSCR 1441(2002), which on 8 November 2002 held Iraq in “material breach” of its obligations to disarm, Powell stressed that this resolution was Iraq’s last chance to comply or “face serious consequences.” He went on to express

116   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency his frustration over the 12,000-page declaration that Iraq had handed to Hans Blix, UN inspector, and he cited information regarding Iraq’s further “material breach” of its obligations under UNSCR 1441. Powell also alleged that Iraq had existing links with terrorist organizations, including Al Qaeda, stating that Iraq “harbors” Musab Al-­Zarqawi, a terrorist of Jordanian origin.98 When the US resorted to war in March 2003, President Bush presented the decision to resort to war as necessary “to disarm Iraq, to free its people, and to defend the world from grave danger.”99 Unable still to agree on the need to use force to disarm Iraq, however, the UN Security Council never authorized the war. Another important basis of the 2003 US and coalition intervention in Iraq was the prevention of terrorism. The other bases of intervention— enforcement of UN resolutions, pre-­emption, democratization and disarmament—were all tied to this interest. “The National Security Strategy” published in 2002 declared that the US was “fighting a war against terrorists of global reach,” and that it would use “all the elements of national and international power” to fight terrorist organizations and any sponsor of terrorism that attempt to gain or use WMD. Iraq was thus considered to uniquely fit the image of danger as depicted in this document. Even as the US failed to find the WMD that claimed to exist in Iraq, it remained firmly committed to the prevention of terrorism through stabilization and democratization as the core justification for the intervention. For the Bush administration, democratization was a strategy to achieve this most important goal.100 Here, the “transformative” project of democratic peace as advanced by the Bush administration was linked to the prevention of terrorism. As insurgencies intensified in Iraq in the wake of the fall of Baghdad to US forces, the Bush administration continued to call for public support for continued US presence in Iraq, declaring that the US had to deny the terrorists safe haven by democratizing Iraq.101 He argued that terrorists aimed specifically to drive the US and coalition forces out of Iraq, and such result would critically endanger US security.102 A National Security Strategy document for 2006 continued to place Iraq as the centerpiece of the global war on terror. Concern for the security of the US itself had by then shifted from the link between Saddam Hussein and Al Qaeda to denying terrorists safe haven and access to Iraq’s natural resources. The NSS 2006 stresses—before a “long-­term solution to the transnational terrorism of today” can be achieved—the short-­term steps that will be needed to prevent terrorist attacks before they occur, deny WMD to rogue states and to terrorist allies, and deny sanctuary and support bases to terrorists.103 Iraq is one of the frontlines in the war on terror, the document argues, and the US must not “abandon our allies before a stable democratic government has been established that can provide for its own security.”104

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   117 The additional critical factor in the decision to invade Iraq was the estimation that the war would be quickly over and that postwar “nation-­ building” would not be necessary. Virtually all those in the Bush administration who were advocates of the war believed this proposition, and did not envisage a nation-­building mission involving more than immediate humanitarian assistance.105 Post-­invasion stabilization was expected to be swift, with a quick transition of authority to the Iraqis.106 Bush administration officials were apparently convinced by the views of Iraqi exiles who argued that US action to “liberate” Iraq would be welcomed by the Iraqis, who were allegedly eager for democracy.107 The Bush administration also had an aversion to “nation-­building.”108 Both CENTCOM Commander General Tommy Franks and civilians at the office of the Secretary of Defense wanted the American military presence in Iraq to be short, and “nation-­building” tasks to be handled by “someone else.”109 These officials also insisted on a small invasion force, reflecting the preference of Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, who believed that American technology would secure a swift victory and saw no need to increase the number of troops for post-­conflict reconstruction.110 Whereas General Eric K. Shinseki, then Army Chief of Staff, had famously predicted that postwar stabilization would require “several hundred thousand troops,” his estimate was received with contempt by senior administration officials, such as Rumsfeld and Paul D. Wolfowitz, assistant Secretary of Defense.111 Wolfowitz argued that fewer forces would be needed to provide stability in a post-­Saddam Iraq than to conduct the war itself,112 and ruled out the chances of a Bosnia-­like ethnic civil war in Iraq.113 In late April 2003, defense officials were hoping to reduce the number of US troops once Saddam Hussein had been ousted to as few as 50,000.114 A critical omission, furthermore, was the lack of any preparation for law-­and-order problems including the widespread looting that emerged in the wake of the war.115 The assumption was that the Iraqi administration, the army and the police force would remain intact and usable for immediate postwar administration and reconstruction purposes.116 Although the assumption of an “easy” postwar operation quickly proved wrong, there was the further assumption that US presence in Iraq should be made as short as possible. While the US military’s strategy focused on training Iraqi troops and handing over leadership in security to the Iraqi forces, as it was during 2005 and 2006, there was an emphasis on the need to withdraw US forces so that the Iraqis would take over the responsibility of managing security on their own.117 The administration also initially underestimated the resources necessary for reconstruction, partly because it expected that Iraq, rich in natural resources, would be able to manage and fund its own reconstruction.118 In April 2003, Andrew Natsios, the administrator of the US Agency for International Development (USAID), stated that US reconstruction assistance was to be $1.7 billion, with no plans for further funding, far less for the US

118   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency aid for Iraq than for the post-­World War II Marshall Plan.119 Four months into the CPA occupation the US finally realized that Iraqi reconstruction would require much greater funds.120 Ultimately, the US appropriated a total of $49 billion for Iraqi reconstruction between 2003 and 2009.121 It was such widely held assumptions about easy stabilization, later proven to be so misplaced, that had supported the view that war in Iraq would be a swift, low-­cost operation.

De facto power-­political bases One of the de facto security concerns that underlay the Iraqi operation was the implications for security of failed states. The 2002 National Security Strategy famously declared that “America is now threatened less by conquering states than we are by failing ones,”122 and called for efforts to address regional conflicts and promote democracy to prevent and address state failure.123 The US and coalition partners were taken by surprise, however, by the level of state failure in Iraq; state institutions there did not survive the regime change, and basic services such as electricity, energy and water were in short supply. Contrary to its prewar assumptions, then, the US administration realized that terrorists might proliferate in Iraq’s failed state-­like situation, ultimately defeating the original justification for intervention. Addressing state failure thus became an important security agenda for the Bush administration. Thus, the 2006 National Security Strategy reaffirmed the importance of democratization—with more focus on state-­building—as the national security strategy.124 In particular, it recognized that a regional conflict similar to the one in which it had become embroiled in Iraq involves a variety of causes, including governance, aggression, revolt, and ethnic, tribal and religious hatred, which, if left unaddressed, could result in failed state and other disasters that become the stage upon which terrorism thrives.125 Based upon the recognition that response to state failure would require a coordinated and comprehensive approach, especially robust and rapidly deployable civilian as well as military capabilities,126 a series of institutional reforms were initiated by the Bush administration, which included the appointment of the State Department’s Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabilization (S/CRS) as the overseer of stability operations through the issuance of Presidential Directive 44 on 7 December 2005. Presidential Directive 44 sought to involve, under the coordination of the State Department, all US departments and agencies with relevant capabilities to prepare, plan for and conduct stabilization and reconstruction activities.127 Although the S/CRS itself did not handle the Iraq operation, the assignment of the coordinating role to it was intended to better institutionalize stability operations at the inter-­agency level.

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   119 Likewise, Department of Defense Directive Number 3000.05 was issued on 28 November 2005, making stability operations “a core U.S. military mission.” Under this directive, the US military was obligated to give stability operations a focus comparable to combat operations. It further called for the integration of stability operations across all Department of Defense activities, “including doctrine, organizations, training, education, exercises, materiel, leadership, personnel, facilities, and planning.”128 The Bush administration thus set up a more institutionalized approach to failed states, centering on a “whole-­of-government” approach. This was based on the view that failed states, if left alone, would be a menace to US security, and thus required a different approach from that taken toward traditional inter-­state rivalries. By mid-­2006, the violence had only intensified, and the credibility of the Bush administration’s doctrine of pre-­emption and the building of democratic peace was faltering, as majority public opinion in the United States and in the world at large started to consider the war in Iraq to be an irreversible failure. The pressure on the administration to change course increased, including, most notably, from the Congressionally mandated bipartisan commission, the Iraq Study Group, which recommended diplomatic and political efforts to stabilize Iraq, coupled with a shift in the military mission to “begin to move its combat forces out of Iraq responsibly.”129 Democrats by then were largely demanding phased if not immediate withdrawal.130 Nonetheless, President Bush’s determination to “stay the course” in Iraq prompted the administration to try out a different strategy in what was largely perceived to be a final attempt to defeat the insurgency and quell violence in Iraq. Withdrawal was an option the President never considered.131 The Surge strategy of 2007 to 2008 aimed at firmly defeating the insurgency was mounted in order to legitimize continued operations in Iraq and regain control over the situation. Bush was the one who was most insistent on the Surge choice, which had its own risks, but presented, to his view, the best case for achieving real results, instead of reinforcing a policy that had already failed.132 In choosing this path, the President overrode “near-­universal” opposition, centering among Democrats, and joined by some Republicans.133 Annoyed, he overrode senior commanders who were also against the idea of a troop Surge. Army General John P. Abizaid, Commander of the CENTCOM, and George W. Casey Jr., Commander in Iraq, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff were not convinced that putting in more troops would change the dynamics of the war on the ground. This infuriated Bush, who became convinced that some of them “were trying to manage defeat rather than find a way to victory.”134 In addition, despite the growing public uneasiness with the “transformative” project in Iraq, the Bush administration continued to pursue the democratization agenda in Iraq through the Surge, as a strategy to win over the insurgents. The Surge, above all, involved a political dimension, namely to work with Prime Minister Maliki to effect a political reconciliation, a goal

120   Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency toward which the enhanced troop deployment was supposed to contribute. These political efforts included the obligation on the side of the Iraqi government to reform its Cabinet and deliver services even-­handedly (i.e., without ethno-­sectarian biases); act on promised reconciliation initiatives, most importantly vis-à-vis oil law (regarding the structure of Iraq’s oil industry), the de-­Ba’athification law and provincial elections; as well as promote a moderate coalition to emerge as the support base for the Maliki government.135 President Bush’s perception that the war in Iraq was an ideological struggle, in which the United States had to prevail, also remained unchanged. Even after the historic losses for the Republican Party in the mid-­term elections in November 2006, Bush is reported to have argued with the members of the Iraq Study Group that for him, the Iraq War represented an ideological struggle.136 After the Iraq Study Group officially called for withdrawal, implicitly rejecting Bush’s belief in the “democratic peace thesis” as naïve and unrealistic, Bush continued to argue for the “spread of freedom” and the attempt to build “societies based on liberty” in the Middle East.137 Indeed, the final “victory” to be achieved through a new strategy of the Surge was starkly different from purely military victory. President Bush argued that “victory” in Iraq was to “bring something new” to the Arab world, namely a “functioning democracy that polices its territory, upholds the rule of law, respects fundamental human liberties, and answers to its people,” to be the basis of a “future of peace and security for our children and our grandchildren.”138 In addition, Bush considered it highly undesirable that the US would withdraw before Iraq was stabilized and democratized, as such a move would allow for terrorism to spread.139 In particular, leaving before the declared goal was achieved would leave a stain on US credibility.140 Thus, Bush perceived the Surge to be preferable to the other options being proposed, which he deemed more likely to bring about undesirable consequences, such as the increased threat of terrorism and lowered US credibility. He saw the Surge as the only available path through which insurgency could be quelled. It was thus a strategy to succeed and the basis on which to rationalize a continued US presence in Iraq.

Conclusion This chapter has reviewed the complex yet internally coherent set of bases for the intervention in Iraq. The Bush administration justified the war on the basis of the argument that nothing short of a full enforcement of UN Security Council resolutions and pre-­emptive strikes to forestall threats, followed by democratization of the country, would achieve security for the US and the world at large. The strategic rationales behind such action were disarmament, and most importantly, prevention of terrorism by denying terrorists access to Iraq’s alleged WMD (later found to be

Iraq: pre-emption to counterinsurgency   121 non-­existent). The case was also made that it was necessary to resurrect the functions of Iraq as a failed state, in order to prevent it from becoming a source of terrorism and regional instability. These ambitious rationalizations for the war were bound together by the extreme optimism of the Bush administration that democracy was the natural aspiration of all peoples and that it was an opportune occasion for the US to spread democracy and to end “tyranny,” which was the perceived source of instability and danger. These ambitious goals were supported by the critical, though flawed, assumption of a swift war and easy postwar operation to stabilize and democratize the country following regime change. The latter was crucial, because without it the cost of the war would have been hard to justify. The logic behind these arguments was mutually supportive, forming the “doctrine” of a pre-­emption strategy, a theory in its own right that attempted to expand the international legal boundaries of self-­defense. As some of the bases upon which the intervention had been launched, especially the alleged presence of WMD capabilities in Iraq, proved wrong, the focus shifted to other rationalizations, especially prevention of terrorism and democratization as strategies to secure peace. These rationales became more crucial as the insurgency gained momentum. When the war’s outcome turned out to contradict the administration’s rationalizations, the administration’s case for the war became increasingly strained. The Surge was thus the Bush administration’s final attempt to relegitimize the war. The Surge did not involve fundamentally different rationales; mainly a shift in strategy, a shift backed up by an increase of resources to enhance the legitimacy of the Maliki government and thus create a basis for further US involvement. Overall, the case of Iraq suggests that both strategy and law formed the bases for the claims of legitimacy in the Bush administration’s “doctrine.” The strategy, in which threats would be eliminated before they formed, was pre-­emption. For the legal basis of its actions the Bush administration evoked past UN resolutions alleged to provide the necessary authorization for the use of force in Iraq. The administration also attempted to legitimize the intervention based on an expanded notion of self-­defense now under the evolved rubric of pre-­emption. The Bush administration’s actions based on these claims opened up the test of their validity. Such strategic and legal bases alone, however, are not the only criteria upon which legitimacy is derived. Those bases would have to be evaluated in light of performance, as well as of the support extended toward those bases. In the case of Iraq, while the original bases of action had never attracted support of themselves, the Bush administration failed to successfully implement the new ambitious strategy it had set for itself, and the attempt to legitimize the new strategy in legal terms also failed, as will be made clear in the following two chapters.

7 Iraq Transformation failure and intervention performance

The Bush administration’s decision to resort to force in Iraq unilaterally, relying on a series of interrelated rationales, as reviewed above, was followed by the disastrous performance of the stability operation. Despite the obvious link between regime change and securing the peace afterwards, insufficient attention was paid to how postwar stability and the political legitimacy of the new Iraqi state would be achieved. The Bush administration’s misapprehended assessment of what resources would be required to stabilize post-­ Saddam Iraq resulted in the failure of the US forces to shift the focus of operations from combat to stabilization. In addition, the failure to reveal the alleged WMD capabilities in Iraq defeated the central thesis of the unilateral US decision to use force: the argument that enforcement of UN Security Council resolutions and pre-­emptive self-­defense were justified. Following the fall of the Saddam Hussein regime, certain US and coalition policies did more to stir up insurgency and propel ethno-­sectarian divides within Iraqi society than to quell them. The central tenets of the US policy—rapid democratization and Iraqization of the security forces—had the effect of polarizing the society rather than unifying it. Inadvertent strengthening of Shia positions in the government—in the haste to democratize—and insufficient control of various Shia factions and militias in the push to turn over security to Iraq accelerated Sunni disaffection and support for insurgency.1 Ethno-­sectarian war eventually developed as insurgents tactfully exploited the divide. The US and coalition largely failed to address this fundamental mismatch of strategy before the corrective push provided by the Surge. After the US forces changed strategies, adopting the “Surge,” the situation significantly improved. The Surge was a success, as it brought about a higher degree of trust among the Iraqis toward their government, as well as a renewed sense of confidence in the US, preparing the way for a new stage in Iraqi–US relations with built-­in steps for the US forces to withdraw by 2011. That the Surge was able to create the political space for the Maliki government—fragile as it was—to practice a more even-­handed policy and to receive more broad-­based support, was a critical development, and its success provided the basis for further international involvement.

Iraq: transformation failure   123

The consequences of unilateral action Although the Bush administration sought the support of the UN on the issue of Iraqi compliance to relevant UN Security Council resolutions, it did not seriously pursue a multilateral, negotiated settlement of the perceived crisis, consistently pursuing its favored strategy of pre-­emption. The Bush administration became intent on the use of force, despite consistent European opposition, and did not exhaust all diplomatic paths before implementing its decision.2 Rather, once Hans Blix, Chairman of the UN Monitoring and Verification and Inspection Commission (UNMOVIC), had issued his critical view of Iraq’s response regarding weapons declaration in late January, the US refused to consider a further resolution, despite urgings from the United Kingdom and visible improvement thereafter in Iraqi compliance with inspections.3 The US administration opted to use force without waiting for a further UN resolution to be passed. By deliberately opting for unilateralism, the US lost its potentially greatest asset in the fight against global terrorism, an asset it had managed to acquire in the wake of 9/11 through the ongoing Afghan operation: international support.4 Furthermore, the US lost the opportunity to muster further consensus internationally about how to deal, beyond Iraq, with “rogue states” likely to covet WMDs. Had the US administration made more effort to utilize multilateral fora and acquire support especially from its allies, a stronger coalition would have been built to deal with Iraqi disarmament and beyond. The diplomatic debacle caused by the Iraq War wrecked the fragile but emerging possibility of achieving a cross-­Atlantic consensus on preventive engagement to root out the causes of terrorism. Further, although most European nations did not support the war of pre-­ emption launched in the particular case of Iraq, there was nothing to indicate that they would refuse to accept the utility of pre-­emption elsewhere should the situation warrant (i.e., in cases where terrorist links were proven).5 In this theater of the global war on terrorism, the Bush administration chose not to exploit the potential of negotiation; indeed, it abandoned diplomacy altogether. Another serious consequence of unilateral action was betrayal of the authority of the United Nations and the rule of law. Despite the stated intention of the US and UK to “enforce” UN Security Council resolutions, the unilateral nature of their action, on the contrary, undermined the role of the UN. While the UN Security Council may be credited for refusing to endorse the policy of regime change proposed by the US and the UK, which the majority states considered problematic in light of dominant interpretations of existing Council resolutions and ongoing UN inspections, the fact that the US and the UK were unwilling to subordinate their judgment to that of the majority of members of the Security Council demonstrated the limits inherent in the international institution.6 It weakened the UN forum, as some nations—notably some US Eastern European and

124   Iraq: transformation failure Asian allies—were forced to prioritize bilateral relations with the US over pursuit of multilateral ways to resolve the crisis. The US action was, in addition, based on fundamental distrust toward—even denigration of—the capability of the UN weapons inspection regime, although that distrust was later proved ill-­placed, since the alleged WMDs were not discovered.

Mission transformation failure The performance of the Iraq intervention was most critically hampered by the failure to shift—in a more timely manner—the major combat mission that had been launched to destroy the Saddam regime into a stability operation to pave the way for an orderly transition to post-­invasion rebuilding of the nation.7 At the source of this failure in mission transformation was the faulty, overly optimistic assumptions upon which the approach to the postwar phase had been based. These assumptions included the failure to predict insurgency, the spread of looting and other criminal activities, as well as the breakdown of law, order and governmental functions that set in as soon as Baghdad fell. The Iraqi administration and security apparatus had been assumed to be reliable enough to remain intact and functioning following the fall of the Saddam Hussein regime, and the occupation forces had planned to rely on them for the provision of essential services and reconstruction.8 The US administration also presumed a best-­case scenario in which Iraqis, eager to be “liberated,” would welcome the US forces. These ill-­supported assumptions meant that much effort was put into planning for the war to topple Saddam Hussein, while relatively little consideration was given to what would be needed to stabilize the country.9 Misperceptions in the planning process allowed these flawed assumptions to go unchallenged. Only two months before war was declared did the Department of Defense organize the Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance (ORHA) and launch inter-­agency planning to deal with what would happen after hostilities ended.10 In addition, the Bush administration appears to have gone out of its way to exclude from the planning process expertise on nation-­building already available in the government, notably in the State Department and within the US military, in the belief that expert opinions might allow voices of dissent to be raised about the case for war.11 Moreover, as soon as ORHA was deployed in Iraq, the Bush administration cancelled ORHA and, in May, created the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA). The actual situation that ORHA faced once deployed in Iraq was quite different from the optimistic assumptions upon which it had been established. Instead of Gulf War-­like humanitarian crises, which ORHA had expected to deal with, what it and the US forces faced was widespread looting, which physically destroyed 17 out of 23 of the Iraqi government

Iraq: transformation failure   125 ministries, and the ensuing loss of law and order.12 The Iraqi military or civilian forces, moreover, were not available to deal with the lawlessness, because most Iraqi security forces had deserted their positions during the war.13 While the feared Iraqi use of chemical weapons and attacks on oilfields did not occur, the postwar damage done by looters to existing infrastructure dealt a serious blow to the reconstruction process.14 Having envisaged none of this, the US and the coalition forces were unable to establish immediate control and prevent the confusion that ensued after the fall of Baghdad.15 The security crisis that developed quickly spread disappointment and fear among the Iraqis, as well as doubts over the sincerity of the occupiers’ commitment to assisting Iraq to transform into a stable and democratic state. In addition, the CPA adopted a few controversial policies that appear to have fueled the budding insurgency in the early phases of stabilization. One was the decision to disband the Iraqi Army and to purge all Ba’athist officials from government offices—the “de-­Ba’athification” order.16 The decision to disband the Army, which had been a respected segment of the Iraqi society, nonetheless had the effect of discharging “several hundred thousand armed Iraqis, displeased and with no jobs or salary, on the street, contributing to the rise of insurgency.”17 Many of those who were laid off were Sunnis who had been staff in the Army, especially of the officer corps. The de-­Ba’athification order was more popular among the Shia and Kurdish populations, but antagonized the previously powerful Sunni community.18 By summer 2003, the insurgency was growing. The US military recognized the “classical guerrilla-­type campaign” in mid-­July 2003,19 but top defense officials were slow to acknowledge it.20 In November 2003, the CIA, too, issued a report about rising insurgency.21 The US military was caught unprepared to deal with insurgency in Iraq. It had difficulties adjusting its strategies to confront the developing guerrilla war, partly because, since the time of the Vietnam War (1959–75), the institutional orientation or training and preparation for war had been focused on conventional conflicts, and counterinsurgency had been largely written off.22 Initially, US military took a heavy-­handed approach, relying on firepower and aggressive, large-­scale raids.23 Many divisions, which focused on searching and destroying insurgents, often acted upon poor intelligence, and conducted actions that were culturally insensitive and infuriated the local population, such as night-­time raids.24 Such actions largely alienated the local population and drove many to support the insurgency, depriving the occupying forces of vital information. Given the lack of a viable indigenous security force, the US and coalition force level was impractically small, since at the insistence of Rumsfeld, invasion force had been kept small-­scale, at about 100,000 US and 25,000 British ground troops.25 However, even as the insurgency worsened, there was a reluctance to address this misjudgment,26 although many civilian and

126   Iraq: transformation failure military observers advocated an increase in troop level.27 In addition, although training of Iraqi security forces had been made a central tenet of US strategy in 2004, the US failed to build up Iraqi security forces at an early enough stage,28 and in the absence of adequate local security forces, serious security gaps emerged that the US forces were not equipped to fill. On the civilian side, reconstruction was also slow to start, a situation that had a detrimental effect on stability on the ground. Contrary to the initial assumption, there was no Iraqi administration that survived the regime change reliable for rebuilding the country, and with basic security lacking it was difficult to deploy civilian capabilities from outside.29 Inevit­ ably there was much delay in civilian reconstruction projects, and complications with coordination of civilian projects and military priorities. The CPA, which was expected to provide the much-­needed reconstruction and governance-­related capabilities, proved chronically short on staff and resources.30 The US military was forced to engage in “quick-­impact” projects devised as necessary in order to deal with local needs, and many of these projects went beyond the normal definition of “military reconstruction” to include matters of local governance, court procedures, and so on.31 The “quick-­impact” projects that the military did undertake, moreover, were uncoordinated and made longer term reconstruction plans more complicated in the process.32 Further complicating matters, funding for reconstruction was not immediately available from US sources because the assumption in Washington had been that Iraq would be able to pay for its own reconstruction, especially given its vast oil reserves, and new appropriations had to be made. In reality, the CPA relied during most of its span on Iraqi sources/funds to cover reconstruction and the running of Iraqi government, while in fact, beyond the several billion dollars immediately available, the Iraqi state had ceased to generate revenue.33 The resulting shortages in basic services were a constant source of dissatisfaction in the local community, further feeding the instability. With the rise of insurgency and civil war, it became increasingly difficult to address these stability–reconstruction-­related tasks. In addition, as deployment was prolonged and with additional tasks to perform in the area of stabilization, combined with rapid secession of deployments in Afghanistan and Iraq, US forces came under marked strain, a tendency that would only get worse, until the Surge was implemented much later.

Negative impact of too-­rapid democratization Although the Bush administration presented democratization as both a long-­term goal in Iraq and the necessary strategy to fight terror, a predominant rationalization for the war, the process of democratization in Iraq, was marred by violence. Given the stalled political reconciliation process and Washington’s lack of attention to political reconciliation, the very effort by the US and coalition to democratize the country triggered or

Iraq: transformation failure   127 intensified violence and destabilization. The CPA set in motion a process that would lead to the creation of a permanent elected government and constitution by the end of 2005; these “benchmarks” were eventually achieved, but the Sunnis considered these institutions illegitimate. “Iraqization” of the security forces—the policy for a rapid buildup of the Iraqi security forces which the US had adopted in 2004 to deal with the insurgency—also backfired amid the lack of genuine political reconciliation: as long as those forces were not representative of all Iraqis, they could not be used to protect public security or to counter insurgents. Both democratization and Iraqization, then, rather than creating the political unity and legitimacy that would have been the cornerstones of democracy, ended up, in the hands of their American purveyors, as politically polarizing forces.34 Creating alienation and disequilibrium. The Bush administration made a series of misinformed decisions in advancing political reform in Iraq. One of the most fundamental of these miscalculations was that, although not by intent or design, the forced regime change had the effect of raising the status of the Shia elements of Iraqi society while weakening that of the Sunnis, the group that had previously been in the position of power, causing much resentment among the latter. For example, exiled Shia leaders played a powerful role in the newly created and American-­ appointed Iraqi Governing Council (IGC) that ruled Iraq as an interim body.35 Amid the many political problems in which this body became embroiled was the alienation of the Sunni community from the political process. The IGC included only one Sunni tribal leader, and he was not one who was widely respected among Sunnis.36 The IGC was therefore seen by the Sunni community as an institution that the Shias would use their dominant position in the US-­supported government to take revenge for centuries of Sunni rule or to further expand their own political and economic power.37 The fear of oppression was serious enough to feed a vigorous Sunni-­based insurgency.38 Another US action that inadvertently alienated Sunnis and in this case disproportionately affected them was, as noted above, the CPA’s decision to disband the Iraqi Army. As the disbandment was not accompanied by any reintegration scheme for those demobilized, Sunni officers and rank-­ and-file soldiers were left with no alternative livelihood. Humiliated, they soon joined the insurgency.39 The de-­Ba’athification order had a similarly negative effect as far as the stabilization of Iraq was concerned. Sunnis defected from the political process en masse, and dismissing the US-­ backed institutions as illegitimate, many supported or joined the insurgency. The actions of the US military in quelling the Sunni insurgency also alienated the Sunni population politically, thus feeding the insurgency in reverse. The focus of the US military in 2004 and 2005 on pursuing insurgents mainly in the so-­called Sunni Triangle or the western part of the

128   Iraq: transformation failure country was overall a failed strategy. It was wrong-­handed not only for its preoccupation with insurgents and failure to separate insurgents from the population, but was based on false understanding. Instead of grasping the insurgency as a reflection of ethnic-­sectarian discontent, the US military interpreted it as a particular, localized problem caused by Ba’athist supporters of the former regime.40 Sunnis, who saw themselves as political stakeholders in Iraq, believed they were being persecuted by the US forces, and their resentment grew.41 Fundamental to the ethnic-­sectarian tensions that plagued the postwar situation was the botched political process that did not work well in the creation of a genuinely representative government that all of Iraq’s constituencies could consider legitimate. With the Bush administration’s initial hope of having Ahmed Chalabi form a government dashed by his inability to attract any sort of popular support, the CPA hastily appointed members of the IGC from among local leaders “well-­known to them,”42 but Iraqis did not consider the body legitimate, as they knew that only a few of the council members, for example, the Kurdish leaders Jalal Talabani and Mas’ud Barzani, truly represented their constituencies. As noted above, the IGC contained only one Sunni tribal leader among its 25 members and the Sunni constituency largely saw the IGC as an American tool to give predominance to the Shia.43 Another concern was that the IGC largely consisted of militia leaders.44 That the IGC could not be viewed as representative in the eyes of Iraqis was an unfortunate development because this body was later to carry weight in the structure of the transitional government, as Washington had agreed on 15 November 2003 that it would transfer governing authority to the IGC, which would then form the nucleus of the Interim government.45 The very structure of the IGC, as well as the role with which it was endowed, had a lasting effect on the political landscape of Iraq, especially the marginalization of the Sunnis. The militia leaders and exiles brought into the IGC, in addition, did not miss the chance to use their positions on the Council to expand their power, at the expense of capacity-­building of the central government, and to divert public funds for basic security and services to “buy” the support of their constituencies.46 Under the circumstances where hasty political democratization brought in Shia and Kurds but failed to accommodate the Sunnis, the Transitional Administration Law (TAL) ended up accommodating Shia and Kurdish preferences but failing to take into account Sunni interests.47 Mixed blessings of elections and the Iraqization program. Elections in Iraq also tended to have divisive and destabilizing effects. As noted above, the January 2005 election for the Transitional National Assembly (TNA) was boycotted by the Sunnis, who felt excluded from the power structure and targeted by the US counterinsurgency, and placed their bets on the invalidation of the election. The result, however, was that they became even more marginalized, ultimately controlling barely 5 percent of the seats in the new Parliament.48

Iraq: transformation failure   129 A Sunni delegation was added to the drafting committee of the Constitution, in part under US pressure, and in part from Sunnis, who demanded to join the committee out of fear of being left out of the Constitution-­drafting process, particularly given disagreements among the sectarian factions about the proposed federalism and divvying up of new resources.49 Riddled by sectarian divides, the process of drafting the constitution was concluded, leaving 53 articles to be resolved at later stages, and a final compromise was forged between the largest Sunni party, the Iraqi Islamic Party (IIP) and Shia and Kurdish leaders that a new constitutional committee would be formed following the general elections, to implement the necessary amendments to the Constitution.50 Even then, Sunnis viewed the new Constitution as heavily biased in favor of Shia and Kurdish interests, and although they sought to prevent approval of the draft in the October constitutional vote, they failed by a narrow margin.51 Polarization proceeded in the national bureaucracy as well, with ministries being “transformed into sectarian powerbases.”52 Factions such as those led by Moqtada al-­Sadr and the Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (SCIRI) gained control of the health, transportation and interior ministries, and their members used their positions to purge Sunnis from the administration and promote individuals from their associated militias. The result of these sectarian-­based biases, provision of basic public services— medical and hospital care, security—became skewed and discriminatory.53 The Sunnis avoided further marginalization by participating in the December 2005 elections. Voting was mobilized largely along sectarian lines.54 Because the confluence of geographical and ethno-­sectarian lines in most areas of Iraq precluded serious competition between parties within their respective provincial power bases, there was very little crossing of ethno-­sectarian lines in the general elections.55 The result was intensification of already severe ethno-­sectarian divisions in Iraqi politics.56 In addition, the severest-­hit in this election were secular non-­ethnic parties and coalitions. Members of Allawi’s Iraqi National List, for example, were subjected to violence.57 A number of moderate Sunni politicians were assassinated. These developments confirm the view that too-­rapid democratization can further polarize already antagonistic groups in communal civil strife, in the absence of mediators to encourage communal compromise and rapproachement.58 Political negotiations leading to fuller national reconciliation with the aim of reducing sectarian violence, which had started under newly elected Prime Minister Nuri al-­Maliki in the latter part of 2006, centered on the National Reconciliation and Dialogue Plan. The efforts being made to draw insurgents into the political process, however, soon stalled as intransigent divisions within the government prevented compromise over divisive issues such as conditions of amnesty for insurgents and disbanding of militias.59

130   Iraq: transformation failure In the absence of genuine political reconciliation, the “Iraqization” program envisioned by the US military—rapid training of Iraqi security forces to hand over security tasks—proved to be more of a problem than a cure.60 The US military had in the beginning focused on training the Iraqi Civil Defense Corps (renamed the Iraqi National Guard in June 2004) to help provide security in Iraq while the Army was being trained.61 However, given their animosities toward the US/coalition and the Iraqi government, the Sunni-­based National Guard battalions did not perform according to expectations. Sunni National Guard personnel fled in the face of insurgencies, or even sided with insurgency forces, demonstrating strong ethnic-­ sectarian allegiances.62 Absences without leave were also a serious problem.63 In June 2004, amid the intensifying insurgency, the buildup of the Iraqi Army was made a priority issue for the US forces, as it was perceived that providing for an effective Iraqi Army would be the logical approach to the counterinsurgency without a significant increase in US forces.64 However, as Sunnis refused to enlist, the Iraqi Army became mainly Shia in composition.65 The Army’s ethnic imbalance thus proved problematic. US strategy had depended on expecting the Iraqi Army to take over security duties, but in Sunni-­populated areas such as Al Anbar province, where the majority population did not accept the legitimacy of the government, the populace feared the Iraqi Army rather than viewing it as a neutral force.66 With better prospects for political reconciliation, therefore, it became clear that even development of the security sector would not automatically resolve the issues of public security. Of particular importance for the democratization endeavor, as well as in relation to security sector reform, was the rule of law. In the absence of functioning indigenous rule-­of-law institutions, however, the US and coalition forces struggled and failed to provide a credible police or justice system. Critically, the police was the weaker of the security forces in Iraq, and had not enjoyed much respect in Iraqi society. The police training program hastily put together by the US military, however, turned out to be inefficient and ill-­suited to its task.67 The Iraqi police also lacked basic equipment, such as police cars, radios, and body armor. Amidst the insurgency and widespread ethno-­sectarian violence, the ill-­equipped and untrained police soon became “soft targets” victimized by insurgents.68 The most serious problem was that the police, even more than the Army, failed to establish itself as an impartial institution of society, and strong ethno-­sectarian allegiances influenced its actions. For instance, militia fighters were implicated in killings of civilians and other criminal acts while wearing police uniforms. As late as fall 2006, the police was so inadequate and so infested with members of Shia militia groups as well as criminals that a commission led by retired US Marine General James Jones recommended its dissolution.69 The police force came to be considered largely as an instrument of oppression against the Sunnis.

Iraq: transformation failure   131 The importance of reform of the justice and correctional system had been recognized by the CPA, and it did implement basic reforms, with particular focus on establishing an independent judiciary, although the aforementioned chronic lack of civilian capabilities hampered the program’s progress.70 By 2004, judges had been vetted and those with records of corruption or human rights abuses were being removed from office.71 The Council of Judges, which had been abolished by Saddam Hussein in 1979, was re-­established in September 2003, and, as a separate entity from the Ministry of Justice was given authority over court budgets, personnel, security and property. The CPA also established the Central Criminal Court of Iraq with nationwide jurisdiction, and mandated it to handle the more serious crimes, such as terrorism and organized crime.72 With investigative agencies weak and vulnerable to intimidation, violence and corruption, establishment of the rule of law in Iraq was proving to be arduous.73 Skilled personnel, equipment and funding were also lacking. These problems were exacerbated by the security crisis and ethno-­ sectarian conflict, since the CPA was not able to deploy to provinces where security had not been established, despite the need to support the justice sector.74 In short, elections and rapid democratization in Iraq had the effect of polarizing inter-­ethnic relations and increasing violence in Iraq, particularly given the unhappy beginning where the initial power structure, in the form of the IGC, largely comprised former militia fighters and others who did not broadly represent Iraqi constituents. These inherent biases became further consolidated in the form of the new constitution. The key policies of the intervention (i.e., democratization and Iraqization of the security forces) therefore intensified the already deep-­rooted violence and ethno-­sectarian conflicts within the country.

Pursuing “democratic peace” Although the Bush administration rationalized the war based on the thesis of democratic peace—that democracy is the foundation of peace and thus the antithesis of terror—the above-­cited developments in Iraq proved the theory to be flawed. Conditions in Iraq as a newly democratizing state obviously differed from those in the advanced democracies. In the absence of genuine political reconciliation, viable public institutions and a political culture that could nurture democratic approaches to problem-­solving and reconciliation, the external pressure on Iraq to democratize further divided the society, and the democratization process was marred by instability and violence. The bungling of the Bush administration was not so much at the level of theory as in implementation. The failure to properly plan and prepare for postwar stability defeated the entire rationale of intervention, which was that democratization was an effective strategy against terror.

132   Iraq: transformation failure The original intention had been to start by democratizing Iraq and thereby bring peace to the Middle East region as a whole, with Iraq being the starting point. Ironically, the Bush administration’s effort to make Iraq a “model”75 backfired, creating a highly destabilized and potentially bellicose state in the heart of the region. Indeed, particularly before the Surge, there was no evidence that post-­Saddam “democratic” Iraq was more peaceful than that under his dictatorship, particularly given the ethno-­ sectarian violence that raged and the terrorist groups that freely roamed the country with the potential to fuel international terrorism. For example, although Iraqis have a high degree of nationalism, political developments in Iraq suggested that there was no firm guarantee that the Shia dominant government would not align itself with the region’s illiberal states such as Iran and Syria, or Lebanon’s Hezbollah.76 Iraq’s different ethnic groups might develop separate relations with states in the region, further aggravating regional tensions and interventions.77 Ultimately, one of the unintended consequences of the Iraq invasion was that the newly created regional balance tipped in favor of Iran even more than before.78 In a development that was largely unexpected, the Bush administration’s vaunted democratic ideals were tainted by its own inability to adhere to democratic values in conducting the war on terror, which it called an “ideological struggle” and “war of ideas” between democracy and “tyranny.” The potentially ringing call to arms was damaged when the US forces were found to be implicated in the abuse of detainees, or what many perceived as blatant torture, at Abu Ghraib and elsewhere.79 Although the Bush administration publicly deplored the abuses80 and its top military leaders issued statements that these abusive acts were anomalies committed by certain individuals and by far not standard practice in the US military,81 similar practices were found to have continued since 2002 in the treatment of detainees from the Afghan theater, indicating the more institutionalized and political nature of these practices than the administration officials then acknowledged.82 The origin of these practices, in addition, was traced to high-­level decision-­making, as evidenced in the pronouncement by the US President that the Geneva Convention on the treatment of prisoners of war did not apply to detainees in the war on terror,83 the subsequent redefinition of “torture” by the Department of Justice,84 and the approval of “aggressive techniques” given by Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld in response to a request by the U.S. Southern Command Joint Task Force 170 ( JTF-­170; GTMO) at Guantanamo Bay on 2 December 2002.85 Even after the Defense Secretary rescinded that approval for GTMO on 15 January 2003, it apparently continued to influence US interrogation policies, including those used by all US forces in Iraq, as part of standard operating procedure.86 The Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse issue was also related to ongoing questions about indefinite detainment at the US base in Guantanamo as well as

Iraq: transformation failure   133 in other prisons of hundreds of suspected terrorists. Those detained were not granted the right to be tried in US federal courts, in a practice that began as early as in 2002.87 The rationale was that, as Rumsfeld argued, it was considered necessary to find way to keep apprehended terrorists out of the battlefield and at the same time extract intelligence from them. President Bush concurred.88 The detainees were denied access to due process in federal courts in order to protect sensitive intelligence and its sources.89 Torture and other illegal practices, however they were rationalized, raised grave legal and moral problems, but they were also counterproductive in a war ostensibly being waged as an “ideological struggle” between democracy and totalitarianism. It was particularly damaging because the official statement of the US military had been that what separated the US forces from terrorists, militia fighters and insurgents was that the US personnel respected democratic values and human dignity.90 On a more technical level, contrary to the administration’s claim that such “aggressive” measures were necessary for national security/intelligence purposes, many argued that they were counterproductive, as they yielded little helpful information from those made to suffer them.91 On balance, the use of such coercive measures to obtain information did lower the standing of the US and undermined the logic behind the war.

Disarming WMD in Iraq War had been declared on Iraq on the pretext that it possessed weapons of mass destruction that posed a serious international threat and were banned under relevant UN Security Council resolutions, but ultimately no such capability was found. As observed by Richard Betts, the claim that Iraq maintained stocks of chemical and biological weapons and was actively developing nuclear capabilities became “the worst intelligence failure since the founding of the modern intelligence community.”92 The intelligence information regarding WMD stockpiles proved entirely wrong, indicating both a failure in collection of information and its analysis.93 Other Bush administration claims were never substantiated by intelligence. The alleged link between Al Qaeda and the Saddam Hussein regime—the collaboration between the two and Iraq offers of weapons training to Al Qaeda operatives—was one example.94 Neither did intelligence reports support the administration claim that Saddam was prepared to give WMD to terrorists.95 The US plan to make war on Iraq, eventually if not immediately, had emerged very early in the wake of the 9/11 attacks,96 and some senior officials entered the administration with a previously formed interest in ousting Saddam Hussein. This “interest” might even suggest that Iraq’s alleged WMD possession was less of a concern than the “unique” threat posed by the “illiberal” nature of the regime, as personified by Saddam

134   Iraq: transformation failure himself. However, because the administration relied most publicly on the threat posed by WMD and the purported urgent need to disarm Iraq to justify the war, the revelation that there were no WMD capabilities to be foiled in Iraq significantly harmed the cause for war.

Prevention of terrorism The supposedly central rationalization for the Iraq War had been prevention of terrorism, and the other formal bases of the war were all linked to that purpose. By starting the war in Iraq so quickly after the close of hostilities in Afghanistan, however, the US created a serious pitfall for the counterterrorist effort. The war in Afghanistan had just entered its stabilization stage when the Bush administration started to shift critical capabilities, such as Special Forces personnel, to the Iraq theater.97 The sparser US presence in the Afghan theater created breaches in security that allowed core Al Qaeda elements to cross over into Pakistan—a nuclear state. The inadequate US security presence in southern Afghanistan, meanwhile, allowed the Taliban to re-­emerge there, further undermining the counterterrorist effort. Later, preventing terrorism from springing up from the war in and occupation of Iraq itself became one of the measures of performance of this intervention. These measures assumed more importance once the disarming of alleged WMD in Iraq proved unnecessary. In addition, whereas Iraq had not previously been broadly considered a critical state in terms of the war on terror, the Bush administration shifted strategies, making Iraq a frontline in the global war against terror. By failing at the stabilization stage in Iraq, already a volatile and divided region, however, the US created conditions ripe for terrorism, potentially even more threatening to the US than before.98

A failed state and viable stability operations The greatest crisis for performance in the Iraq intervention was the Bush administration’s failure to foresee, as noted above, that conditions of general state failure would ensue from the invasion and organize the resources to overcome such an eventuality. Earlier experiences, ranging from the occupations of Germany and Japan to the more recent peace support operations in the Balkans, Haiti, and elsewhere in the 1990s should have pointed to the potential for state failure. Even if none of those cases was directly comparable, the lessons of the past seem not to have been in the minds of the strategists dealing with Iraq in 2002 and 2003. The US and coalition military thus failed to respond to the need for stabilization at an early phase following the initial combat operation, as noted above. The inability of the US and coalition forces to deal with stability operations in the early phase had lasting consequences since the situation of

Iraq: transformation failure   135 prolonged state failure complicated state-­building and counterinsurgency efforts. Successful stabilization, in fact, would have benefited the counterinsurgency effort. Having failed to properly prepare for transformation to stability operations immediately following the war, however, the US forces and the Bush administration then put an exclusive focus on the insurgency, rather than addressing the failed state.99 A characteristic remark indicative of this flawed approach may be found in the 2005 National Strategy for Victory in Iraq, in which President Bush remarked: “The principal task of our military is to find and defeat the terrorists, and that is why we are on the offense.”100 This approach ironically stood in the way of a more effective path to defeating the insurgency, which would necessarily have accompanied tasks such as resurrecting an effectively functioning state and establishing strong security sector actors that were recognized and supported by the population. The reconstruction of basic services would also have been critical to getting the civilian population on the counterinsurgency side. Although the troubled transition to stability operation surprised onlookers, the US military had had extensive experience in peacekeeping and state-­building since its involvement in the Balkans during the 1990s. Although the Somalia experience had resulted in a de-­emphasis on peacekeeping and state-­building, the US military had gradually overcome that reluctance since the operations in the Balkans. In addition, the US military had decided to adapt to and be prepared for conducting stability operations as part of full-­spectrum operations in which offense, defense and stability or support activities would be taken simultaneously.101 However, until the early 2000s, there remained a degree of de-­emphasis on stability-­related tasks in the US military, as evidenced by the lack of focus on peace-­building in military doctrine and training.102 During its early phase, the Bush administration displayed an ideological dislike of “nation-­building”103 and during the early phase of the Iraq war the preferred policy dictated by administration officials was that the US military would not engage in nation-­building following the initial combat, preferring to leave nation-­building tasks to mainly civilians.104 In reality, however, establishing stability in Iraq proved far more challenging than in the past cases. Indeed, Iraq experience prompted the US military and government to focus more on peace-­building.105 The perception that Iraq stabilization had failed resulted in the US government adopting a series of institutional reforms to deal with failed states by late 2005, the most important of which included the issuance of Department of Defense Directive 3000.05 in November 2005, which defined stability operations as a central task of the US military, equal to combat. Another source of the stumbling efforts to address state failure in Iraq was the lack of civilian expertise, due primarily to the poor security situation, as noted above. Rapidly deployable civilians were in short supply to cover various stabilization needs, partly because many of the tasks that

136   Iraq: transformation failure needed to be fulfilled required diverse skill sets outside of traditional diplomacy.106 The civilian capabilities needed were scattered among different sectors and various public and private agencies. The difficulties of gathering adequate civilian expertise hampered reconstruction planning and implementation in Iraq and elsewhere. In order to overcome this shortfall, the Bush administration made a series of institutional reforms in Washington intended to improve civilian rapid-­deployment capacity and civil–military coordination of stability operations, such as entrusting the State Department’s Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabilization (S/CRS) with the coordinating role107 and initiating a civilian response corps, comprising civilian federal employees who were trained and equipped to deploy rapidly to stability missions (active and standby components) as well as reserves outside of the government (reserve components).108 These innovations, then, were most directly motivated by failure in stability operations in Iraq. At the operational level, the lessons arising out of Iraq had been learned from experience and reflected in actual operations well before the institutional changes in the US government were effected. Even amid the insurgency, a few US divisions had managed to quell violence precisely by addressing many of the stability-­related tasks involved, e.g., by first working with local governance institutions and by improving local administrative functions. Cases in point include Mosul in 2003,109 Karbala in 2004,110 and Tal Afar in fall 2005,111 where counterinsurgency approaches incorporated concern for long-­term security, governance and reconstruction. The cases of success against the insurgency underline the core lesson to emerge from the Iraq experience, which was that stabilization agenda (e.g., aspects of state failure) had to be addressed simultaneously with combat and counterinsurgency. The US administration and military should have foreseen this situation and dealt with Iraq’s “dual needs of defeating the insurgency and building a viable state.”112 Given the overlap between stability operations and counterinsurgency, dealing more promptly with stability would quite possibly have enhanced the counterinsurgency efforts.113

The Surge: quelling the violence The Surge performed well, helped by critical developments in the dynamic of the sectarian war. By late 2007, violence in Iraq was lower than it had been in any previous year since 2003,114 and in July 2008, the US Embassy reported that all but three of 18 benchmarks set by Congress in May 2007 measuring political, economic and security progress had been achieved.115 In terms of local sectarian war dynamics, the three main parties to the ethno-­sectarian violence in 2006 had either agreed to cease-­fires or been defeated militarily.116 A particularly important development in this context was the switching of sides by Sunni insurgents during 2007, and the forma-

Iraq: transformation failure   137 tion of a cease-­fire agreement between them and the Iraqi government through the so-­called Sons of Iraq (SOI) program, which signed up more than 100,000 to provide security in exchange for legitimacy and financial support.117 The Iraqi government has agreed to incorporate them into the Iraqi security forces. During this switching of sides, a new strategy focusing on the protection of civilians made a significant difference.118 US forces provided protection for the Sunnis in this transition. With the US troops providing security and with the waning of violence following the Sunni cease-­fires, the Shia population ceased to support the violence of the Shia militias, undermining the support base of, most notably, the Mahdi Army under Moqtada al Sadr.119 Al Sadr declared a cease-­fire in August 2007.120 The violence was further diminished when Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) was expelled from Anbar province. After the AQI bombing of Askariya shrine in Samarra in February 2006,121 Shia militia resistance had been too firm for the AQI to defeat and excessive AQI brutality was wearing thin with the Sunnis. With Sunnis now beginning to back the US military, the AQI was marginalized and finally driven elsewhere in Iraq.122 The Iraqi security forces also grew in size and competence, thanks to a series of steps taken by the Iraqi government. Amnesty and de-­Ba’athification ordinances along with recruitment resulted in more ethnically balanced, less sectarian and more competent security forces.123 About 80 percent of Iraqi Army officers and 50 percent of the Army rank-­and-file came to be occupied by former members of Saddam Hussein’s military.124 The Iraq police also improved, through a tough policy that replaced a great majority of commanding officers, by instituting new vetting and screening procedures, the incorporation of more Sunni and Kurds, improved information databases, and better training.125 The Shia-­dominated nature of the police was corrected, with roughly equal numbers of Sunni and Shia in the police officer corps, and Sunnis occupying 25 percent of the rank-­and-file.126 All these elements reduced violence considerably and created the space for political progress to be made. In 2008 and 2009, the Maliki government was considerably strengthened, following the passage of key legislation and the improved security situation.127 In March 2008, Maliki ordered an offensive against the Sadr faction and other militias in Basra. This reduced the perceived sectarian nature of the government and prompted the return of the Accord Front, a broad-­based Sunni bloc, which had been boycotting the Cabinet for one year, to the Cabinet in July 2008 and the filling of other vacant Cabinet positions by independents.128 The position of Maliki’s Da’wa party was also further solidified in the provincial elections in January 2009.129 As noted above, the Sunnis, determined not to repeat the mistake they had made in boycotting the January 2005 elections, participated in later elections and became more integrated into the political process, especially through the provincial elections in early 2009, a trend that well suited US strategy.130

138   Iraq: transformation failure Problems, many of them having to do with the ethno-­sectarian divide going back to 2006, however, remained, even as the Surge proved successful. In fall 2009, it was not clear if the Surge would have a lasting impact, although the war dynamics had changed owing to a mix of group (mis) calculations and US actions. For example, despite recent progress, the integration of Sunnis into the political process remained incomplete and the possibility of reversal of advances achieved could not be ruled out altogether. Through 2008, Sunnis complained that the altered Sunni organization in the form of SOI had not resulted in a fundamental consolidation of power for the Sunnis or increased the prospects of sustainable power-­sharing arrangements.131 The SOI movement remained local and fragmented, and came into direct confrontation with traditional Sunni political parties. In mid-­2009, the Sunnis were increasingly resentful of the slow incorporation of SOI members into the Iraqi Security Forces (ISF ), an indication of reluctance from the Iraqi government.132 Maliki was also noted for undertaking several rounds of crackdowns against individual SOI groups and their leaders from 2008 onward.133 These actions made SOI leaders profoundly concerned about their future security. Inter-­ethnic relations remained volatile through 2009. In some regions, Sunni and Shia continued to have strained relations, although sectarian conflict continued to be lower than in 2006. Ethnic tensions are often compounded by property disputes, especially in Baghdad where population displacement was severe.134 Tensions were also high in Diyala, another province of mixed ethnic population, where Sunni militants had driven Shia out of the province in 2005 to 2007. The January 2009 provincial election paved the way for an alliance between the Sunnis, the Kurds and the Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (ISCI) to set up provincial administrations. Sunni–Shia tensions remained high.135 There were also high tensions between Iraq’s Arab and Kurd populations, particularly with regard to the unresolved crisis over the status of Kirkuk and other disputed territories. The Kurds, who enjoy autonomy in three northern provinces, sought to expand the areas under the control of the Kurdistan regional government (KRG).136 Arabs in Iraq had resisted Kurdish expansion over key disputed areas along the southern borders of the KRG.137 In June 2009, Kurdistan passed a new constitution in which it laid claim to Kirkuk, the oil-­rich region, as well as areas within Nineveh and Diyala provinces, but this was feared to augment ethnic tensions.138 Meanwhile, Al Qaeda in Iraq, the most violent militia remaining in Iraq, sought to take advantage of the Arab–Kurdish conflict.139 In Mosul, capital of the province of Nineveh, the AQI exploited local Sunni fears of Kurdish domination to survive US and Iraqi counterinsurgency efforts.140 As of June 2009, there were signs that the Sunni-­based insurgency had again begun targeting state institutions, especially the police, following that

Iraq: transformation failure   139 month’s withdrawal of US forces from the city.141 In Nineveh, expectations that the victory of the Sunni-­based al-­Hadba’a in the January 2009 provincial elections would reduce anti-­government sentiment and diffuse violence have not been fulfilled. Legislative progress on reconciliation remained a challenge as well.142 The process undertaken by the Constitutional Review Committee was slow and many issues were left unaddressed.143 These included power-­sharing between the central government and the Kurdistan region, the creation of a permanent hydrocarbons law, and guidelines for executive power-­ sharing, among others.144 The Justice and Accountability law, which replaced the de-­Ba’athification law to ease restrictions on the return of former Ba’ath party members to public offices in early 2008, was passed by Parliament under American pressure, but has not been put into effect.145 In addition, there was the danger of what Biddle calls a “reversion to dictatorship.” Prime Minister Maliki’s true intentions were not clear as he consolidated his own power base centering in Da’wa.146 Attacks on and arrests of SOI leaders were one example of what some claimed to be his ambivalence toward reconciliation with the Sunnis. There were also indications that he was seeking to increase his grip on the armed forces by reshuffling commanding officers and creating tribal councils across the country to be directly linked to his office, often with funds from his Da’wa party, a move that many feared was a way to extend the Da’wa party’s grip on provincial elections.147 Maliki also reportedly resisted various steps toward reconciliation with former Ba’athists, perhaps so as not to alienate his own Shia power base, and was suspicious that Ba’athists were behind the series of terrorist incidents.148 All these actions infuriated many Sunnis who advocated reconciliation. Thus, the prospects for genuine political reconciliation may be elusive.149 Especially with US forces withdrawing according to the time­ table agreed upon by the latest Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA), there is no guarantee that violence will be contained.150 As yet there is no political alignment that can bridge the sectarian divides. With weak institutions and slow political processes, Iraq may no longer be a failed state, but it is a fragile one. The utility of Surge, which was a short-­term strategy, may thus be seen as creating a temporary breathing space for Iraqi politics to evolve, which in itself has been a hard-­won achievement. But the US chose, although to a large extent under pressure from Maliki,151 not to stay until Iraq’s fragility was overcome. The Surge’s true value may be seen, then, as creating the occasion for the US forces to withdraw from Iraq without being perceived as having lost the war, even if this could not be marked a “victory” as President Bush had defined it since invading Iraq or even in opting for the Surge strategy. If “success” in Iraq may be perceived as creating a new Iraq that is not a threat to the region and to US interests, and possibly heading toward democracy, that success still remains to be seen.

140   Iraq: transformation failure

Conclusion This chapter has discussed the performance of the Bush administration in conducting the war in Iraq. The initial rationalization of the war shaped the way the war was later conducted. Based upon optimistic and ultimately mistaken assumptions, the Bush administration neglected to draw up adequate measures for achieving the postwar stability and political legitimacy for the new Iraqi state that it had pledged it would bring into being. The initial failure to stabilize the country created a security vacuum, which also stalled reconstruction and which was promptly taken advantage of by violent insurgent groups and sectarian groups and militias. Some of the formal bases for military action in Iraq also proved invalid once operations got underway, producing unsatisfactory results. With the alleged WMD capabilities undiscovered, the use of force in Iraq was rendered pointless in light of the original justifications. Further, the claims of democratization and the superiority of democracy vis-­à-vis autocracy lost credibility as the Bush administration condoned the use of extraordinary measures to acquire information from detainees. The invasion of Iraq had unintended consequences. The most serious were US and coalition policies that did more to fuel insurgency and propel ethno-­sectarian divides in the Iraqi society than to quell violence and stabilize the country. The US relied on a policy of rapid democratization and Iraqization of security forces as a way to expedite the mission and end the intervention; but these central policies had the effect of polarizing the already divided society rather than unifying it. By inadvertently strengthening Shia positions in the government without fully controlling various Shia factions and militias, these policies resulted in deep-­seated Sunni disaffection and drove many to support the insurgency. With extremist insurgents actively fueling the ethno-­sectarian divide with terrorist tactics, the ethno-­sectarian war quickly intensified. Until the Surge helped turn around the situation and pave the way for possible, more reconciliatory ethnic relations, the US and coalition had largely failed to realize that their strategies were sabotaging the purpose of their mission and that their policies were deepening the ethnic war in Iraq. The Surge did prove successful as far as it went, and, assisted by the move by Sunni tribal members who pitted themselves against the Sunni insurgents, it helped to bring Sunnis closer to the Iraqi government under the protection of the US forces. This allowed for the quelling of the extremist Sunni insurgency. As the central government strengthened and US forces were more effectively providing population security, the Shia-­ based insurgency, too, began to wind down. With the Maliki government acting against fellow Shia radical militias, the government’s credibility also improved. In short, the Surge allowed for the emergence of conditions, albeit still fragile, in which the Maliki government was able to restore its

Iraq: transformation failure   141 legitimacy and increase its credibility in defending public security and welfare, allowing for a more broad-­based, enhanced level of support from the Iraqis. The restoration of the Iraqi government’s credibility and the resulting establishment of the role of the coalition as its support was, in turn, the necessary condition for the renewing and redefining of Iraqi–US relations in the subsequent stage, which envisages complete withdrawal of US forces by 2011, with the transition of security tasks already being effected.

8 Iraq Non-­support of pre-­emptive war

The theory of pre-­emption may have had its own internal consistency, but it failed to attract widespread international support. The Bush administration’s idea of “pre-­emptive war” went against prevailing norms of self-­ defense and the doctrine of deterrence that had come to govern the international order. The swift capture of Baghdad notwithstanding, dismal performance in the early phase of the stabilization mission, furthermore, resulted in widespread rejection of the pre-­emption strategy. By 2006, opposition politicians as well as the broader public were advocating withdrawal; they could no longer justify either the cost or the logic of the operation since the promised peace, stability and democracy had not been realized. Public support of the intervention and confidence in US military cap­ ability increased quickly in the United States following the successful adoption of the Surge strategy; but even more important was the improvement in support, albeit fragile, among the Iraqi people toward the Maliki government. While the majority of Iraqis still preferred to have the coalition forces leave as soon as possible, the more prominent barometer of the operation’s performance was whether the Iraqis considered their own political institutions legitimate, and judging from the rising level of support, there was a marked improvement in the short run. The failure of the stability operation and the success of the Surge shows clearly that in the case of Iraq, both strategy (pre-­emption and later the Surge) and law (the issue of boundaries of self defense; internal organization of the Iraqi state) form the bases of the legitimacy of intervention, both affecting levels of support toward the intervention independently and through performance.1 A pre-­emption strategy initially could not win legitimacy because it did not attract support either in light of the existing legal and strategic order or in terms of performance, thus failing to create a legitimate new order. The Surge, on the other hand, was able to enhance the legitimacy of the Maliki government, thus creating a basis for the legitimacy of international intervention. Thus, Iraq’s case clearly shows that without bases in law or legitimacy—a firm grounding in international law or the ability to create a new norm, or internally, the ability of the

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   143 international intervention to form a firm legitimate Iraqi government supported by the Iraqi people—the strategy was likely to fail. Strategy needed to embrace legitimacy.

Opposition to pre-­emption: legality and feasibility Those who supported the US–UK coalition case for the use of force against Iraq did so on the basis of the legality of such an action. The US–UK justification for the use of force on the basis of past UN resolutions, primarily on the basis of UNSCR 678 and 687, as well as 1441, was accepted, for example, by Spain, which with the US and UK co-­sponsored a draft UNSC resolution that would have paved the way for the war had it been passed. Japan, extending diplomatic support for the coalition operation, did so on the basis of the need to disarm Iraq as stipulated in UNSCR 678, 687 and 1441, and the need to bring democracy and prosperity to Iraq.2 However, the majority of UN members, especially the other great powers in the Security Council, did not take the view that past UN resolutions provided sufficient authorization for the renewed use of force against Iraq. They argued that, without a new UN Security Council resolution that specifically authorized the proposed use of force by the US and the UK, it would be illegal. As Adam Roberts has argued, opponents of the US/UK stance did not provide very detailed counterarguments to the central and strongest legal justification for the intervention—that past UN resolutions provided sufficient authorization for the use of force (the “continuing authority” thesis) against Iraq.3 They concentrated less on the validity of the proposition itself than on its particular invocation to the crisis at hand, namely that Iraq still possessed large quantities of WMD and that the UN verification system set up by UNSCR 1441 could not be trusted.4 Thus, many of those opposing the war had called for continued UN weapons inspections. France, in particular, was vocal in opposing the US/ UK case for the war. In its address to the UN Security Council in February 2003, the French Foreign Minister argued that UNSCR 1441 proposed a two-­stage approach: that disarmament through inspections would first be tried and, in case this failed, the Security Council would consider all options, including the use of force, and further, that France supported continued inspections as being effective.5 An equally important point raised by France concerned the strategic consequences of the war. France pointed out that any use of force in Iraq would have to be followed by efforts to build peace, which was likely to be “long and difficult,” with far-­ reaching consequences for the stability of the region.6 France also challenged the alleged link between Al Qaeda and Baghdad.7 In addition, France also saw the use of force in Iraq as a distraction from more important and broad-­range counterterrorism issues. Many European nations concurred that the use of force in Iraq would be counterproductive to the

144   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war transatlantic partnership’s war on terrorism, as well as risking the danger of producing “unwanted effects.”8 Russia, another permanent Security Council member, also doubted the justification for the war. In February, the Russian Foreign Minister argued, as had France, that the UN was not a suitable mechanism for settling the Iraqi compliance issue, and called for UN inspection to continue.9 Compounding these concerns was anger at the Bush administration’s inclination to unilateral action in Iraq despite the broad-­ranging consequences the decision would have for many other nations. Washington’s allies became exasperated by its determination to use force and unwillingness to accept or even consider compromises. France was shocked when it discovered in early January 2003 that the US administration had already made the decision to go to war, and publicly attacked the decision.10 At the time the UNSCR 1441 was passed in November 2002, France did not rule out the use of force against Iraq; it even offered 15,000 troops to the US effort, as well as deployment of the nuclear-­powered aircraft carrier Charles de Gaulle and other military support.11 However, with the UK increasingly lined up behind the US diplomatically, and as a military partner, during the process toward the passing of UNSCR 1441, Washington no longer felt the need to negotiate with other countries in the Security Council on the conditions for the use of force against Iraq.12 When France saw that the US had no interest in a UN consensus, it reversed its position and hardened its opposition to the intervention. On 22 January, Germany and France joined together for the first time in condemning the US rationalization of the war. Until then, Germany had been alone in staunchly and unconditionally opposing the US case for using force to replace the Saddam regime, arguing that such action could in no way be considered legitimate. German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder’s argument against a war on Iraq was similar to that of France: it would distract from the war on terrorism and would escalate, resulting in mass casualties; moreover, the Arab world and the West would be further estranged.13 German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder in fall 2002 made the anti-­Iraq War stance a slogan in his campaign for re-­election, and he won. Germany’s anti-­ war stance, thus, was more a domestic agenda than an international one.14 Nonetheless, with Germany becoming an elected member of the UN Security Council, the two countries together demanded that the US allow more time for the UN weapons inspectors to verify claims of Saddam’s non-­ compliance with past relevant UN resolutions.15 Germany and France were soon joined by Russia and China. Russia was unconvinced of the case for the war in Iraq: On 22 January, Russian Foreign Minister Igor Ivanov said that “Russia deems that there is no evidence that would justify a war in Iraq.”16 Concerned about the reaction from nationalists and communists domestically, Russia registered its alarm over US unilateralist tendencies.17 China stated that its position was close to that of France.18

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   145 The debate over the war resulted in deep animosity between Europe and the United States. The ill-­feeling was such that Robert Kagan noted: “It is time to stop pretending that Europeans and Americans share a common view of the world, or even that they occupy the same world.”19 By early March, France, Germany and Russia were united in their determination that they would “not allow” passage of the second resolution by the UN Security Council, for which they “would take all our responsibilities.”20 The Non-­aligned Movement (NAM) nations, traditionally suspicious of great-­power use of force, issued a statement of opposition to the second resolution prior to the voting on the second draft resolution co-­sponsored by the US, UK and Spain to the UN Security Council, and put pressure on some of the UN Security Council members not to support the draft resolution.21 Lacking in support from key UN Security Council members, the three co-­sponsors withdrew the draft resolution on 16 March. Legal experts were divided in their views of the US–UK justifications for the war, with the majority inclined toward the view that the proposed use of force was illegal.22 The majority agreed on a negative assessment of the US–UK central argument regarding Iraq’s failure to fulfill its obligations under previous UN Security Council resolutions, or the continuation of those resolutions’ authorization of the use of force. Christine Gray, for instance, asserted that the US argument that it could justify its actions on the basis of the implied authority of the Security Council in response to Iraq’s material breach of relevant resolutions was controversial in that it potentially distorted the words of the relevant resolutions and ignored their drafting history.23 The Iraq issue also raised the issue of the legality of pre-­emptive self-­ defense.24 However, the US case for pre-­emptive self-­defense, arguing that coalition actions against Iraq were “necessary steps to defend the United States and the international community from the threat posed by Iraq and to restore international peace and security in the area,”25 was not widely accepted.26 O’Connell argued that pre-­emptive use of force absent an armed attack violates “the plain terms of the United Nations Charter and the prevailing interpretation of those terms,” presenting the traditional view that “[U]nder the Charter, states may use force in self-­defense if an armed attack occurs. For all other security concerns, states are to go to the Security Council.”27 Domestic opinion in most countries tended to be against the opening of hostilities, supporting war only after diplomatic means had been exhausted. In the United States, public opinion was generally supportive of the US taking military action against Iraq to remove the Saddam regime. In February 2002, for instance, a New York Times/CBS poll showed 74 percent approval ratings for US military action against Iraq; in February 2003 the same poll found 70 percent approval.28 However, the US public was in general wary of going to war immediately, before other options had been tested. Opinion polls indicated strong support for a

146   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war second UN resolution through 2002 and early 2003, until the Bush administration failed to secure UN backing and its campaign to persuade the public on the status of Iraqi non-­compliance with international obligations resulted in an increase in support for unilateral military action.29 Just one month before the war, in February 2003, the same public opinion poll showed that 59 percent of respondents believed the president should give the UN more time to conduct weapons inspections.30 Sixty-­three percent said that the President should not resort to war without the support of the Allies, and 56 percent said the US should wait for Security Council authorization.31 Only later in March did the poll shift in support of the unilateral resort to war.32 While 52 percent still believed that the inspectors should be given more time, that number had dropped from 61 percent in the previous month while support for war went up by nine points. Fifty-­eight percent believed that the UN inspections apparatus was doing a poor job, indicating waning American patience with the process of determining culpability vis-­à-vis compliance.33 However, the same poll also found that the American public still remained perplexed about the reasons for going to war, with 62 percent reporting that the Bush administration had not been “telling everything” that the public needed to know about reasons for a pre-­emptive attack.34 The US Congress, on the other hand, authorized the war early on in the process. On 10 October 2002, the US Congress adopted Joint Resolution H.J.Res. 114, which authorized the President to use force “as he determines to be necessary and appropriate” to “defend the national security of the United States against the continuing threat posed by Iraq” and “enforce all relevant United Nations Security Council resolutions regarding Iraq.”35 The legislation passed by a vote of 77–23 in the Senate and 296–133 in the House.36 Considering that the American public was hesitant to go to war without UN endorsement or Allies’ support until immediately before 20 March, it is puzzling that the US Congress did not more faithfully reflect that view.37 Rather, although some Democrats were indeed linking their support of the war to administration efforts to get international approval for the opening of hostilities, internal divisions within the Democratic Party, on the one hand, and the apparent need to for the United States to “be unified” at wartime, on the other, precluded more efforts in this direction. There was only a limited degree of questioning and careful scrutinizing of the administration’s rationalization for the war. In the vote on a resolution to authorize President Bush to use military force in Iraq, Democrats were deeply divided over the Iraq War. In the Senate vote, 29 supported the resolution and 21 voted against it, whereas only one Republican Senator voted against it.38 In the House, 81 Democrats voted for the resolution and 126 democrats opposed it.39 The passage of the resolution, therefore, resulted from the decision by some

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   147 Democrats, including Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle (Democrat, South Dakota), who supported the resolution so that the country “speaks with one voice” at a time of war.40 Some, like Senator Daschle and John Edwards (Democrat, North Carolina), for instance, seemed anxious to finish debate on the Iraq War in order to be able to focus on other issues of importance to the Party, such as the economy, prior to the upcoming November midterm elections.41 Nonetheless, significant doubts remained within the Democratic Party over the proposed war against Iraq, and the majority of Democrats were still against it.42 Some preferred a delay in voting on the resolution rather than an early vote before the election. Many were concerned about the lack of international support. Daschle, for instance, initially linked his support for going ahead with the vote to several criteria such as international support for the war beyond the UK.43 Dissenting opinions within the Democratic Party had to do with incomplete evidence provided by the Bush administration. House minority whip Nancy Pelosi (Democrat, California) complained that the Bush administration was not providing any new information, stating that she knew “of no information that the threat is so imminent from Iraq” that the Congress could wait until January to vote on a resolution.44 Rep. Robert Menendez (Democrat, New Jersey) and others remained unconvinced that Bush had made a compelling case for the war.45 Especially contentious was the claim that there was a link between Iraq and Al Qaeda. Then Senator Joseph Biden (Democrat, Delaware), for example, argued that no credible evidence had been provided on the matter.46 Some democrats also considered that the Iraq War resolution allowed for too broad powers for the President. For instance, Biden and Senator Richard G. Lugar (Republican, Indiana) wanted to limit the authority the resolution would give to the President to disarming the WMD in Iraq, and to obligate the President to report to Congress on his efforts to gain UN backing, before he would use that authority.47 However, party lines were weakened when House Minority leader Richard Gephard (Democrat, Missouri) made an agreement with Bush, pledging to support him with only minor modifications to Bush’s version of authorization text.48 His reason for support was again not to constrain the President at the time of war: “We had to go through this, putting politics aside, so we have a chance to get a consensus that will lead the country in the right direction.”49 Senate Majority Leader Daschle also announced his support after the House vote, saying that “we have got to support this effort. We have got to do it in an enthusiastic and bipartisan way.”50 As a result, despite the deeply divisive nature of the war, support for the authorization was more bipartisan than that passed at the time of the first Gulf War, as more Democrats voted for the resolution.51 Expert opinion in the United States voiced concern with the Bush administration’s theory of pre-­emption, or its application to Iraq, primarily

148   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war for strategic reasons. High-­profile opposition came from leading Republican Brent Scowcroft, who had served as National Security Advisor under the previous Bush administration. His contention with the Bush administration’s theory on pre-­emption was the lack of any perceivable advantage in declaring it, as it had been “common knowledge that under some circumstances the U.S. would pre-­empt.” Such a policy, he argued, might give other states the idea of exercising the right to pre-­empt, as well as giving out an image of the US as “arrogant and unilateral.”52 Zbigniew Brzezinski, who had served as National Security Advisor under President Jimmy Carter, worried that the doctrine might “stimulate excessive anxieties,” and that “our power is not so enormous that we can afford progressively to lose the element of legitimacy of that power.”53 In the United Kingdom, a major supporter of the war, the Blair government faced staunch opposition from the beginning. Mass anti-­war protests were organized, and on 26 February, at the UK House of Commons, 199 Labor Party members broke ranks with the Prime Minister, in what was “the biggest Commons revolt” of Prime Minister Blair’s premiership, indicating the degree to which the Prime Minister became isolated.54 The government still won, with 393 in favor, including nearly all the Conservative members supporting Blair, to 198 opposed.55 Opposition in the House of Commons centered on the lack of UN backing for the war, the need to allow for more time for the UN inspectors, and questions over the credibility of evidence.56 As a further blow to the Prime Minister, leader of the House of Commons Robin Cook resigned from the Cabinet in opposition to the war, stating that: “I can’t accept collective responsibility for the decision to commit Britain now to military action in Iraq without international agreement or domestic support.”57 Clare Short, Secretary of State for International Development, also resigned from the Cabinet in opposition to the war, saying that the decision for the UK to support unilateral US action had deprived her of the necessary legitimacy to assist in Iraqi reconstruction.58 In the UK, the public perception of whether the Iraq War was a right decision was 13 percentage points lower than in the United States, at 61 percent in March 2003, according to Pew polls.59 Countries that did not support the use of force in Iraq, on the other hand, had high degrees of public approval toward their government policy. In France, 83 percent of the people approved of their government’s decision to oppose the war, and in Germany, it was 80 percent in March 2003.60 The percentage went up a year later for both countries, to 88 percent and 86 percent, respectively.61 Lack of public support for the war overall had very practical consequences. The starkest of these was the inability of the US and the UK to align support from other governments in terms of troops and materiel— the “blood and treasure” needed for the 2003 war effort. Backing for the US–UK Operation Iraqi Freedom was scarce from the beginning, although

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   149 49 countries ultimately offered some sort of support for the war, diplomatic or military, the latter including granting access to bases and ports, over-­flight rights, and transit permission.62 These countries included among the Western nations (aside from the United Kingdom, which sent a 45,000-strong fighting force) Australia, which sent 2,000 troops and 150 special forces, Denmark with 150 troops, and Spain with 900 naval personnel. The majority of nations that assisted the operation militarily were the former Eastern Europe.63

Opposition based upon performance As fighting dragged on, the Iraq War quickly lost what meager public support it had obtained. Disenchantment followed as soon as it became clear that the end of the major combat operation declared in May 2003 would not mean the conclusion of the war and troop withdrawal any time soon. Polls showed that the percentage of those who were polled in the US who answered that the war in Iraq was a mistake jumped twofold from about 20 to over 40 percent as early as the latter half of 2003, and by July 2004, a majority were saying that the war was a mistake.64 This rate would increase, to peak at 63 percent in 2008.65 The re-­election of President Bush in 2004 did little to improve support for the war.66 The general drop in support for the war among the public may be seen as a reflection of the unimpressive performance of reconstruction operations and the increased violence of the continuing hostilities despite the Bush administration’s high-­minded rationalizations for the war. Polls taken especially outside the US showed that rebuilding efforts were poorly rated. Whereas 50 percent of the US public rated allied performance as good on reconstruction in 2004, in France this was only 35 percent, followed by Britain (30 percent), Germany (16 percent), and generally low in Islamic countries (14–27 percent).67 The public in most countries other than the United States also thought that the war in Iraq had harmed the fight against terrorism. Sixty-­seven percent of Moroccans, 57 percent of Pakistanis and 36 percent of Jordanians thought that war in Iraq had had a negative impact on the fight against terrorism. In the Western world, 58 percent in Germany, 55 percent in France and 50 percent in the UK thought likewise.68 In the US, Republicans overwhelmingly thought that war in Iraq helped the war on terror (86 percent), whereas among Democrats the figure was 46 percent.69 Despite the US rhetoric about democratizing Iraq, the overseas public view, especially in Germany and France, was less confident about the US commitment to promote democracy. Eighty-­two percent in Germany and 78 percent in France reported that the US could not be trusted in its commitment to democracy.70 In 2004, in the US, those who thought that the war was going well plummeted to a level below 40 percent—and a low of 35 percent in May 2004—in part due to the revelations about prison

150   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war inmate abuse.71 Following the first elections in Iraq, optimism pushed the proportion to over 50 percent, but it fell again in late 2005 and reached a low of 38 percent in 2006.72 In addition, with revelations that WMD could not be found, more respondents answered that the US and UK governments had “lied” (82 percent in France, 69 percent in Germany, 41 percent in the UK, 31 percent in the US).73 In the US Congress, the Bush administration came under increasingly heated criticism over its handling of postwar reconstruction in Iraq. Strong criticism had already been heard about the administration’s reconstruction plan before the war started, however. In February 2003, one month before the invasion, in the third hearing in that year on Iraq by the Committee on Foreign Relations, the Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, Senator Richard G. Lugar, warned: “We must avoid any tendency to view military operations in Iraq as separate from reconstruction of Iraq.”74 In the same hearing, Senator Joe Biden argued that the postwar plan was so imprecise that the American public did not know enough to form what could be called “informed consent.”75 Having authorized the war back in October 2002, however, Congress had a significantly difficult time controlling the administration’s momentum as it prepared for war. Once war was declared, public opinion in the US was generally supportive of the war, but, as the insurgency intensified in the latter half of 2003 and thereafter, the administration came under increasing attack from lawmakers about its handling of the war. Issues flared up in Congressional debates over, for example, whether the administration’s current mission and conditions for its success—in achieving democracy and prosperity in Iraq—warranted the expansion of the initial focus of the war (ousting Saddam and disarming WMD in Iraq).76 Some congressional members started to demand clear criteria, or benchmarks, with which to gauge that success. Some worried about the strengthened relations that were seen to emerge between Iran and the new government in Iraq.77 In the three US elections held after the start of the Bush presidency and before 2006, Iraq became a heatedly debated issue, and the seeming bipartisanship behind the adoption of the war authorization in 2002 evaporated. One particularly thorny issue was where Iraq stood in the war on terror. Democrats found it difficult to support Bush’s policy of expanding the fight against terrorism and placing Iraq firmly at its center.78 There were also broader questions at issue. Republicans tended to support both Bush’s definition of the war on terror but also the means to fight it.79 For Bush, supported by majority Republicans, the war on terror meant a global struggle against all anti-­American terror organizations and regimes, particularly if they were intent on acquiring nuclear weapons.80 In opinion polls, Republicans were also more likely than Democrats to endorse the use of military force, for instance, if a foreign government was found to be sheltering Al Qaeda terrorists (58 percent of Republicans affirmative, 38 percent of Democrats affirmative).81

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   151 The intelligence failure with regard to Iraq’s WMD capabilities was also another issue of contention. While Democrats were keen to place blame not only on the intelligence community but also on how top officials, including the President himself, had misused the information, the Bush administration prevented the issue from being pursued. In early 2004, the year of the presidential election, Senator John F. Kerry, emerging as a potential Democratic Party nominee for president, called for an independent inquiry into the WMD intelligence. When President Bush decided instead to appoint the Silberman–Robb Commission, or Commission on the Intelligence Capabilities of the United States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, this was met with anger by some Democrats, who charged that the new commission was designed to “protect the president.”82 More and more Democrats began to demand changes in strategy in Iraq, and many advocated phased withdrawal and transferring the political and security responsibility to the Iraqis was the best strategy. For instance, in a statement to the Senate in September 2006, Senator Carl Levin, incoming chairman of the Armed Services Committee, proposed a phased withdrawal of American troops by the end of 2006. He also proposed putting more pressure on the Iraqis to take responsibility for their own security and to advance political reconciliation, saying that America “cannot save the Iraqis from themselves.”83 Amid the increasing unpopularity of the war, the 2006 mid-­term elections became the domestic testing ground for the Bush administration. As Iraq became a key campaign issue, Democrats stepped up attacks on the administration. A group of top Democratic members of Congress, including House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority leader Harry Reid, sent a letter to the President on 30 July 2006, claiming that far from implementing a comprehensive “Strategy for Victory,” the administration’s strategy appeared to be one of trying to avoid defeat, and that “[S]imply staying the course in Iraq is not working.”84 The result of the election was, as many predicted, a historic loss for the Republican Party, in which the House reverted to Democratic control for the first time in 12 years, resulting in a Democratic-­led Congress in both houses. This was understood as a severe loss of support for the Bush administration, and conceding defeat, the Bush administration finally replaced the defense secretary as well as top military commanders, and agreed to effectuate change in military strategy. The effort to review strategy in Iraq accelerated, with Bush himself admitting the failure of what had gone before. Given the poor performance in Iraq, material support from the international community had become even harder to acquire. Although the UN Security Council unanimously approved Resolution 1551 on 6 October 2003, which authorized the Multinational Force-­Iraq,85 hence legitimizing the international force there, the level of international support in substantive terms did not significantly improve, and as the situation on the ground

152   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war deteriorated, support further decreased. Although Japan sent non-­combat troops in 2004 and Australia increased its involvement in 2005, a series of other countries—Honduras, the Dominican Republic, Spain, Norway, the Philippines, the Netherlands and Poland–withdrew their forces.86 Reconstruction pledges attracted $16.4 billion from non-­US sources as of the end of 2007, but only a small part of that amount had been committed or disbursed to the UN Development Group Trust Funds for Iraq and the World Bank.87 NATO became engaged in forming a training mission, the NATO Training Mission-­Iraq (NTM-­I), as had been decided at the Istanbul summit in June 2004. As of 2007, combat capabilities were predominantly provided by the United States, and 25 countries had military forces participating in the coalition’s stabilization effort on a small scale.88 Iraqis themselves were losing patience. By far the most important part of support was Iraqi receptiveness to the presence of the US and coalition presence. Initial Iraqi reaction was mixed but had tilted toward the positive. A Gallup poll conducted in Baghdad in September 2003 found that 62 percent of respondents believed that ousting Saddam was worth the hardships they had endured since the invasion, although virtually all (94 percent) thought that the city was now more dangerous than it had been before the invasion. This was despite the immediate negative effects of the invasion, where most had endured extended periods without such basic services as electricity (99 percent) or safe drinking water (69 percent).89 Two-­thirds (67 percent) believed that Iraq would be somewhat (35 percent) or much (32 percent) better off in five years’ time.90 As late as in April 2004, the majority of Iraqis remained optimistic about the future, regardless of their ethnicity.91 What was more worrisome was the tendency among the Iraqis to see the coalition largely as an occupying force. The coalition had from the beginning not been altogether welcome. The above-­cited Gallup poll of September 2003 found that although the overwhelming majority thought the ousting of Saddam was worthwhile, the sentiment still did not translate into favorable opinion of the US or the UK. Nearly half of Baghdadis (44 percent) had a negative view of the US, and 48 percent viewed the UK negatively.92 Perceptions of the initial invasion, not particularly favorable from the outset, turned further to the negative after 2004. In an Oxford Research International survey conducted in February 2004, while 48.2 percent of respondents said that invasion in 2003 was right, 39.1 percent thought it was wrong.93 Those who thought that the invasion was wrong increased to 50.3 percent in November 2005.94 After spring 2004, the ill-­advised coalition strategy focusing on mass-­ scale raids, as well as the revelations of Abu Ghraib prison inmate abuse, most likely contributed to the worsening of general perceptions of the coalition. The botched first offensive in spring 2004 also increased the sense among Iraqis that the insurgents had the upper hand. Sunnis

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   153 believed that the insurgents had won a great victory in Fallujah.95 In April 2004, a poll found that 89 percent of Iraqis considered the coalition to be an occupying force.96 A US Department of Defense (DoD) survey in 2006 indicated that among the five million Sunnis there, about 75 percent now supported the armed insurgency against the coalition, up from 14 percent in a 2003 DoD poll. BBC journalist John Simpson attributed this “catastrophic loss of support” to the Fallujah operation.97 By 2006, various surveys showed that a fair majority of Iraqis wanted the US and coalition forces to leave Iraq. A State Department-­led study published in September 2006 showed that in Baghdad, for example, 65 percent of respondents favored immediate withdrawal of US and foreign forces from Iraq.98 Another poll taken by the University of Maryland found that 71 percent of respondents wanted the Iraqi government to ask foreign forces to depart within a year, while 77 percent were convinced that the US intended to keep a permanent military base in Iraq.99 In a disturbing trend that was consistent with the above-­cited DoD poll, a January 2006 RAND study showed that about half of all Iraqis approved of attacks on the coalition forces. Whereas a small percentage of Kurds approved of such attacks (16 percent), the overwhelming majority of the Sunnis approved of such attacks (88 percent). Forty-­one percent of Shias approved of such attacks.100 Most critically, the failure by the Iraqi authorities to gain popular trust and support was evident in various surveys. The tendency was most obvious in Sunni-­populated areas. In Al Anbar Province, for instance, a Lincoln Group study done in May 2006 showed that most Iraqis supported the armed resistance, 4.17 points out of 5 points (1 = strongly not support; 5 = strongly support), as opposed to the Iraqi police (2.97 points, although in Fallujah, local police were supported strongly at 4.13 points), the Iraqi Army (1.67 points), the Iraqi government (1.49 points), Arab fighters from outside Iraq (1.36 points), and the US Army (1.09).101 In addition, in Al Anbar province in 2006, 77–90 percent of respondents considered the government to be illegitimate.102

After the Surge After several violence-­ridden years, the relative success of the Surge in quelling violence helped Iraqis recover some of their optimism for the future and increased their support for the current status as well as in government institutions. Support and/or acceptance of the US presence, however, remained consistently low, despite the Surge’s success. An ABC/BBC/NHK poll conducted in March 2009 suggested that local perceptions of the situation had improved dramatically. Whereas in August 2007, less than half of respondents rated security in Iraq positively, this percentage had gone up to more than 60 percent in February 2008 and 84 percent by March 2009. The rating of freedom of movement went

154   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war up even more steeply, from only a 25 percent positive rating in August 2007 to 74 percent in March 2009.103 The majority of Iraqis still disliked the US forces, however, with eight out of ten favoring withdrawal of US forces on schedule by 2011 or sooner in the same poll.104 However, 64 percent of Iraqis, up from less than 50 percent in 2007, listed democracy as the political system they preferred for Iraq.105 Confidence in Iraqi government institutions was also up. Both the Iraqi police and army received more than 70 percent approval ratings in March 2009, up from below 70 percent in previous years. The improvement was much more significant in the case of the Iraqi national government, which won an approval rating of 61 percent in March 2009, up from less than 40 percent in August 2007.106 Importantly, Prime Minister Maliki’s ratings also went up significantly among the Sunnis. While his approval rating among the Sunnis had remained about 3 percent from March 2007 to August 2007, and stood at less than 10 percent in February 2008, it went up to 31 percent in March 2009. Among the Shias his approval rating was the highest, at 70 percent in March 2009, also rising from about 50 percent in February 2008. Maliki’s approval ratings among the Kurds, however, were lower, at 51 percent in March 2009, having dropped from close to 70 percent in February 2008. This was still higher, however, since the lowest rate of over 30 percent in August 2007.107 Despite the heightened confidence toward the Iraqi government, however, many Iraqis remained skeptical of the indigenous Iraqi capability to maintain security. Although Iraqis were generally eager for the early departure of US forces, with the majority still in doubt over US motivations, only 45 percent of Kurds and 38 percent of Sunnis—still fearful of Shia domination—were confident of their country’s own capability to handle security matters after US departure. Naturally, the most confident were Shia, 75 percent of whom reported confidence in Iraq’s ability to maintain its own security.108 With the apparent success of the Surge, and the resulting increase in confidence and support among Iraqis in the current government and institutions, the American public, initially skeptical of the strategy, slowly came to support it as well. A Gallup poll in July 2008 recorded 48 percent of respondents thinking that the Surge was “making the situation better.” This was up from only 22 percent in July 2007.109 The tendency to endorse the Surge was strongest among Republicans, with 77 percent in July 2008, but Independents’ rating of the Surge went up by 10 points to 47 percent between February 2008 and July 2008, while ratings among the Democrats also went up by 7 to 28 percent during the same period.110 American embrace of the Surge, however, did not alter the public view that the Iraq War had been mistaken choice, as a solid majority (53-62 percent) were constantly recorded from January 2007 as saying that the war was a mistake,111 although in 2009, Americans were indeed more

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   155 optimistic. Those who thought that the war was a mistake went down from 60 percent in August 2008 and 56 percent in early 2009 to 53 percent in March 2009, a slight reversal of the trend. Also notable was the tendency since mid-­2008 to perceive the Afghan War as more important than the situation in Iraq. In July 2008, 44 percent said that Afghanistan was the  more important war for the US, while 38 percent said it was Iraq.112 Indeed, two-­thirds of Americans considered that the war in Afghanistan was not a mistake, while the majority, as noted, considered Iraq to have been a mistake.113 The optimism that the success of the Surge fostered allowed Americans to expand their focus to issues other than Iraq, such as the threats posed by Iran and North Korea, as well as the drug-­fueled violence in Mexico. The above trends reinforce the view that the Iraq War was never understood by majority Americans as “their war.” The Bush administration, thus, never managed to attract genuine support from the American public toward their cause for war in Iraq.

Conclusion Iraq represents a case in which legitimation of the use of force largely failed. The attempt by the Bush administration to justify invasion in 2003 rested on a complex set of rationales that were mutually supportive and, in theory, internally consistent. Nonetheless, there were multiple difficulties in relating these rationales to the existing legal order, as well as in translating them into workable means connected with the desired ends. On both accounts, the Iraq intervention did not attract support from other governments or international public opinion. The legal basis of intervention was the perceived legitimacy of and urgent need to enforce relevant UN Security Council resolutions imposing upon Iraq the obligation to divest itself of weapons of mass destruction and their production capabilities, and reveal its holdings to the UN inspection regime. This view, presented jointly by the US and the UK, that the US and coalition had already been endowed with the authority to enforce the terms of UN Security Council, was nevertheless challenged as implausible by most states and in the majority of expert legal opinion. The opposition was based upon the unacceptability of the US administration-­asserted legal basis of action, regardless of performance. The more direct basis for the use of force provided by the Bush administration, however, was the doctrine of pre-­emption, which was formally defined in the National Security Strategy of the United States of America. This doctrine was presented, in the post-­9/11 international context of threats posed by non-­state sources with destructive means as well as from “rogue states,” to support a strategy replacing the tradition of deterrence. While the option of pre-­empting a threat had always remained in the periphery of US national security practice, the Bush administration

156   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war brought it to center stage in its war on terrorism strategy, as a way to ensure self-­defense in an era when deterrence was arguably unreliable. In doing so, the US sought to bring forward an evolved form of the theory of pre-­emptive self-­defense. The pre-­emption logic was connected in complex ways with the US mission to democratize Iraq, which was defined as the end-­state of pre-­emption, and to spread democracy abroad, especially in the Middle East. Democratization was thus both an end-­state and a strategy to build a safer world. The rest of the world, however, was alarmed by the doctrine of pre-­ emption. Many viewed the prospect as conflicting with basic premises of the international legal system. Many others, too, were worried about the doctrine’s strategic implications. Many viewed with alarm what they saw as an arrogant abuse of US power, which other states could not surpass. The unilateral tendencies of the neoconservative leaders in Washington generated anger and apprehension around the world, even among US allies, that the actions of the sole superpower could not be controlled, even if the consequences greatly concerned them. It was not only the basis of the war’s justification—the alleged need to pre-­empt terrorists and the potential attacks of rogue states—that troubled many as fundamentally destabilizing to world affairs, and the Bush administration’s performance in carrying out this strategy disenchanted even supporters of this doctrine. The most troubling aspect of performance in this context was the failure to manage the smooth transit to a postwar stability operation, a stage that should have been critical to successfully preventing threats from forming, or to link to an active democratization process, which was defined as the goal. The failure was caused most notably by the optimistic assumption that full-­fledged postwar operations would be “unnecessary” and that the Iraqis would naturally take it over after the American “liberation” of Iraq had been concluded. A number of developments within Iraq following the invasion prevented the realization of this all-­too-optimistic scenario. Some of these developments could have been avoided had the US been more adept at preparing for and adapting to the conditions that developed on the ground, i.e., destabilization and the rise of insurgency caused to a large extent by the political process put in motion as a result of regime change. The problematic performance of the war of pre-­emption and of operations leading to stabilization and democratization, hence, contributed most to undermining the legitimacy of the intervention. Those who were opposed to invasion on the basis of illegality found their opposition reinforced, as the Bush administration was unable to carry through its promises. Those who had supported pre-­emption in Iraq had to re-­evaluate their position, as the ambitious goals proved nearly impossible to achieve. Adding to this was the sense that the use of force against Iraq had not only been illegal and ineffective, but also unnecessary—the alleged WMD capabilities were not found—thus resulting in even further loss of support.

Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war   157 War to prevent terrorism, another central basis of war, thus also proved to be an exaggeration, to the public’s dismay. On the contrary, the situation in Iraq was made into a source of terrorism, which it had not been previously. The pressing concern became how to prevent Iraq’s further destabilization and disintegration, as these conditions would spawn terrorist groups and radical ideologies within Iraq, with unknown consequences for the stability of the region as a whole and beyond. Given what proved to be the implausible quality of the bases of the war and the dismal performance of the Iraqi operation, the world public no longer sustained support for the intervention, and pressures rose for the withdrawal or phased withdrawal of US and coalition forces from Iraq. The Surge was the Bush administration’s final attempt to legitimize a continued war effort in Iraq, and the strategy did in the end succeed in restoring some calm in the country. With its success, Iraqi confidence and support in their own government increased, and US public support for the Iraq intervention improved, although the US public never overcame doubts about the wisdom of the initial invasion of 2003. Thus, in Iraq, first a strategy (that of pre-­emption) emerged in the face of the dramatic changes in the international environment that came about in the wake of 9/11, and attempts were made by the Bush administration to change the existing legal and normative order, perceived to be no longer helpful, by advocating that new strategy. It proved flawed, however, in the face of normative controversies and dismal performance in achieving proclaimed goals and failed to attract sufficient support. Hence, its legitimacy could not be established. Had the pre-­emption strategy led to a swift success in creating a democratic and stable Iraq, as hoped, some shift in the status of pre-­emption in both international law and strategy might have been achieved. That did not happen. The Surge, by the methodical application of a new set of principles for dealing with the insurgency and sectarian violence, brought about a workable, if imperfect, semblance of order in Iraq, an order in which the trust of the people could be recovered. This newly found internal stability then became the basis of renewed international support for the Iraqi government to stabilize the country and emerge from the war. The Surge strategy worked because it embraced the issues of legitimacy. This newly successful strategy thus provided a more accepted basis for justifying a continuing war effort. The lessons of the Iraq experience were thus twofold. One was the near­complete lack of support for the bases used to justify the hostilities, and the ensuing development in which the sense of an unjust war being fought was reinforced by extended bad performance in the course of the intervention. In general, public opinion worldwide had questioned the handling of the war by the coalition governments, and their bungling of the effort had led many to question the justifiability of pre-­emption, particularly when failure in postwar stabilization compromised rather than enhanced security.

158   Iraq: non-support of pre-emptive war The other major lesson of Iraq is that it confirmed the intertwined nature of strategy and law. Although a successful strategy could promote change in the existing legal order, strategy that is not grounded in some sort of a constitutional order, or does not create a new order, is far less likely to work or be sustained. While a changed environment may initiate a new strategy, it must be followed by a regained sense of legitimacy if it is to be maintained. In Iraq, the US/UK failure to implement the pre-­ emption and democratization strategy in full created a sense of crisis in the authority that had surrounded this strategy. When it was replaced by a new and adequately supplied strategy it was successful in creating a new semblance of political and legal order within Iraq that then sustained the legitimacy of international engagement.

9 Afghanistan From self-­defense to state-­building

The simultaneous terrorist attacks on the United States on 11 September 2001 triggered the use of force by the US-­led coalition in Afghanistan, toppling the Taliban regime and “disrupting” the Al Qaeda network. While Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF ) continued to pursue remnants of the Taliban and Al Qaeda, an international multi-­agency stability operation under United Nations auspices designed to support the post-­Taliban Afghan government was organized. When, a few years later, the Taliban revived, the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF; initially a multinational force commanded by individual nations and later led by NATO) came to involve counterinsurgency operations, especially in the southern and eastern provinces. This chapter will discuss the bases of the intervention in Afghanistan, followed by two chapters taking up the performance of that operation and support toward it, respectively. The Afghanistan operation was distinguished by the expansion of the bases of intervention from a narrow focus on individual and collective self-­defense and counterterrorism, combined with a “light-­footprint”1 approach to state-­building in the initial stages, to a more expansive focus over time involving counterinsurgency. For the initial military operation, the OEF initially had but one ethical basis: the right of self-­defense against what was deemed a challenge to sovereignty by a non-­state party through irregular use of force. Such an act of international terrorism was also defined as a threat to international peace.2 The later stability operation in Afghanistan, which comprised the ISAF and political and socio-­development assistance provided by the broader international community, by contrast, had multiple ethical bases. First was support for state-­building in Afghanistan—the construction of a legitimate, representative and effective Afghan state. Democratization and reconstruction were also recognized as formal bases of the operation. The Bush administration later rationalized the expansive task of “nation-­ building” by referring to the “democratic peace” thesis, which constituted a de facto ethical basis. The power-­political bases of the Afghan operation included, most importantly, prevention of further terrorist acts perpetuated from

160   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building Afghanistan. This rationale was to be fundamental to other core rationales. Further, after expansion of the ISAF to areas beyond Kabul, the NATO-­led mission engaged in counterinsurgency operations, especially in the southern provinces, against Taliban re-­infiltration of the provinces. The narcotics problem was another basis, and counter-­narcotics operations/activities also became increasingly connected to the counterinsurgency effort. Hence, the stability operation in Afghanistan was aimed at the creation of a set of political, security, economic and social conditions in Afghanistan that would prevent Al Qaeda and the Taliban from returning to and again entrenching themselves in Afghanistan. As the state failure of Afghanistan came to be seen as a menace to the creation of such conditions, addressing the problems of state failure provided another basis for various stability-­related efforts there. Another important power-­political basis of the stability operation in Afghanistan was, despite the apparent contradiction with arguments for expanding the operation to state-­building, the assumption of the low cost of these operations. Initially, the operation was planned to take only a “light-­footprint” approach to security and state-­building, but it soon became clear that this would mean that a significantly smaller level of resources would be provided by the international community than would be necessary to secure the whole country and enable a robust program of development/state-­building. The resource deprivation resulting from this approach would only worsen once the Iraq War began. The increasing gap between available resources and the realities on the ground jeopardized the US and NATO pledge that they would successfully defeat the insurgency and the credibility of the mission. The need to re-­establish credibility, then, formed another power-­political basis. In this context, the Obama administration’s March 2009 “Afghan Surge”—the increase at this stage of the troop level by 17,000, and with a shift in strategy for their deployment, and a range of changes in regional strategies—became the basis on which to re-­legitimate intervention in Afghanistan. This was achieved by reinforcing the core purpose of the intervention, which had been to “disrupt, dismantle and defeat” the Al Qaeda terrorist network and its extremist allies. Thus, while the original rationale of counterterrorism was re-­emphasized, it was understood that those operations would be accompanied by counterinsurgency operations, with renewed focus on population security and enhanced assistance for governance, counter-­narcotics programs and security sector reform, in a more comprehensive effort to enhance the legitimacy of the Afghan government. The new strategy was extended to Pakistan as well. That extension was followed by another increase in troop levels by 30,000 US troops and 7,000 troops from other NATO nations in December 2009. As such, this move reflected the recognition by the administration that Afghanistan, coupled with Pakistan, posed a greater danger to security than Iraq, and formed the true frontlines in the fight against terrorism.

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   161 After a brief overview of international responses to the 9/11 attacks, this chapter discusses, first, the ethical bases of the OEF and the stability operation in Afghanistan (self-­defense, state-­building, democratization and reconstruction of Afghanistan). The discussion continues by looking at the power-­political bases of the OEF and stability operations (prevention of terrorism, counterinsurgency, counter-­narcotics, addressing state failure, assumption of low cost, recouping of credibility), and finally, Obama’s Afghan Surge as reinforcement for the power-­political basis of defeating terrorism.

From 9/11 to the stability operation Toward the end of the 1990s, the development of links between the Taliban and Al Qaeda network inside Afghan territory was attracting keen international concern. In 1998, the United States attacked Al Qaeda terrorist training camps located in Afghanistan in response to alleged Al Qaeda bombing of US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania.3 In 1999, international sanctions were imposed on the country.4 Furthermore, the fact that Afghanistan was the base from which Al Qaeda orchestrated the simultaneous terrorist attacks on the US in September 2001, killing more than 3,000 civilians, dramatically raised the strategic stakes of Afghanistan for the United States and the international community. The United States reacted swiftly. The US-­led OEF, in alliance with the Afghan-­opposition Northern Alliance, swiftly defeated the Taliban regime, and the Al Qaeda leadership dispersed. In the launching of the OEF, it should be noted, the US had no plans for postwar stabilization in Afghanistan.5 When the war to oust the Taliban was concluded with unexpected speed, the US decided to involve the UN in the postwar phase to install a post-­Taliban government. Under UN auspices, Afghan political leaders met in Bonn in December 2001 and committed themselves to a transition to a fully representative and freely elected government.6 The “Bonn Agreement” was later endorsed by the UN Security Council (UNSCR 1383; 2001). Despite unfavorable conditions, the key benchmarks of the Bonn Agreement were implemented, including the formation of a transitional government, the adoption of a new constitution, and the holding of presidential, parliamentary and provincial council elections, culminating in the conclusion of the Bonn process with the inauguration of the new National Assembly in December 2005.7 Based on the Bonn Conference, the United Nations established the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA), mandated to play a political and diplomatic advisory role in the implementation of the Bonn Agreement, as well as to coordinate UN humanitarian relief and reconstruction assistance, in accordance with the light-­footprint approach.

162   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building To support the Bonn process, the International Conference on Reconstruction Assistance for Afghanistan held in Tokyo in January 2002 pledged more than $4.5 billion for the country’s reconstruction, a sum that was later increased to $5.2 billion. According to the “pillars” set up at the Group of 8 meeting in Geneva for implementing the light-­footprint scheme, the leading nations would take charge of five sectors of security sector reform: military reform (the US), police reform (Germany), disarmament (Japan), judicial reform (Italy), and counter-­narcotics (the UK). When the Bonn process came to an end in 2005, the London Conference of January 2006 agreed that the remaining problems in the areas of security (including security sector reform), governance and reconstruction would be tackled in an ensuing process, and endorsed the Interim Afghanistan National Development Strategy (I-­ANDS).8 The Afghanistan Compact was signed, which committed Afghanistan and the international community to a set of principles and specific benchmarks and timelines in implementing the Strategy.9 UN Security Council Resolution 1659 (2006) subsequently endorsed the Compact.10 At the Paris Conference held in June 2008, the Afghanistan National Development Strategy was launched, which calls for greater “Afghanization” of efforts to achieve the Afghanistan Compact benchmarks and UN Millennium Development Goals. The main document of the Strategy,11 together with the Paris Declaration,12 set forth a new roadmap for Afghanistan and the international community to provide for security and development. The international community accordingly pledged a further $21.4 billion for this effort. In terms of establishing security in Afghanistan, the “light” international presence was to be supported by the ISAF, the small multinational force established based on the Bonn Agreement. Initially commanded by individual nations, the ISAF was authorized by the UN under UN Charter Chapter VII, and was to “assist the Afghan Interim Authority in the maintenance of security in Kabul and its surrounding areas, so that the Afghan Interim Authority as well as the personnel of the U.N. can operate in a secure environment.” Further, the Council asked member states participating in the ISAF “to help the Afghan Interim Authority in the establishment and training of new Afghan security and armed forces.”13 Reflecting US preferences, the ISAF role was initially to be limited to operations only in the capital.14 Given the lack of a countrywide security presence, Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) were deployed, beginning with a US team in Gardez in November 2002. PRTs were civil–military teams deployed to key provinces with the aim of enhancing stability, assisting and strengthening local Afghan administration, and accelerating reconstruction.15 The rationale of the PRTs in Afghanistan was to help extend the authority of the central government led by President Hamid Karzai, whose influence was limited to Kabul. Command of the military components of the PRTs was transferred to the ISAF starting in 2003.

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   163 Key developments took place in the organization of the ISAF after 2003. First, the ISAF command was transferred to NATO in August 2003. Further, UN Security Council Resolution 1510 (2003), adopted on 13 October 2003, expanded the ISAF to the rest of the country beyond Kabul.16 The ISAF subsequently expanded in four stages, first to the north in 2003 to 2004, followed by the west in 2005, and the south and east in 2006. With this expansion, ISAF force level increased to 47,000. Alongside the ISAF, the US-­led 4,000-strong OEF counterterrorism mission was operating in the  eastern provinces.17 With expansion of the ISAF to the southern and eastern parts of the country, a critical shift took place in its mission incorporating counterinsurgency operations against the resurgent Taliban militants. These developments led NATO, by 2006, to call for additional troops to assist in operations in southern Afghanistan, as well as more equipment.18 Burden-­sharing within NATO became a serious issue, with the US asking for more contributions from NATO allies involved in the Afghanistan mission. The Obama administration subsequently made review of Afghanistan strategy an urgent priority, and in March 2009 formulated the Afghan Surge strategy and newly pledged 17,000 combat troops; it later agreed to send an additional 4,000 personnel to train Afghan security forces.19 Although Obama’s strategy had yet to emerge in its full form, his proposals made it clear that there would be a sharper focus on the original purpose of intervention (preventing terrorism by “disrupting, dismantling and defeating” Al Qaeda and its Taliban allies), while strengthening counterinsurgency operations in Afghanistan with a sharper and narrower focus on population security, governance, counter-­narcotics programs and building local security forces. There would be a regional strategy to coordinate approaches to Pakistan and Afghanistan, including more assistance to Pakistan to strengthen civilian capabilities in dealing with instability in affected areas. Subsequent review by the Obama administration resulted in the decision in December 2009 to further reinforce the troop presence in Afghanistan by 30,000 troops from the US and 7,000 from other NATO nations. The focus of the Afghan Surge was the incorporation of counterinsurgency strategy focusing on protection of key population centers from Taliban infiltrations, in addition to renewed offensives against the Taliban to reverse their gains and training of Afghan security forces.20 Tighter focus was put on enhancing the legitimacy and effectiveness of the Afghan government through a “civilian surge,” particularly given the fraudulent election in August 2009 which re-­elected Karzai as President. President Obama at the same time declared that US forces would begin drawing down in July 2011 as Afghan security forces assumed charge of their own security.21 Formal ethical bases The most important basis of the intervention in Afghanistan was “self-­ defense.” Although irregular in nature and conducted by non-­state actors,

164   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building the 9/11 attacks were interpreted by the US as comparable to a military attack,22 declaring them to be an “act of war.”23 The US Congress authorized the use of force on 14 September, through legislation S.J. Resolution 23, empowering the President to: use all necessary and appropriate force against those nations, organizations, or persons he determines planned, authorized, committed, or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on September 11, 2001, or harbored such organizations or persons, in order to prevent any future acts of international terrorism against the United States by such nations, organizations or persons.24 In the United Nations, the United States formally justified military intervention in Afghanistan on the basis of self-­defense. As Operation Enduring Freedom was launched on 7 October, the US informed the UN Security Council of its decision to use force against Al Qaeda “to prevent and deter further attacks on the United States,” on the basis of the principle of individual and collective self-­defense as stipulated in UN Charter Article 51.25 The United Kingdom likewise justified its operation in Afghanistan in terms of self-­defense, citing UN Charter Article 51, to “avert the continuing threat of attacks from the same sources.”26 Although the UN Security Council did not explicitly authorize the use of force by the US-­led coalition, a series of UN Security Council resolutions acknowledged the inherent right of self-­defense. UNSCR 1368 (2001), adopted on 12 September 2001, described the Security Council’s view of “the horrifying terrorist attacks (on 9/11) . . . like any act of international terrorism, as a threat to international peace and security.” The resolution also declared the Council’s determination to “combat by all means threats to international peace and security caused by terrorist acts,” and recognized the inherent right of individual or collective self-­defense in accordance with the Charter.27 UNSCR 1373 (2001), adopted on 28 September 2001, obligated all member states, under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, to deny financing, support and safe haven to terrorists. It determined that such terrorist acts amounted to a threat to international peace and security, and reaffirmed the inherent right of individual and collective self-­defense.28 For the first time in its existence, NATO, too, invoked North Atlantic Treaty Article 5 covering provisions for collective self-­defense,29 although the US declined to support resorting to this provision. This was based on the assessment by North Atlantic Council on October 2 that “the attack against the United States on 11 September was directed from abroad and shall therefore be regarded as an action covered by Article 5 of the Washington Treaty.”30 As the OEF continued to target the Al Qaeda and Taliban remnants after the fall of the Taliban regime in November 2001, the primary justification for these counterterrorist military actions remained the self-­defense of the United States.

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   165 The formal ethical basis of the ensuing stability operation was state-­ building—the project of building a legitimate and functional state in Afghanistan. Although not part of the original scheme of intervention when the OEF was launched, once the Taliban regime had been toppled, the establishment of a legitimate political authority and effective state institutions was urgently needed in order to fill the constitutional, political and administrative vacuum. The stability operation would first focus on rebuilding legitimate state institutions through popular participation at both the state and provincial levels to provide for a political structure that would nurture democratic governance and rule of law and promote local ownership. State-­building would also be the basis for long-­term stability and economic growth. The Bonn Agreement set out precise steps to build government and state institutions at the central and provincial levels, according to the right of the Afghan people to “freely determine their own political future in accordance with the principles of Islam, democracy, pluralism and social justice.”31 The Agreement produced an Interim Authority comprising three main bodies: a 30-member Interim Administration headed by Chairman Hamid Karzai; an independent Supreme Court; and a Special Independent Commission for the Convening of the Emergency Loya Jirga.32 The Emergency Loya Jirga, or “grand council” to be held within six months which would bring together about 1,500 delegates elected from the country’s districts and representing various social groups, would decide on a transitional authority, including a broad-­based transitional administration to lead Afghanistan until a fully representative government would be elected through free and fair elections to be held within two years.33 This was to be followed by a Constitutional Loya Jirga, convened within 18 months of the establishment of the transitional authority, tasked with the drafting of a new constitution.34 The Bonn Agreement also committed the Interim Authority and Emergency Loya Jirga to principles of international human rights and humanitarian law; participation of women and the equitable representation of all ethnic and religious communities in them; cooperation with the international community to fight terrorism, drugs and organized crime,35 the same principles confirmed earlier in UNSCR 1378 (2001), which also endorsed “a broad-­based, multi-­ethnic and fully representative government.”36 In effect, the UN was launching an ambitious state-­building project to assist in creating permanent political institutions in Afghanistan founded upon democratic principles. Amid growing international concern over corruption, ineffective administration and other problems in the Afghan government, the Afghanistan Compact, the policy document produced at the 2006 London Conference, put more focus on building an effective, accountable state, while identifying the interdependent nature of security; governance, rule of law and human rights, and economic and social development, treating counter-­narcotics as a cross-­cutting theme.37 The Compact also focused,

166   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building giving benchmarks, on strengthening democratic institutions, particularly the elected bodies including the National Assembly, and enhancing administrative capacity and accountability with particular emphasis on judicial reform and the rule of law.38 Strengthening state institutions in their provision of essential services, including government fiscal controls, and public administrative reform became urgent priorities. The London Conference also renewed the focus on “security,” covering especially the development and reform of the Afghan National Army (ANA) and the Afghan National and Border Police, the disbanding of illegal armed groups, and counter-­narcotics and de-­mining operations, with specific benchmarks set for each.39 These basic principles and priority areas in state-­building endorsed in the Afghanistan Compact were reaffirmed at the International Conference in Support of Afghanistan held in Paris in June 2008, but more focus was put on improving governance—by strengthening democracy, buttressing government institutions so that they could deliver better basic services, provide better public administration, local governance, justice, police and other law enforcement institutions.40 Democratizing Afghanistan was another formal basis of international intervention. Democratizing Afghanistan became a proclaimed goal of the US and the broader international community, although the idea of so doing, like the agenda for state-­building, was born out of the process that unfolded following the launch of the OEF. The Bonn process committed the Afghan side to a democratic political transition,41 and democratization was central to both the peace-­building strategy of the United States and the UN-­led reconstruction of Afghanistan. For the Bush administration, democratization was the central element of its stabilization and “nation-­building” efforts in Afghanistan.42 The US thus pressed for the democratization agenda in Afghanistan, in the process endowing the UN with the central role in coordinating the nation’s political and reconciliation process. At the UN, democratization in Afghanistan constituted a central element of peace-­building efforts as it was committed to a supporting role in the formation of a permanent Afghan government that would be “broad-­based, multi-­ethnic and fully representative of all the Afghan people and committed to peace with Afghanistan’s neighbors.”43 Through UNAMA, the UN continued assistance to the process of democratization in Afghanistan, through the organization of the Loya Jirga, the creation of a transitional authority in June 2002, the passage of a new constitution in January 2004, and the organization of a series of elections starting with the presidential elections in October 2004 and the National Assembly and Provincial Council elections in September and November 2005.44 Underlining these UN efforts was the recognition that defeating the Taliban and terrorist elements would require a political response, bringing together major anti-­ Taliban/al-­Qaida/Hezb-­i-Islami groups within Afghanistan.45 Democrat-

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   167 ization was also understood to be a better basis for long-­term governance and socio-­economic development.46 Another ethical basis was the reconstruction of Afghanistan—promoting economic and social development, building the country’s infrastructure, and developing Afghanistan’s capabilities for effective and accountable economic management. Such reconstruction would be a massive investment: according to President Bush, tantamount to another Marshall Plan.47 Although he came into office claiming that he did not favor using US troops “as nation-­builders,” President Bush completely shifted his position regarding the utility of state-­building and reconstruction, and his administration came to give these objectives a central place in its officially proclaimed policy in Afghanistan. The primary justification for reconstruction in Afghanistan was that it was not only the moral obligation of the United States and the international community, but that such a commitment was needed to consolidate stability in Afghanistan, which was a condition necessary for international security.48 In the United Nations, the launching of the Bonn process was matched by a large amount of development assistance, bilaterally or multilaterally provided. The declared goal of the donors at the Tokyo Conference was to provide effective support for the implementation of goals set forward in the Bonn Agreement, especially enhancement of administrative capabilities, education, health, infrastructure, building of roads, expansion of electricity and telecommunications infrastructure, reconstruction of the economic system, especially the monetary system, support for agriculture and rural development, promotion of good governance, de-­mining operations, and assistance for refugees.49 The international community’s commitments to Afghan reconstruction were renewed at the London Conference in 2006. Donors stressed the importance of developing infrastructure, including roads and energy, while stressing social development through the improvement of education and health, in line with UN Millennium Development Goals.50 But increasingly, focus was given to the country’s worsening narcotics problems and social protection issues, especially poverty.51 The same rationales for international commitments to the reconstruction of Afghanistan pertained at the Paris Conference: namely that reconstruction was critical not only to alleviate the Afghan people’s suffering, but also to create the necessary conditions for stability in that country.52 Indeed, the link between reconstruction and stability was made increasingly explicit. The Security Council, in extending ISAF for another year, recognized “the interconnected nature of the challenges in Afghanistan, reaffirming that sustainable progress on security, governance and development, as well as the cross-­cutting issue of counter-­ narcotics is mutually reinforcing.”53 It thus endorsed a comprehensive approach by the Afghan government and the UN to address these problems.

168   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building De facto ethical bases A de facto basis of US commitment to Afghan stabilization was the implicit assumption of democratic peace, i.e., the belief that democratization was the best defense against global terrorism. Although, unlike in Iraq, self-­ defense, not pre-­emption or a grand strategy of liberal transformation, was the basis in Afghanistan action, long-­term stability in Afghanistan was implicitly in line with the core ideological tenet of the Bush Doctrine, i.e., democratization constituted an ideological struggle against militant Islamism. The 2002 National Security Strategy of the United States, the first NSS to be issued following the 9/11 attacks as well as the first during the Bush administration, pivoted around the idea of defending and extending “the single sustainable model for national success: freedom, democracy and free enterprise,”54 democracy being “the best foundations for domestic stability and international order.”55 The ideas expressed in this document claimed that the US stood at an “opportune” moment to spread democracy, given its unprecedented power.56 Whereas the contents of the NSS had more to do with pre-­emptive strategy in Iraq, its relevance to Afghanistan was precisely in the perceived need to democratize the country based on the idea of democracy being a basis for peace. Global terrorism is seen as a direct challenge to “our democratic values and way of life,”57 and the rebuilding of Afghanistan was placed in this context of the fight against global terrorism.58 The second National Security Strategy of the United States issued in 2006, retreating from advocacy of pre-­emption, emphasized instead democratization in the form of state-­building,59 and recognized that “promoting democracy is the most effective long-­term measure for strengthening international stability.”60 This recognition was the basis for advocating the US role in fighting “tyranny” and promoting the development of “effective democracy” abroad, including in Afghanistan.61 Democratization, indeed, became a “strategy” for achieving security for the United States, as the “advance of freedom and human dignity through democracy” was seen as “the long-­term solution to the transnational terrorism of today.”62 Formal power-­political bases Prevention of further terror attacks was a central rationale for the war in Afghanistan. Operation Enduring Freedom, which continues today, was started with a strategic goal of disrupting and eliminating the Al Qaeda network, and refusing it refuge on Afghan soil.63 Further, subsequent state­building in Afghanistan was expected to create a set of political, social and economic conditions necessary to prevent Afghanistan from becoming again a sanctuary for terrorists. As the UN Special Representative in Afghanistan Lankhdar Brahimi explained, ensuring “that Afghanistan will never again be used as a breeding and staging ground for terrorists or

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   169 64

drug-­traffickers” constituted the common strategic objective of the international community. For the United States, especially, the prevention of terrorism was the single most important reason for conducting stability operations in Afghanistan. The 2002 NSS thus placed assistance to and the democratization of Afghanistan squarely in the context of the prevention of terrorism.65 Likewise, the 2006 NSS defined democratization as US strategy to combat terrorism, and reiterated the central importance of denying terrorists the control of Afghanistan as a “launching pad for terror” for the United States. Prevention of terrorism was also the basis given to justify broader NATO involvement in Afghanistan through ISAF. NATO performed specific tasks in assisting the Afghan government to establish security, implement security sector reform and carry out counter-­narcotics programs, and increasingly, the ISAF faced insurgency resistance in the southern provinces.66 These tasks were grounded in a broader objective: namely to prevent the return of Al Qaeda to Afghanistan, from where it might actively pursue international terrorism again. Thus, UK Defence Secretary John Hutton explained UK strategy in Afghanistan pursued as part of the ISAF in terms of three aims. To assure: (1) that Al Qaeda does not return to Afghanistan; (2) that Afghanistan remains a legitimate and increasingly effective state, over time able to handle its own security; and (3) to prevent insurgent forces from posing a threat to Afghan peace and prosperity.67 Similarly, Canada justified its operations under the ISAF in terms that included a clear reference to “suppressing insurgency against the democratically elected government of Afghanistan, and preventing acts of terrorism.”68 The consequence of failure was clear: Hutton emphasized that the implication of British withdrawal would be “the reemergence of Taleban rule or Afghanistan’s decline into a failing state again. Either of these conditions would allow Al Qaida to return and recreate their terrorist infrastructure.”69 Counterinsurgency thus became, over time, another formal power-­ political basis for the intervention in Afghanistan. The original rationalizations for the OEF and the stability operation in Afghanistan had not included countering the Taliban insurgency. The rebound in Taliban strength especially in the southern provinces, however, raised fears of the return of Taliban control in Afghanistan, or even the kind of general destabilization caused by insurgency that would allow the return of Al Qaeda as well. ISAF counterinsurgency tasks rest within the force’s overall responsibility to “help the people and elected Government of Afghanistan build an enduring stable, secure, prosperous and democratic state, respectful of human rights and free from the threat of terrorism.”70 The goal was to prevent the resurgence of the Taliban to Afghanistan. As clarified in the aforementioned explanation by former UK Defence Secretary Hutton,

170   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building the  three goals involved in Afghanistan were thus intertwined. The role of  the military in this context was, thus, to provide a set of conditions under which the resurgence of the Taliban would be made difficult, by creating a space for non-­military and decisive elements of international strategy to achieve success.71 The narcotics problem was another basis for intervention. Although the counter-­narcotics theme took a back seat in the early phase of the OEF, its importance was recognized by the UN in November 2001, when the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 1378 (2001), supporting state-­ building in Afghanistan with due respect to Afghanistan’s international obligations, and including efforts to combat illicit drug trafficking.72 The Bonn Agreement, too, committed the Interim Authority to “the fight against terrorism, drugs and organized crime”73 as the foundation for long-­term state-­building and security.74 Countering the narcotics problem was then made one of the five pillars of security sector reform, and the one for which the UK was assigned the lead nation. The newly established Afghan Interim Authority’s first act in counter-­ narcotics was to issue a decree on 17 January 2002 banning opium poppy cultivation, heroin production, opiate trafficking and drug use. This ban was followed by a second decree in April 2002 that set the goals and scope of an eradication program targeting the poppy crop planted the previous fall, and another decree in September 2002 that set plans for the enforcement of bans on opium cultivation, production, trafficking and abuse.75 Thereafter, President Karzai made institution-­building a focus of the campaign against narcotics, and there was a broadening of the counter-­ narcotics agenda as well as efforts to enhance links with other sectors regarding the drug problem.76 In May 2003, the Afghan government issued a five-­year national drug control strategy, which set the objective for eliminating 70 percent of opium cultivation by 2008, and complete elimination by 2011.77 In 2005, the government issued a counter-­narcotics law that clarified the administrative authorities for counter-­narcotics policy and set procedures for investigating and prosecuting major drug offenses. In January 2006, an updated version of the national drug control strategy identified four priority areas: disruption of the drug trade, strengthening of legal means of livelihood in rural areas, reduction of demand for and consumption of illegal drugs, and the development of central- and provincial-­level counter-­narcotics institutions.78 “The Afghanistan Compact” (2006) subsequently approached counter-­ narcotics as a “cross-­cutting” theme across the three pillars of activity— security, governance/human rights/justice; and economic and social development—with recognition of the fact that effective measures against the narcotics trade required policies and programs under all these pillars.79 In the overall strategy to build security, governance and development in Afghanistan, the counter-­narcotics agenda hence involved varied tasks: improved interdiction, law enforcement and judicial capacity-­

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   171 building; enhanced international cooperation for disrupting the drug trade; wider provision of support for farmers and laborers in finding viable economic alternatives through comprehensive rural development; building national and provincial counter-­narcotics institutions; and a zero-­ tolerance policy toward official corruption.80 The lead nation for the counter-­narcotics pillar of the intervention, the UK, initially pursued a policy of compensated eradication combined with interdiction of the drug trade, a policy that ran counter, however, to the initial hands-­off policy with regard to counter-­narcotics operations taken by the US.81 In response to increased poppy cultivation and trafficking between 2001 and 2004, nonetheless, the US and international focus shifted to forced eradication and interdiction.82 There was increased pressure from the United States and international donors on the Afghan government to accelerate the eradication of opium crops. The US likewise developed a comprehensive plan to support the Afghan National Drug Control Strategy in late 2004 focusing on five issue areas: public information to raise public awareness of the dangers of drugs and drugs trade, judicial reform for better law enforcement, alternative livelihood development, interdiction of opium production, and eradication to reduce the incentive for farmers to grow poppies.83 These pillars provided the basis for US policy between 2005 and 2009, although it continued to evolve.84 The Obama administration would later provide new orientations and initiatives to the efforts going on under these pillars.85 Further, as raw opium production reached record levels in Afghanistan between 2007 and 2008, international donors increasingly linked counter-­ narcotics to counterinsurgency in an effort to deprive the Taliban and its insurgency of one of its major income sources.86 This linking resulted in pressure especially to accelerate the eradication of poppies. Critics of the eradication policy, on the other hand, cited the harm inflicted on poor farmers, leading them to side with the Taliban, and thus having an adverse effect on suppression of the Taliban insurgency and control of the narcotics economy.87 NATO also stepped up counter-­narcotics efforts in response, and the NATO Defense Ministers’ Meeting in Budapest on 10 October 2008 decided that, rather than focusing on farmers, NATO forces would be authorized to act “in concert with the Afghans” against “facilities and facilitators supporting the insurgency, in the context of counter-­narcotics, subject to authorization of respective nations.”88 “Narcotics facilities/ facilitators” was defined as “all facilities associated with [the] narcotics industry and those individuals involved in the processing, storing and transporting of illegal narcotics or precursor chemicals that directly support the insurgency.”89 This and subsequent consultations then allowed ISAF forces to take action against insurgency-­linked narcotics targets if authorized under their own domestic laws, whereas until October 2008, ISAF directives precluded direct military action for counter-­narcotics.90

172   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building De facto power-­political bases Under the Bush administration, the link between failed or fragile states and instability and international insecurity, especially terrorism, was recognized and reflected in policy. In this context, Afghanistan was considered by the Bush administration to be a proto-­typical case of the failed state-­like situation that had produced terrorism in the past and continued to pose a danger to international security through creating conditions conducive to terrorism. Thus, the central message contained in the 2002 NSS was that “America is now threatened less by conquering states than we are by failing ones.”91 As the operation in Afghanistan stretched out, the stability operation was indeed declared to be “one of the most important foreign policy challenges” of the Bush administration,92 prompting unprecedented reforms in the US government structure and capabilities, influenced also by the developments in Iraq.93 Important examples include the elevation of stability tasks to the same rank as combat operations to be conducted by the US military, as well as the appointment of the Office of the Coordinator for Reconstruction and Stabilization (S/CRS) inside the US State Department as the coordinator for inter-­agency preparation, planning and implementation of stability operations.94 Failed states were understood to spread instability to neighboring countries and regions, and in the specific context of Afghanistan, this implied destabilization of the whole strategically important and volatile area of Central and South Asia.95 Four months before the end of its term, the Bush administration thus launched an Afghanistan strategy review, in recognition that it had failed to tackle the regional dimensions of Afghanistan’s problems or sufficiently focus on “nation-­building,” or to push the Pakistani government to focus on counterterrorism and counterinsurgency.96 Thus, nearing the end of the Bush administration, there was an increasing acknowledgment—in part arising from the experience in Iraq—that operations in Afghanistan could not just focus on hunting down terrorists and insurgents, but had to incorporate stability operations to address state failure in the civilian dimension. According to Defense Secretary Robert Gates, who went on to assume the same post as Secretary of Defense under the Obama administration, Afghanistan posed an even more complex long-­term challenge than Iraq. Gates argued that, given its “terrain, poverty, neighborhood, and tragic history,” Afghanistan would require long-­term and significant international and US efforts, both military and civilian. He stated that “kinetic” military operations should take a back seat where possible to civilian efforts to promote better governance, development, and to address the grievances contributing to terrorist recruitment.97 Indeed, he recapitulated the message of the 2002 NSS when he stated that catastrophic threats to the US were more likely to emanate from failing states than from aggressor states.98

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   173 Not unlike in Iraq, however, despite the critical importance of stability operations in Afghanistan, failure in which was clearly understood to have grave security implications, the initial assumption behind the “light-­ footprint” approach was that only a small force and resources would be required. This assumption formed the central negative power-­political basis for the Afghan operation. The clearest indication of the ill-­conceived assumption of low cost of rehabilitating Afghanistan was the initial US reluctance to provide countrywide security through deploying an international force. At Bonn, the US would not support the UN plea for stationing of international forces in areas beyond Kabul.99 The US forces also did not provide security, but prioritized instead “counterterrorism,” or hunting down remnants of the Al Qaeda and Taliban, in the assumption that peacekeeping would be a distraction from counterterrorism.100 The US was wary of the possible conflict of interest between peacekeeping and the vested interests of local warlords who were allied with the US counterterrorism effort.101 As General David Barno, U.S. Army (Ret.) stated, “nation-­building” was “explicitly not part of the formula.”102 This reluctance came as much from the Bush administration’s idiosyncratic dislike of nation-­building as it did from long-­held conservative reservations about peacekeeping and nation-­building, which were accentuated by the bitter experiences of the 1990s.103 The extremely weak focus on stability operations in the initial stages of the Afghanistan intervention thus resulted from the combination of lack of interest among US civilian leadership, and institutional disinclination among the US military, which, until Iraq, did not treat nation-­building as a central part of its mission, although its experiences in the Balkans had started to shift that tendency.104 Reconstruction in Afghanistan was also accorded low priority under the Bush administration. At the 2002 Tokyo Conference, the US had pledged less than 5 percent of total assistance for Afghanistan.105 Even as the administration called Afghanistan reconstruction a new Marshall Plan, there was no follow-­up in terms of clear policy to increase resources.106 Although the US was not the only country that underfunded Afghan reconstruction, the US focus on the “global war on terror”—hunt for Al Qaeda remnants, wherever they might be—rather than on reconstruction in Afghanistan, was all the more clear. This tendency became even more pronounced as the US shifted its main focus to Iraq when it declared war in 2003. Despite the security interests it already had wrapped up in Afghanistan, the Bush administration still considered war in Iraq to be the “frontline” of the “global war on terrorism,” not Afghanistan. The initial intervention to topple the Taliban was barely finished when the Bush administration’s attention was diverted to Iraq.107 As the Afghanistan operation moved to the post-­Taliban phase, administration officials feared that peacekeeping beyond Kabul would overstretch US logistic

174   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building capabilities.108 As the war in Iraq turned into a protracted counterinsurgency, moreover, resources—manpower, both military and civilian, and financial resources—came to be focused on Iraq.109 In January 2009, the United States had about 142,000 troops in Iraq110 and about 34,000 in Afghanistan, of which 19,000 were serving under the OEF and 15,000 in the ISAF.111 Total spending between fiscal year 2001 and 2009 was US$657.3 billion in Iraq and US$172.9 billion in Afghanistan.112 Some NATO countries initially perceived the mission in Afghanistan as “peacekeeping,” a view that was influenced by their experiences in the Balkans and elsewhere during the 1990s. Hence, peacekeeping, not counterinsurgency, formed the basis of intervention for some governments, contributing to the negative power-­political rationalization of the cost of the war in Afghanistan. Thus, one observer concluded that the Chrétien government decision to commit Canadian forces to Afghan operation were “troubling” because “the specifics of its modus operandi have been overshadowed by simplistic assertions that it is a UN-­mandated peacekeeping force and, by implication, that Canadian involvement is an extension of Canada’s altruistic peacekeeping mythology.”113 In the UK, which provided command capabilities in the set-­up phase of the ISAF, Prime Minister Tony Blair presented the force to the public as a “peacekeeping” force.114 In addition, Europe emphasized the development and reconstruction aspect of the mission, forming a view starkly different from the US, which saw “the mission in Afghanistan as ‘part of the global war on terror and enduring freedom.’ ”115 Europeans did not see the fight against terrorism as “war.” The Afghanistan mission was presented and came to be viewed by the public as consisting of two separate missions: Operation Enduring Freedom (a mainly counterterrorism operation) conducted by the US, and the International Security Assistance Force (a stability or reconstruction operation) conducted by NATO.116 When the ISAF started to expand beyond Kabul, Europe continued to see the expansions as being about reconstruction and stabilization, involving such tasks as extension of the authority of the Afghan government through PRTs, training of the Afghan Army and the police, assisting Kabul in the security sector reform, and counter-­narcotics efforts.117 Once the nature of the mission changed, European capitals did not continue to defend the mission strictly in terms of non-­military and combat-­free “reconstruction.” For instance, in May 2006, ISAF Commander British General David Richards clearly declared that Stage 3 would be a “combat operation.”118 However, reconstruction provided the critical piece for justification of deployment in some NATO countries. In the Netherlands, for instance, the proposal to send troops to the unstable province of Urzgan raised much controversy; the dispatch was accepted by the Dutch Parliament only when it was argued that the force would help lead to the next phase of reconstruction.119

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   175 By and large, then, European decision-­makers significantly underestimated how the security situation would evolve when embarking on an expanded mission in Afghanistan. The British Defence Secretary himself remarked, in April 2006, that he did not expect a “single shot [to be] fired” by the British forces.120 An additional power-­political basis for Afghanistan operations was the preservation of NATO and US credibility. NATO expansion of the mission to cover all of Afghanistan was understood to create a credibility issue for the organization, and establishing credibility became a key driving force for NATO member governments in continuation of their mobilization in Afghanistan.121 As the insurgents gained strength in the southern provinces, NATO member states were under increasing pressure to keep up with the demands of the operation. Concerned that failure of the operation could damage the organization’s credibility, the US and the NATO Secretary General issued repeated calls for NATO member states to come up with more troops to fulfill its tasks. Frustration increased, however, as NATO seemed divided within itself among countries with differing “national caveats,” leading US Secretary of Defense Robert Gates to declare: I worry a great deal about the alliance evolving into a two-­tiered alliance, in which you have some allies willing to fight and die to protect people’s security, and others who are not. It puts a cloud over the future of the alliance if this is to endure and perhaps get even worse.122 The US was also increasingly concerned about the loss of its own credibility. Indeed, failure in Afghanistan was perceived to be very costly to US credibility and standing in the world. As Gates wrote: The United States’ ability to deal with future threats will depend on its performance in current conflicts. To be blunt, to fail—or to be seen to fail—in either Iraq or Afghanistan would be a disastrous blow to US credibility, both among friends and allies and among potential adversaries.123 The Obama administration’s Surge in March 2009 hence became the basis on which to re-­legitimize intervention in Afghanistan. Faced with a stark reality of the deteriorating war and the consequences a failure there would bring, President Obama launched a review of Afghanistan strategy. His resulting view was that Afghanistan represented a “war of necessity,” not a war of choice,124 fought for a just cause “fundamental to the defense of our people.”125 In justifying his decision to increase troop levels by 17,000, his first attempt was to renew the sense of purpose in the US involvement in Afghanistan by restating the primary goal of the US in

176   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building Afghanistan—to “disrupt, dismantle and defeat Al Qaeda and its extremist allies.”126 In this effort, Pakistan also became a focus due to the Al Qaeda sanctuaries there and to the status of Pakistan as a nuclear power, which made the possibility of nuclear materials passing from there to state or non-­state actors a vital security interest.127 The central tenet of Obama’s new strategy was that it linked counter­ insurgency more tightly with the core purpose of preventing terrorism. His strategy proposed the execution of an integrated civil–military counterinsurgency strategy, with proper resourcing and priorities providing adequate resources and pursuing proper priorities. The strategy had a narrower focus than the expansive nation-­building rhetoric of the Bush administration, and clearly attempted to accord some priority to the effort. The new strategy was aimed at integrating civilian-­military efforts focused on population security, local governance and economic development. It listed, as its core objectives, promoting “a more capable, accountable and effective government” in Afghanistan, which “serves the people” and is especially able to establish internal security. Another priority area was developing “self-­reliant” Afghan security forces that could lead the counterinsurgency and counterterrorism efforts with reduced US assistance. In executing the new strategy, prioritizing civilian assistance with a particular focus on strengthening the relationship between “the Afghan people and their government,” by a “dramatic increase in Afghan civilian expertise,” was important, especially at the provincial and local levels. Support to train and increase the Afghan security forces, too, was a priority. In enhancing the legitimacy of the Afghan government, the importance of the presidential elections in August 2009 was stressed. The plan called for an “Afghan-­led” effort to reintegrate the “non-­ideological element” of the Taliban into the political processes. The new strategy also recognized the links needed between counter-­ narcotics and counterinsurgency efforts. In a key development that broke with past/traditional policy of focusing on crop eradication, the administration proposed to focus on interdiction, with direct NATO/ISAF and US support provided to Afghan counter-­narcotics units, of drug traffickers, including new authority permitting the destruction of labs, drug storage facilities, drug processing equipment, and drug caches, aimed toward breaking the link between drugs and insurgency funding, and the corruption associated with the opium trade. Further, the administration promised to provide funding for long-­term crop substitution and alternative livelihood programs or rural development.128 Counterinsurgency operations also extended to Pakistan, in order to address instability in Pakistan by assisting efforts to enhance civilian control and stable constitutional government in Pakistan, and by providing reconstruction assistance.129 To this effect, Tokyo’s donor conference in April 2009 pledged more than $5 billion over the following two years to provide support for social safety nets, human development and pro-­poor

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   177 development expenditures, as well as to continue support for existing medium-­term development initiatives.130 The new strategy was driven in part by concerns for the credibility of those involved in the intervention. For instance, the UK government policy—the UK being the most notable contributor to the NATO operation in Afghanistan focusing on the critical Helmand province—was motivated by a desire to sustain NATO credibility.131 The UK stated that Afghanistan was a test for the “international community,” most notably the UN and NATO, with “far reaching effects not only for regional security but also for the authority and credibility of those key multilateral institutions that underpin the UK’s security and support for the international rule of law.”132 The Obama administration especially took issue with the fact that during much of the Bush administration’s tenure, Afghanistan had taken a back seat to rapidly developing events in Iraq. The new president especially wished to address the “trust deficit” of the United States. His 2009 White Paper thus stated that the US must overcome the perception in Afghanistan and Pakistan that it was not a reliable long-­term partner.133 In December 2009, the Obama strategy review again emphasized the original purpose of intervention, i.e., to disrupt, dismantle and defeat Al Qaeda and to prevent its return to both Afghanistan and Pakistan.134 In announcing the decision to reinforce troop presence by 37,000 (of which 30,000 would be American troops) in December 2009, the administration again emphasized the importance of counterinsurgency, by stating that rolling back the Taliban was now necessary to the ultimate defeat of Al Qaeda,135 an assessment based on the ISAF Commander’s report earlier that the status quo would result in failure in the war.136 The reinforcement was intended to enable a counterinsurgency strategy focusing on protection of key population centers while renewing offensives against the Taliban and accelerating training of Afghan security forces with the view to increasing their numbers.137 The latter effort would also involve achieving a better balance between national and local forces and increasing Afghan unconventional warfare capabilities, and enlisting local security forces in community protection, as well as bolstering Afghan-­led reintegration and reconciliation efforts.138 Tighter focus was in addition put on enhancing the legitimacy and effectiveness of the Afghan government through a “civilian surge.” The administration particularly vowed to tackle corruption by emphasizing accountability, as well as focusing on areas such as agriculture that impacted people’s lives directly.139 The administration would also pursue a regional strategy focusing on stabilization of Pakistan through support for Pakistani counterinsurgency efforts as well as democratization and development. Hence, the surge by the Obama administration was another power-­ political basis, a strategy to finally defeat Al Qaeda and its militant allies through a sharper, more focused counterinsurgency designed to reverse their gains and create conditions for civilian success.

178   Afghanistan: self-defense to state building

Conclusion As we have seen, the bases of intervention in Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11, which initially focused on self-­defense and counterterrorism combined with the light-­footprint approach to state-­building, expanded significantly to transform into a full-­fledged counterinsurgency operation. In terms of ethical bases, there was initially a focus on the most central basis, namely self-­defense, but as the needed elements for state-­building manifested themselves, related issues of democratization and reconstruction came to be intricately involved. For its domestic audience, the Bush administration rationalized all these endeavors on the basis of the thesis of “democratic peace,” whereby democratization came to be considered the path to both peace and victory in the global war on terror. The power-­political bases of the Afghanistan intervention also expanded. The central basis, which was prevention of terrorism with the ultimate goal of disrupting and destroying the Al Qaeda network, over time came to involve counterinsurgency vis-­à-vis the Taliban, as well as counter-­narcotics activities that were increasingly linked with stability and counterinsurgency operations. These formal power-­political bases were also linked with the more general and de facto concern for dealing with failed states, as the behests of which were frequently expressed in the 2002 National Security Strategy of the United States, a concern that eventually resulted in institutional reforms within the US government. Despite the proclaimed importance of these bases, however, a negative power-­political rationalization was at play: it was assumed that state-­building in Afghanistan could be done on the basis of a “light-­footprint” approach, involving minimum security presence and reconstruction assistance. The Iraq War as it began in 2003 also deprived the Afghan theater of necessary resources. The war-­averse NATO allies were unwilling to engage in counterinsurgency operations, and were able to justify the use of armed forces in Afghanistan to their constituents primarily on the basis of peacekeeping and reconstruction assistance. Increasingly, as a result of prolonged counterinsurgency operations, the issue of credibility became a major issue for the US and NATO, particularly because Afghanistan was NATO’s first outside-­of-Europe counterinsurgency mission. As the Obama administration began, Afghanistan’s version of the “Surge” was introduced in the expectation of being able to more definitively defeat Al Qaeda and its extremist allies, while protecting the US and its allies. As a step judged necessary to secure the original purpose of intervention, the administration thus legitimized increased commitment to Afghanistan. Looking at the bases for the intervention, we can see how the gradual expansion of the bases of the operation made some contradictions among them inevitable, creating conflicts of interest, as well as balancing and sequencing problems that affected the performance of the operation, as

Afghanistan: self-defense to state building   179 will be detailed in the next chapter. For example, contradictions emerged between the proclaimed importance of self-­defense and the fight against terror, on the one hand, and reluctance to engage in related military operations, notably counterinsurgency, and in costly reconstruction, on the other. Some refused initially to consider counterinsurgency the central theme of the operation, preferring to view it as a benign and low-­cost reconstruction operation. Later, as operations in Afghanistan stalled, the perceived need to bolster US and NATO credibility emerged, and the commensurate need to enhance performance came into direct conflict with the initially assumed low cost of the intervention. The shifting, sometimes contradictory rationales given for intervention reflected the highly complex nature of the war in Afghanistan, where an easy “victory” or resolution was not immediately available. The mix of justifications also reflected hesitancy within the governments involved in dealing with a highly complex situation, without a clear idea of what would constitute “success.” In dealing with the threats posed by Afghanistan, it was difficult to legitimize the use of force, particularly as the expansive objectives the intervening bodies set forth could be achieved only at high risk and high cost.

10 Afghanistan Stabilization and counterinsurgency performance

The performance of the Afghanistan intervention was characterized by failure in stability operations, resulting, as in the case of Iraq, in the need for counterinsurgency operations. Despite the forceful arguments presented in launching the intervention for self-­defense and the prevention of terrorism, its objectives were not backed up by adequate resources. In addition, the initial rationale for and the conduct of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF ), with its focus on a small force, continued to influence the way in which the later counterterrorist and stability operations were conducted. Inadequate attention to stability operations especially in the first few years based on the idea of the “light-­footprint” approach, ambivalence about “state-­building” and untimely preoccupation with Iraq significantly narrowed the chances that Afghanistan could establish a legitimate and functional government. The Taliban were quick to take advantage of the relatively scant presence of US and international forces in areas outside Kabul over several years between 2002 and 2006, as well as popular discontent at the lack of progress in reconstruction/development, absence of effective administrative apparatus and the deteriorating legitimacy of the Afghan government. Instability in Pakistan along the Afghan border, where both Al Qaeda and the Taliban had established headquarters since American and coalition action in Afghanistan in 2001, was also strongly linked to instability in Afghanistan. Contradictions among the different bases of legitimacy for the intervention had a negative impact on performance. The assumption of the intervening nations that the various high-­minded objectives they had set could be achieved at low cost and without serious risks or sacrifices undermined the effectiveness of the operations. Some operations that were logically and realistically linked and required coordination —notably counterterrorism and counterinsurgency—were understood to be quite separate. The US in particular failed to associate its narrower focus on counterterrorism with the broader tasks of counterinsurgency and state-­ building. Europe, for its part, initially underestimated the pivotal tasks of counterinsurgency, preferring to present the mission focus as reconstruc-

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   181 tion operations. Conduct of the intervention also suffered from poorly coordinated provision of international aid, and insufficient attention to establishing the rule of law, curbing corruption and dismantling the narcotics trade. When, moving into unstable areas in Afghanistan, the insurgents began to return from their sanctuary in Pakistan and establish a grip once more, stabilization as a whole became even harder to attain, setting in motion a vicious circle in which stabilization failure further strengthened the insurgency and made it harder for donors to justify pouring in more resources. The 2009 Surge was intended to reverse the situation by an increase in capabilities and a shift in counterinsurgency strategy. However, poor governance, as evidenced by the fraudulent election of August 2009, created difficult conditions for either state-­building or counterinsurgency, complicating also efforts to prevent further terrorism beyond 2009. The following sections look first at the failures of operations in the Pakistan–Afghanistan border region in the initial phase of OEF and the broad-­ranging implications those failures were to have for later operations. An examination of stabilization follows, covering the ethical elements of state-­building, democratization, reconstruction and democratic peace. The discussion then moves on to each of the power-­political elements— prevention of terrorism, counterinsurgency, counter-­narcotics and dealing with failed states—and finally, the 2009 Afghan Surge.

Allowing Al Qaeda leadership to relocate to Pakistan The US military had had no plans for military operations in Afghanistan prior to the 9/11 attacks,1 and as the Bush administration debated how to respond, there was no military option that could be developed quickly. The Bush administration was forced to rely heavily on the Central Intelligence Agency and the use of Special Operations forces in its conduct of OEF, coordinating with local forces resisting the Taliban.2 Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld also preferred the use of only a small US force in any war the US might wage, and a force of no more than 60,000 was deployed in Afghanistan.3 The US relied on air power, technology, special operations forces, and, importantly, collaboration with local allies, which, given its success in the ousting of the Taliban, earned much praise as a new model for waging war.4 The OEF was launched on 7 October 2001 and swiftly toppled the Taliban regime, but the small number of US troops deployed to Afghanistan made pursuing Osama Bin Laden and other members of Al Qaeda difficult. In the Kunduz area, for instance, in the absence of an adequate force of American ground troops to ensure an orderly Taliban surrender in the area, members of the Northern Alliance murdered thousands of Taliban prisoners and allowed top Taliban and Al Qaeda leaders there to escape.5 A few weeks later, the failed operation in Tora Bora demonstrated

182   Afghanistan: stabilization performance again the difficulties of proceeding with limited personnel.6 In addition to the scant US presence, Pakistani and Afghan forces—on whom the US had hoped to rely—did not pursue Taliban and Al Qaeda elements determinedly or close the Pakistan–Afghanistan border, and taking advantage of that breach in the intervention operation, Bin Laden and others managed to escape into hiding in Pakistan.7 Infiltration of the border region by insurgent elements created a set of new strategic predicaments. Pakistan became a new haven for Taliban remnants and the Al Qaeda leadership. In due course, the radicalized semi-­autonomous border region of Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) become known as a spawning ground for global terrorism and a base for intensifying insurgency in both Afghanistan and Pakistan.

State-­building and the initial failure of stabilization In the state-­building of Afghanistan, what was at stake was whether, from a failed state-­like situation, a legitimate political authority with a monopoly on use of force and endowed with effective administrative capabilities could be created.8 The key benchmarks set forth under the Bonn Agreement aimed to install permanent political institutions through the promulgation of a Constitution and the implementation of presidential and parliamentary elections, and these were achieved. Various attendant problems, nonetheless, remained. The most serious was the weakness of the central government and its inability to extend its authority on the provincial and local levels. The Constitution adopted in January 2004 invested the central government with the authority to determine the structures of the provincial and local governments.9 However, the de facto power of the central government was very weak vis-­à-vis the power of the regional and local warlords who commanded independent revenues and military power, and established administrative control in their respective localities.10 President Karzai made the critical mistake of appointing former warlords to various key positions in the government as a way to buy favor for his leadership. In so doing, he unwittingly not only empowered those who were potential enemies and competitors of the central government but he incurred the distrust of others who wanted appointments to be made more democratically.11 In terms of government administration, state institutions were ineffective. The administrative structure was fragmented, with many overlapping and unnecessary functions. Lack of skilled professionals was severe, but pay and grading structures were inappropriate to attracting and retaining motivated staff. Other problems included the practice of bureaucratic patronage, inadequate performance management and inefficiency.12 Endemic corruption gravely undermined the legitimacy of the state, lowering administrative capabilities and creating biases and distortions in

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   183 13

the delivery of services. A 2008 report by Transparency International placed Afghanistan among the worst countries in terms of governmental corruption (172nd among 180 countries).14 While the corruption was partly the outcome of weak governance, the legal framework for fighting corruption remained unclear and out-­of-date. The popular perception that the government was corrupt and inept further fueled the insurgency.15 Despite the initial intention to keep international presence in the background and “light-­footprint,” a “second civil service” was nevertheless formed that provided various externally funded services and exerted considerable influence on the Afghan government. This “second civil service,” made up of staff of foreign and international NGOs, consultants, and personnel of the UN and other international agencies, also absorbed skilled local professionals who might otherwise have been helping to enhance the capacity of the Afghanistan government itself.16 The central government was unable, moreover, to establish a monopoly on the use of force, the most critical aspect of state-­building. The “pillar” system adopted under the “light-­footprint” approach, under which a leading nation was assigned to each of the core areas of security sector reform, proved ineffective, fragmenting security sector development. No overall coordination mechanism existed to ensure a holistic and integrated approach to security sector reform that would assure sufficient concern for the rule of law and fair administration of justice.17 The pillar system also prevented flexible leadership and mustering of sufficient resources. In the area of security sector reform, only the military reform overseen by the US and the disarmament program run by Japan achieved certain results, albeit with critical delay in the first two years. Over time, the Afghan National Army (ANA) became the more trusted of the security sector actors in Afghanistan, with 62,000 troops serving by mid-­200818 (with the plan as of December 2009 to increase its size to 240,000 by 2014). Although major improvements were made, the ANA reported increasingly serious problems by summer 2009—poverty and corruption among the leadership, widespread illiteracy (as high as 90 percent among the recruits), drug use and addiction in the rank-­and-file, among others— which hampered ANA logistics and administrative functions.19 In addition, the strength of ANA was sapped by ethnic and region-­based patronage and rivalries. The rivalries such as that between Tajik Chief of Army Bismillah Khan’s network and that of Pashtun Defense Minister Abdul Rahim Wardak, or between former mujahedeen commanders and former pro-­ Soviet army officers created the potential for further political upheaval, and prevented promotion by merit.20 The ANA remained unusable for counterinsurgency operations.21 Reform of the Afghan National Police (ANP), however, represented the most difficult in the security sector. Following the overthrow of the Taliban

184   Afghanistan: stabilization performance regime, police reform was not considered a priority in international views of Afghanistan affairs, so funding and attention was much smaller than that provided for army reform.22 Although Germany successfully rebuilt the National Police Academy for officer training, reform and training at the rank-­and-file level was neglected.23 The police in Afghanistan were customarily drawn from former militiamen, and they had no formal training in policing or community security.24 A US assessment in 2006 stated that the ANP ability to handle internal security and conventional police responsibilities remained low, due largely to “no effective field training officer (FTO) program, illiterate recruits, a history of low pay and pervasive corruption, and an insecure environment.”25 The police also lacked uniforms and basic equipment and facilities.26 Frustrated, the US gave more attention to police reform in 2006. It accelerated the buildup of the police force and created the Afghan National Civil Order Police (ANCOP), which marked the beginnings of an Afghan field police capability.27 Nonetheless, the police remained the weakest actors in the security sector in 2007–2008. Police personnel were often implicated in serious crimes, including bank robbery and kidnapping.28 Many officers who were former militiamen were members at the same time of criminal organizations.29 Up to 80 percent of the police were reportedly involved in the drug trade.30 Taking of bribes, skimming of salaries and other forms of corruption were rampant.31 With such a weak security apparatus, the Afghan government could not establish a firm monopoly on power. David Kilcullen in particular warned that the Afghan police was not trained or equipped for counterinsurgency operations.32 Despite this, the ANP was often used as an auxiliary force to attack insurgents, and given the deteriorating security situation, the death-­toll of ANP members was especially high in 2007 and 2008—reportedly as much as three times higher for the ANP than for the ANA.33 The difficulties of recruiting men for the police naturally increased, and morale among ANP members was low. The Disbandment of Illegal Armed Groups (DIAG) program was another area of security sector reform that encountered difficulties, although the disarmament segment of the DDR process achieved certain results.34 The DIAG had been established in July 2004 based upon Presidential Decree 50, which declared illegal all remnants of the Afghan Military Forces (AMF ) as well as groups that had never joined the AMF. The program was run by the Afghan government and received financial and technical support from the international community led by Japan.35 The central problem in this case was political.36 Despite the DIAG program effort, government officials with links to illegal armed groups were not removed from office. Active government and ministry obstruction bedeviled the DIAG process. In 2005, reportedly more than half of the candidates elected to the lower house of Parliament and provincial councils (more than 80 percent in provinces and 60 percent in Kabul) in the

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   185 September elections that year had ties to illegal armed groups.37 Failure to start disarmament with persons in more powerful positions had long-­term consequences for the enforceability of the programme. Later attempts to remove government officials with ties to illegal armed groups consistently failed, facing strong resistance and subversion from within the government and ministries, as well as the Parliament.38 The justice sector, too, was among the most trouble-­ridden areas of Afghanistan’s state-­building programs, despite its central importance in security sector reform. Under the Bonn Agreement, a Judicial Commission had been established to rebuild the domestic justice system,39 but due to various missteps, it got off to a slow start.40 In 2005, the World Bank noted that, due to the “almost total absence of well-­trained and accountable police and judiciary services,” security was poor and a “culture of impunity” prevailed.41 Less than 3 percent of security sector expenditures was allocated to justice-­related institutions (fiscal year 2003–2004).42 Partially to blame for the difficulties was the scarce and largely uncoordinated nature of international assistance, with low priority accorded to justice reform among the five pillars. Skilled or experienced personnel, as well as facilities such as court chambers, correctional facilities, office buildings and communications infrastructure for justice institutions, were also sorely lacking.43 Reflecting their different legal cultures and traditions, lead nation Italy and the US pursued different and uncoordinated strategies in the justice sector.44 It was only in May 2005 that the Afghan government agreed on a framework, Justice for All, and spelled out a 12-year plan to strengthen the justice sector.45 The strategy called for the central role of the Afghan government in the reform process, and reaffirmed the importance of capacity-­building, especially so-­called “priority restructuring and reform,” to address the problems of salaries for public servants, revision of basic laws, addressing shortage of funds and other resources, and training. It also affirmed the role of both state and traditional institutions. Afghans continued to place more confidence in traditional institutions, with only 20 percent of Afghans surveyed trusting the formal justice system to resolve their problems.46 Finally, in 2007, the implementation strategy for the justice system reforms was agreed upon at the Conference on Justice and Rule of Law in Afghanistan held in Rome.47 The strategy reaffirmed the rule of law concept with a sensitivity to the “Afghan legal context, culture, customs and the Islamic foundation of the legal system of Afghanistan” as well as to international law and standards.48 It also pledged institution-­building, including the establishment of a National Justice program comprising specific but comprehensive plans for short-, mid- and long-­term implementation and mechanisms. In March 2008, the National Justice Sector Strategy and the National Justice program were set up, as well as a program-­ oversight committee.49 A joint commission was also established to draft

186   Afghanistan: stabilization performance guidelines for cooperation between police and prosecutors in the detention of criminals and investigation of crimes.50 These initiatives represented a heightened level of donor awareness about the rule of law and showed more progress in the move toward building justice institutions in Afghanistan. Nonetheless, the overall shortage of infrastructure and trained justice professionals remained much the same in March 2009.51 Relevant laws still needed to be defined and developed in order to establish a framework in which the rule of law could function. In other words, state-­building in the critical area of justice remained in an embryonic stage a full eight years after the intervention began, a delay that is critical in explaining not only the lack of progress in security sector reform, but the serious legitimacy deficit of the Afghanistan government.

Reconstruction Despite the stated importance of reconstruction in Afghanistan and its recognized link to stability, the resources allocated were relatively small. The number of US troops per capita in Afghanistan was less than for almost any other state-­building effort since World War II.52 The bulk of the funds pledged for Afghanistan at the Tokyo donor conference, moreover, went for humanitarian assistance without sufficient funds being set aside for reconstruction.53 Of the $13 billion of aid committed at the conference, $11 billion had been disbursed by September 2006 mostly for humanitarian assistance, leaving significant shortfalls in funding needed for the long-­term reconstruction of roads, water facilities, energy and agriculture.54 The US ended up providing a much smaller sum than its rhetoric would have suggested. US assistance to Afghan reconstruction from fiscal year 2001 to 2007 totaled $23 billion, and $86.3 billion was spent on OEF starting in 2001.55 As noted above, the US pledge at the Tokyo conference amounted to less than 5 percent of total assistance for Afghanistan.56 Another factor inhibiting progress in reconstruction was the lack of civilian expertise and personnel to help with stabilization efforts, especially in the regional PRTs operating in the southern and eastern provinces. Although policy-­makers had repeatedly claimed that “there is no purely military solution in Afghanistan,”57 civilians could not be easily deployed until security had improved. Although the joint civil–military planning mechanisms introduced in many countries resulted in some improvements in stabilization planning and project implementation, in most regions the situation was still volatile, and large-­scale development projects could not be introduced. Intervening nations had limited personnel with the necessary skill sets and experience who could be deployed at short notice.58 Under such a situation, the utility of quick-­impact projects provided by the military inevitably increased.59 However, discretionary funds that commanders could draw upon as needed, like the US Commander’s

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   187 Emergency Response Program (CERP), were not available to some of the intervening governments. Due both to lack of investment by the government and the international community and poor maintenance of existing facilities, provision of essential public services remained critically short. In 2005, only 6 percent of Afghans had access to electricity.60 Deep-­seated resentment spread among the rural population as it became clear that the primary beneficiaries of assistance were the urban elite, while the vast majority of people in rural areas were left out. That sentiment fueled support for the Taliban insurgency.61 In 2007, access to electricity had risen slightly, to 20 percent (only 13 percent in rural areas), and only on certain days for a limited number of hours.62 As of June 2008, only 23 percent of Afghans had access to safe drinking water.

Democratization and “democratic peace” Even in 2010, deeply entrenched and multifaceted governance problems, coupled with the unsatisfactory status of state-­building in Afghanistan, especially the lack of a legitimate security apparatus and functioning justice sector, make democracy in Afghanistan or “democratic peace” still distant goals. In 2002, having ostensibly abolished “tyranny,” the Bush administration argued repeatedly that Afghanistan was steadily on the way to democracy.63 In 2004, although peace and security had yet to be established, the US pressured for an election to be held, and the voting was carried out according to the schedule laid down. Violence and intimidation cast a shadow over the legitimacy of the process, but it was generally considered a success, despite some irregularities.64 The holding of the elections before the private militias were disarmed was a problematic way of managing the democratization process.65 In the absence of institutions imposing compliance with democratic procedures, and with the disarmament program stalled, the election results were in danger of being overturned by force.66 In addition, the vast majority of the elected Parliament members had, as noted earlier, links with illegal armed groups. The continuing power of these local warlords, with their questionable human rights records and involvement in the narcotics trade and other illicit activities, hindered the establishment of the rule of law. The practice by which President Karzai’s offering of ministerial posts, provincial governorships and other posts to important power holders in the provinces in exchange for political stability ended up undermining his own democratization agenda.67 Given the undeveloped status of the justice sector, human rights violations were still rampant, and the culture of impunity continued to thrive. The weakness of governmental and traditional institutions, the escalating insurgency, corruption, the narcotics industry, and other criminal activities contributed to human rights abuses.68 Transitional justice to address

188   Afghanistan: stabilization performance past human rights abuses remained unaddressed in Afghanistan in 2009, four years since the government had approved the Action Plan on Peace, Reconciliation and Justice on 12 December 2005, as members of Karzai’s Cabinet challenged the focus on criminal accountability.69 Also standing in the way of democratization was the narcotics trade. Warlords who controlled the narcotics trade stood in the way of a devolution of power to the Afghan government and people, and prevented the development of a normal market economy. Narcotics trade was a symptom, as well as a cause in itself, of state failure70 and skewed governance. Even with the introduction of a democratic system, ethnic divisiveness in Afghanistan has not been overcome. The Karzai government has managed to avoid outright ethnic war, but ethnic relations are part of the balance of power upon which the stability of the country hinges. Karzai had to gain support from his fellow Pashtuns, who in increasing numbers lean toward the Taliban, a Pashtun-­based insurgency. Since its appointment in late 2001, the Karzai government became progressively dominated by ethnic Pashtuns, which constitute about 42 percent of the population.71 While non-­Pashtuns on the whole have accepted the governing position of the Pashtuns, they have also demanded some representation. The government responded by appointing some non-­Pashtuns to deputy or other high-­ranking positions within ministries. As of mid-­2009, while the only security-­related ministry still headed by a non-­Pashtun (a Tajik) was the National Directorate for Security, other security-­related ministries such as defense and the interior had non-­Pashtuns in key deputy or subordinate positions.72 Karzai argued forcefully that government unity was necessary to stave off the power of the Taliban,73 but the practice that he followed to damp down ethnic disputes involved some non-­democratic compromises with major faction leaders. Although such moves did occasionally harness the power of the leaders, they were often problematic. In the lead-­up to both the 2004 and 2009 presidential elections, Karzai made alliances with various regional strongmen and warlords to obtain their support and votes from their respective support groups, in exchange for governmental appointments in key ministerial and provincial government positions.74 These political deals ended up stunting the development of an effective and neutral administration, particularly at a time when skilled technocrats were in short supply. Democratization efforts from outside, hence, did not necessarily result in genuine democracy or good governance. “Democratization” in itself could not be a “strategy” of peace-­building as such, but the Bush administration failed to work out a viable alternative, which is to say specific goals backed up by the right means and adequate resources, to achieve peaceful transition to democracy. Proper sequencing and prioritization of complex tasks was also necessary. Afghanistan was a case study of the ineffectiveness of ad hoc approaches to democratization and state-­building.

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   189

Prevention of terrorism Although preventing terrorism from again being staged from Afghanistan was the central and strongest strategic rationale underlying the intervention, performance in this area was at best mixed. The most serious early failure was the absence of a viable containment operation at the Pakistani border, which allowed Al Qaeda members and Taliban leaders to take refuge in Pakistan in the wake of the 2001 launch of the OEF. As of early 2010, Al Qaeda was based in Pakistan, not in Afghanistan. In December 2001, assisted by an Afghan commander, Osama Bin Laden escaped from Afghanistan to Parachinar, the capital of Kurram Agency in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), together with 200 Saudis and Yemenis.75 Although Al Qaeda’s activities were disrupted in 2001, its influence through the Taliban in Afghanistan remained strong.76 In addition, the US and NATO were not able to eliminate the possibility that Afghanistan would again be taken over by the Taliban or of the revival of an Al Qaeda–Taliban alliance in Afghanistan. The performance of counterinsurgency is discussed below. Moreover, Afghanistan was not the only country that might turn into a sanctuary for Al Qaeda.77 Other potential sanctuaries were the Horn of Africa and Yemen, but one of the most serious was a destabilized Pakistan. The Pakistani Taliban, in close alliance with Al Qaeda, had grown progressively stronger since 2002, increasingly launching attacks on symbols of Pakistani authority and cities. The danger that Al Qaeda might find a home in a destabilized or “Talibanized” Pakistan, and thus gain access to its nuclear arsenal, for instance, was a source of great concern.78 Although the troop Surge initiated by the Barack Obama administration as announced in March 2009 was aimed to address the problem of further destabilization in Pakistan, the collapse of the civilian government, even the general collapse of the state, remained possible. In spring 2009, Taliban insurgents engaged Pakistani forces in the Swat valley and threatened areas near Islamabad,79 and other radical Islamist groups operate in Pakistan as well.80 The situation peculiar to the FATA tribal territories, too, had contributed to the earlier rise of Al Qaeda and the Taliban. After 9/11, the Pakistani military failed to place a cordon between FATA and the Afghan border, and it was not until May 2002 that Pakistan moved its army into South Waziristan.81 In the meantime, thousands of Al Qaeda-­linked militants had escaped Afghanistan and settled in South Waziristan or gone further, escorted by Pakistani jihadi groups, to large cities or to Arabian Gulf states. By August 2002, Al Qaeda was operating training camps in South Waziristan.82 The Taliban also escaped from southern Afghanistan to Balochistan under the protection of the Pakistani Inter-­Services Intelligence Directorate (ISI), and moved freely back and forth between

190   Afghanistan: stabilization performance southern Afghanistan and Quetta while the Americans were looking the other way.83 With both Al Qaeda and the Taliban in residence, FATA became, as Ahmed Rashid has described it, “a multilayered terrorist cake.”84 At its base were Pashtun-­tribe Pakistanis, who provided hideouts and logistical support; the next layer was the Afghan Taliban, who had settled there after 9/11 together with militants from Central Asia, Chechnya, Africa, China and Kashmir; the top of the cake was occupied by Bin Laden and his Arab protégés. From radicalized FATA, terrorist attacks conducted around the world—including those on London, Madrid, Bali and Islamabad—were planned. The intervention in Afghanistan did not—particularly during the Bush administration years—serve very well the central proclaimed goal of preventing terrorism. The error had already been made in the first months of the intervention, when the US failed to secure the border region. Over subsequent years, the situation in FATA and Balochistan became progressively worse. Although the US occasionally pressured then Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf to collaborate fully with US efforts to capture Al Qaeda core members and disrupt its network, the single-­minded focus on counterterrorism prevented the US from taking a more holistic approach to the conditions in Pakistan that fed into Islamic radicalism in the region. The US focus clung to “the tactical, near-­term military and security measures,”85 for example, providing Pakistan with a total of $8.9 billion in security and military-­related assistance, out of $12 billion total aid for Pakistan (covering six years until 2008).86 Of that military and security aid, most was spent by the Pakistani military for purposes other than counterinsurgency operations.87 Instead, numerous analysts suggested that the US approach to Pakistan should be accompanied by efforts to improve the political, social and economic conditions of the Pakistani people through large-­scale assistance, including a serious re-­evaluation of approaches to the issue of democracy there, if the US was to win over the support of Pakistanis for their government’s collaboration with the US.88 With regard to FATA, introduction of development, including social development, while altering the anachronistic quasi-­colonial political status of the region to allow for greater democratic governance, was considered crucial.89 However, it was not until the Obama administration began that US strategy acquired a regional perspective in addressing these issues.

Counterinsurgency Despite the initial success of the OEF in toppling the Taliban regime, Taliban forces showed signs of making a comeback in Afghanistan already in March 2002.90 In September 2002, Taliban-­organized efforts to ignite a large-­scale insurgency began. It reportedly launched recruitment drives in

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   191 Pakistan and Afghanistan, complete with a propaganda campaign, and training bases were being set up in Pakistan.91 Taliban military activities in Afghanistan intensified from then on, spreading geographically from the border regions in the eastern and southern provinces in 2002 to areas further inland from 2003 on, and their fighting techniques became increasingly sophisticated with the use of IEDs, rockets/mortars and ambushes on US forces.92 While the primary aim of the Taliban, a movement made up of ethnic Pashtuns, might not be to overthrow the Afghan government per se, its activities could realize a highly potent vision of creating a “greater Pashtunistan” that would connect Pashtun-­dominate areas of both Afghanistan and Pakistan. Destabilization, or state collapse in both Afghanistan and Pakistan as a result of these movements, could pose a grave strategic threat to global security.93 The revival of the Taliban in Afghanistan was linked with the situation in Pakistan. Pakistani military and ISI actions, nominally and minimally following the strategy demanded by the US, targeting mainly high-­ranking Arab Al Qaeda figures, and Taliban elements were left alone or even supported clandestinely.94 Pakistani support for the Taliban, an extension of a policy pursued especially by the ISI to encourage and empower them as a means of building “strategic depth” into defense of its eastern borders,95 had to do with the obsession within the Pakistani military and the ISI with the arch-­enemy India.96 The Taliban, ousted from power in Afghanistan, thus found comfortable sanctuary in Pakistan, and settled in the ungoverned autonomous border region to regroup.97 In radicalized FATA, close operational links developed between the Taliban and Al Qaeda based in the region. Many non-­Afghan militant groups and affiliates linked with Al Qaeda actively operated in Afghanistan.98 The US grew increasingly frustrated with the slow pace with which Pakistani authorities showed willingness to cooperate in countering the radicalization of FATA, and demanded that they take action about the increasing numbers of Al Qaeda-­linked extremists in the border region. The Pakistan government itself gradually realized the need to act regarding extremists such as top-­ranking Al Qaeda leader Ayman al-­Zawahiri,99 but the ensuing Pakistani military operation against Al Qaeda and its Taliban allies, camps and madrassas in FATA proved ineffective.100 The operation did not take into account the complex ethnic, political, social and economic problems that underlay the region’s links with the extremists. The Taliban and Al Qaeda forces had tightened their grip on the population through intimidation and assassination, expanding their sphere of control in the territory through one tribal area or agency after another. Inside Afghanistan, meanwhile, the early failure by the US and the coalition to secure a large measure of the country in the immediate wake of the Taliban’s fall and the scant attention paid thereafter to Taliban

192   Afghanistan: stabilization performance remnants allowed the latter to steadily retrench starting in 2002. Gradually the insurgency gained momentum. As noted above, despite repeated calls from the UN, the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF ) did not expand its presence beyond Kabul. Afghans did not enjoy safe and secure conditions in which they might have developed political, social and economic systems strong enough to resist Taliban control.101 By the time the ISAF was finally expanded to the southern part in 2006, the Taliban insurgency, from its stronghold in Quetta, Pakistan, had already secured a strong presence inside Afghanistan. Despite these realities, the view persisted in official US circles that the Taliban had been defeated, was no longer a threat, and would be unable to mount serious offensive operations—that is, until at least March 2006, when the Taliban began mounting serious insurgent attacks.102 That view caused the US to neglect the situation in the southern and eastern parts of Afghanistan as well as the situation across the border in Quetta.103 US intelligence efforts were preoccupied with the concurrent situation in Iraq. As Kilcullen argues, an effective counterinsurgency strategy depends on “good governance, backed by solid population security and economic development measures, resting on a firm foundation of energetic information operations (IO), which unifies and drives all other activity.”104 From this perspective, the Karzai government created a governance deficit early on by appointing often corrupt and violent local warlords as members of its administration or as provincial governors. The handing out of political authority as “political goods” to be traded for loyalty created an elite politics in Afghanistan, as William Maley has pointed out, that resulted in “ferocious rivalries, competition for the president’s attention and favor, and denigration of opponents as a way of reducing their influence.” Maley called appointments to provincial and local level government positions “a recipe for dramatically poor governance and progressive erosion of the legitimacy of the state.”105 Although their legitimacy was derived from governmental appointments from the central government, these local strongmen and warlords attracted little popular support.106 They had a tendency to use state authority and administration to build personal fiefdoms or support bases, to such an extent that “Afghanistan’s sub-­national administration developed after 2001[had] strong patrimonial traits, looking even less institutionalized than that of the Taliban, of the leftist governments of the 1980s and of the monarchy and republic in the 1960s and 1970s.”107 The resultant weakness of the legitimacy and functional effectiveness of the state was skillfully exploited by the Taliban. Thus the handling of local government administration by the Karzai government, far from denying insurgents opportunities to spread their base, ended up encouraging them. Adding to administrative weakness was the slow pace and ineffectiveness of reconstruction, as reviewed above. In areas where the national security

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   193 apparatus was virtually nonexistent and where the government was viewed as corrupt and unrepresentative, lack of opportunities for gainful employment and lack of progress in reconstruction and development further inhibited popular support for the government. In such places, the Taliban offered local people financial and other compensations for joining, supporting and collaborating with the insurgency.108 The Taliban also offered a form of justice system, especially in the south, to fill the vacuum left by the non-­functional and corrupt Afghan police and judiciary. Kilcullen reports that the Taliban ran 13 guerrilla courts in the south, which were viewed by the populace as offering a “fair” alternative to the corrupt government justice system.109 Aside from the weak judiciary and fragmented nature of governance, the capacity of the Afghan government security sector actors to face down the insurgency was also poor. International donors initially considered security sector reform to be part of the “reconstruction” agenda. The Afghan government lacked any expertise in handling insurgencies and army personnel were not trained in counterinsurgency operations.110 In mid-­2007, training was begun, but the overall level of competence in ANA counterinsurgency operations remained uneven and low.111 Counterinsurgency preparedness among the Afghan police was even worse than in the Army. The police remained inadequate in any of the following capabilities required for counterinsurgency: community police capabilities to protect the population and deliver basic public order and rule of law; constabulary capabilities (although the Afghan National Civil Order Police—ANCOP—was created in mid-­2006); police special operations capabilities; local police auxiliary forces.112 The key to effective counterinsurgency operations was above all judicial sector reform and the rule of law. Protection of the population had to be firmly embedded in a rule-­of-law local context, especially at the village and district level. However, given the tendency to use the police as counterinsurgency tools, local order and rule-­of-law activities were neglected. The Taliban stood ready to fill the resulting vacuum in governance thus created.113 Population security had not been part of US strategy on Afghanistan prior to the Obama administration review. The attention and resources of the US forces remained focused, in alliance with local warlords, on defeating the Taliban and Al Qaeda remnants. Given the slim troop coverage of the “light-­footprint” approach and the situation in which international forces, even after the ISAF was expanded beyond Kabul, more often preoccupied with protecting themselves than defending civilians from the predations of insurgents,114 NATO presence accomplished little in preventing the Taliban from regaining territory.115 More than a few analysts have rated the performance of the NATO intervention forces in fighting the insurgency in Afghanistan as “dismal”116 or a “total disappointment.”117 With some exceptions their combat

194   Afghanistan: stabilization performance capabilities were inadequate, and deep risk aversion on the part of participating nations prevented decisive action. Adequate development assistance from NATO countries was also not forthcoming.118 The US forces in Afghanistan were not handling the counterinsurgency effectively. Whether the US operation on the ground represented counterinsurgency at all was debatable; indeed, it was being instructed to call its activities counterterrorism and to focus on hunting down terrorists.119 In Afghanistan as well as in Iraq, night-­time raids and other problematic “enemy-­centric” tactics were used that alienated the population.120 The greatest challenge created by the counterinsurgency lay in how to integrate its civilian and military components. What was increasingly required in the counterinsurgency context was development assistance that was partial; in other words, that would attract and hold the consent and support of the people, as opposed to impartial aid, which is provided strictly on the basis of need.121 Such uses of aid necessitated also the closer integration of security (population security), governance and politics if they were to be effective.122 While there was broad understanding of these dynamics of counterinsurgency strategy, serious conflicts did arise in the prevailing culture and methods between those leading the counterinsurgency operation and administrators of official aid institutions and NGOs, for whom separation from political or “transformational” agenda is a tradition of paramount importance for operational safety and effectiveness.123 Thus, while the intervening parties struggled to arrive at a right counterinsurgency strategy, they were often caught in the web of traditional doctrines and established methodologies of mutually involved agencies and organizations. Meanwhile, the lack of reconstruction and reasonable security, inadequate civilian presence and weak government legitimacy had created all-­too-fertile ground for the insurgents to exploit.

Counter-­narcotics Since the launch of Operation Enduring Freedom, the US focus in Afghanistan was counterterrorism, and counter-­narcotics remained low in priority for the first several years.124 Indeed, the US provided financial and other support for counterterrorism purposes to regional warlords who were also profiting from the narcotics trade. Moreover, the US decision not to expand the ISAF beyond Kabul following the fall of the Taliban created areas that were insecure and ungoverned, areas where narcotics-­ related activities could continue unabated. There, following the fall of the Taliban, the opium economy flourished.125 Even though counter-­narcotics emerged as an international issue during the Bonn process, the range of programs set forth, which were aimed primarily at institution-­building, did not bring visible results. Opium production increased from the 2002 figure of 3,400 to 4,200 metric tons in 2004, and doubled between the years 2005 to 2007 from 4,100 to 8,200 metric tons.126 This amounted to

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   195 an estimated 93 percent of the world’s supply.127 The estimated $700 million farm-­gate value (2007–2008) of the opium harvest amounted to 7 percent of the country’s licit GDP. The export value of opium amounted to 33 percent of the country’s licit GDP.128 The clear connection between the strength of the Taliban insurgency in Afghanistan and the narcotics problem became established over time. Kilcullen noted that the areas of major narcotics activity increasingly became geographically aligned with areas of Taliban influence.129 Analysts noted growing links among insurgents, drug traffickers, and local strongmen and tribal groups, all of whom challenged the central government.130 Poppy cultivation not only offered the Taliban economic resources but provided opportunities for the “protection” of Afghan farmers targeted by eradication campaigns, a role from which they could accrue useful political capital.131 Counter-­narcotics programs lacked coherence internationally and suffered from lack of resources; programs that did exist to combat the drug trade were not effectively executed. In its efforts to spearhead counter-­ narcotics operations, for instance, the UK initially offered compensation for crops destroyed, but this was abandoned in 2003 when it became clear that compensations were turned into incentives to replant poppies, and did nothing to solve the old problem.132 The Bonn process had led to the consensus that a combination of eradication, interdiction and the creation of alternative livelihoods for the Afghan farmers—together with stronger law enforcement and criminal law systems and regional cooperation—was necessary. Many of these areas, however, remained under-­resourced, and agreement among donors about how to balance the various remedies and sequence them was lacking.133 For instance, some considered the US focus on rapid eradication (such as by aerial fumigation) inappropriate, and asserted that a more gradual, development-­oriented approach was needed, while alternative livelihoods within the context of development policy should be made available.134 The UK, for instance, sought a strategy whereby opium fields would be eradicated only after the farmers had gained access to an alternative livelihood.135 The interdependent relationships among counter-­narcotics, governance, state-­building, development and counterinsurgency were thus clear, but inadequately addressed. Considering the fact that money gained through the opium industry accounted for some 50 percent of Taliban funding, counter-­narcotics efforts would clearly have assisted with the counterinsurgency. On the other hand, for instance, in the south, especially in Helmand province, better counter-­narcotics performance would have been possible, as Kilcullen noted, if there had been a better strategy for countering the insurgency.136 In Helmand, poppy farmers resided in areas controlled by the Taliban; thus, regardless of what the farmers themselves might wish, any talk of alternative livelihoods was useless unless the Taliban were driven off, the farmers’ security ensured and effective government control established.

196   Afghanistan: stabilization performance The narcotics problem reduced the effectiveness of state-­building and harmed governance, but an ineffective state and poor governance created just the kind of sterile soil in which drug trafficking thrived. Because of Karzai’s accommodations to many of the local warlords and an array of other complex reasons related to individual histories and webs of ethnic-­ sectarian support, the narcotics problem became part of the governance problems that ensued from such political alignments. Unless radical changes were made in political alignments that would enable a shift in relations between the provinces and the central government, the effectiveness of the counter-­narcotics operation would also be reduced. Poor performance in the security sector area of state-­building—namely, weak Afghan capacity to control drug trafficking and the activities of local militias—thwarted counter-­narcotics operations as well. Although training of the Afghan police, security forces and administration became a focus of US and coalition efforts, according to a 2009 report both the size and capability of Afghan’s armed forces remained inadequate to challenge the hardy drug trafficking groups and regional militia in the short term.137 The most acute problem of all was that the secure conditions needed in many parts of the country for advancing the more robust eradication, interdiction and alternative livelihood programs planned by US and Afghan officials were non-­existent.138 Thus, for the US, the coalition, and international donors, counter-­ narcotics was also part of complex issues in sequencing and balancing the different demands of peace-­building in Afghanistan. A coherent strategy was needed that would incorporate those disparate elements, since a counter-­narcotics strategy alone was unlikely to yield satisfactory results.

Failed states and threats to security Despite earnest state-­building efforts to install a strong government authority with monopoly on the use of force in areas beyond Kabul, the “failed state” status of Afghanistan has not been fundamentally altered. The Foreign Policy index of failed states for 2009 places Afghanistan seventh worst state.139 With Taliban insurgent activities intensifying across the border with Pakistan, moreover, it became a new source of threat to global security. Despite the Bush administration insight that “America is now threatened less by conquering states than we are by failing ones,”140 that recognition did not translate into precise policy; nor was it backed up by appropriate deployment of resources.141 Postwar stabilization featured little in planning for the war in Afghanistan, and the subsequent, largely ad hoc, “nation-­building” that was eventually added to the intervention was never given sufficient resources. The omissions were notable immediately in the failure to secure key regions of the country with an international security presence and to assure proper coordination of the differing

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   197 facets of security sector and judicial reform. Favoring alliance with warlords may have seemed like a pragmatic decision in the beginning,142 but the US failed to consider how to direct its resources in such a way as to create a legitimate central government once the country had entered the stabilization phase. Exclusive reliance on Karzai turned out to be a negative factor in terms of controlling the warlords. Although sidelining all the warlords outright might indeed have been impracticable, experience showed that, where warlords did not enjoy popular support, some dismissals, such as that of former defense minister Mohammad Qasim Fahim, did not result in massive destabilization. Thus, like democratization, the recognition that state failure had to be addressed was not accompanied by a workable strategy or by proper means, either a concrete plan or sufficient resources.

The 2009 Afghan Surge Since the military strategy proposed by Obama as the “Surge” in Afghanistan had yet to be fully implemented at the time of writing (December 2009), it may be premature to discuss performance of the Afghanistan Surge. Nonetheless, the strategy was partially aimed at the successful conduct of the August 2009 presidential election, which ultimately proved to be fraudulent, in which the role of the incumbent, Hamid Karzai, was disputed.143 The hope that the election would enhance the legitimacy of the elected government was not much advanced. The low voter turnout, due to intimidation by the Taliban especially in the contested southern provinces, was also a concern, casting doubts on the overall legitimacy of the election.144 The outcome was to further complicate relations between the government and the Afghan people, and hinder the counterinsurgency operation in the months to come. Another point of concern was that Afghanistan was different from Iraq, where an American-­led Surge had been workable and where the large-­ scale Sunni re-­alliance with the Iraqi government and US had helped resolve the situation. In Afghanistan, the tribal landscape was more fragmented, and there were scant overarching common interests and identities to unite the different ethnic groups.145 Tribal politics, however, was still an important part of Afghan politics and engaging the tribal communities locally, so as to isolate the Taliban, was still likely to work.146 As noted, General McChrystal’s focus on population protection as opposed to pursuing the Taliban, an application of the fundamentals of counterinsurgency, was a much-­needed step.147 Another focus of the Afghan Surge was on accelerating the training of security sector actors. It was an astute focus, although efforts to build up the Army and police force had already been emphasized four years earlier.148 Nonetheless, the plan to increase the size of the Army to 134,000 and the police force to 96,800 would take a long time, at least several

198   Afghanistan: stabilization performance years, beyond the proclaimed start of US troop withdrawal in 2011, particularly if the goal would be to create a reliable partner for the US. Additional resources would also become necessary. US influence over Pakistan, where destabilization would have the most serious consequences, nonetheless remained limited.149 The US was unpopular with the Pakistani public, so deployment of major ground forces there to assist in the counterinsurgency was not a feasible option.150 The Obama administration adopted a policy of keeping civilian casualties to a minimum with the use of missiles and drones launched into Pakistan, but the use of these strikes continued and the likelihood remained that popular backlash against the US would undermine the fragile Pakistani government.151 There was, in addition, no guarantee that Pakistan would not divert equipment and funds offered to it in areas unrelated to counterinsurgency, as it had before, for unintended purposes. Linking conditions of US aid to Pakistani performance, therefore, would be critical.152 Internal fragmentation in Pakistan was an additional source of concern, as neither the US nor the Pakistani government necessarily exercised control over the Pakistani Army and intelligence agency. Finally, the most fundamental difficulty would be, given all the above trends, how Obama would be able to maintain and attract support from US allies and the reluctant US public for the Surge.153 The issue of support is discussed in the next chapter, but the possibility of the waning of popular support in major capitals might lead directly to a shortfall in resources available in critical areas, such as resource-­intensive population security,154 reducing in turn the Afghan people’s support for a foreign troop presence. Maintaining popular support at home to ensure necessary flow of resources thus remains ever-­more important.

Conclusion The performance of the complex Afghanistan intervention, in light of the justifications provided for the use of armed forces there, suffered from inconsistencies and inappropriate sequences. Most importantly, the lack of sufficient resources allocated for stabilization led to the later need for an effective counterinsurgency operation. The most serious initial performance failure, later to have broad-­ ranging consequences, was in leaving the way open for Al Qaeda and the Taliban to escape from Afghanistan. With Al Qaeda and the Taliban headquartered in northern FATA and Quetta, respectively, where they developed tactical links, insurgency activity intensified both in Afghanistan and Pakistan. The presence of Al Qaeda in Pakistan, a state with a nuclear arsenal, combined with the possibility of general destabilization through insurgency or even of state collapse in Pakistan, raised international alarm. Such developments after 2001 placed in the balance the most central rationale of the use of force in Afghanistan: the prevention of terrorism.

Afghanistan: stabilization performance   199 Stability operations, too, were marred by lack of resources. In particular, the security presence vacuum outside of Kabul for several years left vast areas of the country vulnerable to insurgency. While the US forces concentrated on counterterrorism, or hunting down Al Qaeda remnants, they neglected to give sufficient attention and resources to state-­building and reconstruction. Especially problematic was the neglect of governance-­ related issues, including judicial reform, anti-­corruption and establishment of the rule of law. The Afghan government suffered a serious legitimacy deficit, with firmly entrenched regional warlords crippling the democratization process. President Karzai’s leadership style ended up putting the central government into collusion with local warlords with questionable human rights records who engaged in corruption and had links with illicit trade. Counter-­narcotics efforts were also inadequate, lacking tighter linkages with the related issues of counterinsurgency, governance, development and state-­building. Failure in stabilization, coupled with weak security in border regions, eventually resulted, especially in the southern provinces of Afghanistan, in the resurgence of the Taliban. Even in early 2009, nearly eight years after the intervention began, a comprehensive counterinsurgency strategy had yet to be implemented. The basic principles of counterinsurgency, most notably population security, were not effectively applied, and both military and civilian personnel were in short supply until the new Obama administration reviewed and revised Afghanistan strategy later in 2009. Lack of coherence among the various bases from which the international intervention in Afghanistan had proceeded had a negative impact on performance. In particular, the assumption of low cost in achieving various stability-­related goals and reluctance to assume necessary costs and risks had serious consequences for operations over the eight years. Valuable time and resources were wasted in the error of assuming that the separation of some bases that were essentially linked (like counterterrorism and counterinsurgency), and many states committed to the intervention failed to provide sufficient resources for essential state-­building tasks. The inter-­linkages of governance, security and development in cross-­cutting issues such as corruption and counter-­narcotics remained insufficiently addressed.

11 Afghanistan From adequate to dwindling support

Support for the operation in Afghanistan was fairly strong at the beginning but grew increasingly weaker as time went on, crippling the purposes of the intervention at crucial stages. Launched in the immediate wake of the 9/11 attacks, when a military operation was seen as required for self-­ defense of the US and the international community, the intervention initially attracted broad-­based support. The ensuing stability operation also attracted broad-­based support at the beginning, as the world public became cognizant of its responsibility to rebuild Afghanistan in order to sever the link between its failed state apparatus and the terrorist elements which flourished in that environment. As the bases of the Afghanistan operation expanded from self-­defense and counterterrorism (and limited intentions regarding state-­building for the Kabul regime) in the 2001 to 2005 period to costly counterinsurgency in 2006, however, public support from around the world dwindled. The failure of the intervening parties to prevent insurgency by effective stabilization follow-­through (see Chapter 10) and the extremely high cost of the ensuing counterinsurgency campaign caused public support for the intervention to decline. The public in donor countries, while sensitive to the link between the ongoing counterinsurgency operation and the ultimate purpose of intervention (i.e., self-­defense and the prevention of terrorism) nevertheless remained reluctant to accept the cost, sacrifices and resources necessary to succeed in counterinsurgency. The most critical factor for the public in donor countries was the Afghan government’s competence and legitimacy to govern the country, without which any counterinsurgency efforts would be futile. The intervening states were reluctant from the beginning to provide forces and resources needed for comprehensive state-­building and reconstruction, and as the insurgency worsened they began exercising “national caveats” or self-­imposed limitations regarding the roles their forces would play as part of the international presence there, ultimately depriving the intervention forces on the ground of the resources needed to fulfill their mission. Such reluctance to accept the costs and risks inherent in an operation may have reflected dwindling public support in the intervening

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   201 countries for the operation, but contradicted the proclaimed importance of the interests involved in Afghanistan and Pakistan, which had been to provide self-­defense and to protect international security by countering global terrorism and the menace emanating from the presence of both Al Qaeda and nuclear arms in Pakistan. Afghans, too, were disappointed not only with the performance of their own government, but also with the international community, especially when better security and governance was not established. They did not, nonetheless, “give up” on the new political process that the intervention had started to put in place to replace Taliban rule. This underlying support from Afghans toward the new political process and intervention, despite increasing levels of disappointment for them, especially during the 2006 to 2009 period, provides justification for the continued international presence. However, considering the dwindling support among the public of the intervening parties, legitimation of the intervention became a critical factor for sustaining the intervention. The following sections discuss, first, the nature of initial support, followed by the reasons why material support was not forthcoming. Finally, I will discuss the continuous weakening of support caused by the perception among the public in the intervening countries that the goals and purposes the intervening governments put forward were not achievable and could not be effectively pursued with the available means.

Initial support At the outset, critical support for the US–UK-led military operation against the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, along with legal cover for the US coalition military action there, was provided by the UN Security Council. In a series of resolutions adopted immediately after the 9/11 attacks noted above (see Chapter 9), the Security Council recognized the applicability of individual and collective self-­defense against challenges to sovereignty by a non-­state party, although there was no explicit authorization under UN Charter Chapter VII for the coalition to conduct military action.1 Later, while Operation Enduring Freedom was still going on, the UN Security Council also authorized the longer term international stability intervention to support political transition in Afghanistan, under Resolutions UNSCR 1378 (2001) and UNSCR 1383 (2001). NATO was also quick to express support for the US-­led operation. As early as 12 September 2001, it invoked Article V of the North Atlantic Charter, paving the way for alliance support for the United States if and when the attacks were proved to have been directed from abroad.2 The latter proof was thought to have been presented on 2 October and NATO thus declared their commitment operational. Behind the support was general sympathy toward the US that had just suffered an indiscriminate attack on its civilian population, the nature of

202   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support which was understood to violate the most basic tenets of democratic norms and human rights. UK Prime Minister Tony Blair was quick to declare, in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, that: “this is not a battle between the United States of America and terrorism but between the free and democratic world and terrorism.”3 Likewise, German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder decried the attacks as “a declaration of war against the civilized world.”4 Europe temporarily put aside foreign policy differences with the Bush administration over multilateral institutions, arms control and environmental issues and, in a rare Extraordinary Meeting of European foreign ministers held the following day, EU President Romano Prodi, High Representative Javier Solana and others expressed solidarity with the United States.5 Sympathy and support for the US went well beyond NATO and the European Union. Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, for instance, expressed immediately his support and called for a tough response to the “barbaric acts.”6 China and Japan expressed “shock” and “great anger,” respectively. Even proclaimed adversaries of the United States, such as Iran and Cuba, joined in the condemnation of terrorism, with the latter offering air and medical assistance.7 The UK, acting as part of the coalition with the US, based its support on evidence, as presented in the UK Parliament as well as in the UN,8 that Osama bin Laden and his Al Qaeda network were responsible for the 9/11 attacks. The UK government also believed that bin Laden had actively conspired in the “murder of US citizens and attacks on the United States’ allies.”9 In Parliament, the government noted that bin Laden openly espoused terror, citing a February 1998 fatwa ordering “the killing of Americans and their civilian and military allies” as “a religious duty.”10 Leaders of the UK opposition also offered support. Opposition parliamentary member (and former leader), Ian Duncan Smith, concurred that bin Laden and Al Qaeda owed responsibility11 and defended the UK position, which represented “upholding civilized values against anarchy” and “defending good against the evil of terrorism.”12 While the public in some European countries, especially Germany, Italy, Ireland and the Scandinavian countries, had reservations about the use of force in Afghanistan in response to the 9/11 attacks owing to the  combined effect of their pacifist traditions, historical memory of the horrors of war, and fear of civilian casualties, Europe shared key strategic interests with the United States.13 These included removing Al Qaeda from its base in a sovereign state, and removing the Taliban regime, which had given sanctuary to Al Qaeda from its position of power in Afghanistan and was complicit in the 9/11 attacks (which the US claimed were tantamount to a military attack).14 Public opinion in Western nations was generally supportive of military action in Afghanistan. In the US, a poll in October 2001 suggested an

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   203 overwhelming 94 percent support for the coalition operation.15 In the UK, a poll in October 2001 suggested 74 percent of those polled approved of the joint US-­UK military operation in Afghanistan launched on 7 October.16 In Russia, however, support was considerably lower, with 42 percent in favor of military attacks in Afghanistan and 49 percent opposed.17 A Gallup international survey in September 2001 also indicated that 80 percent in Denmark, 73 percent in France, 66 percent in Italy, 66 percent in the Netherlands and 53 percent in Germany thought that their countries should join military action against terrorists with the US.18 In order to pursue longer term stability operations in Afghanistan, the UN Security Council authorized operations in Afghanistan in a series of resolutions adopted unanimously.19 The debates leading up to the resolutions showed that member states supported the state-­building and reconstruction mission in Afghanistan. They supported focus on the building of state institutions and representative government, which were understood as providing the conditions for both internal and international stability.20 The most important basis of support for the stability operation was the recognition of its necessity to prevent terrorism and to promote state-­ building in a failed state like Afghanistan. The UK pressed the US to consider the need to introduce reconstruction operations in post-­Taliban Afghanistan, considering the dangers that failed or failing states, such as Afghanistan, Pakistan and others, pose in the overall campaign against terrorism.21 In the UN, the Secretary General’s Special Representative for Afghanistan (Ambassador) Lakhdar Brahimi stated clearly that the foremost strategic objective of UN involvement in state-­building in Afghanistan was to prevent terrorism.22 NATO’s purpose in Afghanistan through its ISAF mission was, above all, to “[p]revent Afghanistan from reverting to ungoverned space which could harbor terrorism,” as well as to “build security and government institutions” and to support counter-­narcotics operations.23 Despite the controversies that the Bush Doctrine stirred internationally, many shared its conception of the historic opportunity presented to transform Afghanistan. For instance, the UK Department for International Development (DFID) argued that “following the fall of the Taliban in Nov. 2001, Afghanistan has its best opportunity in a generation—perhaps ever—to build a stable, democratic country, reduce poverty and secure human rights.”24 Likewise, many states were of the view that Afghanistan could now once and for all put an end to the cycle of war and, once recovery was made, become a fully functioning and accepted member of the international community. They supported the moral duty of the international community in assisting it to achieve that goal.25 The European public also supported reconstruction. A public opinion survey suggested that 64 percent of those polled supported reconstruction, while only 30 percent supported combat operations in Afghanistan.26

204   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support Western foreign policy specialists and the public by and large accepted the logic behind state-­building in Afghanistan. Susan Rice at the Brookings Institution, for instance, welcomed the Bush administration’s inclusion of focus on failed states in its National Security Strategy, but was critical of its failure to propose more precise thinking and a more concrete plan (the means) for achieving the goal of fundamentally altering the country’s failed/failing state status.27 Rice particularly faulted the Bush administration for failing to allocate new resources or develop strategies specifically for “nation-­building” in the context of Afghanistan. She noted the serious threats posed by failed states, which may end up as operational bases and safe havens for international terrorists and tend to be a spawning ground for regional conflicts.28 The report of a Council on Foreign Relations taskforce led by Samuel Berger and Brent Scowcroft made a similar point, rebutting the often-­heard quip of the 1990s about “foreign policy as social work,” by arguing that “action is needed to stabilize and rebuild states marked by conflict. It is equally a humanitarian concern and a national security priority.”29 The report went on to argue that “War-­fighting has two important dimensions: winning the war and winning the peace,”30 calling on the President to make enhancement of the US capability to conduct stabilization and reconstruction operations a top foreign policy priority.

Widening gap between rhetoric and resources invested Despite acceptance of the rationales provided by the Bush administration for intervening in Afghanistan at the formal level, especially the importance of stabilization to prevent terrorism, material assistance was not easily forthcoming. Later, this difficulty was compounded as the fight against the Taliban involved increased combat operations. The fact that the US did not proceed through multilateral forums of discussion especially with regard to its decision to use force to topple Saddam Hussein in waging the 2003 Iraq War and in dealing with its aftermath made public opinion among potential allies visibly skeptical of the US leadership. 31 That skepticism made it difficult to gain support for the Afghanistan operation. From the beginning NATO had considerable difficulty in gathering an adequate number of troops for the stability mission force. Turkey was only finally cajoled into succeeding the UK in the commanding role in ISAF by an offer of financial assistance and acceptance of certain conditions, such as that the UN mandate to ISAF would be renewed first, that ISAF operations would be limited to Kabul and that ANA training would continue without reduction of funding for the ISAF.32 Resistance on the part of the US as well as some key NATO states, such as the UK and Turkey, prevented the establishment of a large international security presence countrywide in Afghanistan.33 The fact that the United States did not contribute sufficient resources for state-­building or offer troops to ensure nationwide

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   205 security did not help when it asked other states for assistance, even if they might sympathize with the need. Support was further weakened by the divergence of views between European nations and the US with regard to the fundamental nature of the mission in Afghanistan (as explored in Chapter 9), making it difficult to acquire sufficient resources in a coordinated manner. As noted above, Europe emphasized the development and reconstruction aspects of the mission, and justified involvement in the Afghan mission largely on the basis that they would be conducting “peacekeeping.” There were other, deeper differences between the US and European views as well. While the US viewed the mission as “part of the global war on terror”34 (emphasis added), Europeans did not see the fight against terrorism as “waging war.”35 Thus, when then-­Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld requested that Europe assume counterterrorist and counterinsurgency responsibilities in Afghanistan, he was refused with the argument that ISAF was intended to serve the needs of reconstruction and stabilization. Eventually, the NATO governments agreed to make their expanded Stage 3 mission more robust, and since then, NATO forces have engaged in combat.36 Nonetheless, as the situation in Afghanistan deteriorated, a divide among the NATO powers emerged. Canada, the UK and the Netherlands provided combat capabilities to counterinsurgency in the southern provinces, but other European capitals did not follow suit, exercising their “national caveats,” or imposing restrictions on the tasks their forces could perform or the geographical areas in which they could operate. Some European nations were not willing to commit troops to the volatile southern and eastern regions. Yet others would not permit their troops to engage in active combat, other than self-­defense. This is despite repeated calls from the United States37 and debates in NATO since the Riga summit in 2006 urging participating nations to remove some of these restrictions. Germany, for instance, which deploys in the north and is engaged in reconstruction, was heavily criticized by some NATO members for its “excessive” attention to force protection, which allegedly made its activities less effective.38 The hesitancy of some governments to participate in the counterinsurgency may have been a reflection of weakening public support, particularly after the NATO expansion to the South in 2006 changed the nature of the mission to counterinsurgency. At the end of 2007, a poll in Britain found that 62 percent of the British public preferred that UK troops be brought home.39 In Canada, a majority (55 percent) supported keeping Canadian troops in Afghanistan in March 2006; but this rate dropped significantly to 35 percent by the end of 2006, and remained at between 36 and 40 percent through 2007.40 Likewise, in December 2007 only 24 percent of respondents agreed with the Dutch government’s decision to extend the Dutch mission in Uruzgan.41

206   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support

Dwindling support: doubts converge The initial strong support for the Afghanistan intervention by the United States, both in the United States and NATO as well as in Afghanistan itself did not last long. The Bush administration rationale for the intervention was widely supported, but its failure to provide adequate resources for reconstruction drew criticism early on. Already in 2003, the Bush administration’s attempt to shift the war effort to Iraq under the banner of “Global War on Terror” had provoked substantial disapproval from those who argued that Iraq was irrelevant in the pursuit of the Al Qaeda network.42 By 2006, the U.S. Congress had repeatedly acknowledged that the Afghanistan mission would not live up to its promises owing to the Bush administration’s failure to allocate sufficient resources. Indeed, the main findings of a U.S. Senate hearing on Afghanistan in September 2006 were that: the “five pillars” of security sector reform had largely failed, with the work of two of them significantly delayed; the insurgency was intensifying; coordination among the various actors involved in assistance was poor; Afghanistan had become a “narco-­state”; the government of Afghanistan had not established good governance; and the rule of law had yet to be established.43 Former presidential candidate in 2004 and Democrat from Massachusetts John Kerry, too, declared that Afghanistan was the real center of war on terrorism, not Iraq, despite the Bush administration stance.44 Waning support from Europe was also a concern, and Kerry expressed alarm about Al Qaeda activities in Pakistan.45 In 2007, the Bush administration’s handling of the Afghanistan mission, as well as the broader “war on terrorism,” came under increasing questioning, although much of the debate remained partisan. As the US continued to focus on Iraq rather than Afghanistan throughout 2007, pressure from Democratic congressional members increased. Representative Ike Skelton (Democrat; Montana) stated: “I find it troubling that our ongoing commitment in Iraq prevents us from dedicating resources in Afghanistan beyond what is necessary to prevent setbacks, as opposed to what is required to realize success.”46 Then-­Senator Joseph Biden (Democrat; Delaware), who was Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, likewise claimed that the US was failing in Afghanistan because it had not made it a “priority” to succeed there.47 Local support among Afghans, that most important aspect of support for the intervention, moreover, was also dwindling. The troubling performance of the stabilization mission since 2006 took a toll on local perceptions. Overall, Afghans saw that a return to the Taliban regime would not be to their benefit. According to the after-­action report of General Barry R. McCaffrey’s Visit to NATO Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE) and Afghanistan 21–26 July 2008,48 more than 90 percent of the Afghan people still rejected the ideology and violence of the Taliban. Nonetheless, the report noted that they had “little faith” in

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   207 the ability of the government to provide security, justice, or basic services (clean water, electricity) or jobs.49 Observers were well aware of Afghan disenchantment with the intervention. In a U.S. Congressional hearing testimony, Karin von Hippel stated in April 2009 that while only 40 percent of Afghans believed that their country was heading in the right direction, still 80 percent preferred their current government over one led by the Taliban and 80 percent viewed the Taliban as a serious threat.50 Nonetheless, Hippel warned, the Afghan people had been losing confidence in the intervention for more than two years,51 and a dramatic recovery of performance in the stability mission would be necessary for it to succeed. Hippel stated her belief that reversal of the decline in support for the international mission required greater incorporation of Afghan-­led recovery processes, a focus on increased accountability and transparency of international assistance, and action against corruption would be necessary. Hippel’s observations seemed to be supported by various survey results. The Asia Foundation reached similar conclusions, finding that 38 percent of survey respondents had believed that the country was moving in the right direction in 2008, as opposed to 32 percent who said it was moving in the wrong direction.52 Its survey found that there was a declining trend of support among the Afghans in the previous two years. In 2006, 44 percent of respondents had said that the country was moving in the right direction, and 21 percent in the wrong direction.53 Antonio Donini, too, found that Afghans believed their needs had not been well considered in international aid. In other words, people’s expectations had not been met in a way that satisfied them.54 In findings which confirmed the observation of some analysts that much of the relief funding had been used for humanitarian purposes, and not for development projects,55 Donini found that Afghans believed that “there are no fundamental sustainable results” of the intervention.56 He found that Afghans were asking for more investment in large-­scale infrastructure, such as factories, power plants, dams and roads, in order for aid to be really helpful to them.57 They were saying that NGO-­like “social projects” would not help very much. Further, Donini found that the predominant view among the Afghans was that socio-­ economic conditions had not improved in the previous two years.58 Whereas more middle-­class people in urban areas and members of the elite in general had felt the impact of aid, the rural poor did not believe that international aid was reaching them at all, creating a considerable sense of resentment.59 Afghans, observed Donini, felt that the aid “bypassed” the government and that international assistance was thus working at cross-­purposes to state-­building efforts.60 These findings, combined with the widespread local perception of their government as corrupt and of elections as ineffective, indicated that the Afghan people were losing faith in state-­ building. These results pointed to the need, as Hippel argued, to promote

208   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support greater Afghan ownership of international assistance and assure that its use was more transparent and accountable to local recipients. The Donini study and other research made it clear that corruption was eroding Afghans’ trust not only in government but in international assistance.61 A study by Integrity Watch Afghanistan in 2007 delineated the public perception that bribes were necessary in order to obtain services from the government.62 The Integrity Watch Afghanistan study found that the public was of the view that corruption had become organized, involving corruption networks in which people are involved at various levels and the at the top reap large benefits. The poor were hit the hardest by the financial cost of corruption. Some 65 percent cited corruption as having a direct impact on their personal security. Fifty-­four percent of those polled believed that corruption eroded the moral fabric of society and 57 percent believed that it undermined the legitimacy and effectiveness of the state.63 Such discontent with the government made some people inclined to support militant groups, either directly or indirectly. According to the same study conducted in January 2007, 81 percent of those polled believed that the application of Sharia law would be effective in combating corruption. The same survey registered less faith in the administrative reforms, with only a quarter believing that administrative reform would reduce corruption.64 Security was the area of government performance and international assistance considered weakest by Afghans, making it the most often cited reason for pessimism in the two years previous to the study. Donini found that security was felt to be deteriorating in large parts of the country, underlying the perceived need among the Afghans for the continued presence of ISAF and coalition forces.65 Many Afghans also pointed out that lack of jobs may contribute to insecurity, especially in rural areas, pushing especially disillusioned young people to join the insurgency.66 Security also featured as the largest concern of Afghans in the Asia Foundation survey.67 Thus, the general perception among Afghans was that, despite having had high expectations toward the international community, the ineffectiveness of state-­building assistance, combined with the corrupt nature of the existing government, meant only disappointment to ordinary people who hoped for an alternative form of governance to Taliban rule. This was most unfortunate, since the majority of Afghans did not want the Taliban to come back to power and they had endured the post-­intervention turmoil with some hope. As Barnett Rubin in his testimony to the U.S. Congress stated in 2007: Yet no one I spoke to advocated giving up. One of the same elders who expressed frustration with the corruption of the government and its distance from the people also said, “We have been with the Taliban and have seen their cruelty. People don’t want them back.” A fruit trader from Kandahar complained: “The Taliban beat us and ask for

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   209 food, and then the government beats us for helping the Taliban.” But he and his colleagues still called Karzai the country’s best leader in 30 years—a modest endorsement, given the competition, but significant nonetheless.68 That support, however, was possibly running thin owing to of the questionable performance of the Afghan government and the weak, half-­ hearted and fragmented approach by the international community to the issues of government legitimacy, most fundamentally, the failure to resurrect the rule of law and good governance issues in Afghanistan. Addressing these aspects, nonetheless, was critical if the international community were to sustain support from the Afghans, and indeed their own public.

The “Afghan Surge”: diminishing support When the Obama administration announced the Surge in Afghanistan in March 2009, the policy initially won slim majority support in the US. In March 2009, 56 percent of poll respondents reported that the war was worth fighting.69 However, support for the Afghan Surge among the US public had slipped by summer 2009. A Washington Post and ABC News poll conducted on 20 August 2009 showed that a majority (51 percent) of Americans saw the war in Afghanistan as not worth fighting; only a quarter said, essentially supporting the Surge, that more US troops should be sent there.70 Nevertheless, the reason for not supporting the Surge was not lack of confidence in the US military capability to defeat the Taliban, but lack of faith that elections (to be conducted in August 2009) would produce a government in Afghanistan that could facilitate economic development and good governance.71 There was even less support (24 percent) for a further increase in US troops there, although that was indeed what General Stanley McChrystal eventually proposed.72 In the wake of Obama’s announcement of the troop Surge in December 2009, a slim majority supported the policy, 51 percent expressing approval in a CBS/New York Times poll, 43 percent opposing it.73 Americans’ confidence in the Afghan government, however, remained low, with just 26 percent expecting that the Afghan government would work to create stability, while 61 percent were disinclined to expect such a move.74 The President’s announcement that US troops would start withdrawing from Afghanistan in 2011 was not popular, with 55 percent believing that it would be a mistake, and 41 percent supporting it. Recognition that a quick withdrawal was unwise did not translate, however, into support for a long-­term US stay in Afghanistan, with only 26 percent approving of maintenance of significant troop levels in Afghanistan for “as long as it takes.”75 Initially, President Obama had benefitted from bipartisan support in the U.S. Congress for the war in Afghanistan. While the Republicans continued to support the Afghan War as a Bush legacy, the Democrats

210   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support reinforced their argument that Afghanistan was the true front in the war on terror, not Iraq, and accused the Bush administration of not paying sufficient attention to the war on terror’s most important front. The $96.7 billion supplemental appropriations bill to finance Obama’s “Surge” passed the House by 368 to 60.76 With the most liberal members of the Democratic Party skeptical of the military mission in Afghanistan, however, 51 of the votes against the Surge came from the Democratic Party.77 The divisions within the Democratic Party Obama support base for the war had grown even wider by May 2009, as Democrats increasingly turned against the war. In August, seven in ten Democrats thought the war not worth the cost, and fewer than one in five supported an increase in troop levels.78 This trend continued after December, when the troop Surge further divided his party. While a comfortable majority, 68 percent of Republicans, backed the troop Surge, with 27 percent disapproving, just 42 percent of Democrats approved it, with 53 percent opposing.79 Expert opinion was divided, but counterinsurgency experts supported the Surge. Supporters cited that the national interest involved, most importantly, the threat of the terrorism that might be spawned out of potential destabilization in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Thus, John Nagl, who was a principal expert in the US Army on counterinsurgency and after retirement from the US Army in 2008 became President of the Center for a New American Security, has argued that the US had vital national security interests in Afghanistan, i.e., preventing Afghanistan from again becoming a sanctuary for terrorists with global reach and ensuring that Afghanistan would not become a catalyst for regional security crises.80 Stephen Biddle of the Council on Foreign Relations likewise listed preventing the emergence of a nuclear-­armed Al Qaeda resulting from the destabilization or state collapse of Pakistan as a primary interest in the war in Afghanistan, whose destabilization would trigger further destabilization in Pakistan.81 He acknowledged however that the cost of the operation would be significant relative to the likelihood of success. Reasons listed by the opposition to the Surge or continued troop presence in Afghanistan, on the other hand, included the poor performance of the operation thus far and the functioning of the Afghan government, as well as the high cost of trying to achieve success there. Columnist George F. Will, for example, cited the high human and material costs of operations, lack of progress, and especially the poor performance of the Karzai government in establishing firm governance as reasons for advocating troop withdrawal.82 Andrew Bacevich, likewise, questioned whether Obama had made a plausible case for the vital security interests of the US in Afghanistan and whether the vast costs, human and material, necessary to achieve success would be adequately met over the long time it would take.83 An Economist article also argued that failure was looming in Afghanistan, citing the increased area controlled by the insurgency forces, poor

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   211 status of critical infrastructure, such as roads, increasing casualties among military personnel and civilians, inept coalition operations that fueled resentment of local people, and corrupt government.84 Among US allies public opinion was more cautious about the war in Afghanistan. For instance, in July 2009, support remained at 39 percent in the UK.85 A separate survey by Pews of NATO countries likewise found significant opposition to a troop increase: Germany (63 percent), France (62 percent), Poland (57 percent), Canada (55 percent), Britain (51 percent) and Spain (50 percent) disapproved of sending more troops to Afghanistan. In Turkey, only 16 percent approved of a troop increase, while 49 percent disapproved.86 US allies also viewed the December surge announcement with skepticism. In the UK, a poll conducted in December 2009 showed that 56 percent opposed the UK government’s decision to send an additional 500 troops to Afghanistan, and 56 percent opposed a military operation involving UK soldiers in Afghanistan.87 Obama’s December announcement was also unpopular in Canada, where support stood at only 42 percent and 53 percent were opposed.88 Indicative of the problems with strategic communication, in a March 2009 BBC poll, only 35 percent of the British, while being most closely allied with the US, said they were “convinced” by the UK government’s argument about the necessity to keep UK forces in Afghanistan, while 60 percent said they were unconvinced.89 Behind the apparent confusion among the British public about the purpose of the war was the fact that the justifications provided by the UK government for the increasingly drawn-­out mission in Helmand were considered inconsistent, expanding, or too expansive in terms of justifications and tasks. A report of the UK House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee published in August 2009 found that the UK mission in Afghanistan had taken on a significantly different and expanded character since the first British troops were deployed there in 2001: Expansion of the stated justifications for the UK’s mission in Afghanistan since 2001 has made it more difficult for the Government to communicate the basic purpose of the mission and this risks undermining support for the mission both in the UK and in Afghanistan.90 It further noted that there had been significant “mission creep” in the British deployment to Afghanistan, with the mission becoming committed to a wide range of objectives, and that the British government should “set out, in unambiguous terms, its first and most important priority in Afghanistan.” Thus, the committee recommended that “stabilisation need not be complicated or expensive, but it does require provision of security, good governance, and a belief within the local population that ISAF forces will outlast the insurgents.”91

212   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support Indeed, communicating to the Afghans the purpose of the Western intervention in Afghanistan and its commitment to stay until that purpose was achieved should be understood as the key to success.92 Without this, insurgents would be encouraged to play into the weakness and limited duration of the Western presence in Afghanistan. However, the messages the US and its Western allies were sending were at best very mixed, reflecting both the diverse bases for action and fluctuating levels of support, and highlighting the contradiction between expansive goals and reluctance to accept the necessary costs and risks. Support for the 2009 Surge was mixed among Afghans. The election process in August 2009 was tainted by claims of fraud and by insurgent intimidations, accusations that later turned out to be true. Turnout rates also varied from region to region, depending on the level of violence and intimidation. Still, millions of people voted, and this was a sign that the Afghan people, overcoming cynicism resulting from years of difficulties, are still reaching out for stability, better governance and democratic rule.93 Consistent with the people’s participation in elections in general, polls conducted in July 2009 indicated that Afghans, however disappointed, still supported the reconstruction effort, and remained optimistic on a number of matters.94 For example, the International Republic Institute survey in July 2009 showed that 62 percent of those polled thought the situation was “going in the right direction,” up from 30 percent in May 2009.95 People who thought the situation was going for the “wrong direction” also decreased from 37 percent in May 2009 to 24 percent in July 2009.96 An Asia Foundation survey in June 2009 noted significantly lower approval rates than the above figure, but the findings were consistent. It registered a ten-point higher percentage than in 2008 for those who thought the country was moving in the right direction (42 and 32 percent in 2009 and 2008, respectively).97 In the IRI survey (above) in July, 63 percent of those polled also answered that the economic situation was getting better, while 53 percent answered the same in May.98 Security continues to be a problem, with 43 percent thinking that it was less stable than a year ago in July, but this was nine points less than in May.99 Thirty-­five percent found the situation more stable, up from just 14 percent in May.100 This indicated that increased troop presence in the country might be making a difference, although a still significant percentage of people reported instability was worse than a year previously. More people reported the political and security situation to be more peaceful (52 percent, up from just 21 percent in May), while fewer people reported the situation to be critical or unstable (11 percent, down from 25 percent in May).101 More people also rated the performance of ANA and ANP higher than in May (3.79 and 3.3, respectively, on a scale of 1 to 5).102 The same poll also suggested that people were divided over whom to support, but Karzai still attracted the largest, if not the majority of support from the population, followed by opposition presidential candidate Abdullah Abdullah.103 Karzai’s choice of warlords as his deputies, however,

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   213 was an unfortunate development in the process leading up to the August elections, as Rashid Dostum, Mohammad Mohaqeq, and Abdul Rasul Sayyaf, in close alliance with Mr. Karzai, were the most unpopular with the Afghans.104 The impact on people’s support of the fraudulent election process, resulting in the cancelation of the final run-­up presidential election that would have pitted Karzai against the main contender Abudullah Abdullah, was not clear at the end of 2009, but the rejection by the Parliament of 17 out of Karzai’s 24 nominees for his new Cabinet in early 2010 may have indicated a declining support for Karzai within the Parliament as well as a power shift that signaled a more concerned legislative body attentive to the quality and competence of Cabinet members.105 The above evidence indicates that, despite a number of setbacks, the Afghans still supported the post-­Taliban political process, and remained hopeful on a number of issues, including the potential for change through the political process (in the above-­cited survey,106 83 percent people want a “change in direction in five years”). The general wish to be free of the Taliban among Afghans, in addition, although they might trade that preference for temporary security, constituted the basis of support from Afghans for the continued presence of the international community, as General Stanley McChrystal noted.107 These findings, albeit temporary, suggested that as long as the Afghans supported the ongoing political process, however frustrated they might be, the international community was duty-­bound to support it, given the background of the current intervention, which started as an act of self-­defense that resulted in a regime change and then necessitated political and reconstruction assistance. Giving up in the middle would not only create instability but spark resentment toward the West on a massive level, with unknown consequences in the longer term, in a region prone to extremism. There needed to be a drastically new approach in 2009 and a commitment to it—a concerted, comprehensive effort to improve governance in Afghanistan—to make the aid more Afghan-­owned, transparently managed, and more accountable to the people, while a major threat to security—insurgents and extremists—would presumably be rooted out. However, it was equally clear that the patience of the public in Western states—in this case probably more than the patience of the Afghan people—was in danger of running out, particularly given the high cost and difficulties of achieving good results. The security interests at stake were high, but the likelihood remained that a large investment in terms of both “blood and treasure” might be just too little to bring about rapid and visible improvement of the situation and therefore might prove a major hindrance to continued effort. The support of the public in Western nations would be critical for success in Afghanistan, but this was possible only as a result of reasonable performance and, above all, good justification for high costs and efforts over a sustained period of time. Legitimation, thus, would be critical, especially in Afghanistan.

214   Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support

Conclusion The initial justification of self-­defense for the Afghanistan operation attracted much support, both domestically in the US and internationally, including at the United Nations Security Council, and provided critical support for the launch of Operation Enduring Freedom. Likewise, the stability operation that followed the initial attacks attracted broad diplomatic and rhetorical support with the recognition that Afghanistan needed to be revived and that it was important to prevent the emergence of a situation in which Afghanistan’s instabilities would again be exploited by extremists. However, material support tended to be inadequate to the tasks at hand, even as planned within the “light-­footprint” scheme. Support became more difficult to attract and keep over time, especially after the nature of the mission changed in 2006. Both the expanding bases of intervention and its staggeringly poor performance accounted for the weakening of international support for the operation. Expansion of the bases of intervention from self-­defense and counterterrorism combined with a “light-­footprint”-approach to state-­building and then to counterinsurgency was something that many members of the public in Western states found difficult to accept. Moreover, even once the public recognized the stabilization of Afghanistan as a security interest, it remained wary, believing that successful counterinsurgency would be very costly and demanding. The hostile and vast terrain, local suspicion of foreign occupation, violent insurgency and extremisms, the general status of underdevelopment, and, most of all, the corrupt and inept Afghan government were conditions that made it extremely difficult for intervention forces to achieve results, even should the material and human investment be high. As the governments of the intervening nations faced increasing public reluctance to the Afghanistan mission, there was a tendency for some Western nations to emphasize the “peacekeeping” or “reconstruction” aspects of the counterinsurgency. They were reluctant to send large numbers of troops, judging it as unjustifiable. Most Western governments, moreover, refused to accept combat roles for their troops in Afghanistan. Ordinary Afghans, however, supported the state-­building process, however imperfect and mismanaged, and however disappointed they were with the slowness of its progress, as the sole alternative to the return of Taliban rule. Decreasing support among Afghans especially after 2006 resulted mainly from poor performance, including that of their own government, which was hampered by corruption and mismanagement of aid, bad governance, lack of local ownership, spotty state-­building performance, and especially inadequate security. Even these issues, however, had not defeated the will among Afghans to pursue further stabilization, as was indicated by the slight rise in optimism during the Surge in 2009. Patience with the stabilization process was rather a problem on the part

Afghanistan: adequate to dwindling support   215 of the public in the intervening nations, which showed clear signs of “aid fatigue” and increasing distrust of the Afghan government, which had failed to establish good governance in the past eight years. Except within the US, the predominant view in Western countries toward further increase in commitment, especially military engagement, in Afghanistan as of the end of 2009, was ambivalent. Thus, the case of Afghanistan exhibits the problems of legitimation at the strategic level: how to articulate the political ends being sought, argue for further engagement, and convince the public of the value of the costs involved. The governments of the intervening nations strived to accomplish this task through 2009. A clear definition of success would also be necessary to make a satisfactory case for engagement; i.e., the goal (success) had to be worthwhile pursuing but also feasible. Once the goal was articulated, however, the investment needed to achieve it would also have to be explained. Although the central national interest involved— prevention of terrorism—remained critical, the fact that that could be achieved only by indirect and varied means—state-­building and counterinsurgency—often seemed remote from the viewpoint of some policy-­makers and the public. The public outside of the US also did not necessarily conceive of “terrorism” in the context of a “global war on terror,” but rather as a problem to be settled over the long term by tackling reconstruction and development. There was a clear need to further specify the meaning of success in Afghanistan and how it would be achieved. Withdrawal, the option preferred by many in the world public, would also be costly due to the sheer importance of the security interests involved in both Afghanistan and Pakistan. To fail or to abandon either of these places to their own devices would most likely mean even more intense insurgency and threat of international terrorism, even Al Qaeda-­based nuclear terrorism, against especially Western nations. Withdrawal would also mean the moral defeat, given the ambitious nature of the initial intervention rationale—most notably of the superiority of democracy as a political system—and the sheer human consequences of withdrawal that might ensue. Withdrawal would, moreover, severely damage the reputation of NATO and the United States, the impact of which would go beyond the limited context of counterinsurgency. Legitimation, hence, was of critical importance. Success would depend, amid the ongoing implementation of the Surge strategy, on how the intervention was justified, in terms of the goals to be achieved and the relevance and importance of these goals for those intervening and for Afghans, and of how those goals would be achieved. Performance would then become a factor influencing the sustainability of support. Sustaining such triangulated legitimacy was crucial, therefore, to successful results.

12 Legitimacy and the conditions of success

The cases presented in the chapters above demonstrate the ways legitimacy is key to the success or failure of stability operations in the post-­Cold War era. We have looked at the complex nature of legitimacy and ways it is established through the triangulation of bases, performance and support. Against a backdrop of the increasing complexity of stability operations in terms of objectives, scope, and multiplicity of participating and affected actors, the significance of legitimation has greatly increased vis-­à-vis the success of international intervention in regional crises. This study of legitimacy, defined using the crasis/tripartite notion comprising bases, performance and support as developed by James Gow, further explores the conceptual links between legitimacy and the conditions for the success of stability operations. Success in stability operations depends on the interdependencies or close links established and maintained among these three elements. Close inter-­linkage and balance among these elements sustain an operation through the process of legitimation; the reverse of legitimation—de-­legitimation—may also take place. The use of armed force typically involves multiple bases of legitimacy, and in the case of stability operations these normally include both the ethical and the power-­political. Ethical bases of legitimacy represent the laws, norms and practices that form the bases of regulated behavior, such as action based on humanitarian concerns or concerns to uphold human rights or international humanitarian law. Ethical bases may also involve interests in strengthening multilateral security, a conception of security in which domestic instability, including humanitarian crises and civil war, is defined as a threat to international peace. Such a notion of security is distinct from traditional “realist” conceptions of security focused on great-­ power relations and power-­balancing among them. (In the latter type of thinking, stability and expeditionary missions—which are often considered to concern remote crises and less-­than-vital national interests, or are tantamount to investment in eventualities—are carefully avoided.) Ethical bases also historically include the strengthening of institutions, such as peacekeeping institutions and other mechanisms that serve purposes related to

Legitimacy and conditions of success   217 multilateral security. In addition, stability operations were often legitimated on the bases of the need for state-­building, reconstruction, democratization, and related aspects of transforming a country into a democratically governed, representative state with a liberal market economy.1 Power-­political bases, on the other hand, represent vested interests, calculations and rationales having to do with the maintenance of security and augmentation of national power and prestige. In theory, these could involve traditional, “realist” conceptions of national interest primarily having to do with great-­power balancing, but in the context of stability operations, they historically included containment of regional conflicts, regional stability, and maintenance of the strategic reputation or credibility in dealing with contingencies. Recently, the relevance of links between stability and prevention of terrorism and insurgency has come to the fore. While such links are positive incentives, negative, power-­ political incentives (or disincentives) may also come into play in stability operations, in the form, for instance, of concerns for limiting costs (over­extension, loss of “blood and treasure”).2 Such parsimony (or “prudence”)—traditionally part of the realist approach—often informed the conduct of stability operations, as some nations deliberately limited the scope of their commitment to low-­key, non-­coercive activities (by their armed forces personnel). The process of legitimation that leads to success in stability operations, therefore, is an inter-­linking and three-­way balancing of the claims to the legitimacy of the action (i.e., the bases of its legitimacy), the performance of the operation (which needs to validate those bases), and support for those bases and that performance by those affected and multiple other audiences, global and local. The appropriate balancing of these elements in an intervention process involving disparate actors, therefore, is the fundamental condition of success. Maintenance of legitimacy is key to long-­term commitment that is normally required of a stability mission. Among the cases examined in this book Liberia is one that demonstrates success. The West Africa-­initiated peace-­creation process (1990–97) that was launched for Liberia was characterized by legitimation bases highly consistent throughout the tenure of the intervention, comprising elements of both ethical and power-­political rationales for the use of armed force. In supporting the overall political goal—to install a democratically elected government rather than allowing the war to simply run its course—the bases where mutually supportive: humanitarian concerns were inherent or linked with stability and containment interests were firmly embedded in the key intervener’s (Nigeria) national security interests. Performance was acceptable in the key rationales of humanitarian assistance and implementation of the peace agreement. Further, there was also a strong interdependence between the intervention rationale and support, as the external actors endorsed both the humanitarian rationale and multilateral

218   Legitimacy and conditions of success security rationale of intervention, judging that “African solutions to African conflicts” was necessary for post-­Cold War security. Mixed results were achieved in Bosnia, as intervention did succeed in stopping the war and therefore halting the associated carnage, but it was only after the ill-­fated international policy of peace support thwarted protection of safe areas that a new strategy of coercive diplomacy was introduced. It was the loss of support—and thus the breakdown of legitimacy—of the initial peace support that triggered the shift in intervention form, following the shift in rationales from that based on humanitarian and containment concerns to that based on protection of the reputation of the intervening parties, in addition to humanitarian concerns. The increasingly poor performance of the initial peace support operation in dealing with the humanitarian crisis, culminating in the fall of Srebrenica, had to be remedied by adopting a different strategy to bolster the faltering legitimacy of the whole venture. Both Somalia and Rwanda were clear cases of failure, resulting from the lack of a firm linkage among bases, performance and support. In Somalia, the initial bases of the legitimacy of the US-­led and UN interventions rested on the combination of strong humanitarian incentives backed up, not by significant positive power-­political bases, but rather by the recognition that the intervention did not place major interests at risk, i.e., the assumption of cost-­effectiveness (low cost and achievable goals). As the situation on the ground deteriorated during the UN mission, however, this basic assumption was challenged, shattering the conditions for legitimacy of the humanitarian venture. When this condition of legitimacy broke down, support for the intervention was also lost, especially within the US, and, unlike the case of Bosnia where interest in salvaging reputation made possible a military escalation, the US and the UN decided to cut their losses, judging that the cost of humanitarian venture had become too high to be justifiable. In Rwanda, the international community failed to take timely and effective action to stop genocide. The failure is attributed to the lack of a positive power-­political rationalization of the use of armed force under circumstances in which Rwanda did not pose a security risk for the majority of states in the international community. Rather, the predominant power-­political rationalization was negative: that another intervention in an African civil war (so soon after the experience in Somalia) would most likely fail and that the reputation of the UN would be further harmed. This was despite the strong support for intervention in Rwanda on an ethical basis expressed by world public opinion. In early 2010, it is still too early to judge whether Iraq and Afghanistan were cases of success or failure. In both cases, however, the failure of stabilization and the rise of insurgency resulted in deteriorating support toward the interventions. In both cases, hence, a “Surge” strategy was ventured, aiming at establishing legitimacy for further involvement. In both

Legitimacy and conditions of success   219 cases, the initial assumption of “light” state-­building, too, proved optimistic in the face of reality. The case of Iraq, in particular, demonstrates the precariousness of legitimacy, when international support for the intervention was critically lacking from the outset, with the majority of the world public challenging the Bush administration’s “pre-­emption strategy” to justify the war. Support further diminished as stabilization failed. Iraq was thus a stark reminder that strategy must incorporate legitimacy in order to succeed. In Afghanistan, by contrast, the initial basis of intervention—self-­defense and, for a related purpose, counterterrorism—attracted worldwide support, but the bases of legitimation of the intervention became expansive over time, broadening to include state-­building and stabilization and then counterinsurgency. Consistency was lost in the process, as the state-­building and counterinsurgency objectives were added without altering the assumption of the “light-­footprint.” Support weakened accordingly, and was further undermined by deteriorating performance in stabilization and counterinsurgency, which were given only limited resources. Only the Surge was to change the tide. In addition to the overarching condition for the success of stability operations, which as we have seen lies in maintaining a close linkage among their bases, performance and support, we may identify from the analyses of the six cases of post-­Cold War stability operations the following further conditions of a successful operation. First, in addition to the ethical legitimations that normally precede a stability action (such as self-­defense and humanitarian concerns), strong power-­political legitimations are needed. As observed from the stability operations of the 1990s, intervention could not be sustained on the humanitarian rationale alone. The conditions which needed to exist were either that the cost of such a humanitarian venture be low (cost-­ effectiveness), thereby counteracting any negative power-­political legitimations (or disincentives for intervention); or that positive power-­ political bases be involved, such as security-­related bases of containment, need for counterinsurgency and preservation of reputation. This is because stability operations, even if their purposes may be benign, all too often take place in an unfavorable operational environment. When the authority of an intervention is challenged by one or more of the local warring parties, as occurred in all the cases examined here, the intervening forces are faced with the stark choice of either withdrawing or escalating military involvement, often under pressure from their domestic constituencies. In this case, without such positive power-­political rationalizations, use of escalated force could not be justified. In Bosnia, the transformation from an initially benign humanitarian and peacekeeping intervention to coercive diplomacy occurred with the shift in the balance of rationales. The addition of important reputational interests for the US and NATO resolved the initial dilemma between humanitarian concerns

220   Legitimacy and conditions of success and an absence of significant strategic interests in Bosnia that merited military intervention. The Liberia intervention, likewise, was made sustainable because the humanitarian rationales were linked with the intervention’s other power-­political bases, including regional security, containment and credibility. That strong linkage made it possible for the West African nations to persevere in their mission. If the process leading to pressure to withdraw from or to escalate a humanitarian intervention appears rather calculating in the above formulation, on the contrary it straightforwardly reflects the influence humanitarian concerns now have in public evaluations of intervention performance in intervening nations. Such evaluations rely on the humanitarian effects of the mission, in the process making the reputation of the intervening parties dependent upon performance. However, because military escalation involves high costs and danger, neither humanitarian interests alone, nor interest in safeguarding UN credibility alone, resulted in escalation of the use of force, but rather in the decision to withdraw, as was the case in Somalia and Rwanda. When the humanitarian rationale is linked to strong power-­political rationales, such as to preserving the strategic reputation of leading states (Nigeria in Liberia, US and NATO in Bosnia) intervention can be sustained through escalation. More recent stability operations involved different ethical bases: in Afghanistan it was self-­defense, and in the case of Iraq an evolved form of pre-­emptive self-­defense. Both stemmed from the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks on the United States organized by Al Qaeda. In both these cases, however, the power-­political rationales of preventing terrorism/ eliminating the threat of terrorism were closely linked to self-­defense. The combination or coexistence of these primary ethical and power-­political rationales explains the tenacity of the operations, despite their high cost. Later, the initial rationale for the war in Afghanistan expanded to involve another prominent power-­political basis: defeating the insurgency. In the case of Iraq, once the alleged WMDs were not found, prevention of terrorism and defeating the insurgency assumed more importance in sustaining support and, hence, legitimacy. The second condition of success is coherence in the overall legitimation of intervention, as presented by policy-­makers. It is not sufficient, for example, that rationales presented are internally consistent (as was the case with the “Bush Doctrine” presented in Iraq); the arguments for legitimacy must reflect the actual situation. For example, the assumption of an easy postwar transition, as presented together with the doctrine of pre-­ emption in the case of Iraq, did not survive the reality test when the forces hit the ground. Rarely has an intervention stood up to such a criterion, but among the cases examined in this book, the intervention in Liberia did display this consistency. The intervention rationale was consistently humanitarian, but this was, as noted, embedded and linked with power-­political rationales

Legitimacy and conditions of success   221 having to do with regional stability, containment, and national prestige and strategic reputation or credibility of those intervening. The latter allowed for a sufficient level of flexibility in the mode of the intervention mission, which was able to shift between peacekeeping and peace enforcement, and therefore matching the situations on the ground characterized by fluid and recurring insurgency. Both the intervention rationales, especially the recognized need to develop a regional security mechanism, and acceptable performance sustained external support for the intervention. Lack of consistency in the bases of legitimacy proved to be a hindrance to success in most of the cases examined in this book. Humanitarian intervention during the 1990s suffered from ad hoc rationalizations for the use of armed force, particularly when there was a need for coercion through the use of force. While the humanitarian rationale for intervention was strongly emphasized in Bosnia, Somalia, and even in Rwanda, the power-­ political rationalizations were not visibly consistent with the humanitarian rationale. It was only in the case of Bosnia where the bungled handling of a humanitarian mission provoked a crisis of reputation for the US and NATO that led to reinforcement of the intervention by NATO. In Rwanda, the concern for the cost of the operation—political, military or material— contradicted the ethical legitimacy of acting on humanitarian grounds to stop genocide. In Somalia, the issue of how to legitimate the cost of trying to revive the operation after it went horribly wrong in 1993 was in direct contradiction to prevailing humanitarian concerns. These inconsistencies, then, formed the basis of the problematic selectivity of humanitarian intervention during the 1990s. Later stability operations in Iraq and Afghanistan also had complex bases of legitimacy. In Iraq, the doctrine of pre-­emption as presented by Bush may have been “internally consistent” but critical contradictions nonetheless emerged. Most notably, the administration’s inability to envisage and properly assess the necessary resources and cost of achieving stabilization in post-­Saddam Iraq was a critical shortfall. In Afghanistan, the bases of legitimacy formed a pattern of highly ad hoc and incremental expansion, as initially neither state-­building nor counterinsurgency were envisaged by policy-­makers, resulting in a problematic omission or lack of attention to many of the priority issues, such as judicial reform. Critically, also as in Iraq, the “light-­footprint” approach to state-­building did not pass the reality test when the Taliban insurgency, taking advantage of the many weaknesses of the stabilization process, revived and challenged the mission. The third condition of success is that assumptions about ease of operation must not be made and awareness of the resource-­intensive nature of stability operations must be high. Overall, the often-­made assumption of policy-­makers and the public alike that stability operations involve relatively low-­cost humanitarian and reconstruction assistance activities carried

222   Legitimacy and conditions of success out under benign conditions requires closer scrutiny. Quite the contrary, stability operations are often fraught with harsh local challenges and require constant reassessment. It has become all the more clear, as well, that stabilization requires resource-­intensive intervention over a long period of time. Indeed, a long-­term perspective and perseverance should be fundamental in calculating whether and how to conduct stability operations. An appreciation of the comprehensive nature of such operations— ranging from socio-­economic to political-­military sectors—is also indispensable. The tendency for stabilization to be highly resource-­intensive and long term brings home the paramount importance of legitimation to explain why such an intervention is needed, what the achievable goals should be in specific contexts, and how to effectively carry out such an operation. As this book has shown, legitimacy is a dynamic process, involving a constant definition and redefinition of the rationales, goals of the mission and means to achieve them. The features of stabilization are not, therefore, stable or definable on an a priori basis. Rather, stability operations are the result of the very process of legitimation that determines the scope and nature of operations, and that leads to certain outcomes. Legitimacy, in this context, is won through a process of ensuring that goals are achievable, articulating rationales embedded in law, norms and interests, and identifying the means that are also justifiable through a process of approval/disapproval of claims to legitimacy and performance. Legitimacy, hence, that is conceived as a dynamic balance maintained among the bases of claims to legitimacy, performance and support from the various actors involved, is a prerequisite for success.

Notes

1  Legitimacy in stability operations   1 The importance of legitimacy was captured in a series of manuals and historical studies on counterinsurgency especially in Britain. See, for instance, Robert Thompson, Defeating Communist Insurgency: Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, London: Chatto & Windus, 1966.   2 On the complexity of today’s operational environment see Rupert Smith, The Utility of Force: The Art of War in the Modern World, New York: Allen Lane, 2005; Milena Michalski and James Gow, War, Image and Legitimacy: Viewing Contemporary Conflict, London and New York: Routledge, 2007, esp. ch. 7; Martin Shaw, The New Western Way of Warfare, Cambridge: Polity Press, 2005.   3 The idea of the “crasis” of legitimacy was first presented in James Gow, Legitimacy and the Military: The Yugoslav Crisis, New York: St. Martins Press, 1992.   4 United States Department of the Army, FM 3–07, Stability Operations, October 2008, 1–1.   5 US Department of the Army, FM 3–07, 1–1; James Dobbins et al., America’s Role in Nation-­Building: From Germany to Iraq, Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 2003.   6 For a critical analysis of this tendency see M.L.R. Smith, “Guerrillas in the mist: reassessing strategy and low intensity warfare,” Review of International Studies 28:1, 2003, 19–37.   7 These include wars of proxy during the Cold War, national liberation or secession movements, revolutionary wars, etc. On the relative neglect of these wars in academic discourses, compounded by conceptual confusion, see Smith, “Guerrillas in the mist.”   8 The term “military operations other than war” replaced “low-­intensity conflict” after the Gulf War. Written communication with William Flavin, US Army Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute (PKSOI), Army War College, 16 November 2009. See FM 100–5, Operations, June 1993, in which the US Army first acknowledged the MOOTW environment and established a separate set of principles defining that environment.   9 For theoretical considerations about the causes of post-­Cold War civil wars, see Barry Posen, “Security dilemma and ethnic conflict,” Survival 35:1, spring 1993; Barbara F. Walter and Jack Snyder (eds), Civil Wars, Insecurity, and Intervention, Columbia University Press, 1999; David A. Lake and Donald Rothchild (eds), The International Spread of Ethnic Conflict: Fear, Diffusion and Escalation, Princeton University Press, 1998; Jack Snyder, From Voting to Violence: Democratization and Nationalist Conflict, New York: Norton & Co., 2000. 10 James Gow and Christopher Dandeker, “Strategic peacekeeping: the problem of legitimation,” The World Today 51:8–9, August–September 1995, 171–4.

224   Notes 11 The debate on the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention is extensively treated in Michael Bazyler, “Reexamining the doctrine of humanitarian intervention in light of the atrocities in Kampuchea and Ethiopia,” Stanford Journal of International Law 23, 1987, 547–619; Jean-­Pierre L. Fonteyne, “The customary international law doctrine of humanitarian intervention: its current validity under the U.N. Charter,” California Western International Law Journal 4, 1974, 203–70; Ian Brownlie, International Law and the Use of Force by States, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963; Ellery Stowell, Intervention in International Law, Washington D.C.: John Byrne & Co., 1921; David Scheffer, “Toward a modern doctrine of humanitarian intervention,” University of Toledo Law Review 23, winter 1992, 253–93; Payan Akhavan, “Lessons from Iraqi Kurdistan: self-­determination and humanitarian intervention against genocide,” Netherlands Quarterly of Human Rights 1, 1993, 41–62; Jost Delbruck, “Fresh look at humanitarian intervention under the authority of the United Nations,” Indiana Law Journal 67, 1992, 894–5; Simon Chesterman, Just War or Just Peace?: Humanitarian Intervention and International Law, Oxford University Press, 2001; J.L. Holzgrefe and Robert Keohane (eds), Humanitarian Intervention: Ethical, Legal and Political Dilemmas, Cambridge University Press, 2003; Jennifer M. Welsh (ed.), Humanitarian Intervention and International Relations, Oxford University Press, 2004; Taylor B. Seybolt, Humanitarian Military Intervention: The Conditions for Success and Failure, SIPRI: Oxford University Press, 2007. 12 International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS), Responsibility to Protect, December 2001. 13 William Flavin, “US doctrine for peace operations,” International Peacekeeping 15:1 (February 2008), 35–50; also interview with William Flavin, Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute (PKSOI), Carlisle, 5 March 2005. 14 US Department of the Army, Headquarters, FM 3–0, Operations, June 2001. 15 Flavin, “US doctrine for peace operations,” 39, 42. 16 See, for example, Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor, Cobra II: The Inside Story of the Invasion and Occupation of Iraq, London: Atlantic Books, 2007, pp. 457–96; Thomas Ricks, Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq, New York: Penguin, 2006, pp. 85–213. For a comprehensive analysis of US defense policy vis-­à-vis counterinsurgency, see David Ucko, The New Counterinsurgency Era: Transforming the U.S. Military for Modern Wars, Georgetown University Press, 2009. 17 In addition, there was the fact that the operation was expeditionary. Interview with Col. Alex Alderson, Oxford, 30 April 2009. 18 Interview with Dr. Tim Bird, Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre (DCDC), UK Ministry of Defence, 9 March 2009. Note also the US military definition of “stability operation”: [Stability operations encompass] various military missions, tasks, and activities conducted outside the United States in coordination with other instruments of national power to maintain or reestablish a safe and secure environment, provide essential governmental services, emergency infrastructure reconstruction, and humanitarian relief. (JP 3–0) As cited in FM 3–07, 2008, and subsequent passages on pp. vi–vii of the same document. 19 Whereas in US thinking, stability as a building block of “full-­spectrum operations” denotes operations and activities, the UK thinking denotes stabilization as a “context” (interview with Dr. Tim Bird). 20 An example of such thinking is the US government’s focus on an essential tasks matrix (see FM 3–07, 2008). The Dutch government’s approach is unique in that it defines “stability” according to clearly denoted criteria drawn largely from development aspects, which traditionally have much to do with poverty (interview with officials at the Dutch Stabilization Unit, The Hague, 7 January 2009).

Notes   225 21 JDP 3–40, p. xv. 22 General Sir Rupert Smith also captures this phenomenon in his famous formulation and theorization about “war amongst people” in The Utility of Force, esp. Part III. 23 Numerous analyses have been performed concerning especially civil–military coordination in stability operations. See, e.g., Stuart Gordon, “Understanding the priorities for civil–military co-­operation (CIMIC),” Journal of Humanitarian Assistance 2001. Available online at www.jha.ac/articles/a068.htm. 24 I am indebted to Professor Christopher Dandeker for sharing the insights appearing in this section, which he developed in his as-­yet unpublished chapter, “From victory to success: the changing mission of Western armed forces,” in Jan Angstrom and Isabelle Duyvesteyn (eds), Modern War and the Utility of Force: Challenges, Methods and Strategy, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2010. See also Christopher Dandeker and James Gow, “The future of peace support operations: strategic peacekeeping and success,” Armed Forces and Society 23, 1997, 327–47. 25 Thanks to Professor James Gow for impressing me with this point. 26 On “constabulary” operations and “viable international relations,” see Morris Janowitz, The Professional Soldier: A Social and Political Portrait, New York: Free Press, 1970, pp. 264–79, 305–20, 418. 27 Janowitz’s definition of “constabulary” is as follows: [t]he military establishment becomes a constabulary force when it is continuously prepared to act, committed to the minimum use of force, and seeks viable international relations, rather than victory, because it has incorporated a protective military posture. The constabulary concept is grounded in, and extends, pragmatic doctrine. (Janowitz, The Professional Soldier, p. 418) 28 Samuel P. Huntington, The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil– Military Relations, Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1957, pp. 7–18. 29 Smith, The Utility of Force; also cited in Dandeker, “From victory to success.” 30 The critical stance was strongly represented by General Colin Powell during the Bosnian conflict in the early 1990s. Then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, he advocated non-­involvement by the US Army on the grounds that missions and goals (in peacekeeping) remained unclear, with no national interests involved. Colin Powell, My American Journey, New York: Random House, 1995. 31 Dandeker and Gow, “The future of peace support operations,” 330. 32 Ibid., 336. 33 Joint Warfare Publication (JWP) 3–50, Peace Support Operations, 1998; JWP 3–50, Military Contribution to Peace Support, 2nd edn, 2003. 34 FM 3–07, pp. 1–7. 35 FM 3–0. Interview with Col. Alex Alderson. 36 See JWP 3–50; JDP 3–40. 37 Gow and Dandeker, “Strategic peacekeeping.” 38 JDP 3–40, pp. 2–13; see also FM 3–07. 39 Ibid. 40 On different theoretical constructs of “hybrid” threats and warfare, see Frank Hoffman, “Conflict in the 21st century: the rise of hybrid wars,” Potomac Institute for Policy Studies, Arlington, Virginia, 2007. 41 JDP 3–40, pp. 2–24. 42 Confirmed in interview with Col. Alderson. 43 The Iraq War of 2003 is often associated with this notion, but of course the potential for “war of choice” exists broadly. Richard N. Haas, War of Necessity, War of Choice: A Memoir of Two Iraq Wars, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2009.

226   Notes 44 For an analysis of the difficulty of justifying humanitarian intervention from realist or traditional national security perspectives, see Chiyuki Aoi, “Conditions for change of norms governing humanitarian intervention,” PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 2002. 45 Hans Morgenthau relied upon the logic of value pluralism to strike out this position. Intervention based upon “values” or passion, not national interest defined in terms of power, was more likely to endanger security than ensure it. Hans Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations, 5th edn, New York: McGraw-­Hill, 1979; see also Andres Mason and Nick Wheeler, “Realist objections to humanitarian intervention,” in Barry Holden (ed.) The Ethical Dimensions of Global Change, London: Macmillan, 1996. 46 Hence, during the Afghanistan strategy review conducted by the Obama administration in summer 2009, US Vice-­President Joseph Biden, for example, preferred a narrowly defined counterterrorist operation that focused on key Al Qaeda operatives primarily in Pakistan while accelerating the training of Afghan security forces. Peter Baker and Elizabeth Bumiller, “Obama considers strategy shift in Afghan War,” New York Times, 22 September 2009. 47 The Bush administration’s use of the term “pre-­emption,” as it happened, was more akin to preventive war. Whereas pre-­emption denotes imminent threat, prevention can involve the use of force to eliminate, or to thwart the formation of, a threat that is less than imminent. Preventive war is more problematic under international law. On prevention and the idea of “pre-­emption” as presented by the Bush administration, see Lawrence Freedman, “Prevention, not preemption,” The Washington Quarterly 26:2, spring 2003, 105–14. See also Robert Jervis, “Understanding the Bush Doctrine,” Political Science Quarterly 118:3, 2003, 365–88, which considers preventive war one of the main tenets of the Bush Doctrine; and Richard Betts, “Striking first: a history of thankfully lost opportunities,” Ethics and International Affairs 17:1, spring 2003, 17–24. 48 See, for example, Brendt Scowcroft, “Don’t attack Saddam: it would undermine our anti-­terror efforts,” Wall Street Journal, 15 August 2002. 49 As illustrated by the repercussions for the situation in Afghanistan after the largely flawed election there in August 2009. 50 Lack of will often underlies reluctance to provide adequate resources. James Gow, Triumph of the Lack of Will: International Diplomacy and the Yugoslav War, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997. 51 Hence, the UK MOD identifies “transition challenge.” Interview at Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre (DCDC), UK Ministry of Defence, Shrivenham, 22 September 2006. 52 For a related use of the same term, see John Williams, “The ethical basis of humanitarian intervention: the Security Council and Yugoslavia,” International Peacekeeping 6:2, summer 1999, 1–23. See also Nicholas Wheeler, Saving Strangers: Humanitarian Intervention in International Society, Oxford University Press, 2000. 53 Adam Roberts, “Law and the use of force after Iraq,” Survival 45:2, summer 2003, 38. 54 The allied intervention in Northern Iraq opened up a new area of practice in which force was used for humanitarian reasons, although its legal validity as a precedent for UN humanitarian intervention is much contested because there was no explicit UN authorization for the use of force. This intervention was followed by UN-­sanctioned humanitarian missions in Bosnia and Somalia, and in Haiti to restore democracy; in Rwanda, a belated plan to contain genocide ultimately fell through. These new interventionist trends in the first half of the 1990s continued into the latter half in places such as East Timor, Sierra Leone, the Democratic Republic of Congo and elsewhere in which the UN authorized

Notes   227 intervention for various humanitarian and peace-­related purposes. The allied intervention in Kosovo had no UN authorization but was justified on the basis of relevant UN resolutions in addition to the observed humanitarian crisis. 55 James Gow, “Nations, states, and sovereignty: meaning and challenges in post-­ Cold War international security,” in Christopher Dandeker (ed.) Nationalism and Violence, New Brunswick and London: Transaction Publishers, 1998, pp. 191–200; Nigel S. Rodley, “Collective intervention to protect human rights and civilian populations: the legal framework,” in Nigel S. Rodley (ed.) To Loose the Bands of Wickedness: International Intervention in Defence of Human Rights, London: Brassey’s, 1992, pp. 28–34. 56 Gow, “Nations, states, and sovereignty.” 57 S/23500, 31 January 1992. 58 Aoi, “Conditions for change of norms governing humanitarian intervention.” 59 Interests are either intrinsic or reputational. Robert Jervis, “Domino beliefs and strategic behavior,” in Robert Jervis and Jack Snyder (eds) Dominos and Bandwagons: Strategic Beliefs and Great Power Competition in the Eurasian Rimland, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991, pp. 26–7. 60 Patrick Morgan, “Saving face for the sake of deterrence,” in Robert Jervis, Richard Ned Lebow and Janice Gross Stein (eds) Psychology and Deterrence, Baltimore, MD, and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985, p. 128; Thomas Schelling, Arms and Influence, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1966; Thomas Schelling, The Strategy of Conflict, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1960. 61 Fear of “entanglement” over the long term certainly underlay reluctance or opposition shown toward intervention in many past cases, including some examined in subsequent chapters. Some cases of withdrawal or non-­ intervention were clearly intended to prevent loss of organisational or national status in case missions failed, e.g., Rwanda. 62 Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers: Economic Change and Military Conflict from 1500 to 2000, New York: Random House, 1987. 63 Jack Snyder, “Moral overstretch: provoking resistance against the American hegemonic order?” Fathom, 2001, available at www.preview.fathom.com/index. jhtml. 64 For the original formulation of triangulated legitimacy, consisting of bases, performance and support, see Gow, Legitimacy and the Military. 65 Ibid., p. 19. 66 Ibid. 67 There are numerous works on all these dimensions of humanitarian intervention. See fn 11 in Williams, “The ethical basis of humanitarian intervention.” 68 Carl von Clausewitz, On War, trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret, Princeton University Press, 1976/1984, p. 89. 69 Michalski and Gow, War, Image and Legitimacy, pp. 198–202. 70 General Sir Rupert Smith argues that force is employed today to create “conditions” for a political outcome, or control of “wills.” See Smith, The Utility of Force. 71 Michalski and Gow, War, Image and Legitimacy, p. 203. 2  Liberia: creating peace in Africa   1 William Reno, Warlord Politics and African States, Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1998, p. 79.   2 ’Funmi Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping in Africa: Conceptual and Legal Issues in ECOMOG Operations, The Hague, London, Boston, MA: Kluwer Law International, 2000.

228   Notes   3 ECOWAS, Final Communiqué of the First Session of the Community Standing Mediation Committee held at Banjul, ECW/HSG/SMC/1/5/Rev. 1, 6–7 August 1990, 4–6. Official documents are reprinted in Marc Weller, Regional Peace-­keeping and International Enforcement: The Liberian Crisis, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994.   4 ECOWAS Standing Mediation Committee, Decision A/DEC.1/8/90 on the Cease-­fire and Establishment of an ECOWAS Cease-­fire Monitoring Group for Liberia, Banjul, Republic of Gambia, 7 August 1990.   5 ’Funmi Olonisakin, “UN cooperation with regional organizations in peacekeeping: the experience of ECOMOG and UNOMIL in Liberia,” International Peacekeeping 3:3, fall 1996, 33–51.   6 Confirmed in interviews with UN officials, New York, October 1998.   7 FBIS-­AFR-90–151, 6 August 1990, 25–6; FBIS-­AFR-90–150, 3 August 1990, 24–6.   8 FBIS-­AFR-90–155, 10 August 1990, 37.   9 West Africa, 10 July to 5 August 1990, 2200. 10 FBIS-­AFR-90–154, 9 August 1990, 36. 11 Chike Akabogu, “ECOWAS takes the initiative,” in Margaret Vogt (ed.) Liberian Crisis and ECOMOG: A Bold Attempt at Regional Peace Keeping, Lagos: Gabumbo Publishing, 1992, pp. 78–9. 12 Statement by President Ibrahim Babangida, “The imperative features of Nigerian foreign policy and the crisis in Liberia,” Bulletin of Foreign Affairs 5:2, 1990, 12. 13 FBIS-­AFR-90–150, 3 August 1990, 26. 14 West Africa, 8–9 September 1990, 2391. 15 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, pp. 101–2. 16 FBIS-­AFR-90–150, 3 August 1990, 24. 17 FBIS-­AFR-90–152, 7 August 1990, 39; FBIS-­AFR-90–153, 8 August 1990, 45; FBIS-­AFR-90–155, 10 August 1990, 37. 18 ECOWAS Standing Mediation Committee, Final Communiqué of the First Session, paragraphs 6–8. 19 Babangida, “Imperative features,” 33. 20 ECOWAS SMC, Final Communiqué of the First Session, article 11. 21 Interviews with UN officials, New York, October 1998. 22 David Wippman, “Enforcing the peace: ECOWAS and the Liberian Civil War,” in Lori Fisler Damrosch (ed.) Enforcing Restraint: Collective Intervention in Internal Conflict, New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1993, p. 165. 23 Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” p. 188. 24 Margaret A. Vogt, “Nigeria in Liberia: historical and political analysis of ECOMOG,” in M.A. Vogt and E.E. Ekoko (eds) Nigeria in International Peace-­ keeping, Lagos: Malthouse Press, 1993, pp. 203–5. 25 Cited in Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” p. 168; FBIS-­AFR-90–153, 8 August 1990, 24. 26 Vogt, “Nigeria in Liberia,” p. 205. 27 “OAU’s Salim interviewed on Liberian crisis,” FBIS-­AFR-90–189, 28 September 1990; Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” p. 181. 28 ECOWAS SMC, Final Communiqué of the First Session, paragraph 8. 29 ECOWAS Authority of Heads of State and Government, Final Communiqué of the First Extra-­ordinary Session, Bamako, Republic of Mali, 28 November 1990, paragraph 5. 30 Vogt, “Nigeria in Liberia,” p. 207. 31 Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” p. 177; Final Communiqué of the First Joint Summit Meeting of the ECOWAS Standing Mediation Committee and the Committee of Five, 20 October 1992, article 10. 32 Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” pp. 177–8.

Notes   229 33 ECOWAS Authority of Heads of State and Government, Decision A/ DEC.2/11/90, Relating to the Adoption of an ECOWAS Peace Plan for Liberia and the Entire West African Sub-­region, Bamako, Republic of Mali, 28 November 1990. 34 ECOWAS Authority of Heads of State and Government, Final Communiqué of the First Extra-­ordinary Session. 35 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 120. 36 Interview with a Nigerian diplomat, New York, 21 October 1999. 37 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 119. 38 Ibid. 39 Olonisakin, “UN Cooperation with regional organizations in peacekeeping,” p. 39. 40 West Africa, 12–18 June 1995, 919–20; West Africa, 18–24 September 1995, 1476–7. 41 Vanguard, 4 April 1995; Tribune, 23 November 1994. 42 Address by Sani Abacha at the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, Bulletin of Foreign Affairs 8:2 (December 1993), 13. 43 Margaret Vogt, “The management of conflicts in Africa,” in M.A. Vogt and L.S. Aminu (eds) Peace Keeping as a Security Strategy in Africa: Chad and Liberia as Case Studies, Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishers, 1996; Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping. 44 Vogt, “The management of conflicts in Africa,” p. 49. 45 Ibid. See also O.B.C. Nwolise, “ECOMOG peacekeeping in Liberia: effects on political stability in the West African sub-­region,” African Peace Review 1:1 (April 1997), 33–4. 46 William Zartman, “The OAU in the African state system,” in Yassin El-­Ayouty and I. William Zartman (eds) The OAU after Twenty Years, Westport, CT: Praeger, 1984; Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, pp. 48–61; Yassin El-­Ayouty (ed.) The Organization of African Unity after Thirty Years, Westport, CT: Praeger, 1994. 47 Vogt, “Nigeria in Liberia,” p. 201. 48 ECOWAS SMC, Final Communiqué of the First Session, paragraph 9. 49 Ivor Richard Fung, “Security strategies in Africa: why peace keeping?,” in Vogt and Aminu (eds) Peace Keeping as a Security Strategy in Africa, p. 71. 50 Boutros Boutros-­Ghali, An Agenda for Peace, New York: United Nations, 1992, p. 37. 51 “The statement of the Permanent Mission of Nigeria to the United Nations, at 3549th meeting of the UN Security Council, 30 June 1995,” in Permanent Mission of Nigeria to the United Nations (ed.) Nigeria at the United Nations Security Council, 1994–1995, Princeton, NJ: Sungai, 1998, p. 32. 52 W. Ofuatei-­Kodjoe, “Regional organizations and the resolution of internal conflict: the ECOWAS intervention in Liberia,” International Peacekeeping 1:3 (1994), 270. 53 Remarks by the Russian Federation, the United States and the United Kingdom. S/PV.3138, 19 November 1992; Wippman, “Enforcing the peace,” p. 186. 54 S/25402, 12 March 1993. 55 The Soja Magazine (Nigerian Army publication), January to February 1991, 10. Cited in Adedoyin Jolaade Omede, “Nigeria’s military-­security role in Liberia,” African Journal of International Affairs and Development 1:11(995), 51. 56 A.E. Ekoko and M.A. Vogt (eds) Nigerian Defense Policy: Issues and Problems, Lagos: Malthause Press, 1990, pp. 92–111; Ibrahim Gambari, Theory and Reality in Foreign Policy Making, Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press International, 1989; C.M.B. Utete, “Foreign policy and the developing state,” in Olatunde J.C.B Ojo (ed.) African International Relations, Harlow, Essex: Longman, 1987.

230   Notes 57 Margaret Vogt, “Nigeria’s participation in the ECOWAS Monitoring Group,” Nigerian Journal of International Affairs 17:1 (1991), 111–12; Terry Mays, “Nigerian foreign policy and its participation in ECOMOG,” in Karl P. Magyar and Earl Conteh-­Morgan (eds) Peacekeeping in Africa: ECOMOG in Liberia, London: Macmillan, 1998, pp. 107–9. 58 Babangida, “Imperative features,” p. 32; Mays, “Nigerian foreign policy,” p.110; West Africa, 12–18 November 1990, 2836. 59 Nwolise, “ECOMOG peacekeeping in Liberia.” 60 Max Sesay and Femi Omowunmi, “Liberia: The Libyan, Ivorien and Burkinabe connection,” Guardian (Lagos), 3 November 1990, 1; Mays, “Nigerian foreign policy,” p. 114. 61 Mays, “Nigerian foreign policy,” p. 114. 62 Interview with a UN official, New York, October 26, 1999. 63 Babangida, “Imperative features,” pp. 31 and 34. 64 West Africa, 17–23 April 1995, 586. 65 Mays, “Nigerian foreign policy,” p. 115. 66 Nwolise, “ECOMOG peace-­keeping in Liberia,” p. 36. 67 Ibrahim Babangida, interview with West Africa. West Africa, 27 February to 5 March 1995, 295. 68 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 119. 69 Confirmed in interviews with UN officials, New York, October 1998. 70 “Humanitarian assistance in Liberia: principles and protocols for operation” (document provided by the UN Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs). 71 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, pp. 138–9. 72 Interview with a UN official, New York, 11 October 1998. 73 West Africa, 23–29 November 1992, cited in Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 138. 74 Washington Post, 16 November 1990, A50; New York Times, 4 November 1992, A11 (AP); Nicholas Kotch, “Defiant Taylor ‘Will not surrender’,” Guardian, 27 March 1993, 15; Karl Maier, “Liberians flee ‘peace-­keeping’ offensive,” Independent, 25 March 1993, 13. 75 Ofuatei-­Kodjoe, “Regional organizations and the resolution of internal conflict,” p. 283. 76 Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 98. 77 Cited in Olonisakin, Reinventing Peacekeeping, p. 124. 78 Note by the President of the United Nations Security Council, 22 January 1991. 79 S/RES/788 (1992), 19 November 1992; S/PV. 3138, 19 November 1992. 80 West Africa, 2–9 September 1990, 2286. 81 OAU, Council of Ministers, Resolution on the Armed Conflict in Liberia, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 1 March 1991. 82 Written Testimony by Leonard H. Robinson, Jr., Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, US House Foreign Affairs Committee, US Policy on Liberia: Hearing of the Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on Africa, 102nd Cong., 2nd sess., 19 November 1992. 83 UNSCR 788 (1992), 19 November 1992. 84 S/26200, 2 August 1993; UNSCR 856 (1993), 10 August 1993; S/26422, 9 September 1993; UNSCR 866 (1993). 85 OAU, Council of Ministers, Resolution on the Armed Conflict in Liberia, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 1 March 1991. 86 Written Testimony by Robinson, Jr. 87 Ibid. 88 West Africa, 10–16 September 1990.

Notes   231 89 Statement by Herman J. Cohen, Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, South Africa: Hearing of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 102nd Cong., 2nd sess., 23 September 1992; Michael Clough, “The United States and Africa: the policy of cynical disengagement,” Current History 91:565 (May 1992), 193–8; George E. Moose, “U.S. commitment to conflict resolution in Africa,” U.S. Department of State Dispatch 5:25 (20 June 1994); Adebayo Oyebade, “The end of the Cold War in Africa: implications for conflict management and resolution,” in Adebayo Oyebade and Abiodun Alao (eds) Africa After the Cold War: The Changing Perspectives on Security, Trenton: Africa World Press, 1998, pp. 167–70. 90 Clough, “The United States and Africa.” 91 Written Testimony by Robinson, Jr. 92 Remarks by Ambassador Herman Cohen. Cited in Abiodun Alao, The Burden of Collective Goodwill: The International Involvement in the Liberian Civil War, Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998, p. 190, citing Africa Research Bulletin, November 1990, 9913. 93 Nnamdi Obasi, “Perceptions of the ECOMOG peace initiative,” in Vogt (ed.) Liberian Crisis and ECOMOG, p. 354. Cited also in Alao, Burden, p. 191. 94 Interview with a Nigerian diplomat. 95 Howard French, “Africa hears indifference in a U.S. offer to help,” New York Times, 20 October 1996, A4. 96 Alao, Burden, p. 191. 97 Alao, Burden, p. 194. 98 Ibid. 3  Bosnia-­H erzegovina: from peace support to coercive diplomacy    1 James Gow, Triumph of the Lack of Will: International Diplomacy and the Yugoslav War, New York: Columbia University Press, 1997, pp. 31–45; Warren Zimmermann, Origins of a Catastrophe, New York: Times Books, 1996.    2 Gow, Triumph, p. 41.    3 UNSCR 761 (1992), 29 June 1992.    4 Leonard Doyle, “UN is powerless bystander,” Independent, 12 May 1992, 10; UN Doc. S/23900, 12 May 1992.    5 UNSCR 758, 8 June 1992; UNSCR 761, 29 June 1992.    6 Roy Gutman, A Witness to Genocide, New York: Macmillan, 1993; Alan McGregor, “Brutality of Bosnia camps condemned by Red Cross,” The Times, 14 August 1992.    7 Knut Royce and Patrick Sloyan, “Bush knew of Serb atrocities in June, U.S. officials charge,” Toronto Star, 15 August 1992, A12.    8 Remarks of Douglas Hurd, Foreign Secretary, United Kingdom, Hansard Parliamentary Debates, Commons, 24 November 1992.    9 John Major, John Major: The Autobiography, London: HarperCollins, 1999, p. 535.   10 Patricia Wynn Davies, “Minister faces questions over use of force,” Independent, 10 September 1992.   11 See Major, John Major, pp. 535–6.   12 Jean-­Marc Coicaud, “L’ONU et l’ex-Yugoslavie: actions et auteurs,” Le Trimestre Du Monde 4:24 (1993), 89–122.   13 Jolyon Howorth, “Military intervention: the French debate,” in Lawrence Freedman (ed.) Military Intervention in European Conflicts, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1994, p.115.   14 Thierry Tardy, “French policy towards peace support operations,” International Peacekeeping 6:1 (spring 1999), 55–78.   15 Howorth, “Military intervention,” p. 115.   16 Gutman, Witness, p. 90.

232   Notes   17 President George Bush, “Containing the crisis in Bosnia and the former Yugoslavia,” US Department of State, Dispatch Supplement 3:7 (September 1992), 25.   18 UNSCR 836 (1993), 4 June 1993.   19 For an excellent review of peacekeeping arrangements in Bosnia, see Elinor Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, Westport, CN: Praeger, 1998, ch. 3.   20 NATO Press Release (93) 52, “Decisions taken at the meeting of the North Atlantic Council on 9th August 1993.”   21 See NATO Press Communiqué M-­1 (94) 3, “Declaration of the heads of state and government participating in the meeting of the North Atlantic Council held at NATO Headquarters, Brussels, on 10–11 January 1994.”   22 Based on UNSCR 781 (1992) and UNSCR 816 (1993).   23 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 32.   24 Ibid., p. 34.   25 UNSCR 958 (1994), 19 November 1994.   26 James Gow, “The policy making aspects of peace-­keeping, intervention and humanitarian aid,” paper presented at the British-­Franco Council Meeting in London, 11 February 1994.   27 David C. Gompert, “The United States and Yugoslavia’s wars,” in Richard H. Ullman (ed.) The World and Yugoslavia’s Wars, New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1996, p. 134.   28 UNSCR 713 (1991); see also S/PV. 3009, 25 September 1991. A similar resolution was adopted for Somalia (UNSCR 733).   29 UN Doc S/23500, 31 January 1992.   30 UNSCR 757 (1992), 30 May 1992.   31 UNSCR 836 (1993).   32 John Williams, “The ethical basis of humanitarian intervention: the Security Council and Yugoslavia,” International Peacekeeping 6:2 (summer 1999), 9.   33 UNSCR 787 (1992), paragraphs 2 and 7 respectively.   34 For related considerations, see Williams, “Ethical basis,” p. 9.   35 UNSCR 836 (1993), preamble paragraphs 11 and 8.   36 James A. Baker III, The Politics of Diplomacy: Revolution, War and Peace 1989–1992, New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1995, pp. 636–7; Gompert, “The United States and Yugoslavia’s wars,” p. 129.   37 Trevor Rowe, “Allies drop plan for military role in Bosnia: for now, relief effort will remain under UN authority,” Washington Post, 25 August 1992, A1.   38 Douglas Hurd, “We must damp the tinder before the fire spreads,” Daily Telegraph, 30 December 1992, 14.   39 James Gow, “Nervous bunnies—the international community and the Yugoslav war of dissolution,” in Freedman (ed.) Military Intervention in European Conflicts, pp. 25–6.   40 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 29.   41 Colin Powell, My American Journey, New York: Random House, 1995, p. 558.   42 Barton Gellman, “Military uneasy at Balkan commitment; limited use of force may be inadequate to accomplish mission,” Washington Post, 2 July 1992, A1.   43 Telephone interview with Anthony Lake, National Security Advisor for the Clinton Administration, 26 January 2001.   44 Steven L. Burg and Paul S. Shoup, The War in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, New York: M.E. Sharpe, 1999, p. 201.   45 Thomas Halverson, “American perspectives,” in Alex Danchev and Thomas Halverson (eds) International Perspectives on the Yugoslav Conflict, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, p. 21.   46 Gow, Triumph, p. 328.   47 Hurd, Search for Peace, p. 132.   48 Shoup and Burg, The War in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, pp. 339–40.

Notes   233   49 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 27; S/25939, 14 June 1993, paragraph 6.   50 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 27.   51 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 36.   52 Michael Rose, Fighting for Peace: Bosnia 1994, London: The Harvill Press, 1998, p. 241; Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 27.   53 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 36.   54 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 37.   55 Gow, Triumph, p.151; Lawrence Freedman, “Why the West failed,” Foreign Policy 97 (winter 1994–1995), 53–70.   56 UN Doc S/1994/1389, 1 December 1994.   57 S/PV. 3106, 13 August 1992; S/PV. 3114, 14 September 1992.   58 See S/PV. 3114, 14 September 1992.   59 S/PV. 3228, 4 June 1993.   60 UNSCR 913 (1994).   61 Statement by Ambassador Thomas Niles, Assistant Secretary of State for European and Canadian Affairs, Situation in Bosnia and Appropriate US and Western Responses: Hearing of the Armed Services Committee, 102nd Cong., 2nd sess., 11 August 1992.   62 Richard Sobel, “U.S. and European attitudes toward intervention in the former Yugoslavia: Mourir pour la Bosnie?,” in Ullman (ed.) The World and Yugoslavia’s Wars, pp. 152 and 176.   63 Ibid.   64 Ibid., p. 177.   65 Ibid., p. 179.   66 Ibid., p. 170.   67 United Kingdom, Hansard Parliamentary Debates, Commons, 14 July 1993; Davies, “Minister faces questions.”   68 U.S. Senate Armed Services Committee, Situation in Bosnia and Appropriate US and Western Responses: Hearing of the Senate Armed Services Committee, 102nd Cong., 2nd sess., 11 August 1992.   69 U.S. House Appropriations Committee, Funding of the United Nations Programs: Hearing of the Foreign Operations Subcommittee of the Appropriations Committee, 103rd Cong., 2nd sess., 5 May 1994; U.S. House Committee on Foreign Relations, Tensions in US–UN Relations: Hearing of the International Security, International Organization and Human Rights Subcommittee, 103rd Cong., 2nd sess., 17 May 1994. See also Chapter 4 on Somalia (this volume).   70 NAC, Communiqué, 2 August 1993.   71 Remark by Clinton, cited in William Drozdiak and Daniel Williams, “NATO warms to east, splits on Bosnia action,” Washington Post, 11 January 1994, A1.   72 Julia Preston, “U.N. blames air support delay on confusion, lack of data,” Washington Post, 20 March 1994, A32.   73 Julia Preston, “Diplomat holds key to bombing,” Washington Post, A8.   74 Remarks by Douglas Hurd, Foreign Secretary, Hansard Parliamentary Debates, Commons, 7 December 1994; William Drozdiak, “Airstrike fails to mend split between U.S. and Europeans,” Washington Post, 23 November 1994.   75 Statement by Senator Bob Dole (R-­KS), “Bosnia,” Congressional Record, 104th Cong., 1st sess., 141, 10 February 1994.   76 Rep. Frank McCloskey (D-­IN)’s letter to Clinton, cited in Daniel Williams, “State Dept. officers push for use of force in Bosnia,” Washington Post, 23 April 1993, A18.   77 “Genocide by embargo,” Wall Street Journal, 9 May 1994, A14.   78 Roger Cohen, “France seeking plan for ending Bosnia mission,” New York Times, 8 December 1994, A1.

234   Notes   79 Cited in Michael Dobbs, “Dole, Gingrich attack use of Pentagon funds for UN reaction force in Bosnia,” Washington Post, 30 June 1995, A20.   80 Gow, Triumph, p. 267.   81 NATO Press Release (95) 63, 14 June 1995; NATO PL 267, 28 June 1995.   82 UNSCR 1004 (1995) of 12 July and UNSCR 1010 (1995) of 10 August failed to mention specific responses. The latter requested humanitarian access and information.   83 Robin Cook, “Time for a little truth,” Guardian, 19 July 1995.   84 Ibid.   85 Patrice de Beer, “La conference sur la Bosnie adresse une mise en garde limitee aux Serbes,” Le Monde, 24 July 1995, International.   86 Norman Kempster, “House votes, 298 to 128, to lift Bosnia arms embargo,” Los Angeles Times, 2 August 1995, A1.   87 Elaine Sciolino, “Senate debates arms ban,” New York Times, 26 July 1995, A8; Bob Dole, “Disaster in Srebrenica,” Congressional Record, 104th Cong., 1st sess., 141, 13 July 1995: S 9832.   88 Alison Mitchell, “US weighs a response to French call on Bosnia,” New York Times, 15 July 1995, A4.   89 Alex Duval Smith, “Chirac rhetoric on ‘new Holocaust’ plays to neo-­Gaullist,” Guardian, 17 July 1995, 8.   90 Ivo Daalder, Getting to Dayton: The Making of America’s Bosnia Policy, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2000.   91 Shoup and Burg, The War in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, p. 343; Richard Holbrooke, To End a War, New York: Random House, 1998, p. 103.   92 Daalder, Getting to Dayton, p. 70.   93 Ibid.   94 Michael Sheridan, “A change of heart: Bosnia,” Independent, 23 July 1995, 19.   95 Roger Cohen, “NATO presses Bosnia bombing, vowing to make Sarajevo safe,” New York Times, 30 August 1995, A1; “Belated action in Bosnia,” Financial Times, 31 August 1995, 11.   96 Remark by Douglas Hurd, Foreign Secretary, United Kingdom, Hansard Parliamentary Debates, Commons, 19 July 1995.   97 Carl Bildt, the EU’s new mediator, who succeeded Lord Owen. Cited in Craig Whitney, “Disunity imperils French proposal for Bosnia force,” New York Times, 17 July 1995, A1.   98 John Darnton, “U.S. wins support from Britain for plan to bomb Bosnian Serbs,” New York Times, 21 July 1995, A1.   99 Holbrooke, To End a War, p. 120. 100 Daalder, Getting to Dayton, p. 109. 101 Holbrooke, To End a War, pp. 106–7, 118–19, 144–6. 102 Dana Priest, “Croat, Muslim offensive raises concerns,” Washington Post, 19 September 1995, A10. 103 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 77. 104 Cited in ibid. The United States stopped the Federation from capturing Banja Luka. Holbrooke, To End a War, pp. 165–6; Roger Cohen, “Taming the bullies of Bosnia,” New York Times Magazine, 17 December 1995, 58. 105 Sloan, Bosnia and the New Collective Security, p. 77. 106 Ibid., p. 78. 107 Testimony of General John Shalikashvili, U.S. Senate Armed Services Committee, US involvement in Bosnia: Hearing of the Senate Armed Services Committee, 104th Cong., 1st sess., 7 June 1995. 108 Jacques Chirac, “Donner sa place a la France,” Le Monde, 7 April 1995; Jan Willem Honig and Norbert Both, Srebrenica: Record of a War Crime, London: Penguin, 1996, pp. 150–1; Sheridan, “A change of heart.”

Notes   235 109 Malcolm Rifkind, UK Foreign Secretary. Cited in Sheridan, “A change of heart.” 110 Daalder, Getting to Dayton, p. 163. 111 Shoup and Burg, The War in Bosnia-­Herzegovina, p. 325. 112 Daalder, Getting to Dayton, p. 24. 113 Ibid., p. 93. 4  Somalia: from peace enforcement to disengagement    1 UNSCR 794 (1992), 3 December 1992.    2 Herman Cohen, former Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, in his memoir “Somalia: better late than never,” later published as a chapter in Intervening in Africa: Superpower Peacemaking in a Troubled Continent, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000, pp. 213–14.    3 UNSCR 814 (1993), 26 March 1993.    4 UNSCR 837 (1993), 6 June 1993.    5 UNSCR 954 (1994), 4 November 1994.    6 Interview with General Brent Scowcroft, former National Security Advisor, Washington D.C., 22 June 2000.    7 Ibid.    8 For a description of the meeting, see Cohen, “Somalia,” pp. 211–12.    9 Ibid.   10 “Press conference: trip to Somalia,” 23 November 1992, Lexis-­Nexis database.   11 H. Con. Res. 370; S. Con. Res. 132.   12 Herman Cohen, “Intervention in Somalia,” in Diplomatic Record, 1991–1992, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1992, p. 63.   13 Don Oberdorfer, “U.S. took slow approach to Somali crisis,” Washington Post, 24 August 1992, A13.   14 Cohen, “Somalia,” pp. 210–11.   15 George H.W. Bush, “Humanitarian mission to Somalia,” Address to the Nation, Washington D.C., 4 December 1992, in US Department of State Dispatch 3:49, 7 December 1992, 865.   16 Statement by the US Permanent Representative to the UN before the UN Security Council, 3 December 1992, in US Department of State Dispatch 3:50, 14 December 1992, 877.   17 Bush, “Humanitarian mission to Somalia,” p. 865.   18 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   19 “Press stakeout with Senators Sam Nunn (D-­GA), and Richard Lugar (R-­IN), following meeting with President Bush,” 9 December 1992, Lexis-­Nexis database.   20 House, Committee on Foreign Affairs, The Situation in Somalia: Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Affairs, 102nd Congress, 2nd session, 17 December 1992.   21 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   22 Quoted in “ ‘Think three times before you embrace the Somali tarbaby’: an ambassador’s warning,” U.S. News and Report, 14 December 1992.   23 Interview with Herman Cohen, former Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Washington D.C., 14 April 2000.   24 Cited in Peter J. Shraeder, United States Foreign Policy Toward Africa: Incrementalism, Crisis and Change, Cambridge University Press, 1994, p. 176.   25 Ibid.   26 Bush, “Humanitarian mission to Somalia,” p. 865.   27 S/PV. 3145, 3 December 1992, 37.

236   Notes   28 Cited in Don Oberdorfer, “UN chief weighs use of US troops in Somalia: Security Council to consider options for protecting relief supply lines,” Washington Post, 27 November 1992, A1.   29 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   30 Cohen, “Somalia,” p. 213.   31 S/25354, 3 March 1993.   32 Telephone interview with Anthony Lake, former National Security Advisor to the Clinton administration, 26 January 2001.   33 John L. Hirsch and Robert B. Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope: Reflections on Peacemaking and Peacekeeping, Washington D.C.: United States Institute of Peace, 1995, p. 109.   34 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 25 May 1993, 139, no. 75: H2749.   35 Resolution Authorizing the Use of United States Armed Forces in Somalia, 103rd Congress, 1st session, S.J. Res. 45.   36 House, Rep. Dave McCurdy (D-­OK) speaking for the Resolution Authorizing the Use of United States Armed Forces in Somalia to the Committee of the Whole, S.J. Res. 45, Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 25 May 1993, 139, no. 75: H2750.   37 S/23500, 31 January 1992.   38 Boutros Boutros-­Ghali, An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-­keeping, A/47/277-S/24111, 17 June 1992, paragraph 12.   39 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   40 Interview with Cohen, 14 April 2000; Shraeder, United States Foreign Policy toward Africa, p. 178.   41 George H.W. Bush, “The United Nations: forging a genuine global community,” address before the UN General Assembly, New York City, 21 September 1992, in US Department of State Dispatch 3:39 (28 September 1992), 721.   42 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   43 Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, p. 47.   44 Ibid., p. 46.   45 “Special Defense Department briefing regarding Somalia with US Secretary of Defense Dick Cheney and General Colin Powell, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Pentagon, 4 December 1992,” Federal News Service Washington Package, 4 December 1992. See also the Eagleburger–Boutros Ghali agreement in November, as summarized in Cohen, “Somalia,” pp. 213–14.   46 Ivo H. Daalder, “Knowing when to say no: the development of US policy for peacekeeping,” in William J. Durch (ed.) UN Peacekeeping, American Policy, and the Uncivil Wars of the 1990’s, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, p. 39.   47 House, Foreign Affairs Committee, Statement by Madeleine Albright, US Participation in United Nations Peacekeeping: Hearing before the Subcommittee on International Security, International Organization and Human Rights, House Foreign Affairs Committee, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 24 June 1994.   48 Thomas Frieden, “Clinton’s foreign policy: top adviser speaks up,” New York Times, 31 October 1993, A8.   49 Boutros-­Ghali, Agenda for Peace, paragraph 15.   50 Ibid., paragraph 55.   51 Remark by Madeleine Albright on ABC’s Nightline, 12 August 1993.   52 Mats Berdal, “Fateful encounter: the United States and UN peacekeeping,” Survival 36:1 (spring 1994), 32.   53 R. Jeffrey Smith and Julia Preston, “United States plans wider role in U.N. peace keeping,” Washington Post, 18 June 1993.   54 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 25 May 1993.   55 Ibid., H 2749. Rep. Jan Meyers (Republican, Kansas).

Notes   237   56 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 25 May 1993, H 2750.   57 Ibid., H 2748.   58 Cohen, “Somalia,” p. 203.   59 Jonathan T. Howe, “Relations between the United States and the UN in Somalia,” in Walter Clarke and Jeffrey Herbst (eds) Learning from Somalia: The Lessons of Armed Humanitarian Intervention, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997, p. 174.   60 Shraeder, United States Foreign Policy toward Africa, p. 179.   61 Michael Clough, “The United States and Africa: the policy of cynical disengagement,” Current History 91:565 (May 1992), 193–8; Shraeder, United States Foreign Policy toward Africa, p. 250.   62 Clarke and Herbst (eds), Learning from Somalia, pp. 243–4.   63 Howe, “Relations between the United States and the UN,” p. 179.   64 Ibid.   65 Gerard Prunier, “The experience of European armies in Operation Restore Hope,” in Clarke and Herbst (eds) Learning from Somalia, pp. 139–41.   66 Interview with Scowcroft, 22 June 2000.   67 Ibid.   68 Warren P. Strobel, Late-­breaking Foreign Policy: The News Media’s Influence on Peace Operations, Washington D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1997, pp. 138–9.   69 Ibid.   70 Nicholas J. Wheeler, Saving Strangers: Humanitarian Intervention in International Society, Oxford University Press, 2000, p. 181.   71 Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, p. 42.   72 House, Foreign Affairs Committee, Statement by Madeleine Albright, US Participation in United Nations Peacekeeping Activities: Hearings before the Subcommittee on International Security, International Organizations, and Human Rights, House Foreign Affairs Committee, 103rd Congress, 2nd session, 24 June 1993.   73 Cited in Wheeler, Saving Strangers, p. 189.   74 S/25168, 26 January 1993.   75 UNDPI, UN and Somalia, p. 55.   76 Durch (ed.), UN Peacekeeping, p. 326.   77 Interview with a US diplomat, 6 April 2000.   78 Karin von Hippel, Democracy by Force: US Military Intervention in the Post-­Cold War World, Cambridge University Press, 2000, pp. 62–3; Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, pp. 58–9.   79 Clarke and Herbst (eds), Learning from Somalia, p. 243; Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, p. 58.   80 Interview with Cohen, 14 April 2000; Clarke and Herbst, Learning from Somalia, p. 243.   81 Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, pp. 94–5, 99, 101–14.   82 Ibid., p. 58; Wheeler, Saving Strangers, p. 191.   83 Prunier, “The experience of European armies,” p. 141; Hippel, Democracy by Force, p. 67.   84 Ken Menkhaus, “International peacebuilding and the dynamics of local and national reconciliation in Somalia,” in Clarke and Herbst (eds) Learning from Somalia, p. 46.   85 Hippel, Democracy by Force, p. 68.   86 Clarke and Herbst (eds), Learning from Somalia, p. 242.   87 S/26137, 17 August 1993; S/1994/12, 6 January 1994.   88 Ken Menkhaus and Louis Ortmayer, “Key decisions in the Somalia intervention,” Institute for the Study of Diplomacy Publications, Georgetown University, 1995, p. 15.

238   Notes   89 Interview with Lake, 26 January 2001.   90 Ioan Lewis and James Mayall, “Somalia,” in James Mayall (ed.) The New Interventionism, 1991–1994: United Nations Experience in Cambodia, Former Yugoslavia and Somalia, Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 115.   91 Hirsch and Oakley, Somalia and Operation Restore Hope, p. 121.   92 Howe, “Relations between the United States and the UN,” p. 181.   93 Clarke and Herbst (eds), Learning from Somalia, p. 244.   94 UNSCR 885 (1993), 16 November 1993; UNSCR 897 (1994), 4 February 1994.   95 Africa Confidential 34:24 (3 December 1993).   96 UN Chronicle, 1 March 1994.   97 S/PV.3145, 3 December 1992, p. 29.   98 Ibid.   99 Ibid. 100 Ibid., and pp. 19–20. 101 “Press stakeout with Senator Paul Simon (D-­IL), Senator Hank Brown (R-­ CO), Senator Patrick Leahy (D-­VT), Senator Robert Dole (R-­KS), Representative Tom Foley (D-­WA) and Representative Dick Gephardt (D-­MO); following their meeting with President Bush to discuss the situation in Somalia,” 4 December 1992, Lexis-­Nexis database. 102 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 4 February 1993, 139, no. 14: S1366. 103 New York Times/CBS poll, 7–9 December 1992; Durch (ed.), UN Peacekeeping, p. 320. 104 NYT/CBS poll, 7–9 December 1992, cited in Louis J. Klarevas, “The polls-­ trends, the United States peace operation in Somalia,” Public Opinion Quarterly 64 (2000), 535. 105 Time/CNN poll, 13–14 January 1993 and 23 September 1993, cited in ibid., p. 536. 106 S/PV. 3188, 26 March 1993. 107 Ibid. 108 Ibid. 109 House version of S.J. Res. 45. 110 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st session, 25 May 1993, 139: H 2744. 111 Harry Johnston and Ted Dagne, “Congress and the Somalia crisis,” in Clarke and Herbst (eds) Learning from Somalia, p. 198. 112 Ibid., p. 199. 113 SC/5647-SOM/24, 14 June 1993. 114 Andrew Hill, “Somalia air raid puts aid at risk,” Independent, 13 July 1993, 1. 115 Johnston and Dagne, “Congress and the Somalia crisis,” p. 199. 116 Congressional Quarterly Almanac, 1993, 490. 117 Remark by Senator Strom Thurmond (R-­SC), ibid. 118 Jeremy D. Rosner, The New Tug-­of-War: Congress, the Executive Branch, and National Security, Washington D.C.: Carnegie Endowment Book, 1995, p. 96. 119 Cited in Congressional Quarterly Almanac, 1993, 490. 120 Berdal, “Fateful encounter,” p. 34. 121 Congressional Record, 103rd Congress, 1st Session, 4 October 1993, 139: S 12879, S 13214. 122 Johnston and Dagne, “Congress and the Somalia crisis,” p. 200. 123 Steven Kull and I. M. Destler, Misreading the Public: The Myth of a New Isolationism, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1999, pp. 94–5. 124 Ibid., p. 98. 125 Ibid., p. 107. 126 Ibid., pp. 106–7. 127 Ibid., p. 199.

Notes   239 5  Rwanda: failure to stop genocide    1 Catharine Newbury, “Background to genocide: Rwanda,” Issue: A Journal of Opinion 23:2 (1995), 12.    2 S/1994/470, 20 April 1994, paragraph 5.    3 UNSCR 918 (1994), 17 May 1994.    4 UNSCR 925 (1994), 8 June 1994.    5 UNSCR 929 (1994), 22 June 1994.    6 UNSCR 1029 (1995), 12 December 1995.    7 Waly Bacre Ndiaye, Report by the Special Rapporteur on extrajudicial, summary or arbitrary executions on his mission to Rwanda, 8–17 April 1993, E/CN.4/1994/7/ Add.1, 11 August 1993.    8 United Nations, Report of the Independent Inquiry into the Actions of the United Nations during the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda, 15 December 1999.    9 Ibid.   10 In the 23 February cable by the UN special representative, ibid.   11 Organization of African Unity, International Panel of Eminent Personalities to Investigate the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda and the Surrounding Events, Rwanda: The Preventable Genocide, Addis Ababa: OAU, 2000, 9.13.   12 Ibid.   13 Ibid.   14 Ibid.   15 “L’appréciation de la situation par les représentants de la France sur place,” Assemblée nationale de France, Mission d’information commune, Enquête sur la tragédie rwandaise (1990–1994), Paris: Assemblée Nationale, 15 December 1998, Tome I, Rapport, 140.   16 Alison Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story: Genocide in Rwanda, New York: Human Rights Watch; Paris: International Federation of Human Rights, 1999, pp. 4–7.   17 Ibid.   18 Cited in OAU, IPEP, Rwanda, 9.13.   19 Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, pp. 4–7.   20 Ibid., pp. 5–7.   21 Ibid.   22 Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, pp. 15–18.   23 OAU, IPEP, Rwanda, 15.9.   24 James Wood, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for African Affairs, interview with Frontline, “The triumph of evil,” 26 January 1999.   25 S/PRST/1994/16, 7 April 1994.   26 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, article II.   27 Ibid., article I.   28 S/1994/518, 29 April 1994.   29 Des Forges, Leave None to Tell the Story, pp. 15–18.   30 S/PRST/1994/21, 30 April 1994.   31 S/PRST/1994/21, 30 April 1994, paragraph 3.   32 S/1994/546, 6 May 1994.   33 Howard Adelman and Astri Suhrke, Early Warning and Conflict Management, Steering Committee of the Joint Evaluation for Emergency Assistance to Rwanda, March 1996, p. 50.   34 UNSCR 918 (1994), 17 May 1994, paragraph 10.   35 S/1994/640, 31 May 1994, paragraph 36.   36 UNSCR 925 (1994), preamble paragraph 6.   37 UNDPKO, The United Nations and Rwanda, 1993–1996, New York: United Nations, 1997, p. 266.

240   Notes   38 Alain Destexhe, Rwanda and Genocide in the Twentieth Century, New York: New York University Press, 1994, p. 53.   39 Adelman and Suhrke, Early Warning, p. 50.   40 “La France perd la mémoire au Rwanda,” Le Canard Enchainé, 5 May 1994; François-Xavier Verschave, Complicité de Génocide?: La Politique de la France au Rwanda, Paris: La Découverte, 1994.   41 Gérard Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis: History of a Genocide, New York: Columbia University Press, 1995, p. 280.   42 Libération, 16 June 1994, cited in Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis, p. 280.   43 S/PV/3392, 22 June 1994.   44 S/RES/929 (1994).   45 Cited in Gérard Prunier, “Opération Turquoise: a humanitarian escape from a political dead end,” in Howard Adelman and Astri Suhrke (eds) The Path of a Genocide: The Rwanda Crisis from Uganda to Zaire, New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers, 1999, p. 288.   46 UNSCR 918 (1994), section B.   47 UNSCR 925 (1994), 8 June 1994, preamble paragraph 8.   48 An example is Presidential Decision Directive 25, issued by the Clinton administration, as discussed below.   49 Iqbal Riza, Chief of Staff to U.N. Secretary General, interview with Frontline, “The triumph of evil,” 26 January 1999.   50 Telephone interviews with Anthony Lake, former National Security Advisor to the Clinton Administration, 26 January 2001, and with Michael Barnett, former Rwanda Desk Officer at the US mission to the UN, 5 December 2000. See also Michael Barnett, “The politics of indifference at the United Nations: the Security Council, peacekeeping, and genocide in Rwanda,” Cultural Anthropology 12:1 (1997), 572.   51 Wood interview with Frontline, 26 January 1999.   52 Linda Melvern, “The Security Council in the face of genocide,” Journal of International Criminal Justice 3 (2005), 850.   53 Interview with John Ruggie, Special Advisor to the UN Secretary General, New York, 19 January 2001.   54 Barnett, “The politics of indifference,” p. 572.   55 Testimony of George Moose, Assistant Secretary for African Affairs, Crisis in Central Africa: Hearing before the Subcommittee on African Affairs, Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, 103rd Congress, 2nd session, 26 July 1994.   56 Jean-­Claude Willame, Les Belges au Rwanda: Le parcours de la honte, Brussels: Commission Rwanda, Editions GRIP, 1997, p. 45.   57 Willame, Les Belges au Rwanda, p. 46.   58 Africa Confidential 35:5, 4 March 1994, 3–4.   59 Agnes Callamard, “French policy in Rwanda,” in Adelman and Suhrke (eds) The Path of a Genocide, p. 164.   60 OAU, IPEP, Rwanda, 12.16; Assemblée nationale, Mission d’information commune, Enquête, Tome 1, Rapport 122–81.   61 Callamard, “French policy in Rwanda,” p. 173; Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis, pp. 73, 111, 147–8.   62 Cited in OAU, IPEP, Rwanda, 12.18.   63 Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis, p. 287.   64 Ibid., p. 164.   65 Assemblée nationale, Mission d’information commune, Enquête, Tome 1, 140–2.   66 Although the case of Rwanda was not a direct application of PDD 25, since the document was in the process of being developed as the crisis unfolded, the concept and approach utilised in that situation were the same. Interview

Notes   241 with Lake, 26 January 2001. On the evolution of US peacekeeping policy, see Ivo Daalder, “Knowing when to say no: US policy for peacekeeping,” in William J. Durch (ed.) UN Peacekeeping, American Policy, and the Uncivil Wars of the 1990’s, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, pp. 35–68.   67 Interview with Lake, 26 January 2001.   68 Ibid.   69 Richard Haas, “The squandered presidency: demanding more from the commander-­in-chief,” Foreign Affairs, May/June 2000 (Lexis-­Nexis version).   70 Telephone interview with Paul Simon, 26 January 2001.   71 Hearing of the Africa Subcommittee of the House Foreign Affairs Committee; Hearing of the International Security, International Organizations and Human Rights Subcommittee of the House Foreign Affairs Committee on 4 May, “Tensions in US.–U.N. relations,” 17 May 1994.   72 Elaine Sciolino, “For West, Rwanda is not worth the political candle,” New York Times, 15 April 1994, A3.   73 Telephone interview with a former Pentagon official, 3 November 2000; Wood interview with Frontline, 26 January 1999.   74 Interview with Lake, 26 January 2001.   75 As cited in Testimony by Holly Burkhalter, Physicians for Human Rights, U.S. House of Representatives, Committee on International Relations, Subcommittee on Human Rights and International Operations, 5 May 1998. A joint study by the Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict, the Institute for the Study of Diplomacy at Georgetown University, and the US Army later supported Dallaire’s assessment. Carnegie Commission, Preventing Deadly Conflict, New York: Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict, 1997; S.R. Feil, Preventing Genocide: A Report to the Carnegie Commission on Preventing Deadly Conflict, New York: Carnegie Corporation, 1998.   76 Holly J. Burkhalter, “The question of genocide: the Clinton administration and Rwanda,” World Policy Journal 11:4 (winter 1994/1995), 47.   77 Interview with former Pentagon official, 3 November 2000.   78 “Shameful dawdling on Rwanda,” New York Times, 15 June 1994, A24; Charles Krauthammer, “Stop the genocide in Rwanda,” Washington Post, 27 May 1994, A25.   79 Warren P. Strobel, Late-­breaking Foreign Policy: The News Media’s Influence on Peace Operations, Washington D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1997, p. 148.   80 S/1994/430, 13 April 1994.   81 Willame, Les Belges au Rwanda, pp. 181–2.   82 Mel McNulty, “France’s role in Rwanda and external military intervention: a double discrediting,” International Peacekeeping 4:3 (autumn 1997), 32.   83 Arthur Jay Klinghoffer, The International Dimension of Genocide in Rwanda, New York University Press, 1998, p. 80.   84 Prunier, “Opération Turquoise,” p. 302.   85 McNulty, “France’s role in Rwanda,” p. 36.   86 Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis, p. 281.   87 Ibid., p. 282.   88 According to French Foreign Ministry officials, cited in Bruce Jones, “Intervention without borders,” Millenium 24:2 (summer 1995), 231.   89 Prunier, “Opération Turquoise,” p. 302.   90 Jones, “Intervention without borders,” p. 231; McNulty, “France’s role in Rwanda,” p. 40.   91 Prunier, The Rwandan Crisis, p. 297.   92 Jones, “Intervention without borders,” p. 231.

242   Notes   93 Interview with former Pentagon official, 3 November 2000; Wood interview with Frontline, 26 January 1999.   94 OAU, IPEP, Rwanda, sections 10–12.   95 Prunier, “Opération Turquoise,” p. 303.   96 Ibid., pp. 292–3.   97 Philip Gourevitch, We Wish to Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed with Our Families, New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1998, ch. 11.   98 Ibid.   99 Edgar O’Ballance, The Congo–Zaire Experience, 1960–1998, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999, p. 159. 100 Remark by the Nigerian delegation. S/PV.3377, 16 May 1994, 17. 101 “The least to be done for Rwanda,” Washington Post, 28 May 1994. 102 S/PV.3377, 16 May 1994. The interim government of Rwanda, which still represented the country, voted against the section on an arms embargo. 103 Brazil, China, New Zealand, Nigeria and Pakistan. 104 S/PV. 3392, 22 June 1994. 105 FBIS-­AFR-94–122, 24 June 1994. 106 Raymond Bonner, “French force in skirmish in Rwanda,” New York Times, 4 July 1994. 107 J. Matthew Vaccaro, “The politics of genocide: peacekeeping and disaster relief in Rwanda,” in Durch (ed.) UN Peacekeeping, p. 398. 108 Republique Française, Journal Officiel de la Republique Francaise, Assemblée Nationale, 1re Seance du 1er Juin 1994, 2473. 109 Ibid., 1re Seance du 22 Juin 1994, 3343–4. 110 Ibid.; cited also in Monique Mas, Paris-­Kigali: 1990–1994: Lunette coloniales, politique du sabre et onction humanitaire pour un genocide en afrique, Paris: L’Harmattan, 1999, p. 428. 111 Marlise Simons, “France’s Rwanda connection,” New York Times, 3 July 1994, A6. 112 Mas, Paris-­Kigali, p. 423. 113 Prunier, “Opération Turquoise,” p. 298. 114 OAU, IPEP, Rwanda; United Nations, Report of the Independent Inquiry into the Actions of the United Nations during the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda. 115 UNSCR 1029 (1995). 116 Cited in Klinghoffer, The International Dimension of Genocide, p. 71. 6  Iraq: from pre-­e mption to counterinsurgency    1 On the relationship between strategy and law, see Philip Bobbitt, The Shield of Achilles, War, Peace and the Course of History, New York: Knopf/Penguin, 2002, esp. p. 174.    2 On how the option to attack Iraq emerged, see Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004, pp. 25–6, 30.    3 H.J. Res., 114, “To authorize the use of United States Armed Forces against Iraq,” 107th Congress of the United States of America, Second Session.    4 White House, “President Bush announces major combat operations in Iraq have ended,” Remarks by the President from the USS Abraham Lincoln, avialable at http://georgewbush-­whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/2003/05/20030501– 15.html (accessed 6 June 2009).    5 National Security Presidential Directive (NSPD), p. 24.    6 Nora Bensahel, “Mission not accomplished: what went wrong with Iraqi reconstruction,” Journal of Strategic Studies 29:3 (June 2006), 461; Joseph Collins, “Choosing war: the decision to invade Iraq and its aftermath,” Institute for

Notes   243 National Strategic Studies, National Defense University, Occasional Papers 5 (April 2008), 13.    7 CRS Report for Congress, “The Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA): origin, characteristics, and institutional authorities,” 5 June 2005, 1.    8 Ibid., 2.    9 UN Doc S/RES 1483, 22 May 2003.   10 Thomas Ricks, Fiasco: the American Military Adventure in Iraq, New York: Penguin, 2006, p. 255; George Packer, The Assassins’ Gate: America in Iraq, Farrar Straus & Giroux, 2006, p. 193; James Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq: a short history of the CPA,” Survival 51:3 (June–July 2009), 139.   11 Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq,” pp. 137–8.   12 Ibid.   13 Ricks, Fiasco, p. 255.   14 Ali A. Allawi, The Occupation of Iraq: Winning the War, Losing the Peace, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2007, pp. 224–5.   15 Kenneth Katzman, “Iraq: politics, elections and benchmarks,” Congressional Research Service, 7–5700, RS21968, 22 April 2009, 1.   16 Ibid.   17 Ibid., 2; the full text of the Iraqi Constitution may be found at www.uniraq. org/documents/iraqi_constitution.pdf (accessed 16 June 2009).   18 Ibid., 2, 9.   19 Peter R. Mansoor, Baghdad at Sunrise: A Brigade Commander’s War in Iraq, Yale University Press, 2008, p. xvii.   20 “US faces Iraq ‘guerrilla war,’ ” BBC News, 16 July 2003.   21 Kenneth Katzman, “Al Qaeda in Iraq: assessment and outside links,” CRS Report for Congress, RL32177, August 2008.   22 Ahmed S. Hashim, Insurgency and Counter-­Insurgency in Iraq, London: Hurst & Company, 2006; Ricks, Fiasco, pp. 149–202; Packer, The Assassins’ Gate, pp. 296–369.   23 Ricks, Fiasco, pp. 398–405.   24 Hashim, Insurgency and Counter-Insurgency, p. 40.   25 Michael Knights and Ed Williams, “The calm before the storm: the British experience in southern Iraq,” Policy Focus 66 (February 2007), Washington Institute for Near East Policy, pp. 18–20.   26 Ibid.   27 Mansoor, Baghdad at Sunrise, p. xix.   28 These included a review by Congressional-­mandated bi-­partisan Iraq Study Group; State Department review; review by “the Council of Colonels” initiated by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff; and a White House policy review managed by National Security Advisor Stephen J. Hadley. Bob Woodward, War Within: A Secret White House History 2006–2008, London: Simon & Schuster, 2008, pp. 54–6; 143–5, 163–5, 177; Linda Robertson, Tell Me How This Ends: General Petraeus and the Search for a Way Out of Iraq, New York: Public Affairs, 2008, pp. 21, 26.   29 Woodward, War Within, pp. 276–7; Ricks, Fiasco, pp. 96–8.   30 David Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla: Fighting Small Wars in the Midst of a Big One, London: Hurst & Company, 2009, pp. 128–48.   31 Council on Foreign Relations Interview, Stephen Biddle, “Security, political improvements seen in Iraq in recent months,” available at www.cfr.org/publication/14805/biddle.html (accessed 15 June 2009); Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla, pp. 173–4.   32 Katzman, “Iraq,” p. 3; Simon Tisdall and Richard Norton-­Taylor, “Shia cleric orders followers to end Iraq clashes,” Guardian, 31 March 2008.   33 These include the return of the Accord Front to the Cabinet, ibid.

244   Notes   34 Katzman, “Iraq,” p. 6.   35 Ibid.   36 Timothy Williams and Suadad Al-­Salhy, “Laws lag in Iraq, as patience wears thin,” New York Times, 22 June 2009; Steven Lee Myers, “Truck bomb kills dozens in Northern Iraq,” New York Times, 21 June 2009; Jason Campbell, Michael O’Hanlon, Jeremy Shapiro and Amy Unikewicz, “The states of Iraq and Afghanistan,” New York Times, 18 June 2009.   37 Steven Lee Myers, “Insurgency remains tenacious in North Iraq,” New York Times, 10 July 2009.   38 Ibid.   39 Associated Press, “American troops hand over control in Iraqi cities,” New York Times, 29 June 2009.   40 I am indebted to Professor James Gow for clarifying my thinking about the legal bases of the Iraq intervention, as well as about pre-­emption as a justification for action. See also James Gow, Defending the West, Cambridge: Polity Press, 2003, esp. pp. 118–23.   41 UN Doc S/RES 687 (1991), 29 November 1990; David Malone, International Struggle over Iraq: Politics of UN Security Council, 1980–2005, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 152.   42 These are: UNSCR 660 (1990); 661 (1990); 678 (1990); 686 (1990); 687 (1991); 688 (1991); 707 (1991); 715 (1991); 986 (1995); 1284 (1999); and 1382 (2001).   43 UNSCR 1441, operative paragraphs 1 and 2, respectively.   44 UNSCR 1441, operative paragraphs 3 and 4.   45 UNSCR 1441, operative paragraph 5.   46 UNSCR 1441, operative paragraph 12.   47 Ivo H. Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound: The Bush Revolution in Foreign Policy, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2003, p. 142.   48 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 194. See Chapter 8, this volume.   49 Letter dated 20 March 2003 from the Permanent Representative of the United States of America to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council, UN Doc. S/2003/351 (21 March 2003). Mary Ellen O’Connell, ASIL Insights, Addendum to “Armed Force in Iraq: issues of legality,” available at www.asil.org/insigh99al.cfm (accessed 23 July 2009).   50 Ibid.   51 O’Connell, “Addendum.” Letter dated 20 March 2003 from the Permanent Representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council, UN Doc. S/2003/350 (21 March 2003).   52 S/2003/350.   53 O’Connell, “Addendum,” fn 2.   54 Adam Roberts, “Law and the use of force after Iraq,” Survival 45:2 (summer 2003), 32.   55 Robert Jervis, “Understanding the Bush doctrine,” Political Science Quarterly 118:3 (2003), 365–88; John Lewis Gaddis, “Bush’s security strategy,” Foreign Policy 133 (November/December 2002), 50–7; Lawrence Freedman, “Prevention, not preemption,” The Washington Quarterly 26:2 (spring 2003), 105–14. Although often equated with regime change, pre-­emption itself is a separate notion from regime change as such.   56 Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, pp. 2, 13–15.   57 New York, 1 June 2002. Printed in New York Times, 1 June 2002.   58 The White House, The National Security Strategy of the United States of America [hereafter NSS], Washington D.C. (September 2002), p. ii.

Notes   245   59 “A transcript of George Bush’s war ultimatum speech from the Cross Hall in the White House,” Guardian, 18 March 2003.   60 Sean D. Murphy, “Assessing the legality of invading Iraq,” Georgetown Law Journal 92 (January 2004), 174. For an analysis of pre-­emption in light of the evolving boundaries of self-­defense, see Gow, Defending the West, esp. pp. 120–31.   61 NSS, 2002, p. 15.   62 Ibid.   63 Ian Brownlie, International Law and Principles of Public International Law, 4th edn, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990; Mary Ellen O’Connell, “The myth of preemptive self-­defense,” The American Society of International law, Task Force on Terrorism, August 2002; Gow, Defending the West, p. 124.   64 O’Connell, “The myth,” p. 18.   65 Freedman, “Prevention, not preemption”; Jervis, “Understanding the Bush doctrine.”   66 NSS 2002, ii.   67 “Next stop, Iraq,” Remarks of the Hon. Richard Perle at the FPRI Annual Dinner, 13 November 2001, http:www.fpri.org/transcripts/annualdinner.20011114.perle.nextstopiraq.html (accessed 10 May 2009).   68 Senator Joseph R. Biden, Jr., Opening statement of Senator Joseph R. Biden, Jr., “Iraq: reconstruction,” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 108th Congress, 11 March 2003, 4.   69 Bob Woodward, State of Denial, London: Simon & Schuster, 2006, p. 111.   70 Statement of Hon. Mark I. Grossman, Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs, “The Future of Iraq,” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 108th Congress, 11 February 2003.   71 President George W. Bush, “President Bush Addresses the Nation,” 19 March 2003. Available at http://georgewbush-­whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/ 2003/03/20030319–17.html (accessed 5 June 2009).   72 “President Bush announces major combat operations in Iraq have ended: remarks by the President from the USS Abraham Lincoln,” 1 May 2003.   73 President Bush remark in his weekly radio address as reported at www.redorbit.com/modules/news/tools.php?tool=print&id=7854 (August 2003).   74 Ibid.   75 Commencement address, West Point, New York, 1 June 2002. George W. Bush, “President outlines war effort,” Remarks to the George C. Marshall, ROTC Awards Seminar on National Security, Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Virginia, 17 April 2002.   76 Allawi, The Occupation of Iraq, p. 197.   77 Hearing before the Committee on Armed Services, United States Senate, “Statement of Hon. L. Paul Bremer III, Presidential Envoy to Iraq,” 25 September 2003, 10.   78 David E. Sanger, “Bush’s day at the U.N.: it’s chilly, still, there,” New York Times, 24 September 2003.   79 “President Bush’s address to the nation,” New York Times, 8 September 2003.   80 Iraq attracted $900 per capita for a one-­year level of assistance, compared with $350 per capita in adjusted 2003 figures over four years in Marshall Plan. Allawi, The Occupation of Iraq, p. 251.   81 George W. Bush, “5 step plan for democracy in Iraq,” 24 May 2004, U.S. Army War College, Carlisle, Pa, available at www.iraqcoalition.org/pressreleases/20040525_bush_factsheet.html (accessed 5 June 2009).   82 Jervis, “Understanding the Bush Doctrine”; Gaddis, “Bush’s security strategy.”   83 NSS 2002, opening letter.   84 NSS 2002, p. 1.   85 NSS 2002, opening letter.

246   Notes   86 Jervis, “Understanding the Bush doctrine,” p. 367.   87 NSS 2002, p. 3.   88 The White House, The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, Washington D.C.: March 2006 [hereafter NSS 2006], p. 4.   89 “President Bush discusses freedom in Iraq and Middle East, remarks by the President at the 20th Anniversary of the National Endowment for Democracy,” United States Chamber of Commerce, Washington D.C., available at www.ned. org/events/anniversary/20thAniv-Bush.html (accessed 31 May 2009).   90 Jervis, “Understanding the Bush Doctrine,” p. 367.   91 Transcript: “Confronting Iraq threat ‘is crucial to winning war on terror,” New York Times, 8 October 2002.   92 Ibid.   93 Ibid.   94 Ibid.   95 Ibid.   96 Ibid.   97 President Bush address to the United Nations, CNN, 12 September 2002, avail­ able at http://edition.cnn.com/2002/US/09/12/bush.transcript/ (accessed 20 July 2009).   98 “A policy of evasion and deception,” Washington Post, 5 February 2003.   99 Bush, “President Bush addresses the nation,” 19 March 2003. 100 “President Bush’s address to the nation,” New York Times, 8 September 2003. 101 Bush, “5 Step Plan for Democracy in Iraq.” 102 David Sanger, “Bush, conceding problems, defends Iraq war,” New York Times, 14 March 2006. 103 NSS 2006, pp. 11–12. 104 Ibid., p. 12. 105 Kenneth Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq: a retrospective analysis of the reconstruction,” Middle East Review of International Affairs, 1 December 2006. 106 Ibid. 107 Collins, “Choosing war,” pp. 17, 19; Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, pp. 152–3. 108 “Transcript: the second Gore-­Bush presidential debate,” 11 October 2000, www.debates.org/pages/trans2000b.html. 109 Pollack, citing Gordon and Trainor, Cobra II, esp. pp. 457–96; and Ricks, Fiasco, esp. pp. 85–213. 110 Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, p. 132. 111 Cited in Eric Schmitt, “Plans for policing a postwar Iraq,” New York Times, 9 April 2003. 112 Cited in Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, p. 150. 113 Ibid., p. 9. 114 Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, p. 150. 115 Mansoor, p. xvi; Interview Gen. Jay Garner, “Frontline: truth, war and consequences,” available at www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/truth/ interviews/garner.html (accessed 22 December 2009). 116 Collins, “Choosing war,” p. 20. 117 Woodward, The War Within, p. 183; Ricks, Gamble, p. 52. 118 Collins, “Choosing war,” p. 20. 119 In a TV interview on 23 April 2003, cited in Allawi, The Occupation of Iraq, p. 250. 120 Ibid. 121 Curt Tarnoff, “Iraq: reconstruction assistance,” Congressional Research Service, 7–5700, RL 31833, 12 March 2009, “Summary.” 122 NSS 2002, p. 1.

Notes   247 123 See Chapter IV, NSS 2002. 124 NSS 2006. 125 NSS 2006, p. 15. 126 Stephen D. Krasner and Carlos Pascual, “Addressing state failure,” Foreign Affairs, 153 (2005), 153–63. 127 “National Security Presidential Directive 44—Frequently Asked Questions,” available at www.crs.state.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=public.display&shortcut= 49QT (accessed 6 June 2009). 128 Department of Defense, Directive Number 3000.03 (28 November 2005), Military Support for Stability, Security, Transition, and Reconstruction (SSTR) Operations. 4.1. 129 The Iraq Study Group, The Iraq Study Group Report, New York: Vintage Books, 2006, available at http://graphics8.nytimes.com/packages/pdf/international/ 20061206_btext.pdf (accessed 7 July 2009). 130 Peter Baker and Robin Wright, “Bush appears cool to key points of report on Iraq: President talks of forming ‘new strategy,’ ” Washington Post, 8 December 2006; Michael Abramowitz and Charles Babington, “Bush calls Iraq report one among many ideas,” Washington Post, 6 December 2006. 131 Michael Abramowitz and Peter Baker, “Embattled, Bush held to plan to salvage Iraq: in face of advice, he pushed buildup,” Washington Post, 21 January 2007. 132 Ibid. 133 Abramowitz and Baker, “Embattled.” 134 Ibid. 135 White House, Office of Press Secretary, “Fact sheet: the new way forward in Iraq,” available at http://georgewbush-­whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/2007/ 01/20070110–3.html (accessed 7 July 2009). 136 Woodward, War Within, p. 207. 137 Cited in Baker and Write, “Bush appears cool to key points.” 138 President’s address to the nation, 7 January 2007. Available at http:// georgewbush-­whitehouse.archives.gov/news/releases/2007/01/20070110–7. html (accessed 5 July 2009). 139 President’s address to the nation, 7 January 2007. 140 Woodward, The War Within, p. 108. 7  Iraq: transformation failure and intervention performance    1 Stephen Biddle, “Seeing Baghdad, thinking Saigon,” Foreign Affairs 85:2 (March/April 2006), 2–14; Carter Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq: May 2003–January 2007,” in Daniel Marston and Carter Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2008.    2 David Malone, International Struggle over Iraq: Politics of UN Security Council, 1980–2005, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 194.    3 Ivo H. Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound: The Bush Revolution in Foreign Policy, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2003, p. 143.    4 See Chapter 11 (this volume).    5 Gary L. Guertner, “European views of preemption in US national security strategy,” Parameters (summer 2007), 35.    6 Thomas M. Franck, “The role of international law and the UN after Iraq,” ASIL Proceedings, 2004, 267.    7 Hans Binnendijk and Stuart Johnson (eds), Transforming for Stabilization and Reconstruction Operations, Center for Technology and National Security Policy, National Defense University, 12 November 2003.    8 See Chapter 6 (this volume).

248   Notes    9 Interview with Dr. Joseph Collins (former Assistant Secretary of Defense for Stability Operations, National War College, Virginia), 7 February 2007; see also Joseph Collins, “Choosing war: the decision to invade Iraq and its aftermath,” Institute for National Strategic Studies, National Defense University, Occasional Papers 5 (April 2008), 17.   10 The Bush administration cancelled a State Department study, called the Future of Iraq Project, which some viewed as “not actionable” (unfeasible). Bensahel, “Mission not accomplished: what went wrong with Iraqi reconstruction,” Journal of Strategic Studies 29:3 (June 2006), 459. Interview with Gen. Jay Garner, “Frontline: Truth, War, and Consequences,” available at http://www/ pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/truth/interviews/garner.html (accessed 22 December 2009).   11 Bob Woodward, State of Denial (London: Simon & Schuster, 2006), pp. 127–8; Donald R. Drechsler, “Reconstructing the interagency process after Iraq,” The Journal of Strategic Studies 28:1 (February 2005), 18. For a prediction of the difficulties of stabilization, see Conrad Crane and W. Andrew Terrill, “Reconstructing Iraq: Insights, Challenges, and Missions for Military Forces in a Post-­ Conflict Scenario” (Carlisle: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College, February 2003).   12 Garner interview for Frontline, see note 10.   13 James Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq: a short history of the CPA,” Survival 51:3 (June–July 2009), 131.   14 Binnendijk and Johnson, Transforming for Stabilization and Reconstruction Operations; David Rieff, “Blueprint for a mess,” New York Times Magazine, 2 November 2003.   15 George Packer, The Assassins’ Gate: America in Iraq, New York: Farrar Straus & Giroux, 2006, p. 137; Larry Diamond, “What went wrong in Iraq,” Foreign Affairs (September/October 2004), 35; Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq,” p. 139.   16 Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq,” p. 156.   17 Packer, The Assassins’ Gate, p. 193.   18 Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq,” p. 143.   19 Linda D. Kozaryn, “Baathist opposition organized, coalition faces ‘guerrilla-­ type campaign,’ ” US Department of Defense, DefenseLink News Articles, 16 July 2003, available at www.defenselink.mil/news/newsarticle.aspx?id_28715 (accessed 12 June 2009).   20 Linda Robertson, Tell Me How This Ends: General Petraeus and the Search for a Way Out of Iraq, New York: Public Affairs, 2008, p. 5.   21 Ibid., p. 4.   22 Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian, Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, p. 242; John A. Nagl, Learning to Eat Soup With A Knife: Counterinsurgency Lessons from Malaya and Vietnam, Chicago University Press, 2005.   23 Ibid.   24 David Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla: Fighting Small Wars in the Midst of a Big One, London: Hurst & Company, 2009, p. 129; Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” pp. 242–3.   25 Daalder and Lindsay, p. 149; Bob Woodward, War Within: A Secret White House History 2006–2008, London: Simon & Schuster, 2008, p. 156.   26 Woodward, State of Denial, pp. 483–4; Woodward, War Within, p. 23.   27 Collins, “Choosing war,” p. 23.   28 See also discussion in the following section.   29 Confirmed in interviews, Iraq at the Security, Stabilization, Transition, Reconstruction and Peace Operations Training Workshop (12–14 December 2006, Carlisle, US Army War College, Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Insti-

Notes   249 tute). See also “You want to go where? Few veteran diplomats accept mission in Iraq,” New York Times, 8 February 2007, A9.   30 Bensahel, “Mission not accomplished,” p. 465.   31 Ibid.   32 Ibid.   33 Dobbins, “Occupying Iraq,” p. 131.   34 Biddle, “Seeing Baghdad, thinking Saigon”; Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, esp. p. 255.   35 Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, p. 243; Peter R. Mansoor, Baghdad at Sunrise: A Brigade Commander’s War in Iraq, New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2008, p. 68.   36 Kenneth Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq: a retrospective analysis of the reconstruction,” Brookings Institution, Middle East Review of International Affairs,1 December 2006.   37 Mansoor, Baghdad at Sunrise.   38 Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq.”   39 Ibid.   40 David H. Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents: the challenge of political reintegration in Iraq,” in Mats Berdal and David H. Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups After Conflict: Politics, Violence and Transition, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2009, p. 97.   41 Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq.”   42 Ibid.   43 Ibid.   44 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 96; Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq.”   45 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 97.   46 Pollack, “The seven deadly sins of failure in Iraq.”   47 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 98.   48 A.I. Dawisha and L.J. Diamond, “Iraq’s year of voting dangerously,” Journal of Democracy 17:2 (April 2006), 94.   49 Ibid.; Kenneth Katzman, “Iraq: politics, elections and benchmarks,” Congressional Research Service, 7–5700, RS21968, 22 April 2009, 2; Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 98.   50 Dawisha and Diamond, “Iraq’s year of voting dangerously,” p. 94.   51 Ibid., p. 95; Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 98.   52 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 99.   53 Ibid., pp. 99, 100.   54 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 100.   55 Dawisha and Diamond, “Iraq’s year of voting dangerously,” p. 96.   56 Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, p. 102.   57 Dawisha and Diamond, “Iraq’s year of voting dangerously,” p. 96.   58 Biddle, “Seeing Baghdad,” p. 8. See also Edward D. Mansfield and Jack Snyder, Electing to Fight: Why Emerging Democracies Go to War, New York: MIT Press, 2007.   59 Anthony H. Cordesman, “Iraq’s evolving insurgency and the risk of civil war,” Center for Strategic and International Studies, 27 September 2006, 8; see also

250   Notes Ucko, “Militias, tribes and insurgents,” in Berdal and Ucko (eds) Reintegrating Armed Groups, pp. 100–1.   60 Biddle, “Seeing Baghdad,” pp. 8–11.   61 Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, p. 247.   62 Ibid.   63 Mansoor, Baghdad at Sunrise, p. 285.   64 Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, pp. 250–1.   65 Ibid., p. 251.   66 Ibid., p. 254.   67 Diamond, “What went wrong in Iraq.”   68 Ibid.   69 Stephen Biddle, Michael E. O’Hanlon, and Kenneth M. Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq: building on progress,” Foreign Affairs 40 (September/ October 2008), 46.   70 Andrew Rathmell, Olga Oliker, Terrence K. Kelly, David Brannan, and Keith Crane, “Developing Iraq’s security sector: the Coalition Provisional Authority’s experience,” RAND (2005), 57, 59.   71 Ibid., p. 57.   72 Ibid., p. 59.   73 Ibid., p. 60.   74 Ibid.   75 On this possibility, see John M. Owen IV, “Iraq and the democratic peace,” Foreign Affairs, November/December 2005.   76 Ibid.   77 Ibid.; Larry Diamond, “The new war for Iraq,” Hoover Digest 3 (2004), available at www.hoover.org/publications/digest/3020316.html (accessed 22 July 2009).   78 Suzanne Maloney, “How the Iraq War has empowered Iran,” Brookings Opinions, 21 March 2008.   79 Seymour M. Hersh, “Torture at Abu Ghraib,” The New Yorker, 10 May 2004.   80 Robin Wright and Bradley Graham, “Bush privately chides Rumsfeld: officials say Pentagon resisted repeated calls for prison changes,” Washington Post, 6 May 2004.   81 Brig. Gen. Mark Kimmitt, CBS/60 Minutes II. Available at www.cbsnews.com/ stories/2004/04/27/60II/main614063.shtml (accessed 20 July 2009).   82 Josh White, “Abu Ghraib tactics were first used at Guantanamo,” Washington Post, 14 July 2005; Karen J. Greenberg, “What the torture memos tell us,” Survival 51:3 (June–July 2009), 8.   83 See Senate Armed Services Committee, “Senate Armed Services Committee Inquiry into the Treatment of Detainees in U.S. Custody, Executive summary” (released 11 December 2008).   84 Cited in “Senate Armed Services Committee Inquiry,” xv–xvi.   85 Ibid., xix.   86 Ibid., xxii–xxiv.   87 “Resign, Rumsfeld,” The Economist (US edition), 8 May 2004.   88 Woodward, State of Denial, p. 276.   89 For a critique of this logic, see Richard K. Betts, Enemies of Intelligence: Knowledge and Power in American National Security, Columbia University Press, 2008, p. 166.   90 Senate Armed Forces Committee, xxv, citing letter to troops from General D. Petraeus.   91 Hersh, “Torture at Abu Ghraib.”   92 Betts, Enemies of Intelligence, p. 114.   93 Ibid., p. 115.

Notes   251   94 Press Release of Intelligence Committee, “Senate Intelligence Committee unveils final Phase II reports on prewar Iraq intelligence,” 5 June 2008, available at http://intelligence.senate.gov/press/record.cfm?id_298775 (accessed 20 July 2009).   95 Ibid.   96 Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004, pp. 25–6, 30.   97 Dave Moniz and Steven Komarow, “Shifts from bin Laden hunt evoke questions,” USA Today, 28 March 2004.   98 Kenneth M. Pollack and the Iraq Policy Working Group of the Saban Center for Middle East Policy, Brookings Institution, “A switch in time: a new strategy for America in Iraq,” Analysis Paper No. 7 (February 2006), 3.   99 Pollack, “A switch in time,” p. 2. 100 Ibid.; Bush as quoted in National Security Council, “National strategy for victory in Iraq” (November 2005), 9. Available at http://georgewbush-­whitehouse. archives.gov/infocus/iraq/iraq_national_strategy_20051130.pdf (accessed 9 June 2009). 101 See Department of the Army, Field Manual No. FM 3–0, Operations, Headquarters, Department of the Army, Washington D.C., 14 June 2001. 102 William Flavin, “US doctrine for peace operations,” International Peacekeeping 15:1 (February 2008), 39, 42. 103 Victoria K. Holt and Michael G. Mackinnon, “The origins and evolution of US policy towards peace operations,” International Peacekeeping 15:1 (February 2008), 19, 27. 104 Pollack, “Seven deadly sins”; Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor, Cobra II: The Inside Story of the Invasion and Occupation of Iraq, London: Atlantic Books, 2007, pp. 457–96; Thomas Ricks, Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq, New York: Penguin, 2006, pp. 85–213. 105 Flavin, “US doctrine for peace operations,” p. 42. 106 Helen Cooper, “Few veteran diplomats accept mission to Iraq,” New York Times, 8 February 2007. 107 The President appointed the S/CRS as the coordinator of stability operations through the issuance of Presidential Directive 44 on 7 December 2005. 108 Stephen D. Krasner and Carlos Pascual, “Addressing state failure,” Foreign Affairs 153 (2005), 156. See also S/CRS, “Reserve Component, Civilian Response Corps,” www.crs.state.gov/index.cfm?fuseaction=public.display&shortcut=4B5C. 109 Michael R. Gordon, “101st airborne scores success in Northern Iraq,” New York Times, 4 September 2003. 110 Peter R. Mansoor, “Counterinsurgency in Karbala,” in Thomas G. Mahnken and Thomas A. Keaney (eds) War in Iraq: Planning and Execution, Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge, 2007, pp. 194–7. 111 Packer, The Assassins’ Gate, pp. 458–9. 112 Pollack, “A switch in time,” p. 15. 113 Ibid. 114 Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq”; Brookings, Iraq Index, p. 4. 115 Karen De Young, “U.S. Embassy cites progress in Iraq,” Washington Post, 2 July 2008. 116 Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq,” p. 42. 117 Ibid.; Stephen Biddle, “Iraq after the Surge,” statement before the Committee on Armed Services, Oversight and Investigations Subcommittee, US House of Representatives, 110th Congress, Second Session, 28 January 2008. 118 On the rationale behind protection see Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla, pp. 129–30. 119 Ibid., p. 44.

252   Notes 120 Ewan MacAskill, “Al-­Sadr declares ceasefire in Iraq,” Guardian, 29 August 2007. 121 Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq,” p. 43. 122 Ibid.; Kilcullen, pp. 145–6. 123 Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq,” p. 45. 124 Ibid. 125 Ibid., p. 46. 126 Ibid. 127 Katzman, “Iraq: politics, elections and benchmarks,” p. 3. 128 Ibid. 129 Ibid., p. 5. 130 Katzman, “Iraq: politics, elections and benchmarks,” p. 7; Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq,” p. 48. 131 Brian Katulis, Marc Lynch, and Peter Juul, “Iraq’s political transition after the Surge: five enduring tensions and the key challenges,” Center for American Progress, September 2008, 9. Available at www.americanprogress.org (accessed 29 July 2009), 12. 132 Only 5,000 had been integrated into the ISF as of early 2009. Katzman, “Iraq: politics, elections and benchmarks, 4; Iraq Index, p. 13. 133 Stephen Biddle, “Reversal in Iraq,” Contingency Planning Memorandum No. 2, Council on Foreign Relations, Center for Preventive Action, May 2009, 2; Rod Nordland, “Arrests of Sunni leaders rise in Baghdad,” New York Times, 30 July 2009. 134 Katulis, Lynch, and Juul, “Iraq’s political transition after the Surge,” 9. 135 Ibid. 136 Ibid. 137 See also Biddle, “Reversal in Iraq,” p. 5. 138 “Iraq Kurds pass new constitution to include Kirkuk,” AFP news service, 24 June 2009. 139 Biddle, “Reversal in Iraq,” p. 3. 140 Ibid. 141 Steven Lee Myers and Campbell Robertson, “Insurgency remains tenacious in north Iraq,” New York Times, 10 July 2009. 142 Biddle, O’Hanlon, and Pollack, “How to leave a stable Iraq,” 50. 143 Steven Simon, “The price of the Surge: how U.S. strategy is hastening Iraq’s demise,” Foreign Affairs 87:3 (May/June 2008), p. 58. 144 Iraq Index, p. 13. 145 Dagher, “Iraq resists pleas”; Solomon Moore, “Ex Baathists get a break. Or do they?,” New York Times, 14 January 2008. 146 Biddle, “Reversal,” p. 2. 147 Alissa J. Rubin, “Maliki pushes for election gains, despite fears,” New York Times, 25 January 2009. 148 Sam Dagher, “Iraq resists pleas by U.S. to placate Baath Party,” New York Times, 26 April 2009. 149 Katulis, Lynch, and Juul; Simon, “The price of the Surge,” p. 60. 150 Biddle, “Reversal,” pp. 1–2. 151 Gina Chon, “Iraq’s reluctant leader emerges as unlikely force,” Wall Street Journal, 22 July 2009. 8  Iraq: non-­s upport of pre-­e mptive war    1 On relations between law, strategy and legitimacy see Philip Bobbitt, The Shield of Achilles, War, Peace and the Course of History, New York: Penguin, 2002, esp. p. 174.    2 Yomiuri Shimbun, 21 March 2003. See also Chiyuki Aoi, “Beyond ‘activism-­ lite’?: issues in Japanese participation in peace operations,” Journal of International Peacekeeping 13 (2009), 82.

Notes   253    3 Adam Roberts, “Law and the use of force after Iraq,” Survival 45:2 (summer 2003), 39, 42–43.    4 Roberts, “Law and the use of force after Iraq,” p. 44.    5 “Address by Mr. Dominique de Villepin, French Minister of Foreign Affairs (2/14/2003), available at www.un.int/france documents_anglais/030214_cs_ france_iraq.htm (accessed on 25 December 2009).    6 Ibid.    7 Ibid.; see also Robert Graham and James Harding, “War in Iraq: how the die was cast before transatlantic diplomacy failed,” Financial Times, 27 May 2003.    8 Gary L. Guertner, “European views of preemption in US National Security Strategy,” Parameters (summer 2007), 35.    9 Online news hour, transcript, Igor Ivanov, 14 February 2003, available at www. pbs.org/newshour/bb/middle_east/iraq/russia_2–14.html (accessed 26 December 2009).   10 Graham and Harding, “War in Iraq.”   11 David Malone, International Struggle over Iraq: Politics of UN Security Council, 1980–2005, Oxford University Press, 2006, p. 195.   12 Ibid., citing British Ambassador Sir Jeremy Greenstock.   13 Anja Dalgaard-­Nielsen, “Gulf War: the German Resistance,” Survival 45:1 (spring 2003), 100.   14 Graham and Harding, “War in Iraq”; Dalgaard-­Nielsen, “Gulf War,” p. 99.   15 Graham and Harding, “War in Iraq.”   16 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 197.   17 Graham and Harding, “War in Iraq.”   18 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 197.   19 Robert Kagan, Policy Review (summer 2002), cited in Philip Gordon, “Bridging the Atlantic divide,” Foreign Affairs 82:1 (January/February 2003); Robert Kagan, Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New World Order, London: Atlantic Books, 2004.   20 Sally Bolton, “UN war doubters unite against resolution,” Guardian, 5 March 2003.   21 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 199.   22 See, for instance, debates in “Iraq: one year later,” American Society of International Law: Proceedings 98 (2004).   23 Christine Gray, “The US national security strategy and the new ‘Bush Doctrine’ on preemptive self-­defense,” Chinese Journal of International Law 2002, 444. See Chapter 6 (this volume) for the positions justifying use of force in Iraq.   24 Mary Ellen O’Connell, “The myth of preemptive self-­defense,” available at www.asil.org/taskforce/oconnell.pdf; Frederic Kirgis, Pre-­emptive Action to Forestall Terrorism, ASIL Insights (June 2002), available at www.asil.org/insights/ insigh88.htm.   25 The United States in its 20 March letter to the Security Council.   26 Kirgis, Pre-­emptive Action; see also O’Connell, “The myth of preemptive self-­ defense.”   27 Mary Ellen O’Connell, “Addendum to armed force in Iraq: issues of legality,” ASIL Insights, April 2003, available at www.asil.org/insigh99al.cfm.   28 New York Times Poll Watch, “Delaying the War,” Complete results, New York Times, 14 February 2003.   29 Sean D. Murphy, “Assessing the legality of invading Iraq,” Georgetown Law Journal 92 (January 2004), 241–2.   30 Ibid.; New York Times Poll Watch, “Delaying the war.”   31 Ibid.   32 Ibid.; Adam Nagourney and Janet Elder, “More Americans now faulting UN on Iraq, poll finds,” New York Times, 11 March 2003.

254   Notes   33 Nagourney and Elder, “More Americans now faulting UN.”   34 Ibid.   35 107th congress, 2D session, “H.J Res.114” in the Senate of the United States, 10 October 2002, 8.   36 There was a greater margin than the previous Gulf War. “Senate approves Iraq war resolution,” CNN, 11 October 2002.   37 For a similar view, see “A nation wary of war,” New York Times, 8 October 2002.   38 “Senate approves Iraq war resolution,” CNN.   39 “Roll call vote in House on Iraq resolution,” New York Times, 10 October 2002.   40 Louis Fisher, “Deciding on war against Iraq: institutional failures,” Political Science Quarterly 118:3 (2003), 397.   41 Ibid.   42 In the fall of 2002, 79 percent of Republicans supported the administration’s idea of war against Iraq; only 50 percent of Democrats supported it. Peter Beinart, “When politics no longer stops at the water’s edge: partisan polarization and foreign policy,” in Pietro S. Nivola and David W. Brady (eds) Red and Blue Nation? Consequences and Correction of America’s Polarized Politics, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2008, p. 159.   43 Jim Vande Hei and Juliet Eilperin, “Democrats unconvinced on Iraq war,” Washington Post, 11 September 2002.   44 Ibid.   45 Ibid.   46 Fisher, “Deciding on war against Iraq,” p. 399.   47 “Bush rejects Hill limits on resolution allowing war,” Washington Post, 2 October 2002.   48 “For Gephardt, risks and a crucial role,” Washington Post, 3 October 2002; Fisher, “Deciding on war against Iraq,” p. 403.   49 Ibid.   50 Cited in Fisher, “Deciding on war against Iraq,” p. 406.   51 Beinart, “When politics no longer stops at the water’s edge,” p. 159.   52 Cited in “Serving notice of a new U.S. poised to hit first and alone,” New York Times, 27 January 2003.   53 Ibid.   54 Matthew Tempest, “Labour MPs revolt over Iraq,” Guardian, 26 February 2003.   55 Ibid.   56 See House of Commons Debate, 18 March 2003, Columns 760–912, e.g., 781–2, 786–8.   57 “Cook quits over Iraq crisis,” BBC News, 17 March 2003.   58 “Short’s resignation statement,” BBC News, 12 May 2003.   59 Pew Research Center for People and the Press, “A year after Iraq War: mistrust of America in Europe ever higher, Muslim anger persists—a nine-­ country survey,” 16 March 2004; available at http://People-­Press.Org/ Report/?Pageid=796 (accessed 1 August 2009), p. 11.   60 Ibid.   61 Ibid.   62 Steven A. Hildreth and Jeremy Sharp, “Iraq: international attitudes to Operation Iraqi Freedom and reconstruction,” CRS Report for Congress, Congressional Research Service, 18 December 2003, 1.   63 Ibid., p. 34.   64 Frank Newport, “Americans upbeat on progress in Iraq, Afghanistan” Gallup Poll, 16 July 2009.   65 Ibid.   66 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 235.   67 Pew research, “A year after Iraq war.”

Notes   255   68 Ibid.   69 Ibid.   70 Ibid.   71 David W. Moore, “Most Americans say Bush has no clear plan for Iraq,” Gallup Poll, 14 March 2006, 2. Available at www.gallup.com/poll/21907/Most-­ Amerian-Say-­Bush-Has-­Clear-Plan-­Iraq.aspx (accessed 1 August 2009).   72 Ibid.   73 “One year after Iraq.”   74 Senator Richard G. Lugar opening statement at “The future of Iraq” hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 108th Congress, 11 February 2003, p. 3.   75 Senator Joseph R. Biden, Jr. remarks at “The future of Iraq” hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 108th Congress, 11 February 2003, 4.   76 See hearing before the Committee on Armed Services United States Senate, 108th Congress, 2nd Session, “Transition to sovereignty in Iraq: U.S. policy, ongoing military operations, and status of U.S. armed Forces,” 25 June 2004; esp. remarks by senators John McCain, Edward Kennedy, Joe Lieberman, and Ben Nelson.   77 Ibid.   78 Beinart, “When politics no longer stops at the water’s edge,” p. 160.   79 Ibid.   80 Ibid.   81 The Security and Peace Institute and the Martila Communications Group, “American attitudes toward national security, foreign policy, and the war on terror” (The Security and Peace Institute and the Martila Communications Group, and the Center for American Progress and the Century Foundation, 2005), available at www.tcf.org/Publications/International Affairs/americanattitudes.pdf (accessed 2 August 2009), p. 15; Beinart, “When politics no longer stops at the water’s edge,” p. 160.   82 Citing Senator Harry Reid, Woodward, State of Denial, p. 287.   83 Carl Levin, Senate Floor speech on US policy in Iraq, Senator Levin’s Office, available at http://levin.senate.gov/newsroom/release.cfm?id=262547 accessed 2 August 2009).   84 Woodward, The War Within, p. 80.   85 UN Doc S/RES 1551, 6 October 2003.   86 Malone, International Struggle over Iraq, p. 229.   87 Christopher M. Blanchard and Catherine Marie Dale, “Iraq: foreign contributions to stabilization and reconstruction,” CRS Report for Congress, 26 December 2007, Summary.   88 Jeremy M. Sharp and Christopher M. Blanchard, “Post war Iraq: foreign contributions to training, peacekeeping and reconstruction,” CRS Report for Congress, Order Code RL 32105, 25 September 2007, 1.   89 Richard Burkholder, “ ‘Ousting Saddam Hussein was worth hardships endured since invasion,’ say citizens of Baghdad,” Gallup Poll, 23 September 2003.   90 Remark by John Warner, cited in “Senate Committee on Armed Services Hearing,” 25 September 2003, 4.   91 Nearly two-­thirds (63 percent) said that they believed their country would be either somewhat (34 percent) or much (29 percent) better off in five years. Fifty-­five percent of those living in strongly Shiite areas said they expected Iraq to be better-­off five years from now, as did 50 percent of all those living in strongly Sunni areas. Richard Burkholder, “Gallup Poll of Iraq: Iraqis Consider Their Nation’s Future,” Gallup, 29 April 2004.   92 Richard Burkholder, “Ousting Saddam Hussein,” 23 September 2003.

256   Notes   93 Oxford Research International, “National survey of Iraq,” February 2004.   94 Oxford Research International, “National survey of Iraq,” November 2005.   95 Carter Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq: May 2003–January 2007,” in Daniel Marston and Carter Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, Oxford: Osprey Publishing, 2008, p. 247.   96 Icrss poll 20–29 April 2004, cited in Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, p. 247.   97 John Simpson, “Iraq engulfed by tide of violence,” BBC News, 22 September 2006, citing the DoD research.   98 Amit R. Palye, “Most Iraqis favor immediate U.S. pullout, polls show,” Washington Post, 27 September 2006.   99 Ibid. 100 Bruce R. Pirnie and Edward O’Connell, Counterinsurgency in Iraq (2003–2006), Prepared for the Office of the Secretary of Defense, RAND Corporation, 2008, p. 58. 101 Pirnie and O’Connell, Counterinsurgency in Iraq, p. 59, citing Lincoln Group, Al Anbar Survey 7, 2006 Baseline, Baghdad: Lincoln Group, May 2006, p. 14. 102 Malkasian, “Counterinsurgency in Iraq,” in Marston and Malkasian (eds) Counterinsurgency in Modern Warfare, pp. 254–5, citing Lincoln Group, Al Anbar Survey 11, September/October 2006 (October 2006) and Al Anbar Survey 7, 2006 Baseline, Baghdad: Lincoln Group, May 2006. 103 ABC/BBC/NHK, “ABC/BBC/NHK Poll. Iraq: Where Things Stand—Dramatic Advances Sweep Iraq, Boosting Support for Democracy,” available at  http://abcnews.go.com/images/PollingUnit/1087a1IraqWhereThingsStan d.pdf. (accessed 2 August 2009), 1. 104 Gary Langer, “Dramatic advances sweep Iraq, boosting support for democracy,” ABC News/BBC/NHK National Survey of Iraq,” ABC News, 16 March 2009. 105 Ibid. 106 ABC/BBC/NHK Poll—Iraq, 6. 107 Ibid., p. 7. 108 Ibid. 109 Lydia Saad, “Nearly half of U.S. adults now applaud the Iraq Surge,” Gallup Poll, 31 July 2008. 110 Ibid. 111 Ibid.; Jeffrey M. Jones, “In U.S., more optimism about Iraq, less about Afghanistan,” 18 March 2009. 112 Frank Newport, “Afghan war edges out Iraq as most important for the U.S.,” Gallup Poll, 3 July 2008. 113 Ibid. 9  Afghanistan: from self-­d efense to state-­b uilding    1 The “light-­footprint” methodology refers to the chosen international policy to keep the international presence in Afghanistan relatively limited in size so as not to undermine emerging local administration and endogenous capacities.    2 UNSCR 1368 (2001), 12 September 2001 and UNSCR 1373 (2001), 28 September 2001.    3 Also targeted by the US was an alleged chemical weapons factory in Sudan.    4 UNSCR 1267 (1999) demanded that the Taliban stop activities to support international terrorism and that the Taliban turn over Osama bin Laden to the appropriate authorities.    5 Ivo H. Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound: The Bush Revolution in Foreign Policy, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution, 2003, p. 111; Bob Woodward, Bush at War, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2002, p. 195.

Notes   257    6 Agreement on Provisional Arrangements in Afghanistan Pending the Re-­establishment of Permanent Government Institutions [Bonn Agreement], 5 December 2001.    7 Barnett R. Rubin and Humayun Hamidzada, “From Bonn to London: governance and the future of statebuilding in Afghanistan,” International Peacekeeping 14:1 (2007), 8–25.    8 Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, Afghanistan National Development Strategy: A Summary Report: Interim Strategy for Security, Governance, Economic Growth and Poverty Reduction.    9 London Conference, “The Afghanistan Compact,” 31 January to 1 February 2006.   10 UN Doc S/RES/1659 (2006), 15 February 2006.   11 Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, Afghanistan National Development Strategy 1387–1391 (2008–2013): A Strategy for Security, Governance, Economic Growth and Poverty Reduction.   12 Paris Conference, “Declaration of the International Conference in Support of Afghanistan Issued Under the Authority of the Three Co-­chairs, President Nicolas Sarkozy, President Hamid Karzai, Secretary-­General Ban Ki Moon,” 12 June 2008.   13 UNSCR1386 (2001).   14 Ambassador James F. Dobbins, After the Taliban: Nation-­building in Afghanistan, Washington D.C.: Potomac Books, 2008, p. 107.   15 Robert Perito, “The US Experience with Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: Lessons Identified,” USIP Special Report, 152, October 2005; ISAF PRT Handbook/International Security Assistance Force, edition 3, Kabul: ISAF, 2007.   16 S/RES/1510 (2003), 13 October 2003.   17 The United Kingdom Parliament, Select Committee on Defence, Thirteenth Report, available at www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm/200607/cmselect/cmdfence/408/40805.htm#n3 (accessed 4 October 2009).   18 Andrew Feickert, “U.S. and Coalition Military Operations in Afghanistan: Issues for Congress,” CRS Report for Congress, 11 December 2006. “NATO/ Afghanistan: Alliance Seeks Additional Troops,” Atlantic News 3803 (12 September 2006).   19 “Prepared remarks of President Barack Obama: a new strategy for Afghanistan and Pakistan,” New York Times, 27 March 2009.   20 “Obama’s Afghan policy speech at West Point,” Washington Post, 1 December 2009. As for General Stanley McChrystal’s recommendations, see International Security Assistance Force Headquarters, “Commander’s initial assessment,” 30 August 2009, NATO International Security Assistance Force, Afghanistan, US Forces, Afghanistan, Kabul, Afghanistan.   21 This reference caused much controversy; see “Obama’s Afghan policy speech at West Point.”   22 Sean D. Murphy, “Contemporary practice of the United States relating to international law, legal regulation of use of force,” American Journal of International Law 96 (2002), 242.   23 US Government Printing Office, “Remarks following a meeting with the National Security Team, 12 September 2001,” Weekly Compilation of Presidential Documents 37:37 (17 September 2001), 1302.   24 US Congress. “Authorization for Use of Military Force,” pub. L. No. 107–40, 115 Stat. 224 (2001).   25 UN Doc S/2001/946, “Letter dated 7 October 2001 from the Permanent Representative of the United States of America to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council,” 7 October 2001.   26 Letter from Stewart Eldon, Chargé d’Affaires, UK Mission to the UN in

258   Notes New York, to the President of the Security Council, S/2001/947, 7 October 2001.   27 S/RES 1368 (2001), 12 September 2001.   28 S/RES/1373 (2001), 28 September 2001.   29 The North Atlantic Treaty, Washington D.C., 4 April 1949, Article 5.   30 Secretary General Lord Robertson, “Statement at NATO Headquarters,” 2 October 2001 at www.nato.int/docu/pr/2001/p01–130e.htm.   31 Bonn Agreement, prefatory remarks, paragraph I.3.   32 Ibid.   33 Ibid., I. 4.   34 Ibid., I. 6.   35 Ibid., V. 1–3.   36 UN Doc S/RES/1378(2001), 14 November 2001.   37 “The Afghanistan Compact,” p. 2.   38 Rubin, “From Bonn to London,” p. 16.   39 Afghanistan Compact, Annex I.   40 “Declaration of the International Conference in support of Afghanistan.”   41 Bonn Agreement.   42 The White House, National Security Strategy of the United States of America (Washington D.C., September 2002) [hereafter NSS 2002].   43 S/RES/1378(2001), par. 1.   44 Richard J. Ponzio, “Transforming political authority: UN democratic peacebuilding in Afghanistan.” Global Governance 13 (2007), 256.   45 Ibid.   46 Ibid.   47 George W. Bush, “President outlines war effort,” remarks to the George C. Marshall ROTC Awards Seminar on National Security, Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Virginia, 17 April 2002.   48 NSS 2002, p. 4.   49 “Co-­chair’s summary of conclusions: the International Conference on Reconstruction Assistance to Afghanistan, 21–22 January 2002.”   50 Afghanistan Compact.   51 Ibid.; Rubin, “From Bonn to London,” 21.   52 Declaration of the International Conference in Support of Afghanistan (2008).   53 UNSCR 1833 (2008), 22 September 2008.   54 NSS 2002, preface.   55 Ibid.   56 Ibid.   57 Ibid., p. 7   58 Ibid.   59 Transcript of remarks by Richard Farkenrath and Ivo Daalder, “President Bush’s national security strategy: is the U.S. meeting its global challenges?” Event at Brookings Institution, Washington D.C., 21 March 2006.   60 NSS 2006, p. 3.   61 Ibid., p. 2.   62 Ibid., p. 11.   63 Text “President Bush announces military strikes in Afghanistan, 7 October 2001,” available at www.globalsecurity.org/military/library/news/2001/10/mil-­ 011007-usia01.htm (accessed 10 August 2009).   64 S/PV.4414 (2001), p. 5.   65 NSS 2002, p. 7.   66 NATO, “Revised Operational Plan for NATO expanded mission in Afghanistan,” available at www.nato.int/issues/afghanistan_stage3/index.html (accessed 10 April 2009).

Notes   259   67 “Afghanistan: worth the sacrifice,” Speech by the Rt. Hon. John Hutton, Secretary of State for Defense, at the International Institute for Strategic Studies, 11 November 2008.   68 According to Canadian military website, www.comfec-­cefcom.forces.gc.ca/ pa-­ap/ops/athena/index-­eng.asp (accessed 3 May 2009).   69 Hutton, “Afghanistan: worth the sacrifice.”   70 Cited in House of Commons, Foreign Affairs Committee, Global Security: Afghanistan and Pakistan, 8th Report of Session 2008–2009 (London: Stationery Office, 2 August 2009), p. 17; NATO, “ISAF ’s strategic vision: declaration by the heads of state and government of the Nations contributing to the UN-­ mandated NATO-­led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF ) in Afghanistan,” Press Release (2008) 052, 3 April 2008, available at www.nato. int.docu/pr/2008/p08–052e.html (accessed 10 August 2009).   71 “Iraq, Afghanistan and beyond: the UK–US partnership in a changing world,” Speech delivered by the Secretary of State for Defense Des Brown at the Brookings Institution, Washington D.C., 2008/07/10, available at www.mod. uk/DefenceInternet/AboutDefence/People/Speeches/SofS/20080710IraqA fghanistanAndBeyondTheUkusPartnershipInAChangingWorld.htm (accessed 15 August 2009).   72 UNSCR 1378, 14 November 2001.   73 Bonn Agreement.   74 Jonathan Goodhand, “Poppy, politics and state building,” in Geoffrey Hayes and Mark Sedra (eds) Afghanistan: Transition under Threat, Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 2008, p. 51.   75 Christopher Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” CRS Report for Congress, 12 August 2009, 38.   76 Goodhand, “Poppy, politics and state building,” p. 55.   77 Transnational Islamic State of Afghanistan, “National drug control strategy: 5 year strategy (1381–1386) for tackling illicit drug problems in Afghanistan,” 18 May 2003.   78 As cited in Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” p. 39.   79 “The Afghanistan Compact,” p. 2; Barnett R. Rubin and Jake Sherman, “Counter-­narcotics to stabilize Afghanistan: the false promise of crop ­eradication,” Center on International Cooperation, New York (February 2008), 13.   80 “The Afghanistan Compact,” p. 4.   81 Vanda Felbab-­Brown, Shooting Up: Counterinsurgency and the War on Drugs, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution Press, 2010, pp. 138, 140.   82 Ibid., pp. 141–2. In 2004, the US military for the first time reviewed its approach to counter-­narcotics, and decided to provide support for Afghan counter-­narcotics operations, including transportation, planning, intelligence, targeting packages and interdiction, although the US military declined to participate in eradication efforts. The State Department Bureau for International Narcotics and Law Enforcement Affairs, by contrast, preferred forced eradication.   83 David Shelby, “United States to Help Afghanistan Attack Narcotics Industry,” Washington File, U.S. Department of State, 17 November 2004.   84 Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” p. 41.   85 Ibid., p. 42.   86 Rubin and Sherman, “Counter-­narcotics to stabilize Afghanistan,” p. 5.   87 Ibid.; Vanda Felbab-­Brown, “U.S. Counternarcotics Strategy in Afghanistan,” Brookings Institution, 21 October 2009.   88 “NATO’s role in Afghanistan.”   89 NATO Media Operations Centre (MOC), Fact Sheet, “NATO’s support

260   Notes to  counter-­narcotics efforts in Afghanistan,” June 2009. Available at www. nato.int/isaf/topics/factsheets/counter-­narcotics-factsheet.pdf (accessed 26 August 2009).   90 Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” p. 15.   91 NNS 2002, p. 1.   92 Stephen D. Krasner and Carlos Pascual, “Addressing state failure,” Foreign Affairs 84 (2005), 153.   93 For details, see chapters 6, 7 and 8 on Iraq (this volume).   94 Krasner and Pascual, “Addressing state failure.”   95 Glen Kessler and Michael Abramowitz, “Bush brings Afghanistan, Pakistan to the table,” Washington Post, 27 September 2006.   96 David E. Sanger, “Revamping Pakistan aid expected in report,” New York Times, 7 December 2008.   97 Robert M. Gates, “A balanced strategy: reprogramming the Pentagon for a new age,” Foreign Affairs, January/February 2009.   98 Ibid.   99 Dobbins, After the Taliban, p. 125. 100 Woodward, Bush at War, p. 310. 101 Dobbins, After the Taliban, p. 125. 102 Retired Lieutenant General David W. Barno, US Army, “Fighting ‘the other war’: counterinsurgency strategy in Afghanistan, 2003–2005,” Military Review (September to October 2007), 33. 103 See earlier chapters (this volume), especially Chapter 3 on Bosnia, Chapter 4 on Somalia and Chapter 5 on Rwanda. 104 See chapters 6, 7 and 8 on Iraq (this volume). 105 Dobbins, After the Taliban, p. 120. 106 Ibid., p. 135. 107 Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004, p. 30. 108 Dobbins, After the Taliban, p. 125. 109 Julian E. Barnes, “U.S. calls Iraq the priority,” Los Angeles Times, 12 December 2007. 110 Brookings Institution, Iraq Index: Tracking Variables of Reconstruction and Security in Post-­Saddam Iraq (available at www.brookings.edu/iraqindex), 30 January 2009, p. 24. 111 Brookings Institution, Afghanistan Index: Tracking Progress and Security in Post-­ 9/11 Afghanistan (available at www.brookings.edu/foreign-­policy/afghanistan-­ index.aspx) (accessed 21 January 2009), p. 9. 112 “The cost of Iraq, Afghanistan, and other global war on terror operations since 9/11,” CRS Report for Congress, 15 October 2008. 113 Sean M. Maloney, “The International Security Assistance Force: the origins of a stabilization force,” Canadian Military Journal (summer 2003), 3. 114 “Blair announces U.K. force leadership,” U.N. Wire, 18 December 2001. 115 House of Commons, Select Committee on Defence, Thirteenth Report, column 22; Saki Dockrill, “After September 11: globalization of security beyond Transatlantic Alliance,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies, 1 (1S) (2003), 3. 116 David Betz and Anthony Cormack, “Iraq, Afghanistan and British strategy,” Orbis (spring 2009), 325. 117 Ibid. 118 Cited in Vincent Morelli and Paul Belkin, “NATO in Afghanistan: a test of the transatlantic Alliance,” Congressional Research Service, 7–5700, 11 March 2009, p. 13. Public proclamations as well as press coverages of NATO mission made it abundantly clear that the ISAF mission now engaged in combat. See, for a commentary on the landmark 100 British casualties in Afghanistan, Michael Clarke, “Looking for long-­term stabilisation in

Notes   261 Afghanistan,” RUSI commentary, www.rusi.org/research/studies/asia/commentary/rss/ref:C4856D0A29C360 (accessed 9 May 2009). 119 Interview with Dutch officials (The Hague, 7 January 2009). See also “Dutch to join British troops on mission in Afghanistan,” The Times, 3 February 2006. 120 Ibid., citing “UK warned of more Afghanistan deaths,” Financial Times, 3 July 2006, 3. 121 Jonathan Marcus, “NATO’s Afghanistan credibility test,” BBC News, 29 June 2004. 122 Ann Scott Tyson and Josh White, “Gates hits NATO Allies’ role in Afghanistan,” Washington Post, 7 February 2008. 123 Gates, A Balanced Strategy. 124 “A war of necessity?,” Economist, 22–28 August 2009, 22. 125 As cited in Sheryl Gay Stolberg, “Obama defends strategy in Afghanistan,” New York Times, 18 August 2009; see also “Obama’s address to Veterans,” New York Times, 18 August 2009. 126 “Prepared remarks of President Barack Obama: a new strategy for Afghanistan and Pakistan,” 27 March 2009. 127 “Prepared remarks of President Barack Obama”; HM government, “UK policy in Afghanistan and Pakistan: the way forward,” April 2009. 128 “Prepared remarks of President Barack Obama”; White House, “White Paper of the Interagency Policy Group’s Report on U.S. Policy toward Afghanistan and Pakistan” (hereafter “White Paper”), 2009, available at www.whitehouse. gov/assets/documents/Afghanistan_pakistan_white_paper_final.pdf, p. 1. 129 White House, “White Paper,” pp. 1–4. 130 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan, “Co-­Chairs’ statement, Pakistan Donors Conference, Tokyo, Japan, 17 April 2009.” 131 Theo Farrel’s evidence to UK House of Commons, as cited in House of Commons, Foreign Affairs Committee, Global Security, p. 100. 132 Ibid. 133 White House, “White Paper,” p. 2. 134 “Obama’s Afghan policy speech at West Point,” Washington Post, 1 December 2009. 135 Remark by Secretary Gates at the Hearing held by the Senate Armed Services Committee, 2 December 2009, cited in “Administration officials testify on U.S. strategy in Afghanistan,” Washington Post, 2 December 2009. 136 NATO Headquarters, International Security Assistance Force, “Commander’s Initial Assessment,” 30 August 2009, NATO International Security Assistance Force, Afghanistan, U.S. Forces, Afghanistan, Kabul, Afghanistan. 137 “Obama’s Afghan policy speech at West Point”; ISAF, “Commander’s initial assessment.” 138 Remark by Gates, the Senate Armed Services Committee, 2 December 2009. 139 Ibid. 10  Afghanistan: stabilization and counterinsurgency performance    1 Ivo H. Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound: The Bush Revolution in Foreign Policy, Washington D.C.: Brookings Institution, 2003, 100.    2 Ibid., p. 101; Bob Woodward, Bush at War, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2002, p. 48.    3 Michael E O’Hanlon, “Flawed masterpiece,” Foreign Affairs 81:3 (May/June 2002), 48.    4 While many attribute this success to innovative use of special forces and air power, Biddle identifies more traditional dimensions of war that made a

262   Notes c­ ritical difference. Stephen Biddle, “Afghanistan and the future of warfare,” Foreign Affairs 82:2 (March/April 2003).    5 Ahmed Rashid, Descent into Chaos: How the War Against Islamic Extremism is Being Lost in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Central Asia, New York: Allen Lane, 2008, p. 91.    6 Daalder and Lindsay, America Unbound, pp. 110–11.    7 O’Hanlon, “Flawed masterpiece,” p. 54.    8 For the importance of these indicators, see Jock Covey, Michael Dziedzic, and Leonard Hawley (eds) The Quest for Viable Peace: International Intervention and Strategies for Conflict Transformation, Washington D.C.: United States Institute for Peace Press, 2005.    9 World Bank, Afghanistan: State Building, Sustaining Growth, and Reducing Poverty, Washington D.C.: World Bank, 2005, p. 46.   10 Ibid.   11 William Maley, Rescuing Afghanistan, Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2006, pp. 34–5; cited also in David Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla: Fighting Small Wars in the Midst of a Big One, London: Hurst & Company, 2009, pp. 50–1.   12 World Bank, Afghanistan, p. 44.   13 Asian Development Bank, “Fighting corruption in Afghanistan,” p. 4; Discussion draft: Fighting corruption in Afghanistan: note prepared for ARTF donors meeting (Paris, 5 June 2008).   14 Transparency International, Global Corruption Report 2008, p. 302.   15 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 51.   16 World Bank, Afghanistan, p. 47.   17 Mark Sedra, “Security sector reform and state building in Afghanistan,” in Geoffrey Hayes and Mark Sedra (eds) Afghanistan: Transition under Threat, Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfred Laurier University Press, 2008, p. 194.   18 A/63/372-S/2008/617, paragraph 23.   19 Antonio Giustozzi, “The Afghan National Army: unwarranted hope?,” RUSI Journal 154:6 (December 2009), 37–8; Thom Shanker and John H. Cushman, “Reviews raise doubt on training of Afghan forces,” New York Times, 5 November 2009; Anthony Davis, “Home-­grown army: Afghan National Army,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, 12 December 2008;   20 Giustozzi, “The Afghan National Army,” p. 39.   21 Ibid., p. 41.   22 Seth G. Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” April 2008 Testimony presented before the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Subcommittee on the Middle East and South Asia on 2 April 2008. Reproduced as RAND Corporation Testimony series, Santa Monica, CA: RAND, 2008, p. 3.   23 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 201.   24 Ibid.; Barnett R. Rubin, “Saving Afghanistan,” Foreign Affairs 86:1 (January/ February 2007), 57–78, 68.   25 Inspectors General, U.S. Department of State and U.S. Department of Defense, Interagency Assessment of Afghanistan Police Training and Readiness, Washington D.C.: US Department of State and US Department of Defense, 2006, p. 1, cited in Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” p. 4.   26 Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” p. 4.   27 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 62.   28 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 200; Barnett Rubin, “Salvaging Afghanistan,” Testimony before the United States Senate Armed Services Committee, Barnett R. Rubin, Center on International Cooperation, New York University, 1 March 2007.   29 Rubin, “Salvaging Afghanistan.”   30 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 200, citing an interview in June 2006.

Notes   263   31 Aryn Baker and Bala Beluk, “Policing in Afghanistan,” Time Magazine, 21 October 2008.   32 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, pp. 61–2; see also Brookings Institution, Afghanistan Index, 21 January 2009.   33 Annual Report, Joint Coordination and Monitoring Board (March 2007– March 2008), cited in International Crisis Group, “Policing in Afghanistan: still searching for a strategy,” Asia Briefing No. 85, Kabul/Brussels, 18 December 2008, 3.   34 UN Development Programme, ANBP: Afghanistan’s New Beginnings Programme, available at www.undpanbp.org/introduction-­to-anbp/ (accessed 5 May 2009).   35 The Programme has so far disbanded 375 illegal groups in 43 districts, out of 84 districts targeted. Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 211.   36 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 209.   37 “Rights body warns of warlords’ success in elections,” Geneva: United Nations International Regional Information Networks (IRIN), 18 October 2005; Kimberly Marten, “Warlordism in comparative perspective,” International Security 31:3 (winter 2006–2007), 56.   38 Ibid.   39 Bonn Agreement, II-­2.   40 International Crisis Group, Afghanistan: Judicial Reform and Transitional Justice, Asia Report No. 45 (Kabul, Brussels: International Crisis Group, 28 January 2003), p. ii.   41 World Bank, Afghanistan, p. 61.   42 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 205.   43 Sedra, “Security sector reform,” p. 206.   44 Ibid.   45 Government of Afghanistan, Justice for All: A Comprehensive Needs Analysis for Justice in Afghanistan (Kabul, May 2005), available at www.cmi.no/pdf/?file=/ afghanistan/doc/Justice%20for%20all%20MOJ%20Afgh.pdf (accessed 10 August 2009).   46 Leigh Toomey and J. Alexander Their, “USI peace briefing: bridging modernity and tradition: rule of law and search for justice in Afghanistan” (Washington D.C.: US Institute for Peace, October 2007).   47 Rome Conference on Justice and Rule of Law in Afghanistan (2–3 July 2007), “Chairs conclusions” and “Joint Recommendations.”   48 Toomey and Their, “USI peace briefing.”   49 A/63/372, par. 27–9.   50 Ibid.   51 A/63/751 (2009), p. 8.   52 James Dobbins, Seth G. Jones, Keith Crane, Andrew Rathmell, Brett Steele, Richard Teltschik, and Anga R. Timilsina, The UN’s Role in Nation Building, RAND, 2005, cited also in Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” p. 4.   53 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 178.   54 Remark by Barnet Rubin in “From coalition to ISAF command in Afghanistan: the purpose and impact of the transition.” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 109th Congress, Second Session, 21 September 2006, 42.   55 Remark by Ambassador Boucher, 31 January 2008, “Afghanistan: a plan to turn the tide?” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 110th Congress, Second Session, 31 January 2008.   56 James F. Dobbins, After the Taliban: Nation-­building in Afghanistan, Washington D.C.: Potomac Books, 2008, p. 120.   57 Secretary of Defense Robert M. Gates, Submitted Statement, Senate Armed Services Committee, 27 January 2009.

264   Notes   58 Robert M. Perito, “The U.S. experience with Provincial Reconstruction Teams in Afghanistan: lessons identified,” United States Institute of Peace Special Report, October 2005, 11.   59 The United Kingdom Parliament, Select Committee on Defence, Thirteenth Report, available at www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm/200607/cmselect/ cmdfence/408/40805.htm#n3, 18 July 2007, p. 36 (accessed 4 October 2009).   60 Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” p. 2.   61 Ibid.   62 Brookings Institution, Afghanistan Index, p. 26.   63 The White House, The National Security Strategy of the United States [hereafter NSS], Washington, DC (September 2002) and the NSS (March 2006).   64 Marten, “Warlordism in comparative perspective,” p. 56.   65 Mark Sedra, “Afghanistan: democracy before peace?,” Foreign Policy in Focus (FPIF ) Special Report, September 2004.   66 Sedra, “Afghanistan.”   67 Hamish Nixon and Richard Ponzio, “Building democracy in Afghanistan: the state building agenda and international engagement,” International Peacekeeping 14:1, 35.   68 US Department of State, 2007 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices in Afghanistan, www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2007/100611.htm (accessed 7 May 2009).   69 Five focus areas addressed in the Plan are: commemoration of the suffering of victims; institutional reform and vetting; truth-­seeking; reconciliation; and criminal accountability. International Center for Transitional Justice, “Challenges to Peace and Justice in Afghanistan,” available at www.ictj.org/ static/2009/english/factsheets/afghanistan.html (accessed 7 May 2009).   70 Jan Koehler and Christoph Zuercher, “Statebuilding, conflict and narcotics in Afghanistan: the view from below,” International Peacekeeping 14:1 (January 2007), 62–74.   71 Kenneth Katzman, “Afghanistan: politics, government formation and performance,” Congressional Research Service, 26 June 2009, 1.   72 Ibid.   73 Elizabeth Rubin, “Karzai in his labyrinth,” New York Times, 9 August 2009.   74 Ibid.   75 Cyrus Hodes and Mark Sedra, “The search for security in post-­Taliban Afghanistan,” Adelphi Paper 391 (2007), 31.   76 Ibid.   77 Stephen Biddle, “Is it worth it? The difficult case for war in Afghanistan,” The American Interest, July–August 2009.   78 Biddle, “Is it worth it?”   79 Aryn Baker, “Taliban advance: is Pakistan nearing collapse?,” Time, 23 April 2009.   80 Jayshree Bajoria, “Pakistan’s new generation of terrorists,” Council On Foreign Relations, 6 February 2008.   81 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 148.   82 Ibid.   83 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 223.   84 Ibid., p. 265.   85 The Commission on the Prevention of WMD Proliferation and Terrorism, World At Risk: The Report of the Commission on the Prevention of WMD Proliferation and Terrorism, New York: Vintage Books, December 2008, p. 69.   86 Ibid.   87 Jean Paul Blanchard, “Renowned journalist Ahmed Rashid discusses US policy in Afghanistan and Pakistan,” The Stanford Review, 29 May 2009.

Notes   265   88 Anatol Lieven, “For America, the problem is Pakistan,” Financial Times, 7 April 2009; The World at Risk, p. 69; Rashid, Descent in Chaos, pp. 266–8;   89 The World at Risk, p. 69; Rashid, Descent into Chaos, pp. 266–8.   90 Maley, Rescuing Afghanistan, p. 60; Antonio Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov and Laptop: The Neo-­Taliban Insurgency in Afghanistan, London: Hurst & Company, 2007, p. 1.   91 Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov and Laptop, p. 2; Maley, Rescuing Afghanistan, p. 60.   92 Ibid., p. 5.   93 Kilcullen, Accidental Guerrilla, p. 52.   94 Hodes and Sedra, “The search for security,” 9; see also Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov and Laptop, pp. 24–6.   95 Hodes and Sedra, “The search for security,” p. 19; Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 268.   96 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 147.   97 Hodes and Sedra, “The search for security,” p. 9.   98 Ibid., p. 31.   99 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 270. 100 Ibid., pp. 274–5. 101 Dobbins, p. 125; Michael Bhatia, Kevin Lanigan and Philip Wilkinson, “Minimal investments, minimal results: the failure of security policy in Afghanistan,” IREU Briefing Paper, June 2004, 1–2. 102 Rowan Scarborough, “Doubts mount on Taliban surge: Taliban recruitment outpaces efforts of U.S., NATO forces,” Washington Times, 29 July 2008. 103 Rashid, Descent into Chaos, p. 223. 104 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 60. 105 Maley, Rescuing Afghanistan, p. 35; cited also in Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, pp. 50–1. 106 Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov and Laptop, pp. 16–21. 107 Ibid., p. 18. 108 Christian Parenti, “Taliban rising,” The Nation, 12 October 2006. 109 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 47. 110 Ibid., pp. 60–1. 111 Ibid. 112 Ibid., p. 61. 113 Ibid. 114 Bhatia, Lanigan and Wilkinson, “Minimal investments, minimal results,” p. 2. 115 Ibid. 116 Ashley J. Tallis, “Reconciling with the Taliban? Toward an alternative grand strategy in Afghanistan,” Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 2009, 43. 117 Joseph Collins, “Afghanistan: the path to victory,” Joint Forces Quarterly 54:3 (2009), 60. 118 Ibid. 119 Lieutenant General David W. Barno, U.S. Army, Retired, “Fighting ‘the other war’: counterinsurgency strategy in Afghanistan, 2003–2005,” Military Review, September to October 2007, p. 34. 120 Giustozzi, Koran, Kalashnikov and Laptop, p. 164; Barno. pp. 33–4. 121 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 66. 122 Ibid., p. 67. 123 Stuart Gordon, “Understanding the priorities of civil–military co-­operation,” The Journal of Humanitarian Assistance, 13 July 2001, available at http: www.jha. ac/articles/a068.htm (accessed 25 August 2009). See also Hugo Slim, “With or against? Humanitarian agencies and coalition counter-­insurgency,” Center for Humanitarian Dialogue, Opinion (July 2004).

266   Notes 124 Barnett R. Rubin, “Peace building and state-­building in Afghanistan: constructing sovereignty for whose security?,” Third World Quarterly 27:1 (2006), 183. 125 Jonathan Goodhand, “Poppy, politics and state building,” in Hayes and Sedra, p. 58. 126 Christopher Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” CRS Report for Congress, 12 August 2009, p. 4. 127 Ibid., p. 2. 128 Ibid., p. 3. 129 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 63. 130 Goodhand, “Poppy, politics and state building,” p. 58. 131 Ibid., p. 59. 132 Tim Youngs, “Afghanistan: the culmination of the Bonn process,” House of Commons Library, Research Paper 05/72 (26 October 2005), 30. 133 Ibid. 134 Goodhand, “Poppy, politics and state building,” p. 57. 135 Youngs, “Afghanistan: the culmination,” p. 30. 136 Kilcullen, The Accidental Guerrilla, p. 65. 137 Blanchard, “Afghanistan: narcotics and U.S. policy,” p. 12. 138 Ibid. 139 www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2009/06/22/the_2009_failed_states_index (accessed 8 May 2009). 140 NSS 2002. 141 For a similar assessment see Susan Rice, “The New National Security Strategy: focus on failed states,” Policy Brief 116, The Brookings Institution, February 2003; Susan Rice, “Beyond ‘democratic peace,’ ” Washington Post, 16 December 2005. 142 Marten, “Warlordism in comparative perspective,” p. 45. 143 Carlotta Gall, “Increasing accounts of fraud cloud Afghan vote,” New York Times, 30 August 2009. 144 “Afghanistan: an election for some? Afghan voters discuss the election,” New York Times, Video, 29 August 2009. 145 Carter Malkasian and Jerry Meyerie, “How is Afghanistan different from Al Anbar?,” February 2009. Center for Naval Analysis (CAN), 6. 146 Ibid., p. 7. 147 Dexter Filkins, “Groundwork is laid for new troops in Afghanistan,” New York Times, 31 August 2009. 148 “From insurgency to insurrection,” Economist, 22–28 August 2009, 21. 149 Biddle, “Is it worth it?” 150 Ibid. 151 Ibid. 152 Ibid. 153 Filkins, “Groundwork is laid for new troops.” 154 Biddle, “Is it worth it?” 11  Afghanistan: from adequate to dwindling support    1 UNSCR 1368 (2001), UNSCR 1373 (2001).    2 Christopher Hill, “Renationalizing or regrouping? EU foreign policy since 11 September 2001,” JCMS: Journal of Common Market Studies 42:1 (2004), p. 146; citing Ann Deighton, “The eleventh of September and beyond: NATO,” in Lawrence Freedman, Superterroism: Policy Responses, New York: Blackwell, 2002, pp. 119–20.    3 “Full text of Prime Minister’s Address,” Telegraph, 11 September 2001.    4 “U.S.: world reacts to terrorist attacks,” Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, 11 September 2001.

Notes   267    5 “Reactions from around the world,” New York Times, 12 September 2001; Hill, “Renationalizing or regrouping?,” p. 146.    6 Cited in “Reactions from around the world,” New York Times, 12 September 2001.    7 Ibid.    8 House of Commons Library, “Operation Enduring Freedom and the conflict in Afghanistan: an update,” Research Paper 2:81 (31 October 2001), 10. The evidence is presented in Responsibility for the Terrorist Atrocities in the United States, 11 September 2001.    9 S/2001/947 (2001).   10 House of Commons Hansard Debates, House of Commons, 4 October 2001, column 672; cited in House of Commons Library, “Operation Enduring Freedom and the conflict in Afghanistan,” 10–11.   11 House of Commons Hansard Debates, House of Commons, 4 October 2001, column 678.   12 Ibid.   13 Hill, “Renationalizing or regrouping?,” p. 148.   14 Ibid.   15 “Washington Post poll: attack on Afghanistan,” Washington Post, 8 October 2001.   16 Alan Travis, “British do not see Islam as threat to values,” Guardian, 12 October 2001, citing a Guardian/ICM poll.   17 Ibid.   18 Gallup international poll on terrorism in the US (figures), available at www. peace.ca/galluppollonterrorism.htm (accessed 10 August 2009). The data also indicate, however, that the majority public preferred to bring to trial those responsible for the attacks once their identity was known.   19 These include: S/RES/1378 (2001), S/RES/1383 (2001), S/RES/1386 (2001) and S/RES/1401 (2002).   20 S/PV.4414, 13 November 2001.   21 Steven Erlanger, “A nation challenged: London; Britain presses U.S. for ‘nation building’ in Afghanistan,” New York Times, 12 October 2001.   22 S/PV.4414 (2001), p. 5.   23 UK House of Commons, Defence Committee, “The UK Deployment to Afghanistan,” Fifth Report of Session 2005–2006: Report, together with formal minutes, oral and written evidence, HC 558, published on 6 April 2006, 11.   24 DFID, “A changing nation: DFID support to Afghanistan.”   25 See remarks of the UK representative at the UN Security Council, for instance. S/PV. 4414 (2001), p. 9.   26 German Marshall Fund poll, cited in Vincent Morelli and Paul Belkin, “NATO in Afghanistan: a test of the transatlantic Alliance,” Congressional Research Service, 7–5700, 11 March 2009, 13.   27 Susan Rice, “The new national security srategy: focus on failed states,” Policy Brief #116, Brookings Institution, February 2003; Susan Rice, “Beyond ‘democratic peace,’ ” Washington Post, 16 December 2005. See also Lawrence J. Korb and Robert O. Boorstin, Integrated Power: A National Security Strategy for the 21st Century, Washington D.C.: Center for American Progress, 2005, p. 7.   28 Rice, “The New National Security Strategy,” pp. 2–4.   29 In the Wake of War: Improving U.S. Post-­Conflict Capabilities: Report of an Independent Task Force, Council on Foreign Relations, 27 July 2005, p. 6.   30 Ibid. p. 13.   31 The Bush presidency witnessed worsening image and acceptance of the US role in world affairs worldwide. The Pew Global Attitudes Project shows that those who viewed the US favorably declined by 20 to 47 percent in key European coun-

268   Notes tries between 2000 and 2008. The Pew Global Attitudes Project, “Global public opinion in the Bush years (2001–2008),” 18 December 2008.   32 Senate Foreign Relations Committee, 26 June 2002, pp. 8–9; Sean M. Maloney, “The International Security Assistance Force: the origins of a stabilization force,” Canadian Military Journal, summer 2003, 8–9.   33 Maloney, “The International Security Assistance Force,” p. 8.   34 House of Commons, Select Committee on Defence, Thirteenth Report, column 22. See also Saki Dockrill, “After September 11: globalization of security beyond transatlantic alliance,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1:1S (2003), 3.   35 Dockrill, “After September 11,” p. 3.   36 Morelli and Belkin, “NATO in Afghanistan,” pp. 6 and 13.   37 Dan Bilefsky, “Europe asked to send Afghanistan more troops,” New York Times, 8 October 2008; “Gates doubts Europeans’ war commitment,” Associated Press, New York Times, 26 October 2007.   38 Morelli and Belkin, “NATO in Afghanistan,” p. 10.   39 “Troops not winning in Afghanistan, say Britons,” Angus Reid Global Monitor, 25 December 2007.   40 Globe and Mail/CTV, “The state of Canadian public opinion on Afghanistan,” 16 July 2007, p.  22, available at Afghanistan Conflict Monitor, www.aghanconflictmonitor.org/2007/07/Canadian-­public.html (accessed 2 September 2009).   41 “Only one-­in-four Dutch back Afghan mission,” Angus Reid Global Monitor, 8 December 2007.   42 Leon T. Hadar, “The real war on terrorism is in Pakistan, not Iraq,” Cato Institute, 19 October 2003. Available at www.cato.org/pub_display.php?pub_id=3274 (accessed 1 September 2009).   43 Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 109th Congress, Second Session, “From coalition to ISAF command in Afghanistan: the purpose and impact of the transition,” 21 September 2006.   44 Ibid., p. 21.   45 “Kerry demands new Iraq policy,” 20 September 2007, available at www.johnkerry.com/news/entry/kerry_demands_new_iraq_policy (accessed 7 May 2009).   46 Cited in Robert Burns, “Mullen: Afghanistan isn’t top priority,” USA Today, 11 December 2007.   47 “Afghanistan: a plan to turn the tide?,” Hearing before the Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 110th Congress, Second Session, 31 January 2008, 2.   48 After-­action report, Gen. Barry R McCaffrey, “Visit NATO SHAPE Headquarters and Afghanistan,” 21–26 July 2008.   49 Ibid.   50 Statement before U.S. House of Representatives Committee on Foreign Affairs Subcommittee on the Middle East and South Asia, “U.S. strategy for Afghanistan: achieving peace and stability in the graveyard of empires,” by Karin von Hippel, PhD, 2 April 2009, available at http://foreignaffairs.house. gov/111/hip040209.pdf (accessed 10 May 2009), citing Metrics Brief, February 2009, Strategic Advisory Group, ISAF HQ, 9 March 2009 and ABC news/ BBC/ARD Poll, 9 February 2009.   51 Ibid., p. 4; Afghanistan Index, Brookings Institution, 3 March 2009.   52 Asia Foundation, Afghanistan in 2008: A Survey of the Afghan People, Kabul, 2008, p. 5.   53 Ibid., p. 16.   54 Antonio Donini, “Local perceptions of assistance to Afghanistan,” International Peacekeeping 14:1 (2007), 164.   55 Remark by Barnet Rubin in “From coalition to ISAF command in Afghanistan:

Notes   269 the purpose and impact of the transition,” Hearing before Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, 109th Congress, Second Session, 21 September 2006, 42.   56 Donini, “Local perceptions of assistance,” 164.   57 Ibid.   58 Ibid., p. 165.   59 Ibid.; see also Seth G. Jones, “Getting back on track in Afghanistan,” Testimony presented before the House Foreign Affairs Committee, Subcommittee on the Middle East and South Asia, 2 April 2008..   60 Donini, “Local perceptions of assistance,” p. 164.   61 Ibid.   62 “Fighting corruption in Afghanistan: a roadmap for strategy and action,” Informal Discussion Paper by staff of Asian Development Bank, UK Department for International Development, United Nations Development Programme, United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, and the World Bank, Draft for Discussion (16 February 2007), 8, citing Integrity Watch Afghanistan, “Afghan perceptions of corruption: a survey across thirteen provinces,” January 2007, preliminary draft.   63 Integrity Watch Afghanistan, “Afghan perceptions of corruption.”   64 Ibid.   65 Donini, “Local perceptions of assistance to Afghanistan,” p. 165.   66 Ibid.   67 Asia Foundation, p. 27.   68 Rubin, “Salvaging Afghanistan.”   69 ABC News/Washington Post Poll: Afghanistan, “On eve of Afghan election, waning U.S. support for war,” 19 August 2009, available at http://abcnews.go. com/images/PollingUnit/1093a2Afghanistan.pdf (accessed 1 September 2009). See also Angus Reid Strategies, “Americans still support Afghanistan mission; Canadians and Britons do not,” 22 July 2009, available at www.angusreidstrategies.com/uploads/pages/pdfs/2009.07.21_Afghanistan.pdf (accessed 1 September 2009).   70 Jennifer Agiesta and Jon Cohen, “Public opinion in U.S. turns against Afghan war,” Washington Post, 20 August 2009. See also ABC News/Washington Post Poll, 19 August 2009.   71 Ibid.   72 Ibid.; nearly twice as many, 45 percent, wanted to decrease the number of military forces there.   73 CBS News, “Poll: Americans back troops Surge, oppose withdrawal date,” 9 December 2009. See also CBS News/New York Times Poll, 9 December 2009.   74 Ibid.   75 Ibid.   76 John Aloysius Farrell, “Why one Democrat voted ‘no’ on Afghanistan: rep. James McGovern asks, ‘what is the exit strategy?,’ ” Global Post, 26 May 2009.   77 Ibid.   78 Agiesta and Cohen, “Public opinion in U.S. turns against Afghan war.”   79 CBS News/New York Times Poll, 9 December 2009.   80 “Is the war in Afghanistan worth fighting?,” Washington Post, 31 August 2009.   81 Biddle, “Is it worth it?”   82 George F. Will, “Time to get out of Afghanistan,” Washington Post, 1 September 2009.   83 “Is the War in Afghanistan worth fighting?,” Washington Post, 31 August 2009.   84 “From insurgency to insurrection,” Economist, 22 August 2009.   85 Angus Reid Strategies.   86 Richard Auxier, “Few in NATO support call for additional forces in Afghanistan,” Pew Research Center, 31 August 2009.

270   Notes   87 “Britons reject Gordon Brown’s troop surge in Afghanistan,” Angus Reid Public Opinion, 8 December 2009.   88 “Canadians decline expanded role in Afghanistan,” Angus Reid Global Monitor, available at www.angus-­reid.com/polls/view/Canadians_decline_expanded_ role_in_afghanistan/ (accessed 9 January 2009).   89 “60 percent in UK unconvinced about Afghan mission,” The Associated Press, 16 March 2009.   90 UK House of Commons Foreign Affairs Committee, “Global security: Afghanistan and Pakistan,” Eighth Report of Session 2008–2009, London: Stationery Office (2 August 2009), 9–10.   91 Ibid.   92 Interview with Christopher Langton, International Institute for Strategic Studies, London, 26 August 2009, who stressed to the author the importance of strategic communication.   93 “Afghans vote, against backdrop of threats: low turnout in many areas could raise questions about legitimacy of election,” Pamela Constable and Joshua Partlow, Washington Post, 21 August 2009.   94 International Republic Institute, “Afghanistan public opinion survey: July 16–26, 2009,” available at www.iri.org/mena/afghanistan/pdfs/2009%20 August%2014%20Survey%20of%20Afghan%20Public%20Oinion%20 July%2016–26%202009.pdf (accessed 1 September 2009); cited also in the Economist, “From insurgency to insurrection,” p. 20.   95 Ibid.   96 IRI poll, p. 7.   97 Asia Foundation, Afghanistan in 2009 (Kabul: Asia Foundation, 2009), p. 3, available at http://asiafoundation.org/resources/pdfs/Afghanistanin2009.pdf (accessed 9 January 2010).   98 IRI poll, p. 8.   99 Ibid., p. 9. The Asia Foundation finds the same tendency where 42 percent cited insecurity as the most important reason for pessimism, but this was reduced from 50 percent in 2008. Afghanistan in 2009, p. 3. 100 Ibid., p. 9. 101 Ibid., p. 12. 102 Ibid., p. 17. 103 Ibid., p. 39. 104 Ibid. 105 Joshua Partlow, “Afghanistan parliament’s rejection of Karzai cabinet picks signals power shift,” Washington Post, 4 January 2010. 106 IRI poll, p. 14. 107 “From insurgency to insurrection,” p. 21. 12  Legitimacy and the conditions of success 1 On the “liberal” connotations of many of peacebuilding missions, see Roland Paris, At War’s End: Building Peace after Civil Conflict, Cambridge University Press, 2004. 2 See, for example, Jack Snyder, “Moral overstretch: provoking resistance against the American hegemonic order?,” Fathom (2001), available at www.preview.fathom. com/index.jhtml; Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of The Great Powers: Economic Change and Military Conflict from 1500 to 2000 (New York: Random House, 1987).

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Index

Abdullah, Abdullah 213 Abu Ghraib prison inmate abuse 132–3, 152–3 Afghan National Army (ANA) 166, 183, 193 Afghan National Civil Order Police (ANCOP) 184, 193 Afghan National Police (ANP) 183–4 Afghanistan: 9/11 attacks, support in wake of 161–2, 200–2; Afghan people, support from 201, 206–9, 212–13; bases of mission in 19–20; central government, weakness of 182–3; civilian expertise, lack of 186–7; counterterrorism 159–60, 168–9, 180–1, 189–90; “democratic peace” thesis 159, 168, 178, 187–8; democratization 166–7, 168, 169; development assistance 167; ethical bases, de facto 159, 168, 178; ethical bases, formal 163–7; ethnic divisiveness 188; failed states, and security 172–3, 196–7; government corruption 182–3, 207–8; human rights violations 187–8; institution-building initiatives 185–6; intervening states, ambivalence of 178–9, 200, 205, 215; Iraq, diversion of attention to 173–4, 206; justice sector reforms 185–6; legitimacy, bases for 15–16, 180–1, 215, 219; light-footprint approach 160, 172–3, 183, 200–15; London Conference 162, 165–6, 167; militant groups, popular support for 208; military operation 159; NATO, role of 169, 174–5, 177, 193–4, 201, 203, 204–5; Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) 159, 161, 163, 168, 174, 180, 181–2, 201, 214; Paris Conference 162, 166, 167;

peacekeeping 174; power-political bases, de facto 172–7, 178; power-political bases, formal 159–60, 168–71, 178; Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) 162–3; public opinion 202–3; reconstruction 167, 174, 186–7, 203; resources, lack of 9, 181–2, 198, 204–5, 206; security issues 208; security sector reform 183–5; self-defense, and global security 163–4, 178, 200, 201, 214; socio-economic conditions 207; stability operations 159, 160, 165; state-building 182–6, 204; success, and legitimacy 15–16, 219; support 20–1, 201–4, 206–9; Taliban in 180, 191–2, 199, 206, 208–9; Tokyo Conference 167; UN Security Council Resolutions 201, 203; see also counter-narcotics (Afghanistan) ; counterinsurgency (Afghanistan); Surge Strategy (Afghanistan) Afghanistan Compact (London Conference) 162, 165–6, 167, 170–1 Aideed, Mohamed Farrah 63, 65, 73, 77, 78 al-Jafari, Ibrahim 107 al-Maliki, Nuri Kamal 107, 109, 129, 137, 143–4, 154 Al Qaeda, relocation in Pakistan 161, 181–2, 189–90, 191, 198 Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) 108, 109 al-Sadr, Moqtada 129, 137 al-Zarqawi, Abu Musab 108 Albright, Madeleine 61, 71, 74–5 Allawi, Iyad 107 Babangida, Ibrahim 25, 28 Bacevich, Andrew 210 Balladur, Édouard 92, 101

Index   281 Barno, David 173 Beinart, Peter 254n42 Berger, Samuel 204 Betts, Richard 133 Biddle, Stephen 139, 210 Biden, Joseph 147, 206, 226n46 Blair, Tony 148, 202 Blix, Hans 123 Bonn Agreement 161, 162, 165, 170, 173, 182, 185, 195 Booh-Booh, Roger 88 Bosnian conflict: air strikes, effects of 44, 46, 47–8, 52–3, 55–6, 59–60; arms embargo, lifting of 56, 57; Belgrade, sanctions against 46; coercive diplomacy 44, 57–61, 219–20; conflict, costs of 50; consistency, and legitimacy 221; credibility, UN/ NATO 59, 60–1; cross-Atlantic relations 51, 56, 61; ethical bases, de facto 48–9, 58–9; ethical bases, formal 44–8, 57–8; ethnic cleansing 42, 45, 48; France, involvement of 45, 58; humanitarian intervention 44, 45, 49–50, 54; humanitarian law 46; multilateral security 48; NATO, role of 44, 46, 47–8, 49–50, 55–6, 58, 59–60; neutrality, to enforcement 58–9; Operation Deliberate Force 44, 58; “peace support”, UN sanctioned 43–4; peacekeeping 45; performance 51–2, 51–3; power-political bases, de facto 50–1, 60–1; power-political bases, formal 49–50, 59–60; public opinion 54–5; Rapid Reaction Force (RRF) 53–4, 57; reputation, crisis of 53–4; safe areas 46, 47, 49, 53, 55, 57–8; Sarajevo, siege of 44–5, 46; sovereignty 54; Srebrenica massacre 57–8; stability operations 5–6; success, and legitimacy 218; UN Security Council resolutions 45, 48–9; US, role of 58, 59, 60–1; withdrawal, implications of 60–1; see also UNPROFOR (Bosnia) Boutros-Ghali, Boutros 66 Brahimi, Lakhdar 168, 203 Bremer III, L. Paul 106 Bush, George 3, 46, 55 Bush, George W. (Somalia) 63, 65–8, 70, 72, 73, 97 Carter, Jimmy 53 Cheney, Dick 70

Clausewitzian trinity (Multidimensional Trinity Cubed Plus) 13–14 Clinton, Bill 55, 56, 57, 58, 61, 65, 69, 71, 74–5, 82, 95–6 Coalition pour la Défense de la République (CDR) 86 Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) (Iraq) 106, 124–6, 127 coercive diplomacy, Bosnia 44, 57–61, 219–20 Compaore, Blaise 26 containment 62; Bosnia 50–1, 52, 54; legitimation, role of 11; Liberia 33–4, 35–6, 41 “continuing authority thesis” 111 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide 85, 90–1, 101–2 Cook, Robin 57 counter-narcotics (Afghanistan): Afghan National Drug Control Strategy 171; Afghanistan Compact 170–1; Bonn Agreement 170, 195; and counterinsurgency 176, 195; governance problems 196; opium production, increase in 194–5; peace-building 196; programs 195; Taliban insurgency, strength of 195 counterinsurgency (Afghanistan): aid, partial versus impartial 194; civilian and military components, integration of 194; and counter-narcotics 176, 195; governance problems 192–3, 199; hesitancy, international 205–6; judicial sector reform 193; NATO performance, inadequacy of 193–4; and Pakistan 176–7; peacekeeping/ reconstruction aspects of 214; population security 193; support, dwindling of 200, 214; Taliban, revival of 190–2, 199; tasks 169–70; unpreparedness for 193 counterinsurgency (Iraq) 4, 125–6, 136 counterterrorism: Afghanistan 159–60, 168–9, 180–1, 189–90; Iraq 134 Dallaire, Romeo 88, 98 Dandeker, Christopher xiii “democratic peace” thesis: Afghanistan 159, 168, 178, 187–8; Iraq 114, 131–3 democratization (Afghanistan) 166–7, 168, 169

282   Index democratization (Iraq): alienation and disequilibrium, creation of 127–9; Bush administration 112–13; Constitution, drafting of 129; elections, destabilizing effects of 128–9; as end-state 156; importance of 118; Iraqization program 127, 130–1; military action, US rationale for 104; violence, intensification of 127 Department for International Development (DFID) (UK) 203 Disbandment of Illegal Armed Groups (DIAG) program 184–5 Doe, Samuel 23, 24, 25, 28 Donini, Antonio 207–8 Dostum, Rashid 213 Eagleburger, Lawrence S. 68, 74 ECOMOG (ECOWAS Cease-fire Monitoring Group): branded as “illegal” 38; enforcement measures 30–1; peace creation strategy 23–4; peace enforcement 24; peacekeeping 26, 27–9; reinforcement of 33 ECOWAS (Economic Community of West African States) 22; authority/ consent of 26–7; constitutive documents, and intervention 26; creation of 32; leaders, concerns of 25; peace plan 23–4, 30–1; Standing Mediation Committee (SMC) 23; US, assistance from 38–9, 40 ethical bases, de facto: Afghanistan 159, 168, 178; Bosnian conflict 48–9, 58–9; Iraq 105, 114; Liberia 29–31, 40; Rwanda 86, 92–3; Somalia 69–72 ethical bases, formal: Afghanistan 163–7; Bosnian conflict 44–8, 57–8; Iraq 105, 109–13; Liberia 24–9; Rwanda 86, 88–92; Somalia 65–9 ethnic cleansing 42, 45, 48 exit strategy 9 Fabbri, Fabio 81 failed states: Afghanistan 172–3, 196–7; Iraq 118, 119, 134–6 Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA) 182 Franks, Tommy 117 Future of Iraq Project 248n10, 255n74 Garner, Jay M. 106 Garrison, William 65

Gates, Robert 172, 175 Genocide Convention see Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide Gephard, Richard 147 Gow, James xiii, 2, 13 Gray, Christine 145 Habyarimana, Juvenal 86, 94, 95 Hippel, Karin von 207 Howe, Jonathan 64 human rights violations: Afghanistan 187–8; Liberia 23; Rwanda 88 humanitarian interventions: Bosnian conflict 44, 45, 49–50, 51, 54; Iraq 226n54; Liberia 22–7, 34–7; Rwanda 88; Somalia 65–8, 75–6 Huntington, Samuel P. 5 I-ANDS (Interim Afghanistan National Development Strategy) 162 ICFY (International Conference on Former Yugoslavia) 45 IGC (Iraqi Governing Council) 127, 128 INPFL (Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia) 23, 24, 25, 33, 35 Iraq: “Bush doctrine” 104–5; civilian expertise, lack of 135–6; Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) 106, 124–6, 127; coherence, in legitimation 221; counterinsurgency 4, 125–6, 136; counterterrorism 134; “democratic peace” thesis 114, 131–3; democratization 126–31; ethical bases, de facto 105, 114; ethical bases, formal 105, 109–13; ethno-sectarian war, development of 122; failed states, and stability operations 118, 119, 134–6; institutional reforms 118; justice system reforms 131; lawlessness, unexpected 124–5; legitimacy, bases of 18–19, 121, 155, 156–7; mission transformation, failure of 19, 124–6; nation-building 113, 117, 135; Operation Iraqi Freedom 106–9; peacekeeping 135; performance, opposition based on 149–53; police, and ethno-sectarian allegiances 130; post-war operation, expected “easiness” of 117–18; power-political bases, de facto 105, 118–20; power-political bases, formal 105,

Index   283 115–18; pre-emption doctrine 111, 112, 143–7, 156, 157; reconstruction 126; rule of law 130–1; sectarian violence 108; security situation, deterioration of 107; self-defense 142; Shia uprisings 108; sovereignty 107; stability operation 3–4, 106, 119, 122, 124, 134–5, 140, 142, 156; strategy, and law 158; success, and legitimacy 218–19; support issue in 19; Transitional Administrative Law (TAL) 107; Transitional National Assembly elections 107; UN Security Council resolutions 106, 109–15, 133–4, 151, 155; unilateral action (US), consequences of 123–4; war, rationalizations for 104, 120–1; WMD intelligence failures 115–17, 122; see also Surge Strategy Iraq ISAF (International Security Assistance Force) (Afghanistan) 159, 160, 162–3, 174, 191–2 Islamic Supreme Council of Iraq (SCIRI) 107, 109 Janowitz, Morris 5 Jones, James 130 Juppé, Alain 91, 92 justice sector reforms: Afghanistan 185–6; Iraq 131 Karzai, Hamid 162, 163, 170, 182, 187, 188, 196, 197, 212–13 Kerry, John 206 Kilcullen, David 184, 192, 195 legitimacy: Afghanistan 180–1, 215; bases of 13–16, 14; Bosnian conflict 221; Clausewitzian trinity 13–14; as “crasis” xiii, 2; as dynamic process 13; empirical observation, benefits of 13; Iraq 18–19, 121, 155, 156–7, 218–19; Liberia 22, 220–1; notion of xii–xiii; performance 14–15; practical impact of 15; Rwanda 103, 221; support 14; see also success legitimation, role of: coherence 220–1; containment 11; counterinsurgency 11; ethical bases 10–11; humanitarian concerns, and human rights law 10; instability, and terrorism 11; international peace, threats to 10; legal bases 10; multilateral security 10; national interests 9–10;

overstretch issues 12; performance 12; positional interests 12; power-political bases 11–12; reconstruction 11; state-building 11 Liberia: Abuja I accord 40; AFL (Armed Forces of Liberia) 23, 35; Anglophone dominance, accusation of 28; consistency, and legitimacy 220–1; containment 33–4, 35–6, 41; ethical bases, de facto 29–31, 40; ethical bases, formal 24–9; human rights violations 23; humanitarian mission 22–7, 34–7; legitimacy, bases of 22, 220–1; Liberian Civil War 1989–1997 22; material assistance, lack of 38; Monrovia, crisis in 25, 27–8, 34, 35; Nigeria, position of 25, 28, 29, 31–3; NPFL (National Patriotic Front of Liberia) 23, 25, 27, 28, 33, 36; OAU (Organization of African Unity) 23–34, 27, 29; operational costs, controversy over 29; partiality, accusations of 34–5; peace creation 23–34, 41; peace negotiations 24; peacekeeping, and peace enforcement 34; performance 34–6; power-political bases, de facto 33–4; power-political bases, formal 31–3; regional security 29–30, 37–8; security mechanisms, need for 29; SMC (Standing Mediation Committee) 25, 26, 27–8, 30; sovereignty issue 26, 41; stalemate, political/military 35; strategic concerns 22–3; success, and legitimacy 217–18; support 36–8, 38–40; ULIMO (United Liberation Movement of Liberia for Democracy) 35, 36; UNOMIL (UN Observer Mission in Liberia) 24, 28; see also ECOMOG; ECOWAS Libya 32–3 light-footprint approach, Afghanistan 160, 172–3, 183, 200–15 London Conference 2006, Afghanistan 162, 165–6, 167, 170–1 low-intensity conflicts (LICs) 2, 223n8 Major, John 45 Maley, William 192 Mandela, Nelson 97 Mazowiecki, Tadeusz 57 McCaffrey, Barry R. 206 McChrystal, Stanley 195, 209

284   Index Michalski, Milena xiii, 13 military operations other than war (MOOTW) 2 Milosevic, Slobodan 43, 60 Mohaqeq, Mohammad 213 Monrovia, crisis in 25, 27–8, 34, 35 Montgomery, Thomas 65 Morgenthau, Hans 226n45 Mouvement Révolutionnaire National pour le Dévelopment (MRND) 86 multilateral security 62; Bosnian conflict 48; legitimation, role of 10; Rwanda 92–3; Somalia 66, 69–70, 70–1, 74–5; success, and legitimacy 216 multilateralism policy, of Clinton 71–2 Musharraf, Pervez 190 Nagl, John 210 nation-building: Iraq 113, 117, 135; Somalia 64; stability operations 8 National Security Strategy, US 111, 112, 114, 116, 118, 155–6, 159, 168 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization): Afghanistan 169, 171, 174–5, 177, 193–4, 201, 203, 204–5; Bosnia 6, 17, 44, 46, 47–8, 49–50, 55–6, 58, 59–60; Iraq 149–53 NPFL (National Patriotic Front of Liberia) 23, 25, 27, 28, 33, 36 Ntaryamira, Cyprien 86 Nunn, Sam 67 OAU (Organization of African Unity) 23–34, 27, 29, 97 Obama, Barack see  Surge Strategy (Afghanistan) Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance (ORHA) (US) 106 Operation Deliberate Force (NATO) 44, 58 Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) 19, 20, 159, 161, 163, 168, 174, 180, 181–2, 201, 214 Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) 106 Operation Turquoise 87, 92, 97–8, 101–2 operational environment, complexity of xiii, 2, 5 Pakistan: Al Qaeda, relocation in 161, 181–2, 189–90, 191, 198; counterinsurgency operations 176–7; Taliban, support for 191

Paris Conference, Afghanistan 162, 166, 167 peacekeeping: Afghanistan 214; Bosnian conflict 45, 50–1; Iraq 135; Liberia 23–4, 26, 27–9, 30–1, 34; Somalia 63, 64, 71 Pelosi, Nancy 147, 151 performance: Afghanistan 193–4; Bosnian conflict 51–2, 51–3; Iraq 149–53; legitimacy 12, 14–15, 217; Liberia 34–6; Rwanda 86, 98–9; Somalia 75–9 Perry, William 59 Powell, Colin 46, 70, 115–16 power-political bases, de facto: Afghanistan 172–7, 178; Bosnian conflict 50–1, 60–1; Iraq 105, 118–20; Liberia 33–4; Rwanda 86, 95–8; Somalia 73–4 power-political bases, formal: Afghanistan 159–60, 168–71, 178; Bosnian conflict 49–50, 59–60; Iraq 105, 115–18; legitimation, role of 11–12; Liberia 31–3; Rwanda 86, 93–5; Somalia 72–3; success, and legitimacy 216–17 pre-emption doctrine, Iraq: Blair government, opposition to 148–9; Congress, authorization of war 146–7; and democracy 114; Democratic Party, dissenting opinions within 146–7; Europe and US, animosity between 145; international concerns 143–4, 156, 157; Iraq and Al Qaeda, alleged link between 147; legal experts, divisions among 145; NAM (Non-aligned Movement) nations 145; National Security Strategy, US 111, 112; “preventive war” 226n47; public opinion 145–6, 148–9; self-defense 111, 112, 121, 145; strategic doubts 147–8; WMD, and weapons inspections 143–4 public opinion: Afghanistan 202–3; Bosnian conflict 54–5; pre-emption doctrine, Iraq 145–6, 148–9; Rwanda 92; Somalia 80–1, 82–3; Surge Strategy (Afghanistan) 209, 211, 213; Surge Strategy (Iraq) 154–5 Putin, Vladimir 202 Rapid Reaction Force (RRF) 53–4, 57 reconstruction: Afghanistan 167, 174,

Index   285 186–7, 203; Iraq 126; legitimation, role of 11 Reid, Harry 151 Rice, Susan 204 Richards, David 174 Roberts, Adam 143 Rumsfeld, Donald 117, 181, 205 Rwanda: airplane, downing of presidential 86, 89–90; Arusha Peace Agreement 1993 85, 86, 88; Belgium, national interests of 89, 94, 96–7; Coalition pour la Défense de la République (CDR) 86; consistency, and legitimacy 221; ethical bases, de facto 86, 92–3; ethical bases, formal 86, 88–92; FAR (Armed Forces of Rwanda) 87, 94–5, 97; France, national interests of 92, 94, 97–8; Genocide Convention 85, 90–1, 101–2; genocide in 85, 86–92, 88–9; humanitarian concerns 88; international community, failure of 85–6, 98; legitimacy, bases of 103, 221; Mouvement Révolutionnaire National pour le Dévelopment (MRND) 86; multilateral security 92–3; national security interests 93–5; “non-intervention”, Rwanda as case of 102; Operation Turquoise 87, 92, 100–1, 102; performance 86, 98–9; “permissibility” question 85; powerpolitical bases, de facto 86, 95–8; power-political bases, formal 86, 93–5; power-political rationalizations, negative 102; public opinion 92; regional stability 98; RPF (Rwanda Patriotic Front) 85, 86; Somalia debacle, influence of 95; sovereignty 99–100; success, and legitimacy 218; Tutsis, organized violence against 86, 88; UN authority, erosion of 85, 93, 99, 100, 102; UNAMIR I (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda) 85, 87, 88, 90, 98; UNAMIR II (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda) 87, 89–90, 91–2, 93, 99, 100; UNDPKO (UN Department of Peacekeeping Operations) 88; US, role of 86, 93–4, 95–6 Saddam Hussein 115 Safe areas, Bosnia 46, 47, 49, 53, 55, 57–8 Salim, Salim A. 27

Sayyaf, Abdul Rasul 213 Schroeder, Gerhard 144, 202 Scowcroft, Brent 148, 204 self-defense: Afghanistan 163–4, 178, 200, 201, 214; Iraq 142 Serbian Democratic Party (SDS) 43 Shinseki, Eric K. 117 Short, Clare 148 Sierra Leone, invasion of by RUF (Revolutionary United Front) 35–6 Skelton, Ike 206 Smith, Rupert 5 Somalia: Addis Ababa Agreement, March 1993 77; Army ranger raid, consequences of 78–9; civil-war induced famine, 1992 63; consistency, and legitimacy 221; ethical bases, de facto 69–72; ethical bases, formal 65–9; humanitarian crisis, assuagement of 75–6, 79, 84; intervention force and warlords, relationship between 76–7; legitimacy, impact of 83; “mission creep” 3, 6; national reconciliation 77–9; peace enforcement 17–18, 63; performance 75–9; political reconciliation, hampering of 78; power-political bases, de facto 73–4; power-political bases, formal 72–3; security situation, mismanagement of 76–7; Siad Barre regime 64; success, and legitimacy 218; support 79–83; UN-authorized missions 83–4; USC/ SNA of Aideed, failure to contain 77–8, 79; see also UNOSOM II; UNITAF sovereignty: Bosnian conflict 54; Iraq 107; Liberia 26, 41; Rwanda 99–100; Somalia 66–7, 80 stability operations: Afghanistan 159, 160, 165; authority and consent 7; Bosnian conflict 5–6; characteristics of 6–9; counterinsurgency 4, 8; definition of 4; development of 2–5; ends-means link 9; essential tasks matrix 224n20; “full-spectrum operations” 3; humanitarian interventions 8; international mandate for 5; Iraq 3–4, 106, 119, 122, 124, 134–5, 140, 142, 156; and legitimacy 1, 9–16; low-intensity conflicts (LICs) 2; nation-building tasks 8; national interests 8–9; peacekeeping missions 3; post-Cold

286   Index stability operations continued War environment 2–3; resource management 9; state-building 6; strategic value of xii, 1; success in 5–6, 217 state-building: Afghanistan 182–6, 204; legitimation, role of 11; stability operations 6 “strategic peacekeeping” xiii success, and legitimacy: Afghanistan 218–19, 219; Bosnia 218; coherence 220–1; ease of operation, assumptions about 221–2; escalated force, justification for 219–20; ethical and power-political rationales, coexistence of 220; ethical bases 216–17; institutions, strengthening of 216–17; Iraq 218–19; laws, norms and practices 216; Liberia 217–18; multilateral security 216; performance 217; power-political bases 216–17; Rwanda 218; selfdefense 220; Somalia 218; stability operations 5–6, 217 support: Afghanistan 20–1, 200, 201–4, 206–9, 214; Iraq 19; Liberia 36–8, 38–40; Rwanda 99–102; Somalia 79–83 Surge Strategy (Afghanistan) 160, 163, 178; 2009 elections, fraudulent nature of 197, 212–13; Afghani people, mixed support among 212–13; civilian assistance, prioritization of 176; “civilian surge” 177; counterinsurgency 176; Democratic Party, divisions within 209–10; expert opinion, divided 210; Iraq Surge, comparison with 197; “mission creep” 211; opposition to Surge, reasons for 210–11; public opinion 209, 211, 213; security sector training 197–8; strategic communication, problems with 211–12; success, and legitimacy 218–19; support, diminishing 198, 209–14; US-Pakistan relations 198 Surge Strategy (Iraq) 104–5, 108–9, 119–20, 121; Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI) 137, 138–9; Arab-Kurd tensions 138; cease-fire agreements 136–7; inter-ethnic relations, volatility of 138; Iraqi security forces, development of 137; Maliki government, legitimacy of 142–3;

political reconciliation, prospects for 139; public opinion 154–5; security, Iraqi fears over 154; Sons of Iraq (SOI) program 137, 138; success of 122, 140–1, 153–4, 157, 218–19; Sunni–Shia tensions 138 Talabani, Jalal 107 Taliban, and Afghanistan 180, 191–2, 199, 206, 208–9 Taylor, Charles 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 32, 34, 35 Tokyo Conference, Afghanistan 167 ULIMO (United Liberation Movement of Liberia for Democracy) 35, 36 UN Security Council Resolutions: Afghanistan 201, 203; Bosnian conflict 45, 48–9; Iraq 106, 109–15, 133–4, 151, 155; UNOSOM II (Somalia) 80, 81 UNAMA (UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan) 161 UNAMIR I (UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda) 85, 87, 88, 90, 98 UNAMIR II (UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda) 87, 89–90, 91–2, 93, 99, 100 UNITAF (Unified Task Force) (Somalia): bias, avoidance of charges of 73–4; deployment, support for 79–80; humanitarian concerns 65–8, 75; multilateral security 66, 69–70; Operation Restore Hope 64, 74; sovereignty issue 66–7; US intervention, justifications for 66–7, 66–8, 70, 72, 74 UNOMIL (UN Observer Mission in Liberia) 24, 28 UNOSOM II (UN Operation in Somalia): Clinton administration, support from 69; disarmament condition 69; humanitarian concerns 68, 75–6; military escalation 65, 73, 78; mission, doubts over 81; multilateral security 70–1, 74–5; nation-building mandate 64; peacekeeping operations 63, 64, 71; political reconciliation, failure of 77; public opinion, US 80–1, 82–3; sovereignty issue 80; support 80–3; UN Security Council resolutions 80, 81; US participation 64–5, 69, 73, 78, 81–3 UNPROFOR (UN Protection Force)

Index   287 (Bosnia): coercive measures, mismanagement of 52; containment policy 50–1, 52, 54; decision to cover all Bosnia 45; deployment of 49; humanitarian assistance 44, 51; incompetence, charges of 56, 57; national interests, insufficiency of 55; NATO air strikes 46, 47–8, 52–3; “peace support” 43–4; peacekeeping missions 50–1; relative impotence of

50; safe areas 44, 52, 62; Serb attacks 52–3, 55–6 USAID (US Agency for International Development) OFDA (Office of Foreign Disaster Assistance) 66, 117 WFP (World Food Program) 76 Will, George, F. 210 Wohlstetter, Albert 56 Wolfowitz, Paul D. 117