Letter #6 to Friends and Family: In Defense of Deutschland

This letter will be brief since it is more of a thought-piece than anything else. Additionally, I want to post a sobering passage from a friend of mine in the South. What Andre Smaic went through a few days ago really must give one pause to think.

Here comes the Surge. The ‘surge’ up here in the North is taking shape. Coincidentally, my friends and colleagues from the Georgia National Guard and the German Bundeswehr are “RIPping” out; that is, their relief is in place and my colleagues in uniform are returning to their home bases. On the U.S. side, a new, active duty division is coming into the North, the “Tenth Mountain Division” from New York. The tell-tale signs of impending conflict are readily visible these days:

1. the appearance of ‘Apache’ attack helicopters;
2. a quadrupling of the troop strength in Kunduz;
3. more MRAPs by the day; and,
4. the arrival of battle-hardened full-time Army personnel.

A clearing operation is definitely in the works. While the 10th MTN’s mission will also be one of training police, one can safely describe it as “muscular mentoring”.

In defense of the Germans. As the 10th MTN arrives, the word not heard but on everyone’s mind is why the Yanks are coming. Stated bluntly: people believe the Germans have failed and failed miserably in holding this province, once the stronghold in the North for the Taliban. True, security has declined markedly over the past year.

Notwithstanding General McChrystal’s kicking down doors in Berlin for more troops in Afghanistan, however, the Germans have not been cowardly. Theirs has been an approach that seeks to co-opt through co-operation. By cultivating relationships in some of the more troubled areas, the Bundeswehr has worked hard to impress upon ordinary Pashtuns the futility of continued fighting.

Things may not be great under this flawed system, the German reasoning goes, but coming to believe in the possible is less imperfect than continued violence. There are flaws in this rationale, the most evident of which remains that things will change in this country only when Afghans decide change them by overwhelmingly repudiating violence.

But as a senior German diplomat reflected so wisely, "Ned, if you want to change a policy around here, argue with the men. But is want to change the culture [over the next two generations], start by working with the women."  Tragically, however, one easily overlooks the day-by-day courage required to bring recalcitrant combatants to reconciliation.

Obscuring this approach are distortions over the September air-strike that allegedly killed many civilians. There are many elements of this story that do not hang together.

• American soldiers with whom I work, and whom I trust, swear up-&-down that few civilians and very few, if any, children died in that attack.
• The Germans merely reported a targeting opportunity to the ISAF tactical center; it was U.S. jets that actually carried out the attack.
• My State Department colleague has been reporting all along that the closer to the village of the bombing site, the less upset people seem to be; they either have no love lost for those who died (i.e., fellow Pashtuns) or believe that those who died took their chances...and lost.
• Had the Germans not ordered the air-strike and the trucks then were detonated as vehicular bombs at bazaars, killing hundreds, what would the world say then? One can only imagine what the headlines would say if two hijacked NATO trucks incinerated hundreds of innocents and the NATO commander responsible had been in a position to prevent it but failed to act.
• In fairness to Lieutenant Colonel Klein of the Bundeswehr, he did not know the trucks were stuck in the river nor could he foresee the fall-out of his decision. Relying upon incomplete information, he acted decisively to protect his troops and Afghan civilians.
• Most of all, the attack itself occurred at two or three o’clock in the morning. Now, you tell me: what parent lets his or her little ones go running around a fuel truck anytime, let alone in the dark of the night?

This skepticism does not altogether absolve the Germans from all responsibility for the death of so many people. It does, however, make the decision humanly comprehensible. It’s no longer about the Germans and some national flaw but about the limits of reason and intelligence in the middle of so much violence and murky field intelligence.

The bombing, and the press around it, obscures much of what the Germans have tried to do peaceably. That confusion, together with the U.S. looking for a quick victory up North to regenerate battle-field momentum, leads to the widespread and convenient belief that the Germans have failed. The upcoming surge looks like a fairly logical course after the success of the surge in Iraq.

But this reasoning may prove to be fallacious. The Iraqis made the Iraq surge work as Sunnis took up arms against foreign fighters and rejected the violence of militant Islam. These ‘Sons of Iraq’ provided the fundament of community policing – and that ground-level policing, supplemented by 30,000 U.S. troops mainly in Baghdad, turned the tide.

There is little evidence of such a change in allegiances taking place in Afghanistan. The new militias are simply, like the band KISS from the 1970s, a bunch of old mujaheddin painted up to look new. The civil war during the mid-1990s in Afghanistan was as bad – or worse – than the Taliban; the mujaheddin bloodied their hands odiously. General Ahmed Shah Massoud and his Northern Alliance were, by and large, an exception but he stayed up in the Northeast, unable to stem the violence.

This broken analogy with Operation Iraqi Freedom collapses the premise of this kinetic ‘up-tick’ into what may prove to be a fatal fallacy: that a surge in violence will end all violence. Perhaps the peaceful, less dramatic, way of the Germans may prove, in retrospect, to have been the more constructive, less bloody mode.

With the whispers of gossip and history spiralling together, I am increasingly inclined to think that the rush to push the Germans out of the way in the North reflects a desire for an easy victory. Why such a desire? Because things may not be progressing quite so well in the South and East as one might think from the press accounts. At this point, Sergeant Smaic’s story assumes a delayed paramountcy.
============================================
From: "Andrijan Smaic"
Wednesday, March 17, 2010 1:30 PM
I'm okay,
ALCON-
I’m okay, the bombers were killed just ten feet from where I was standing, after a very intense gunfight amid the screaming and shouting; when the gunfight broke out, I took cover into an office. Situational awareness…the people need to get their act together, security around the perimeter is a joke,, towers not manned (the SVBID) came through the tower and back alley.

The vests, 8KG [18 lbs], didn’t explode, pretty well coordinated 2 prong attack. 9 am in the morning. My clothes still smell like gunpowder…got to move to another place for the night.

There is NO military presence here in Lashkar Gah. I’m supposed to head over to Marjeh, our security team will not travel there b/c it’s unsecure…the Marines got hit hard yesterday and again tonight they are getting hit. I have my work cut out for me.

V/r
Andrijan Smaic
Field Coordinator (Marjeh)
Afghanistan Vouchers for Increased Production in Agriculture AVIPA(+) USAID
International Relief and Development, Inc (IRD)
Marjeh, Helmand Province, Afghanistan

==========================================

--- On Wed, 3/17/10, Andrijan Smaic wrote:

From: Andrijan Smaic
Subject: Emailing: Suicide Bomber Attack on our building 006 (2)
To: "'Dejan Smaic'"; "'Zoran Smaic'" "'Daniel Smock'; "'David E Bailey'"; "'Kops, Kenneth E. LTC'"; "'Matt Speidel'"; "'aleksandar'"; nedmcd@yahoo.com
Date: Wednesday, March 17, 2010, 4:12 PM

I was able to get to a laptop and send a quick one liner that I am okay
before they even woke up. A few details: All the news agencies reported
some very inaccurate information today: Let me set the record straight.
The suicide bombers were dressed as women to disguise the approach to
the corner of the compound to an unmanned guardtower.

Took off the gerkas, got out of the trolley, placed the ladder
against the wall, climbed into the UNMANNED guard tower, made it to the
ground, as they were inserting their mags into the AK-47, one of the global
guys just so happened to see it, ran back about 50m to their
office...yelling "gooks in the wire!!!" grabbed the long rifle, went back to
the corner wall where he first identified the bombers, engaged and wounded
one, the bomber turned back and went down the back ally with the other bad
guy made it around to our door and were once again engaged.

One of security guys only had a pistol, falling back behind one of the cars
as he was shooting, was grazed in the neck. Bullets going in every direction....
bad guys opened the first door towards him, the second door the same, it
wouldn't open, it's the kind of door that needs to be pushed. With
everything going on, and they were hit many times in the vest (body armor)
under the 8kg of explosives, still didn't go down...they were also pretty
drugged up as well, which is typical. After it was all done, one lost most
of his face...emptying a 30 round mag into the head will do that to a guy,
several times over. I can't give out any more details without saying too
much.

The Police didn't engage at all, the gerka guards did well at their posts.
Improvements will be made to the compound. The bad guys were killed
and couldn't detonate the vests or get rid of the 28 grenades. The VBIED
loaded with explosives never made it to the gate for the others to storm
the compound, they didn't get there in time, timing was off. The bombers
also had earpieces for communication, don't take the Taliban lightly, this
is not Iraq! It's the wild west out here.

That's all i can say for OPSEC reasons, I don't want to give the condition
of our building away, let's just say, lots of bullets into the walls and
windows. Don't under estimate the importance of battle drills!!!! Also,
complacency is a very bad thing. My organization has no leadership.I had to
do some yelling and directing, this is my third day on the ground.it took
over 8 hours to clear the bodies with EOD.

It is a weird feeling to NOT HAVE A GUN. I held onto my cell phone b/c I
needed something to hold onto (didn't have a wpn). Anyhow, I was walking
toward the door when it hit the fan and the glass started to shatter next to
me, and then went into a room for cover, barricaded the door. Know body in
my room panicked.

Letter #5 to Friends and Family: A second varied month of work and wonder

A February come and gone...gone ground-hog, that is....

PART-1: No Matter Where You Are, February is simply to be gotten through.
Well, February came and went, like it has every year for the past fifty. Outside of Valentine’s Day and, perhaps Presidents’ Day or Groundhog Day, the month means very little because it is cold, icey, grey and rather drab. That is to say: February becomes a time of hibernation, of renewal, as I learned -- but did not realize -- as a tenth grader when I could make out the faintest outline of Steele Hall across the way from the library at 6 p.m. on a Sunday night in 1974; the slight light gave me hope that homework would become less oneroous and more avoidable in the near future. Afghanistan is no different. Though there are fewer trees and less water, Kunduz does remind me an awful lot of dreary Wallingford, Connecticut in the Februaries of the mid-1970s. Instead of a wilting mill-town in the throes of economic change, Kunduz responds over three decades later with security briefings for donors and non-governmental organizations hosted by the United Nations Mission-Afghanistan.

Like the venerable nightly Italia pizza run, after which I got to eat people's crusts for I had little money of my own, such meetings provide very insipid fare for the shrinking grey matter of my much abused brain. Taking my cue from so many precedents – yes getting old means being cluttered (not filled) with memories – I spent this February working as hard as possible, driving myself to the edge of burn-out, ready to hurl my wasted frame into the abyss of yet another failure. But not quite. And so I managed to accomplish a great deal in laying the foundation of my mission here in Northern Afghanistan for the next year or two. Nevertheless, I am the only senior officer in a kinetic (i.e., military lingo for actively contested) province without a deputy and I desperately need one. A fellow had been hired. The day he was ready to report to work, the Embassy security office dinged him and, unintentionally, me. No help for three months; oh good grief.

Part-2: a Sunny Day in a Spontaneous War Zone.
The issues facing the North of Afghanistan pale compared with those in the South or the East. During this groggy, soggy time of year, only a few Taliban or other insurgents stick around; gangsters like good working conditions, too, I suspect. Since this winter was unseasonably cold and then very warm, the Taliban left en masse but will re-infiltrate early. One of the prime entry-ways into Kunduz Province is the District (akin to a county in America) of Chahar Dara. On the 25th of February, after a mid-month foot to eighteen inches of snow had cleared away, my U.S. Department of Agriculture colleague and I joined LT Todd Schwarz – and his ‘Devil’ platoon – to visit Chahar Dara. This trip was to an area that is apparently over-run with Taliban.

We travelled with the Devil platoon for a basic ‘meet-&-greet’ with the District Police Chief (akin to the county sheriff) and the ‘District Manager’ (like a county Lord-Mayor). The latter cancelled at the last minute due to a summons by the Governor. If only we had realized that portent of a routine meet-&-greet spiralling out of control into the ‘shake-n-bake’ that the day soon became! Being the Prophet’s birthday – a national and religious holiday in Afghanistan – we were lucky to meet anyone at all. My USDA colleague, in one of his first such ordeals after arriving just a few days before, performed admirably by raising the idea of farmers’ shura (assembly) to address the agricultural concerns of the area.

Politely put, Chahar Dara remains caught in the cross-fire of the insurgents, gun-runners and drug exporters on the one hand and the German-led International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) on the other. My ‘ag’ colleague has a Ph.D. in the sociology of agricultural subsidies, two tours in the Peace Corps working on small-scale farming challenges in the Philippines and Latin America as well as years of first-hand farming experience. In his head, he is a big-brained Ag-extension subject matter expert, but, in his heart, he loves leading communities in organizing themselves. No sooner had the District Chief finished with his appeal for help on security than we walked out of the office and started hearing pop-pop-pop of small arms fire about “two kliks” (i.e., two kilometers) away; then a boom followed by another BOOM.

Two improvised explosive devices resounded through the courtyard of two neutral looking cement buildings, constructed to the same sub-standard by the Germans or the Americans, depending upon the year. Instead of grass, there are large stones padding the ground as gravel; this uncomfortable surface manages to distribute the weight of MRAP (mine-resistant armor protected) vehicles ranging from twenty to forty tons so that it doesn't trash the lot as a matter of course. These beige monsters look like station-wagons with elephantitus; I like to think of them as the ultimate soccer-mom cars because:
· they look like over-sized sports utility vehicles;
· soccer Moms love V.P. Al Bore; and,
· they, ironically, enrich Republicans who decry welfare benefits to the poor but make
themselves wealthy through a thoroughly corrupted military industrial complex.

Part-3: Life, Death and Unreality.
After the first two IEDs sounded off, gunfire became more intense but sporadic. It was HIGH NOON (literally) in Chahar Dara and U.S. Special Forces were teaming up with freshly trained Afghan National Army (ANA) recruits. Of the two security phalanxes, the ANA outdoes the sorry excuse for law enforcement that is the Afghan National Police (ANP). The ANP boasts a 65-70% annual attrition rate, most of which takes place, one must surmise, when real bullets begin to fly outside of the safe confines of a firing range. Half way between us and the fighting was an ANP check-point. Any action there when obviously something was happening ‘a klik’ away? Nope…at least some things remain constant in such a fluid place as Afghanistan. My USDA colleague and I stood at the edge of the wall and peeked over the top with the U.S. soldiers from the Police Mentoring Team positioned at the ready with their M-4s.

Word came in that one of the IEDs had blown up an Afghan HMMV (‘humvee’; the contemorary jeep) and killed two ANA soldiers, wounding a third. Many of the American soldiers exhibited sadness for their comrades, even if the fallen were not some of their own. Suddenly around one o’clock, the gunfire intensified and seemed to be only a kilometer away. We went to the security wall. It was a terraced series of ‘HESCOs’ filled with sand and / or rocks to ward off enemy fire. As we watched, we noticed two F-16s circling like hawks above the scene, ready to dive in for the kill. Apparently the target was not open or distinguishable enough to permit an airstrike; remember: Chahar Dara was the location of the September 2009 air-strike over which a good country (Germany) and a very good officer, who ordered the strike, continue to agonize. Twice the planes made what looked like a bombing run but dropped flares to say no dice, good-bye. On those runs, the jets descended while taking a wide circle, dipping below the eye’s horizon. Then a terrible, deafening roar – a harbinger of death with no plane in sight. Suddenly, as if leaping from with the tree-line came the jets, perhaps 200-300 feet (or so it seemed) off of the ground and right on by, dropping flares to distract any heat-seeking missiles.

The gunfire renewed more vigorously and back to the HESCOs we went. The security wall was not a wall as we would think of one; it is three stacked rows of ‘HESCOs’ with a second double-stack to support the outer perimeter followed by a single row to firm the base. HESCOs are like gabion walls but are not fixed to one location. Of course, I had no idea what a gabion wall was until a month ago. Gabion walls are the things drivers see on Route-50, going from Annapolis to D.C., about five minutes before hitting the Beltway. They are often used in rivers as flood mitigants if constructed soundly and designed carefully. Gabion walls are the steel mesh that holds big rocks, often packed in sand to lend a touch of stability. On Route-50 and many highways around the U.S., these structures prevent shedding rock from rolling onto the road – at least that is what I think they do. In a river, gabion walls prevent erosion. HESCOs, then, are baskets approximately three feet high and two feet square, lined with a material like burlap and (that day) filled with the same rocks lying on the courtyard.

Suddenly, a shattering BOOM thundered across the fields succeeded by a desolate pillar of smoke, curling up to the sky like a burnt sacrifice in ancient times in this still, in so many respects, ancient land. After a brief, terrible quiet, gunfire rattled away frenetically. Something big was happening. Looking over the HESCO, a ‘vizz-fet’ sound whizzed by me onomatopoetically. I looked to the soldier next to me asked whether I had just heard a bullet. He said, very casually, “Yep. And that one was really close…” with nonchalance too candid to be rehearsed. So, I thought to myself, “Well, Ned, if this sergeant can be cool-headed, then you can, too.” I looked at the young soldier levelly and said even-toned, “So is the latrine a hardened structure?” No, just kidding there. Strangely, however, I really felt no fear; I just kept watching, trying to spot the bad guys.

Part-4: the Reality of Life and Death in AfghanLand.
About one-thirty or so, there was a commotion by the small health-care clinic down the street, followed closely by bedlam in the courtyard as a small station-wagon pulled to a screeching stop in the middle of it followed by half a dozen crying, screaming people. Perhaps these ‘vizz-fets’ were not quite so random after all—a respected teacher, a life-long resident of Nari-Sufi (where all the trouble was that day), had rolled out his mat for mid-day prayer when a stray bullet had pierced his chest, just above the heart. In a desperate hope to keep this man alive, his emerging widow and her neighbor had taken him down the street to the clinic built by the Federal Republic of Germany. Such a facility could offer no help. So they came to the compound in the desperate hope that an American medic might be on hand with the proper equipment. None was around; there was a combat life-saver (CLS, a member of a squad or platoon with enough training to keep somebody alive long enough for proper care). The CLS tried his best; it was simply too late. A teacher, a husband, a father – by all accounts from the police at hand – a very good and decent man died in that courtyard. Soon after that, the word about the third, larger IED came in: it had hit a U.S. special forces vehicle, injuring four Americans, two seriously. The frenetic fire from a few minutes before had been, I guessed, to get the injured off the field.

LT Schwarz agonized for two hours, calling back to the U.S. base with instructions. His men were impatient. The German soldiers had ventured most of the way to the village of Nari-Sufi, only to stop and seemingly close-up shop. The Germans have an undeservedly poor reputation among the Americans as unwilling to fight. The problem lies in the rules-of-engagement (ROEs). Currently, the German government defines Afghanistan as a reconstruction mission. Though the Germans were sitting there with tanks and other heavy artillery that day, they could only fire their weapons when attacked. Guess what? The enemy is as knowledgeable as it is nuanced in its fighting. The Taliban et al. – more of that next letter home since there is now in-fighting amongst the baddies – know that the U.S. has looser ROEs and can fire when there is a ‘reasonable’ threat. So they do not attack the Germans.

So, the enemy did not fire on the heavy artillery and simply waited. LT Schwarz, a very good man, from Lincoln country (i.e., Springfield, Illinois), sat there with his four über-mom cars with only one mounted 50 millimeter gun mounted on top of each and smaller arms inside. (As a point of reference, 50mm ammunition is the size of a grown man’s thumb; enough to smash a head like a pumpkin.) The young non-commissioned officers and infantry of the Devil Platoon began to chafe with the inactivity as the gunfire continued. Where is Schwarz; why is he waiting? I was in LT Schwarz’s MRAP and he was in the courtyard talking back to the American FOB trying get the orders to move. The others in the MRAP, very brave was each one, wondered if the lieutenant was ducking a fight, allowing the twenty special forces men (trapped in the village with the ANA squad) to “get slaughtered while we just sit there…” In vain, I tried to remind the men that while each of us in the car could say, ‘Hey, I am ready to risk my life to rescue these guys’, we were thinking of ourselves alone; LT Schwarz had the sobering responsibility of being accountable for the lives of his men.

Finally, after going back and forth for close to an eon, it was obvious the Germans were not going in for a rescue. CPT Ezequiel Moya – of McAllen Texas – got on the radio, apparently, and ordered, in tart language, LT Schwarz and his men to get over to the village and get our guys the hell out of there. People cheered at the PMT company commander’s ringing order. Now: what to do with the civilians? The safest place for us was in the vehicles, notwithstanding the possibility of battle. LT Schwarz lost no time in getting the hell over there. We pulled up to the moon-crater in the road where the largest IED had exploded; hard to believe anyone was still one piece, let alone alive judging from that pock-mark. The four MRAPs guarded the courtyard where the injured lay until a med-evac helicopter would arrive to ferry them away. There were brief, intermittent skirmishes; still too hot for the helicopter to land. A German unmarked ambulance finally showed up at three-fifteen to pick up the wounded Americans. This armored saltine box was forced to crawl down the side of the road three hundred yards away from, and facing, the Taliban. The unarmed vehicle waited for forty-five minutes while the injured were placed into the truck. The truck left, leaving us with the sinking feeling that so much time – three hours – had elapsed that the two ‘urgent casualties’ were goners for sure.

Part-5: if this is war, my butt hurts!
Not a shot was fired from where we all knew the Taliban (generic term here) had set up their nasty little nest. After the ambulance left the scene, slowly but safely, the insurgents opened up with a terrific volley of gun fire. The American gunners fired back, some with a metal diarrhea soon depleting ammunition. SPC Jonathan Bradley of Georgia, in my MRAP, was judicious with his ammunition. The bullets in his gun jammed up – and SPC Bradley was not frightened as much as frustrated. Where was LT Schwarz? Outside the vehicle with ‘vizz-fets’ dancing in the dust around him, giving orders and positioning his men to protect them. Their lives were his own, now. SPC Bradley heaved the gun, dislodged the aged bullets, while I pulled knife out and cut through the band holding down other boxes of ammunition to open a box and feed more and newer 50mm ammunition. He got his gun to work. Through it all SPC Corey Hickman, also of Georgia, gave SPC Bradley much-needed support, saying things like “That’s the way to go…steady and easy…” SPC Bradley called down to me and asked me to get the saw.

Sometimes, the most incongruous moments take us back to simpler, sunnier times. When I first moved to Sydney as a nine-year old, I dreamed of fighting someday in Viêt Nam, just like my dad’s cousin who was captain of the U.S.S. Oriskany, an aircraft carrier; he saw his fellow Naval Academy alumnus, James Stockdale, shot down in front of him. Well, while I was liberating Hanoi in my head, I was goofing off in the classroom. Miss Tenant, my ‘fourth class’ teacher, said to me rather sternly, “Neddy, you really must pull up your socks”; meaning, idiomatically, “Look, young man, get to work…” So I leaned over and pulled up the knee socks that were part of my school uniform but draped over my ankles, slackly, like the rest of me. Likewise, I was looking for a hacksaw where, SPC Bradley had told me to look. I could not on earth figure out why a guy getting shot at would need a saw; all I could see was a gun that was lighter than the 50mm but bigger and and heavier than an M-4; that is, a gun to be mounted. I had the damnedest time getting that gun out of the way. Somewhere in this hernial exercise, I realized that this stupid gun was the saw. So, to make sure I had it right, I yelled up, “Hey, is the saw this gun?”

Whereupon, I got a sarcastic “Jeez--yes goddammit!” Humans really are social creatures. Up went the gun and SPC Bradley, now armed also with SPC Hickman’s gun, went to smaller fire. It wasn’t long before I heard a “yee-haw!! Got that dirty little f***ker!” SPC Bradley had spotted an isolated Talib, perhaps a spotter for mortars, running across the field and picked him off, first shot – only shot; like the Deer Hunter. SPC Hickman was cheering and yelling, “Good shot, boy! Why can’t I have any fun…ugh!??!” Realizing that a human being had just died, I felt perhaps the least humane of all feelings – nothing. No compassion for the mother without a son or the family losing a father. Also no sense of elation, maybe sadistic, but at least a feeling. Indifference; well, not quite indifference but an inability to feel anything except a sense of urgency in getting the next string of ammunition ready. As I looked out the window, rather alarmed at my lack of fear, or any feeling, I noticed what looked like hundreds of old instamatic light-bulbs popping along the tree-line, like the cameras greeting Hank Aaron when he got up to bat after hitting 714 home runs.

These flashes were the phosphorous-tipped bullets fired by the Americans. The stalemate continued for an hour and fifteen minutes, during which the enemy was firing mortars and rocket-propelled grenades at us. The mortar shells were landing closer and closer to us – it was only a matter of time when…but wait a ‘thoof’ concussionned behind us. Where were the Germans, dammit? Right behind us, firing a tow missile right at the cluster of trees I had reported to SPCs Hickman and Bradley as the origin of a plume of powder smoke rising after a mortar round had fired. Three, four, five…kaboom! The Germans shot on one round of ammunition that day, probably defying ROEs to do so – but the Americans, including me had been pinned down, with no way out since the MRAPs would bog down in the fields off of the road and the crater permitted no forward movement. That missile took out the wall behind which the enemy had hidden; once opened, the hornets flew out of their shattered nest. It was like popping a zit: the wall broke and white puss came streaming out into a hail of American gunfire; the battle was over in fifteen minutes, leaving eight-to-twelve mangled insurgents looking for their virgins.

For the next twelve hours, we sat and waited at that spot, guarding the stranded vehicles while a recovery team came, after repeated delays and indecisions, out to retrieve them. In the still of a cold overcast night, my knees were killing me and the mesh in my desert pants – turned out to be a bad choice – was grating into the skin above my tail-bone. Sitting there, motionless, with no lights on worried me quite a bit. But SPC Corey and three other gunners, with the help of a German missile, had done enough damage to preclude a night-time attack. My only fear registered around one in the morning. Since I had been exercising like a crazy-man recently and running longer distances, I was concerned that – in my fifties – I might develop a blood-clot to clutter and shutter my shrinking brain. I then got out to use the universal urinal – truthfully or otherwise – to get the blood flowing and give my knees some rest. At two in the morning, SPC Bradley barked his congratulations to me for being one of the best ‘civilian’ (read: pussy) ammo-feeders he had come across; an accolade given to my USDA colleague as well in his MRAP.

Whereupon, I stated rather less than gallantly, “If this is war, my butt hurts!” Everybody laughed. We got home at half past-five to powdered eggs and alleged coffee. Looking back, two weeks later (and a seeming eternity since I work insufferably long days), I understand why I defied my characteristically low expectations of me (e.g., assuming I would soil my pants) and felt very little fear that day. The young men in that truck with me never panicked, remained calm and proved their professionalism. Perhaps, I simply took a cue from them not to worry. Perhaps, courage is intrinsic, if sometimes latent, and one finds it when he or she needs it. Perhaps, I have been blathering on for far too long…

One last housekeeping item: the two seriously injured Special Forces soldiers are back in the U.S. and should enjoy a full recovery, at least physically. Thanks be to God.

Letter #4 to Friends & Family: Three Arduous Weeks in an Interesting Place

The last twenty days have raced by and left me rather drained. It has been exciting. As I closed the previous letter, I stated that I had flown over the foot-hills of the Hindu Kush to Kunduz, about forty miles south of the border of Afghanistan and Tajikistan (formerly a Soviet Socialist Republic).

Talk about the Weather! The Tajiks remind me of the Kurds in Iraq as a product of a frontier spirit bred in high mountains. Because the weather was forbidding in the winter, the Tajiks learned how to work hard to survive. Living on the steppes of Central Asia, however, guaranteed summer weather at the other extreme, often peaking past 120 degrees Fahrenheit. Nevertheless, the plateau on which Kunduz is perched remains fertile after thirty years of bombs, terror, Hell. This area, in its day, produced abundant rice, cotton, wheat and melons; not to mention plentiful livestock and poultry. The agricultural sector, at least in this more fortunate part of Afghanistan, is coming back faster than did Northern Iraq’s.

Hot Guns in the Winter-time. Kunduz is known by the Germans, who run the Provincial Reconstruction Team of which I am a small part, as the ‘Kandahar of the North’. That is true and not true. The Pashtuns represent a plurality in, not a majority of, the province. The relatively large, seemingly out-of-place Pashtun population, reflects the forced migration imposed by King Abdurraman in the late nineteenth century. As Saddam Hussein tried to with his ‘Arabization’ of Kirkuk, so did this Pashtun tyrant one hundred years before. Others have tried the same, from the Mongols to the Yugoslavians. Among the many, mostly dismal, cases of forced migrations, perhaps one of the better cases is that of Afghanistan since ethnic hatreds do not seem to have taken root. The Pashtuns have a code of behavior and personal ethics called Pashtun-wali. To this code, these people, dating from the time of Herodotus, remain fiercely devout. Yet, that does NOT mean many, or even most, are sympathetic with Taliban.

Enough Pashtuns do sign on with the Taliban to render Kunduz the least secure province in Northern Iraq, and, apparently getting worse by the day. On several nights during my initial three weeks, one has heard the fire-fights between the Afghan security forces and the insurgents -- the Taliban is not alone in raising Hell -- many of whom are drug-running gangsters. People are very nervous. The camp in which I live is embedded within a larger Afghan Army base. The men manning the check-points are edgey, very edgey. The base and the U.S. camp typically closes down at 6 p.m. Two nights ago, I drove up to the first of two checkpoints through which I proceed when returning to the U.S. base from the German PRT, at about 9 p.m. (i.e., prime werewolf hour).

Wake-up Call. I quickly – and almost painfully learned – how innocent people wind up shot dead at check-points. I was driving a stick and tending to a down-shift in gears as I wheeled around a sharp hairpin turn, built by design to slow the vehicle down. Suddenly, I heard a yell and double bolting-click and looked up to see a teen-age Afghan soldier yelling at me with a cocked AK-47 pointed straight at me. Hmmm. These are moments when God’s gift of reflexes and quick-thinking really pay off, big-time. While a slight undulation of fear rippled through me, I instinctively turned down the headlights (not off), turned on the overhead light inside the car, put on my safety lights and held my empty hands up in plain sight. The soldier looked for a second and realized I was okay; he relaxed, apologized and let me through to the next check point.

Only in the mile-long drive between check-points, on a pitch-black dirt road, was I permitted to shiver with fear of the reality that if I had not been paying attention or reacted the wrong way in the frightened eyes of a young man in the cross-hairs of the Taliban, I would likely be doing time, heavy time, in Purgatory. When I recounted the story, people were appalled at the behavior of the Afghan guard and I really do not see why. The overwhelming numbers of people whom the Taliban (i.e., latter day Khmer Rouge) murder are the police, soldiers, dissenting imams and public officials. These deaths are not quick but slow and protracted due to a brutal calculus of inflicting pain and spreading intimidation. Who wants to be de-capitated over a span of 5-10 minutes? That is often the worst element of the Taliban, corrupted by the easy money of drug-taxes and the warped entertainment of imposing suffering on alleged apostates.

Drugs and the Afghan Version of the West Side Story. Though opium must be ‘haram’ (i.e., against the laws of God and the strictures of the Prophet), the Taliban is financing its destruction of Afghan society, with a tax on poppies and heroin. Though $100 million sounds like a lot of money – and it most assurèdly is – that sum represents 3% of the total industry. This small increment sounds like a toll charge to allow the stuff to pass through. Kunduz, however, remains a poppy-free province. That sounds great until one digs a little deeper and realizes that the province is making a boat-load of money transporting the drugs through to Tajikistan and beyond. The Taliban’s hold over a certain portion of the Pashtun population often correlates more with tribal allegiances and convenient alliances. For example, the southern district of Kunduz province, similar to a county in the United States, has a river that runs right down the middle of it. Aliabad, as this district is known, is ‘contested’ heavily.

Our troops and those of Germany are fired on all of the time. The river, however, hints at what is really going on. The western side of the river, with no bridge to serve it, is isolated, an ideal setting for the Taliban to raid, rape and intimidate with impunity. The East side, while precarious, has aligned with the Afghan government, such as it is, and remains relatively calm. The fighting between the two sides of the river reflects more the historical animosity of these peoples long before the Taliban came along. 0ne side conveniently sides with, perhaps acquiesces to, the gang of the one-eyed bandit while the other hangs with a shakey government propped up by the two of the best Armies in existence. Each side can carry on with traditional strife through alliances of force or convenience. After some exposure to all of this scratch-n-sniff politics, one begins to wonder which party (native or alien) is the proxy of the other.

Initial Impressions of Pashtuns. Underlying all of this duplicity, bred in what my colleague Brennen Searcy of Louisville would describe as a culture of suspicion, is one constant among the Pashtuns: the ethos of the mountain warrior – a man whose education requires guns not grammar; whose sense of honor is finely tuned to the fettered wiles of the beautiful women in his midst; and, who see little need for change, any change whether for good or ill. The Pashtun ethos hearkens back to Rousseau: why should I soften myself and corrupt my manly strength with arts and education? Who needs to read? I haven’t had to learn; why should you? This well-meaning anti-intellectualism damages many a fine mind, especially those of the women. So the ideal of the noble savage, often more like a noble scavenger, haunts a war-worn land.

The Burkas of Ballet. Yet again, in another fretful irony, is the burka worn by women. In Iraq and across Arabia, many women veil themselves in traditional black dress that, at its extreme, covers everything except the eyes, nose and hands. This “hijab dress” is unattractive. The burkas I have seen, however, are usually lapis-coloured blue or white; they are quite sheer and light. Some burkas even cut away the front half way between the navel and the breasts, exposing what one could easily imagine as a rather enticing dress. Further, on the full-length burkas, the feet that emerge in a young mother’s leading stride often has high-heels or becoming sandals adorning them. In Arabia, the women do not wear the tent-like burkas but must swelter in one hundred thirty degree heat in these black, very frumpy habits. The burkas in Afghanistan, while symbolically more oppressive, are far less so physically. In either case, I can not quite get my head around a culture that lets ten year olds run around in sun dresses but then imprison girls when they reach puberty.

When the Forgotten Are Remembered. A week ago, the Police Mentoring Team that has put me up – and, I might wisely add, has put up with me – embarked on a very special mission, the memory of which will last with me for as many days as God allows me on this planet. Task Force Warrior, one hundred fifty American soldiers and twenty-five Afghan support staff and nestled on the Afghan Army base, dispatched a delegation of the company commander, CPT Ezequiel Moya of Austin Texas, and a dozen soldiers to join the Provincial Chief of Police, General Razakh, on a very special mission. CPT Moya, class act that he is, invited a delegation of three senior U.S. government civilians; yes, I was one of them. The other two were the Senior State Department Foreign Service Economic Officer for Northern Afghanistan (and versatile team player), Mark Biedlingmaier, and the Senior Regional Agricultural Advisor, Richard Fite; both originally from Philadelphia…a grudging concession by this Pittsburgher to deem these gentlemen as, well, gentlemen. Richard and Mark were in town to review additional staffing for the U.S. side of the Provincial Reconstruction Team. We went to visit an orphanage.

Chief Razakh handed out back-packs, shoes, candy, toys and other gifts to a hundred boys and girls without parents so much earlier than God had written. These gifts were donated quietly by the American Army company; CPT Moya’s first priority was for General Razakh to enjoy himself and forget about the various death threats he receives. Further, Americans over here are a quiet bunch – we really are a modest and generous people; sometimes the grueling debate over debatable policies obscures that fact. Despite the many failings we exhibit, we can remember the forgotten, comfort the lonely, give solace to the sad ones amongst us. Yes, the world is a far better place with an America in it. I just wish that the CPT Moyas, Richard Fites, Mark Biedlingers – and so many of you, men and women alike whom I like or love – were actually guiding our policies.

Letter #3 to Friends and Family: Getting there is hardly all of the fun

Kabulistan—from the inside.

Inside of what remains the over-riding distinction. In this case, the U.S. Embassy compound in AfghanLand. Only the Embassy in Baghdad – college campus that it is – exceeds to the chaotic compound in Kabul. More of that later; first the trip over to Afghanistan since there really is not much to tell about the briefings, most of which were sensitive.

The flight over: non-stop Washington to Dubai. About a dozen of us left on the twenty-eighth of December, representing the United States Agency for International Development, the Department of State and the Department of Agriculture. In fact the USDA (Agriculture) has its own foreign service and is deploying almost as many experts as USAID is dispatching generalists. My lovely sister, Clairey-bug, gave me a ride to D.C.’s international airport, not so affectionately known as Washington-Dullest. Since I was a preferred something or other, I got to use the airline’s déclassé lounge where, as a freshly minted development officer, I attended to weighty matters of state like yelling at T-Mobile to cease billing me automatically for a service I ended a long time ago. United Airlines over-booked my flight and so United honoured me with a “special” up-grade to business class to extricate itself from its predicament. Once aloft, I made fast friends with the flight attendants and we chatted up a storm or coffee and mini-Kit Kat bars.

Sixteen hours in Purgatory: welcome to Dubai. After eighteen hours on boarding flying, writhing and disembarking, the dirty dozen (i.e., we) received attentive service from the hotel, which was beautiful, sleek and almost chic. Since we checked in late at night, Dubai-time, we were unable to take advantage of the amenities. What struck me as darkly ironic about this ‘’ hotel, however, was the presence of all of these Christmas decorations, complete with festooned trees, in a city that funnels at least some of the funds to the Taliban terrorizing so many Afghans. The hotel itself was wide and spacious in the lobby and very “upper glass”; that is to say: the best of neo-sixties kitsch and so I hardly felt homesick. Next day, we departed for Kabul on a two hour-plus-change flight. Safi Airways had no leg-room or freebies nor, thank God, did it feature a G.I. Joe movie.

Arrival in Kabul: a city that has grown as many fifty times over in forty years. At first blush, Kabul seemed safe enough. We hung out in front of the new international terminal – out in the open. The only disturbance arising from being wide open was the complaining by self-appointed security experts doing just a fine job of informing twelve bedraggled people the many gruesome manners in which they could be murdered. Some men are seduced by sirens and others by scenarios. The largest threat facing us, however, was not jihad but jet-lag. The new terminal was constructed through the reconstruction aid of the Japanese and thus remained clean and modern and thoroughly unremarkable throughout.

The U.S. Embassy Compound is a massive complex in of Kabul proper, near the Great (General Ahmed Shah) Massoud Circle. In the center of that round-about stands a twenty to thirty foot monument that likely dates from the era of Soviet domination. It is a granite brown vaguely conical stele crowned by what looks like a globe resting on wheat fronds. Very ugly; very last millennium. Since the fall of the Taliban, however, this unsightly phallic symbol has assumed a new role – not one of virile domination ushered in by a vanguard of grain-growing, flame-throwing revolutionaries – but one giant flip of the bird to the fallen fanatics of Mullah Omar and his anything but gregarious gangsters.

General Ahmed Shah Massoud, a moderate Tajik and national hero against the Red Army, quickly came to oppose the Pashtun warlords and, eventually, the Taliban to the South. General Massoud died fighting the Taliban until the end; that is, until a suicide assassin blew him up just before the 11th of September 2001. A genius himself, General Massoud understood well that Republics of Virtue do not fare too well. Unfortunately, al Qaeda realized this fact, too, and assassinated him. The day of his death is celebrated in Afghanistan today, reminiscent of similar venerations of saints past in the West.

Arrival Shanty-La, or the U.S. Embassy complex. The Embassy consists of a new building of yellowish stone and colored glass, calculated to be the least aesthetically appealing target imaginable. This ‘new’ building flanks the predecessor, the Old Embassy Building, which resembles Stalingrad’s answer to Lincoln Center in New York. Grey with multi-story arches that just don’t work. But the stolid structure has lasted during forty years of Hell quite intact. Other than the larger office buildings are three storey apartment buildings showcased from downtown Bucharest and a few remaining hardened structures. ‘Hardened structures’ absorb the impact of rockets and mortars, not that I am dying to be “myth-buster” on this count. Otherwise there are rows of containerized housing units used as offices or dormitories.

Toughening up the recruits. Most of the briefings, however, took place at the CAFE, an acronym for Compound across from the Embassy. This sprawling complex of tin belly-crawlers represents USAID’s operating headquarters in Kabul. Again, the buildings were grey temporary structures; initially white but around long enough to be discoloured by Kabul’s smog. The air pollution was much worse than anything I had ever encountered in Baghdad, Calcutta or even inside the steel mills of Pittsburgh. In the morning, the mountains were majestic in their snow bestowed ruggedness. The Hindu-Kush Mountains spill over from the Himalayas and exhibit the austere post-card beauty to prove it. Yet by four o’clock in the afternoon, shrouded by smog, those mountains had left for the day. Perhaps Mother Nature keeps bankers’ hours with the help of millions of people burning tires or animal droppings (for central heating) and in the absence of catalytic converters. With the exception of four briefs interspersed over two days, these ‘sensitive’ presentations paralleled Kabul’s air quality in being full of smoke, barely tolerable and always around.

FINALLY, after ten days, up North we go. The people in the Embassy and in USAID were uniformly helpful, dedicated and professional. In all seriousness, I left Kabul for Kunduz as fully prepared as one could be, given the time constraints imposed by the civilian surge, except for my unrivalled gift of misplacing business cards. About eight people converged on the USAID airstrip adjacent to the Kabul Airport very early on Monday morning, at 0’dark-thirty. We soon boarded a small prop plane and flew up to Kunduz. The Kunduz airfield is small, Spartan and likely Soviet. The flight up was spectacular, though photographs cannot do justice to the mountains that encircled us. One sobering note, however, was the lack of snow. These are high mountains, some exceeding 10,000 feet but the snow-cap was more like a yarmulke; that means too little water in the spring-time. While the Kunduz valley is well irrigated thanks to the public works of the U.S.S.R. twenty years ago, water issues loom large here like everywhere else. More of that to follow in future letters.

Afghanistan: Progress not Perfection

As a robust national debate over Afghanistan continues, a policy dilemma weighs upon President Obama. If allied forces depart from Afghanistan, Islamic jihadists will enjoy at least a propaganda victory with a sobering fall-out. If U.S. forces remain or increase in Afghanistan, indicators point toward an eventual stalemate and defeat of Western interests in any case. 

Should allied forces prevail and magically establish a nation state superseding an ancient culture of fierce local allegiances compounded by millions of refugees angered by depredations of tyrants-past, al Qaeda and other terror-gangs will simply move shop to some other failed or pseudo-state like Somalia, Yemen or the Sudan. 

So who wins? 

Yet much of this dilemma emerges from rigid yet competing doctrines of conventional warfare, labor-intensive counter-insurgency, etc. N.A.T.O. must confront certain facts of strife before the West blunders down the same path as did the erstwhile U.S.S.R. in Afghanistan. 

First, President Obama is not dithering. His momentous decision – with no clear path to a positive outcome – requires the prudence afforded by time, deliberation and debate. Deliberately confounding caution with cowardice comes across as a bald attempt to goad the President into taking aggressive actions when, time and again, such actions have proven unproductive. 

Second, General McChrystal’s sixty-six page proposed strategy was neither leaked nor mindlessly kinetic. This well thought out request, heavily redacted, does not represent a desperate call for more troops hoping that “this time, things will be different”. It argues instead for a post-kinetic partnership with an implied time-frame of 12-18 months. 

Third, the West has misplaced the Afghan conflict. This valley or that city is not the battlefield; the future is. There has been no lack of Western resolve in men or materiel. The failure in Afghanistan has been one of neglecting the hopes and aspirations that the people themselves hold for their families.

Fourth, people view Afghanistan as a nation-state. It is not. Afghanistan remains a cauldron of fractious tribes, disaffected refugees, Islamist gangs and local warlords circumscribed by centuries-old borders of the Russian, British and Persian empires. As such, any lasting change will have to work its way from the ground-up with a view toward local loyalties. 

Fifth, a hollowness of purpose, premised on the immediate advancement of U.S. interests as a measure of success, blights the righteousness of U.S. policy. Morally vacuous reasoning allows the ends to justify the means, encourages duplicity, discourages long-term advancement of liberty and promotes the seduction of the kinetic quick-fix. 

At the end of the day, however, our short-sighted and often venal policies dishonour our citizen-soldiers, blacken our name and lead to abuses of might making right...WRONG! That said, what can the U.S. government do, if anything, for NATO to succeed in Afghanistan? I would offer the following ideas: 

• grant General McChrystal’s request for more troops tied to a time-line for withdrawal to dispel the notion of permanent occupation; 
• draw-down in Iraq by year-end 2010 to reinforce the bona fides of U.S. intentions in Afghanistan
• support financially the Iraqi Sunnis paid off by the U.S. Army during the 2008 surge to demonstrate the effectiveness of community-based policing in reducing conflict; 
• disperse the military trainers to mentor local police forces in weeding out gangsters; 
• supplement the troop surge with as many civilian field workers as possible;
• dispense with convoys and body-armor for civilians and military trainers, in exchange for protection by local leaders, knowing that some, perhaps many, field workers will be murdered along the way;
• focus primarily on little, attainable gains that bring hope to Afghans and build their faith in capacity-building; 
• encourage a re-write of a flawed constitution along the lines of a Swiss confederation headed by a constitutional monarch;
• use tolls and other explicit fees financially to incent tribal chiefs and ‘warlords’ into supporting national infrastructure projects; as well as, 
• win the control of the country-side first and eventually to starve the Taliban out of the cities. 

Why must we fight? 

Should the U.S. and NATO fail to prevail against the Afghan Taliban, Pakistani Pashtuns will rise against their government in pursuit of a Taliban caliphate. When Pakistan falls, more will be at stake than the frightful possibility of Taliban possession of 155 nuclear warheads. 

The expansionist ideology of the Taliban will either energize the Punjabis or intimidate them into acquiescence. Then will come an invasion of Kashmir. India will strike back forcefully, possibly activating Chinese intervention into the sub-continent and likely precipitating World War III. --Written September 2009.

UPDATE 2021: link to April 2009 proposal for integrating the Sons of Iraq added for explanatory purposes.

Getting Ready; Closure on Iraq

Closing Thoughts on Security Cooperation with Iraq

Introduction: current situation. The current rush-to-consensus on applying Plan Colombia may prove over time to be pre-mature and a product of group-think.1 In working with the Iraqi government (GOI) to create a “sovereign, stable, and self-reliant” nation, the U.S. government (USG) must assist and support the GOI in avoiding three national catastrophes:
• a regional war between Arabs and Persians fought on Iraqi soil;
• a civil war between the Arabs and Kurds; and,
• a continuing relapse into civil conflict creating a culture of chronic conflict.2

The danger of the third point is clear: half of the failed states that emerge from civil war relapse into (often-times bloodier) conflict within ten years. Iraq may be starting to relapse. Why?
1. Iraq’s contentious factions remain trapped in a "security dilemma", complicating the prospects of long-term conciliation. A security dilemma exists when paramilitary and other armed groups outside the law tend not to surrender weapons during programs of disarmament, demobilization and reintegration (“DDR”).3 The dilemma lies in a militia being defenseless in the face of a rival that has retained its firepower through DDR.

2. Specifically, in Iraq, we do not know what the Ministry of Interior really did to weed out the death squads brought in during Bayan Jabr's tenure of 2005 and 2006 or thought to be lingering in the Ministry of Defence.4

3. The Norwegian government and the Iraqi Ministry of Planning have documented an absolute surfeit of weaponry dispersed throughout the extra-legal fighting elements. Any actual surrender of arms is likely to be nominal. The presence of pervasive poverty sharpens the temptation to resort to violence as a means of dispute resolution.

4. The Maliki government has squandered the reconciliation started by the U.S. program of funding the Sunni ‘Awareness Movement’ with concerned local citizens (a/k/a CLCs). This surge-related program protected the Sunni population from possible sectarian genocide and, more importantly, began bringing disaffected elements into the political mainstream while establishing the fundaments of community policing.

5. Community policing re-frames the current insurgency into a crime wave -- not an insurgency -- effectively to cut these murderers off at the source. Whether the rationale is ethno-sectarian or economic, people who kill people are still criminals. Neighborhood residents are the best eyes-and-ears for the police, as proven by the Kurdish cities.

Review of Plan Colombia as a Template. Colombia and Iraq share evident similarities -- high numbers of internally displaced people; drug (or illegal oil) trafficking as a source of funding for militias; widespread corruption; human rights abuses; vulnerable oil infrastructure in need of protection; and, widespread homicide. A few crucial differences, however, trump these circumstantial parallels.

Additionally, aside from recent tactical gains against revolutionary groups, the ultimate success of Plan Colombia remains contested.5

Plan Colombia was basically a de-novo militarization by the USG of the counter-insurgency in Colombia. Over six years, the United States invested $5-6 billion in military aid, a significant portion of which funded the fumigation of millions of acres of arable lands producing illicit cash crops; not so in Iraq. Over a six year period, the USG allocated $18 billion to the Iraq Security Forces Fund. Thus, Iraq’s equivalent to Plan Colombia has likely taken place already.

With the funding and equipping to date of the Ministries of Interior and Defence (MOI and MOD) as well as the 100,000 CLCs exceeding $18 billion, $3 billion (or Iraq’s population-based equivalent to the aid under Plan Colombia’s) of funding over six years should prove to be superfluous. Such a situation would be like Noah, on the thirty-ninth day of rains, walking top-side with a pitcher of water to tend to some plants on deck. Instead, such a USG posture would more likely spoil the prospects for long-term stability as U.S. policies would be perceived – as they already are by many – as taking sides in a civil conflict.

Training more men to kill other men, as suggested by applying Plan Colombia, will not enhance the rule of law in Iraq. The current police force exceeds sustainable levels; the police stations and other infrastructure in place can not handle the levels of forces using them. One of every 25-30 Iraqis is in the security forces (i.e., the military and police; or, ISF), meaning more police per population than any of the world's five most dangerous countries.

At the height of Plan Colombia, there were -- at least -- one hundred people for every member of the security forces. Iraq lacks the extra-governmental institutions reaching all levels of its society. Colombia has the Catholic Church and many mature peace-oriented non-governmental organizations (NGOs), allied with wealthier benefactors in the U.S. and Europe, to build a climate of reconciliation that can supplant a culture of conflict.6 Iraq’s NGOs are nascent and under-funded.

Lastly, U.S. interests (i.e., the war on drugs and “nar-corruption” sweeping Northward from Colombia) remain more immediate and vital with respect to Colombia than they do with Iraq.7 A (Not-So) New Way for a New Day. The ideal end-state toward which U.S. can point Iraq includes the following elements:
• police primacy through democratic, communally-based law enforcement;
• an end to ISF-sponsored violence against prisoners and detainees including torture, false arrest and neglect during custody;
• widespread enforcement for the protection of fundamental human rights; and,
• ethno-sectarian tolerance strengthened through mutual support.

These elements define President Obama's ideal of “an Iraq that is sovereign, stable, and self-reliant”. It may be prudent not to assume an eventual stay-behind U.S. force. Such a residual force would be unwelcome and, given its small number and attenuated lines of communication (LOC), far more vulnerable.

A possible exception might be small U.S. Army training contingents in Kirkuk, Baghdad and Basra. These units would gather intelligence while preventing potential regional peace-keepers -- about 20,000 in all (if requested) -- from indulging in a land-grab of Iraq. Such an oversight force would tap into the peace-keepers’ LOC.
This alternative approach minimizes the constraints mentioned earlier by establishing a post-kinetic partnership between Iraq and the U.S. starting in 2012.

This alliance will aim for peaceful co-existence within Iraqi society to relieve the poverty and essential service shortages that now detract from the GOI's legitimacy and rule of law. The Office of Security Cooperation (OSC) would ideally consist of a security assistance component (8-13 people) supplemented by liaisons with civilian agencies (27-32 people) harnessing USG and NGO-sponsored resources.
Toward an Alternate Legacy.

A legacy of goodwill counts in the long-run. One U.S. approach could leverage each uniformed military trainer deployed from the U.S., U.N. or NATO (about 3,000 in all) with at least five field-workers drawn from the Peace Corps, USAID, DFID, diverse NGOs and the Iraqi population. These volunteers and the uniformed military would cross-train each other in grass-roots economic development and civil-military operations.
Iraqis could then re-build their villages and their lives in practical ways. In the Iraqi mind, these basic benefits would gradually begin to associate the United States or the West with reconciliation and prosperity.8 The USG would strive, through this radically different OSC concept sponsored by the U.S. Embassy, to impart a legacy of democratic policing, law-&-order, human rights and communal self-improvement.9 The annual cost of this legacy-building would total less than 10% of the average yearly ISFF burden.
================================
REFERENCES
1. Irving Janis; Yale & Berkeley; 1972: who did extensive work on the subject, defined it as: A mode of thinking that people engage in when they are deeply involved in a cohesive in-group, when the members' strivings for unanimity override their motivation to realistically appraise alternative courses of action. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Groupthink)

2. Paul Collier; Oxford University 2004: “Around half of all civil wars are due to post-conflict relapses…The risks of conflict relapse are very high during the first post-conflict decade – typically around 50%.” (http://www.un.org/esa/documents/Development.and.Conflict2.pdf)

3. Matthew Kirwin; Michigan State, 2006
“There are several factors that have led to the conflagration of a security dilemma in Cote d’Ivoire. First, a weak state and economic crisis compelled certain groups to revert to a primordial attachment to ethnic and religious background, which supersedes national identity and creates intense power struggles. This reversion to ethnic identity caused the parties to identify each other as offensive threats. Due to the dire economic situation in states such as Cote d’Ivoire, the struggle for the control of resources has become intense. “Any economic improvement by one ethnic group is frequently perceived as an example by the center: the ethnic security dilemma has an economic component, as all sorts of motives and fears are read into any change in the economic status of each ethnic group (Saideman 1998: 135).” Therefore the distribution of resources to one ethnic group and not another decreases the security of latter and increases the security of the former. Control and distribution of resources is primarily the responsibility of the government. Political appointments therefore confer power to the appointee and his entourage, which in turn can be interpreted as a security threat to certain groups. At one point other ethnic groups assumed that the government of Gbagbo and his ethnic group had a stranglehold on the means of entry into the police and gendarmerie.”
(http://www.njas.helsinki.fi/pdf-files/vol15num1/kirwin.pdf)

4. James C. Jones; U.S. Institute of Peace 2009; Colombia: Building Peace in a Time of War (page-365)
“Indeed doubts exist about the degree of real paramilitary [i.e., ‘government coddled militias’] demobilization. Recent reports the emergence of new groups, or reemergence of old ones, throughout the country. Moreover, investigations as well as informed testimony under the controversial Justice and Peace Law have revealed disturbing links between lawmakers – most of them [President] Uribe supporters [in favor of Plan Colombia’s militarized program] – and paramilitaries. And there is strong evidence of widespread paramilitary penetration of governmental institutions.”
Please note that the writing of Dr Jones is likely to be biased against the government of Colombia (GOC); he was under investigation by the GOC for possible ties with leftist guerillas opposing the rightist paramilitaries. The Department of State gives the GOC higher marks but states in its 2009 narcotics report:
“The GOC does not, as a matter of government policy, encourage or facilitate the illicit production or distribution of narcotic or psychotropic drugs or other controlled substances, or the laundering of proceeds from illegal drug transactions. While criminal organizations are greatly weakened, concerns remain over their corrupting influences. In September 2008, two CNP [i.e., Colombian National Police] generals, Antonio Gomez Mendez and Marco Pedreros, were fired as a result of alleged ties to narco-paramilitary leader, Daniel “El Loco” Barrera. Separately, several members of the GOC were found to have supported right-wing paramilitary groups. Seventy members of the 2006-2010 Congress and 15 current and former governors have been investigated in the “para-political” scandal, with 34 congressmen and eight governors jailed as a result of the aggressive investigations.” (http://www.state.gov/p/inl/rls/nrcrpt/2009/vol1/116520.htm)
Deborah Haynes; The Times of London, 2009: “….in January the human rights office of the Defence Ministry found more than 1,000 detainees at three centres in Ninevah, northern Iraq, including about 550 who had orders issued for their release…Many prisoners were held in cramped and unhygienic conditions. More than 700 were eventually freed.” (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/iraq/article6737870.ece)

5. Associated Content News; “Top 5 Nations Where Safety is Last” 2007:
“Colombia. Infamous for its guerillas, illegal cocaine "industry", and corrupt government, no wonder Colombia ranks as ‘The Most Dangerous Country in the World’. Bombings targeting civilians are common and terrorism is a way of life for most citizens who have grown accustomed to the chaos. It has a high rating for kidnappings with ransoms, with businesspeople, tourists, journalists, and scientists being frequent targets, though no one is actually excluded from kidnappings. Hot spots include ATMs, taxis, restaurants, and simply walking down the street. Those who try to resist robberies usually get shot and killed. Bogota, Baranquilla, Cartagena, and Medellin are statistically categorized as the most dangerous cities, with Medellin holding the title of the Drug Capital and ‘Most Dangerous City in the World’. With 11 murders a day in a city of merely 2 million, its murder rates is quintupled that of New York City. In recent years, murders rates in Colombia have dropped, but not enough to pass the title to South Africa. Though what was previously mentioned [falling homicide rates] may be misinformation, as critics have accused President Uribe of manipulating the crime [rate], making Colombia seem safer than it really is. What is behind all the heinous crimes? An expanding drug market and a plethora of terrorist groups, and a government that does nothing about it. Colombia averages 47 murders a day in a nation of 45 million, giving it the crown of ‘Most Dangerous’.” (http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/159175/top_5_most_dangerous_countries_in_the.html?cat=9)
U.S. Office on Colombia; 2009
“The…Working Group on Extrajudicial Executions has identified new modalities of extrajudicial executions where killings are no longer publicly reported, as happened in the case of false positives, but rather hidden, with measures taken to conceal the identity of those responsible. One example is the increase in cases of forced disappearances of human rights defenders and social leaders, with the person being subsequently killed and put into unidentified graves in the majority of these cases. In many of these cases members of the armed forces are alleged to have been involved either directly, through cooperation, or at the least through acquiescence with paramilitaries. According to a recent report by the National Commission for the Search for Disappeared People, between January 1 2007 and October 21 2008 alone, there was a total of 1,686 people forcefully disappeared.”
(http://www.usofficeoncolombia.com/uploads/application-pdf/2009-%20June%20EJE%20memo.pdf)

6. Arturo Carrillo; U.S. Institute of Peace 2009; Colombia: Building Peace in a Time of War (pages 148-149)
“As a result, by 2000, the Colombian non-governmental human rights movement was a critical player…Colombian NGOs had powerful allies in the Colombian Congress as well as among foreign governments, intergovernmental organizations…[e.g., U.N.]…and, of course, international NGOs….”

7. Bruce Bagley University of Miami; 2001: “During most of the 1980s the Medellin cartel dominated the Colombian drug trade and its principal trafficking routes passed through (or over) the Caribbean into the United States via south Florida and elsewhere along the U.S. Atlantic seaboard. As these "traditional" smuggling routes came under increasing pressure from U.S. drug enforcement over the second half of the decade, a gradual shift away from the Caribbean routes to new ones passing through Central America and Mexico and across the U.S. southwest border took place. By the early 1990s 70 to 80 percent of the cocaine smuggled out of Colombia entered the United States from Mexico while only 20 to 30 percent continued to come in via the Caribbean.” (http://clas.berkeley.edu/Events/conferences/Colombia/workingpapers/working_paper_bagley.html)

8. Eugene Burdick and William Lederer; The Ugly American; 1958
“But despite the dual meaning, the ‘ugly American’ of the book title fundamentally does refer to the plain-looking engineer Atkins, who lives with the local people, comes to understand their needs, and offers genuinely useful assistance with small-scale projects such as the development of a simple bicycle-powered water pump. It is argued in the book that the Communists are successful because they practice tactics similar to Atkins'. According to an article published in Newsweek in May 1959, the ‘real’ Ugly American was identified as an ICA technician named Otto Hunerwadel, who served in Burma from 1949 until his death in 1952.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Ugly_American)

9. Bonnie Bucqueroux; Michigan State, 2004
“By embracing strategies that decentralize and personalize police service, police departments that have adopted the community policing philosophy have been able to engage communities in comprehensive, collaborative, community-based problem-solving aimed at crime, fear of crime, and disorder. Many efforts involve assigning individual officers or teams to specific beat areas, to foster a sense of ownership and responsibility. The marriage of police and community brings together the power of the formal criminal justice system with the informal social control that communities can exert. Police departments have also been a catalyst in forging new partnerships with other professional and civic institutions (municipal agencies, non-profit groups, the business community, schools, and the faith community).“
(http://www.policing.com/articles/rcj.html)

10. Ned McDonnell; Letter to President George W. Bush, 2006
“The three themes of this rationale – crime prevention, national sovereignty and economic development – are based on precedents in…New York City…The Ministry of Interior has been infiltrated by militias backed by Iran...Trustworthy policemen, vetted and approved by local inhabitants, will empower Iraqi citizens to turn over the insurgents who are nothing more than people enjoying the blood-sport of – and financial gain from – killing, destruction, kidnapping and mayhem. This plan will save time, energy and money which can then be better allocated to Afghanistan to complete Operation Enduring Freedom in support of a tenuous democratic government….”