Friday, November 07, 2003
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.
11:05 A.M. EST
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you all very much. Please be seated. Thanks for the warm welcome, and thanks for inviting me to join you in this 20th anniversary of the National Endowment for Democracy. The staff and directors of this organization have seen a lot of history over the last two decades, you've been a part of that history. By speaking for and standing for freedom, you've lifted the hopes of people around the world, and you've brought great credit to America.
I appreciate Vin for the short introduction. I'm a man who likes short introductions. And he didn't let me down. But more importantly, I appreciate the invitation. I appreciate the members of Congress who are here, senators from both political parties, members of the House of Representatives from both political parties. I appreciate the ambassadors who are here. I appreciate the guests who have come. I appreciate the bipartisan spirit, the nonpartisan spirit of the National Endowment for Democracy. I'm glad that Republicans and Democrats and independents are working together to advance human liberty.
The roots of our democracy can be traced to England, and to its Parliament -- and so can the roots of this organization. In June of 1982, President Ronald Reagan spoke at Westminster Palace and declared, the turning point had arrived in history. He argued that Soviet communism had failed, precisely because it did not respect its own people -- their creativity, their genius and their rights.
President Reagan said that the day of Soviet tyranny was passing, that freedom had a momentum which would not be halted. He gave this organization its mandate: to add to the momentum of freedom across the world. Your mandate was important 20 years ago; it is equally important today. (Applause.)
A number of critics were dismissive of that speech by the President. According to one editorial of the time, "It seems hard to be a sophisticated European and also an admirer of Ronald Reagan." (Laughter.) Some observers on both sides of the Atlantic pronounced the speech simplistic and naive, and even dangerous. In fact, Ronald Reagan's words were courageous and optimistic and entirely correct. (Applause.)
The great democratic movement President Reagan described was already well underway. In the early 1970s, there were about 40 democracies in the world. By the middle of that decade, Portugal and Spain and Greece held free elections. Soon there were new democracies in Latin America, and free institutions were spreading in Korea, in Taiwan, and in East Asia. This very week in 1989, there were protests in East Berlin and in Leipzig. By the end of that year, every communist dictatorship in Central America* had collapsed. Within another year, the South African government released Nelson Mandela. Four years later, he was elected president of his country -- ascending, like Walesa and Havel, from prisoner of state to head of state.
As the 20th century ended, there were around 120 democracies in the world -- and I can assure you more are on the way. (Applause.) Ronald Reagan would be pleased, and he would not be surprised.
We've witnessed, in little over a generation, the swiftest advance of freedom in the 2,500 year story of democracy. Historians in the future will offer their own explanations for why this happened. Yet we already know some of the reasons they will cite. It is no accident that the rise of so many democracies took place in a time when the world's most influential nation was itself a democracy.
The United States made military and moral commitments in Europe and Asia, which protected free nations from aggression, and created the conditions in which new democracies could flourish. As we provided security for whole nations, we also provided inspiration for oppressed peoples. In prison camps, in banned union meetings, in clandestine churches, men and women knew that the whole world was not sharing their own nightmare. They knew of at least one place -- a bright and hopeful land -- where freedom was valued and secure. And they prayed that America would not forget them, or forget the mission to promote liberty around the world.
Historians will note that in many nations, the advance of markets and free enterprise helped to create a middle class that was confident enough to demand their own rights. They will point to the role of technology in frustrating censorship and central control -- and marvel at the power of instant communications to spread the truth, the news, and courage across borders.
Historians in the future will reflect on an extraordinary, undeniable fact: Over time, free nations grow stronger and dictatorships grow weaker. In the middle of the 20th century, some imagined that the central planning and social regimentation were a shortcut to national strength. In fact, the prosperity, and social vitality and technological progress of a people are directly determined by extent of their liberty. Freedom honors and unleashes human creativity -- and creativity determines the strength and wealth of nations. Liberty is both the plan of Heaven for humanity, and the best hope for progress here on Earth.
The progress of liberty is a powerful trend. Yet, we also know that liberty, if not defended, can be lost. The success of freedom is not determined by some dialectic of history. By definition, the success of freedom rests upon the choices and the courage of free peoples, and upon their willingness to sacrifice. In the trenches of World War I, through a two-front war in the 1940s, the difficult battles of Korea and Vietnam, and in missions of rescue and liberation on nearly every continent, Americans have amply displayed our willingness to sacrifice for liberty.
The sacrifices of Americans have not always been recognized or appreciated, yet they have been worthwhile. Because we and our allies were steadfast, Germany and Japan are democratic nations that no longer threaten the world. A global nuclear standoff with the Soviet Union ended peacefully -- as did the Soviet Union. The nations of Europe are moving towards unity, not dividing into armed camps and descending into genocide. Every nation has learned, or should have learned, an important lesson: Freedom is worth fighting for, dying for, and standing for -- and the advance of freedom leads to peace. (Applause.)
And now we must apply that lesson in our own time. We've reached another great turning point -- and the resolve we show will shape the next stage of the world democratic movement.
Our commitment to democracy is tested in countries like Cuba and Burma and North Korea and Zimbabwe -- outposts of oppression in our world. The people in these nations live in captivity, and fear and silence. Yet, these regimes cannot hold back freedom forever -- and, one day, from prison camps and prison cells, and from exile, the leaders of new democracies will arrive. (Applause.) Communism, and militarism and rule by the capricious and corrupt are the relics of a passing era. And we will stand with these oppressed peoples until the day of their freedom finally arrives. (Applause.)
Our commitment to democracy is tested in China. That nation now has a sliver, a fragment of liberty. Yet, China's people will eventually want their liberty pure and whole. China has discovered that economic freedom leads to national wealth. China's leaders will also discover that freedom is indivisible -- that social and religious freedom is also essential to national greatness and national dignity. Eventually, men and women who are allowed to control their own wealth will insist on controlling their own lives and their own country.
Our commitment to democracy is also tested in the Middle East, which is my focus today, and must be a focus of American policy for decades to come. In many nations of the Middle East -- countries of great strategic importance -- democracy has not yet taken root. And the questions arise: Are the peoples of the Middle East somehow beyond the reach of liberty? Are millions of men and women and children condemned by history or culture to live in despotism? Are they alone never to know freedom, and never even to have a choice in the matter? I, for one, do not believe it. I believe every person has the ability and the right to be free. (Applause.)
Some skeptics of democracy assert that the traditions of Islam are inhospitable to the representative government. This "cultural condescension," as Ronald Reagan termed it, has a long history. After the Japanese surrender in 1945, a so-called Japan expert asserted that democracy in that former empire would "never work." Another observer declared the prospects for democracy in post-Hitler Germany are, and I quote, "most uncertain at best" -- he made that claim in 1957. Seventy-four years ago, The Sunday London Times declared nine-tenths of the population of India to be "illiterates not caring a fig for politics." Yet when Indian democracy was imperiled in the 1970s, the Indian people showed their commitment to liberty in a national referendum that saved their form of government.
Time after time, observers have questioned whether this country, or that people, or this group, are "ready" for democracy -- as if freedom were a prize you win for meeting our own Western standards of progress. In fact, the daily work of democracy itself is the path of progress. It teaches cooperation, the free exchange of ideas, and the peaceful resolution of differences. As men and women are showing, from Bangladesh to Botswana, to Mongolia, it is the practice of democracy that makes a nation ready for democracy, and every nation can start on this path.
It should be clear to all that Islam -- the faith of one-fifth of humanity -- is consistent with democratic rule. Democratic progress is found in many predominantly Muslim countries -- in Turkey and Indonesia, and Senegal and Albania, Niger and Sierra Leone. Muslim men and women are good citizens of India and South Africa, of the nations of Western Europe, and of the United States of America.
More than half of all the Muslims in the world live in freedom under democratically constituted governments. They succeed in democratic societies, not in spite of their faith, but because of it. A religion that demands individual moral accountability, and encourages the encounter of the individual with God, is fully compatible with the rights and responsibilities of self-government.
Yet there's a great challenge today in the Middle East. In the words of a recent report by Arab scholars, the global wave of democracy has -- and I quote -- "barely reached the Arab states." They continue: "This freedom deficit undermines human development and is one of the most painful manifestations of lagging political development." The freedom deficit they describe has terrible consequences, of the people of the Middle East and for the world. In many Middle Eastern countries, poverty is deep and it is spreading, women lack rights and are denied schooling. Whole societies remain stagnant while the world moves ahead. These are not the failures of a culture or a religion. These are the failures of political and economic doctrines.
As the colonial era passed away, the Middle East saw the establishment of many military dictatorships. Some rulers adopted the dogmas of socialism, seized total control of political parties and the media and universities. They allied themselves with the Soviet bloc and with international terrorism. Dictators in Iraq and Syria promised the restoration of national honor, a return to ancient glories. They've left instead a legacy of torture, oppression, misery, and ruin.
Other men, and groups of men, have gained influence in the Middle East and beyond through an ideology of theocratic terror. Behind their language of religion is the ambition for absolute political power. Ruling cabals like the Taliban show their version of religious piety in public whippings of women, ruthless suppression of any difference or dissent, and support for terrorists who arm and train to murder the innocent. The Taliban promised religious purity and national pride. Instead, by systematically destroying a proud and working society, they left behind suffering and starvation.
Many Middle Eastern governments now understand that military dictatorship and theocratic rule are a straight, smooth highway to nowhere. But some governments still cling to the old habits of central control. There are governments that still fear and repress independent thought and creativity, and private enterprise -- the human qualities that make for a -- strong and successful societies. Even when these nations have vast natural resources, they do not respect or develop their greatest resources -- the talent and energy of men and women working and living in freedom.
Instead of dwelling on past wrongs and blaming others, governments in the Middle East need to confront real problems, and serve the true interests of their nations. The good and capable people of the Middle East all deserve responsible leadership. For too long, many people in that region have been victims and subjects -- they deserve to be active citizens.
Governments across the Middle East and North Africa are beginning to see the need for change. Morocco has a diverse new parliament; King Mohammed has urged it to extend the rights to women. Here is how His Majesty explained his reforms to parliament: "How can society achieve progress while women, who represent half the nation, see their rights violated and suffer as a result of injustice, violence, and marginalization, notwithstanding the dignity and justice granted to them by our glorious religion?" The King of Morocco is correct: The future of Muslim nations will be better for all with the full participation of women. (Applause.)
In Bahrain last year, citizens elected their own parliament for the first time in nearly three decades. Oman has extended the vote to all adult citizens; Qatar has a new constitution; Yemen has a multiparty political system; Kuwait has a directly elected national assembly; and Jordan held historic elections this summer. Recent surveys in Arab nations reveal broad support for political pluralism, the rule of law, and free speech. These are the stirrings of Middle Eastern democracy, and they carry the promise of greater change to come.
As changes come to the Middle Eastern region, those with power should ask themselves: Will they be remembered for resisting reform, or for leading it? In Iran, the demand for democracy is strong and broad, as we saw last month when thousands gathered to welcome home Shirin Ebadi, the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. The regime in Teheran must heed the democratic demands of the Iranian people, or lose its last claim to legitimacy. (Applause.)
For the Palestinian people, the only path to independence and dignity and progress is the path of democracy. (Applause.) And the Palestinian leaders who block and undermine democratic reform, and feed hatred and encourage violence are not leaders at all. They're the main obstacles to peace, and to the success of the Palestinian people.
The Saudi government is taking first steps toward reform, including a plan for gradual introduction of elections. By giving the Saudi people a greater role in their own society, the Saudi government can demonstrate true leadership in the region.
The great and proud nation of Egypt has shown the way toward peace in the Middle East, and now should show the way toward democracy in the Middle East. (Applause.) Champions of democracy in the region understand that democracy is not perfect, it is not the path to utopia, but it's the only path to national success and dignity.
As we watch and encourage reforms in the region, we are mindful that modernization is not the same as Westernization. Representative governments in the Middle East will reflect their own cultures. They will not, and should not, look like us. Democratic nations may be constitutional monarchies, federal republics, or parliamentary systems. And working democracies always need time to develop -- as did our own. We've taken a 200-year journey toward inclusion and justice -- and this makes us patient and understanding as other nations are at different stages of this journey.
There are, however, essential principles common to every successful society, in every culture. Successful societies limit the power of the state and the power of the military -- so that governments respond to the will of the people, and not the will of an elite. Successful societies protect freedom with the consistent and impartial rule of law, instead of selecting applying -- selectively applying the law to punish political opponents. Successful societies allow room for healthy civic institutions -- for political parties and labor unions and independent newspapers and broadcast media. Successful societies guarantee religious liberty -- the right to serve and honor God without fear of persecution. Successful societies privatize their economies, and secure the rights of property. They prohibit and punish official corruption, and invest in the health and education of their people. They recognize the rights of women. And instead of directing hatred and resentment against others, successful societies appeal to the hopes of their own people. (Applause.)
These vital principles are being applies in the nations of Afghanistan and Iraq. With the steady leadership of President Karzai, the people of Afghanistan are building a modern and peaceful government. Next month, 500 delegates will convene a national assembly in Kabul to approve a new Afghan constitution. The proposed draft would establish a bicameral parliament, set national elections next year, and recognize Afghanistan's Muslim identity, while protecting the rights of all citizens. Afghanistan faces continuing economic and security challenges -- it will face those challenges as a free and stable democracy. (Applause.)
In Iraq, the Coalition Provisional Authority and the Iraqi Governing Council are also working together to build a democracy -- and after three decades of tyranny, this work is not easy. The former dictator ruled by terror and treachery, and left deeply ingrained habits of fear and distrust. Remnants of his regime, joined by foreign terrorists, continue their battle against order and against civilization. Our coalition is responding to recent attacks with precision raids, guided by intelligence provided by the Iraqis, themselves. And we're working closely with Iraqi citizens as they prepare a constitution, as they move toward free elections and take increasing responsibility for their own affairs. As in the defense of Greece in 1947, and later in the Berlin Airlift, the strength and will of free peoples are now being tested before a watching world. And we will meet this test. (Applause.)
Securing democracy in Iraq is the work of many hands. American and coalition forces are sacrificing for the peace of Iraq and for the security of free nations. Aid workers from many countries are facing danger to help the Iraqi people. The National Endowment for Democracy is promoting women's rights, and training Iraqi journalists, and teaching the skills of political participation. Iraqis, themselves -- police and borders guards and local officials -- are joining in the work and they are sharing in the sacrifice.
This is a massive and difficult undertaking -- it is worth our effort, it is worth our sacrifice, because we know the stakes. The failure of Iraqi democracy would embolden terrorists around the world, increase dangers to the American people, and extinguish the hopes of millions in the region. Iraqi democracy will succeed -- and that success will send forth the news, from Damascus to Teheran -- that freedom can be the future of every nation. (Applause.) The establishment of a free Iraq at the heart of the Middle East will be a watershed event in the global democratic revolution. (Applause.)
Sixty years of Western nations excusing and accommodating the lack of freedom in the Middle East did nothing to make us safe -- because in the long run, stability cannot be purchased at the expense of liberty. As long as the Middle East remains a place where freedom does not flourish, it will remain a place of stagnation, resentment, and violence ready for export. And with the spread of weapons that can bring catastrophic harm to our country and to our friends, it would be reckless to accept the status quo. (Applause.)
Therefore, the United States has adopted a new policy, a forward strategy of freedom in the Middle East. This strategy requires the same persistence and energy and idealism we have shown before. And it will yield the same results. As in Europe, as in Asia, as in every region of the world, the advance of freedom leads to peace. (Applause.)
The advance of freedom is the calling of our time; it is the calling of our country. From the Fourteen Points to the Four Freedoms, to the Speech at Westminster, America has put our power at the service of principle. We believe that liberty is the design of nature; we believe that liberty is the direction of history. We believe that human fulfillment and excellence come in the responsible exercise of liberty. And we believe that freedom -- the freedom we prize -- is not for us alone, it is the right and the capacity of all mankind. (Applause.)
Working for the spread of freedom can be hard. Yet, America has accomplished hard tasks before. Our nation is strong; we're strong of heart. And we're not alone. Freedom is finding allies in every country; freedom finds allies in every culture. And as we meet the terror and violence of the world, we can be certain the author of freedom is not indifferent to the fate of freedom.
With all the tests and all the challenges of our age, this is, above all, the age of liberty. Each of you at this Endowment is fully engaged in the great cause of liberty. And I thank you. May God bless your work. And may God continue to bless America. (Applause.)
United States Chamber of Commerce
Washington, D.C.
11:05 A.M. EST
THE PRESIDENT: Thank you all very much. Please be seated. Thanks for the warm welcome, and thanks for inviting me to join you in this 20th anniversary of the National Endowment for Democracy. The staff and directors of this organization have seen a lot of history over the last two decades, you've been a part of that history. By speaking for and standing for freedom, you've lifted the hopes of people around the world, and you've brought great credit to America.
I appreciate Vin for the short introduction. I'm a man who likes short introductions. And he didn't let me down. But more importantly, I appreciate the invitation. I appreciate the members of Congress who are here, senators from both political parties, members of the House of Representatives from both political parties. I appreciate the ambassadors who are here. I appreciate the guests who have come. I appreciate the bipartisan spirit, the nonpartisan spirit of the National Endowment for Democracy. I'm glad that Republicans and Democrats and independents are working together to advance human liberty.
The roots of our democracy can be traced to England, and to its Parliament -- and so can the roots of this organization. In June of 1982, President Ronald Reagan spoke at Westminster Palace and declared, the turning point had arrived in history. He argued that Soviet communism had failed, precisely because it did not respect its own people -- their creativity, their genius and their rights.
President Reagan said that the day of Soviet tyranny was passing, that freedom had a momentum which would not be halted. He gave this organization its mandate: to add to the momentum of freedom across the world. Your mandate was important 20 years ago; it is equally important today. (Applause.)
A number of critics were dismissive of that speech by the President. According to one editorial of the time, "It seems hard to be a sophisticated European and also an admirer of Ronald Reagan." (Laughter.) Some observers on both sides of the Atlantic pronounced the speech simplistic and naive, and even dangerous. In fact, Ronald Reagan's words were courageous and optimistic and entirely correct. (Applause.)
The great democratic movement President Reagan described was already well underway. In the early 1970s, there were about 40 democracies in the world. By the middle of that decade, Portugal and Spain and Greece held free elections. Soon there were new democracies in Latin America, and free institutions were spreading in Korea, in Taiwan, and in East Asia. This very week in 1989, there were protests in East Berlin and in Leipzig. By the end of that year, every communist dictatorship in Central America* had collapsed. Within another year, the South African government released Nelson Mandela. Four years later, he was elected president of his country -- ascending, like Walesa and Havel, from prisoner of state to head of state.
As the 20th century ended, there were around 120 democracies in the world -- and I can assure you more are on the way. (Applause.) Ronald Reagan would be pleased, and he would not be surprised.
We've witnessed, in little over a generation, the swiftest advance of freedom in the 2,500 year story of democracy. Historians in the future will offer their own explanations for why this happened. Yet we already know some of the reasons they will cite. It is no accident that the rise of so many democracies took place in a time when the world's most influential nation was itself a democracy.
The United States made military and moral commitments in Europe and Asia, which protected free nations from aggression, and created the conditions in which new democracies could flourish. As we provided security for whole nations, we also provided inspiration for oppressed peoples. In prison camps, in banned union meetings, in clandestine churches, men and women knew that the whole world was not sharing their own nightmare. They knew of at least one place -- a bright and hopeful land -- where freedom was valued and secure. And they prayed that America would not forget them, or forget the mission to promote liberty around the world.
Historians will note that in many nations, the advance of markets and free enterprise helped to create a middle class that was confident enough to demand their own rights. They will point to the role of technology in frustrating censorship and central control -- and marvel at the power of instant communications to spread the truth, the news, and courage across borders.
Historians in the future will reflect on an extraordinary, undeniable fact: Over time, free nations grow stronger and dictatorships grow weaker. In the middle of the 20th century, some imagined that the central planning and social regimentation were a shortcut to national strength. In fact, the prosperity, and social vitality and technological progress of a people are directly determined by extent of their liberty. Freedom honors and unleashes human creativity -- and creativity determines the strength and wealth of nations. Liberty is both the plan of Heaven for humanity, and the best hope for progress here on Earth.
The progress of liberty is a powerful trend. Yet, we also know that liberty, if not defended, can be lost. The success of freedom is not determined by some dialectic of history. By definition, the success of freedom rests upon the choices and the courage of free peoples, and upon their willingness to sacrifice. In the trenches of World War I, through a two-front war in the 1940s, the difficult battles of Korea and Vietnam, and in missions of rescue and liberation on nearly every continent, Americans have amply displayed our willingness to sacrifice for liberty.
The sacrifices of Americans have not always been recognized or appreciated, yet they have been worthwhile. Because we and our allies were steadfast, Germany and Japan are democratic nations that no longer threaten the world. A global nuclear standoff with the Soviet Union ended peacefully -- as did the Soviet Union. The nations of Europe are moving towards unity, not dividing into armed camps and descending into genocide. Every nation has learned, or should have learned, an important lesson: Freedom is worth fighting for, dying for, and standing for -- and the advance of freedom leads to peace. (Applause.)
And now we must apply that lesson in our own time. We've reached another great turning point -- and the resolve we show will shape the next stage of the world democratic movement.
Our commitment to democracy is tested in countries like Cuba and Burma and North Korea and Zimbabwe -- outposts of oppression in our world. The people in these nations live in captivity, and fear and silence. Yet, these regimes cannot hold back freedom forever -- and, one day, from prison camps and prison cells, and from exile, the leaders of new democracies will arrive. (Applause.) Communism, and militarism and rule by the capricious and corrupt are the relics of a passing era. And we will stand with these oppressed peoples until the day of their freedom finally arrives. (Applause.)
Our commitment to democracy is tested in China. That nation now has a sliver, a fragment of liberty. Yet, China's people will eventually want their liberty pure and whole. China has discovered that economic freedom leads to national wealth. China's leaders will also discover that freedom is indivisible -- that social and religious freedom is also essential to national greatness and national dignity. Eventually, men and women who are allowed to control their own wealth will insist on controlling their own lives and their own country.
Our commitment to democracy is also tested in the Middle East, which is my focus today, and must be a focus of American policy for decades to come. In many nations of the Middle East -- countries of great strategic importance -- democracy has not yet taken root. And the questions arise: Are the peoples of the Middle East somehow beyond the reach of liberty? Are millions of men and women and children condemned by history or culture to live in despotism? Are they alone never to know freedom, and never even to have a choice in the matter? I, for one, do not believe it. I believe every person has the ability and the right to be free. (Applause.)
Some skeptics of democracy assert that the traditions of Islam are inhospitable to the representative government. This "cultural condescension," as Ronald Reagan termed it, has a long history. After the Japanese surrender in 1945, a so-called Japan expert asserted that democracy in that former empire would "never work." Another observer declared the prospects for democracy in post-Hitler Germany are, and I quote, "most uncertain at best" -- he made that claim in 1957. Seventy-four years ago, The Sunday London Times declared nine-tenths of the population of India to be "illiterates not caring a fig for politics." Yet when Indian democracy was imperiled in the 1970s, the Indian people showed their commitment to liberty in a national referendum that saved their form of government.
Time after time, observers have questioned whether this country, or that people, or this group, are "ready" for democracy -- as if freedom were a prize you win for meeting our own Western standards of progress. In fact, the daily work of democracy itself is the path of progress. It teaches cooperation, the free exchange of ideas, and the peaceful resolution of differences. As men and women are showing, from Bangladesh to Botswana, to Mongolia, it is the practice of democracy that makes a nation ready for democracy, and every nation can start on this path.
It should be clear to all that Islam -- the faith of one-fifth of humanity -- is consistent with democratic rule. Democratic progress is found in many predominantly Muslim countries -- in Turkey and Indonesia, and Senegal and Albania, Niger and Sierra Leone. Muslim men and women are good citizens of India and South Africa, of the nations of Western Europe, and of the United States of America.
More than half of all the Muslims in the world live in freedom under democratically constituted governments. They succeed in democratic societies, not in spite of their faith, but because of it. A religion that demands individual moral accountability, and encourages the encounter of the individual with God, is fully compatible with the rights and responsibilities of self-government.
Yet there's a great challenge today in the Middle East. In the words of a recent report by Arab scholars, the global wave of democracy has -- and I quote -- "barely reached the Arab states." They continue: "This freedom deficit undermines human development and is one of the most painful manifestations of lagging political development." The freedom deficit they describe has terrible consequences, of the people of the Middle East and for the world. In many Middle Eastern countries, poverty is deep and it is spreading, women lack rights and are denied schooling. Whole societies remain stagnant while the world moves ahead. These are not the failures of a culture or a religion. These are the failures of political and economic doctrines.
As the colonial era passed away, the Middle East saw the establishment of many military dictatorships. Some rulers adopted the dogmas of socialism, seized total control of political parties and the media and universities. They allied themselves with the Soviet bloc and with international terrorism. Dictators in Iraq and Syria promised the restoration of national honor, a return to ancient glories. They've left instead a legacy of torture, oppression, misery, and ruin.
Other men, and groups of men, have gained influence in the Middle East and beyond through an ideology of theocratic terror. Behind their language of religion is the ambition for absolute political power. Ruling cabals like the Taliban show their version of religious piety in public whippings of women, ruthless suppression of any difference or dissent, and support for terrorists who arm and train to murder the innocent. The Taliban promised religious purity and national pride. Instead, by systematically destroying a proud and working society, they left behind suffering and starvation.
Many Middle Eastern governments now understand that military dictatorship and theocratic rule are a straight, smooth highway to nowhere. But some governments still cling to the old habits of central control. There are governments that still fear and repress independent thought and creativity, and private enterprise -- the human qualities that make for a -- strong and successful societies. Even when these nations have vast natural resources, they do not respect or develop their greatest resources -- the talent and energy of men and women working and living in freedom.
Instead of dwelling on past wrongs and blaming others, governments in the Middle East need to confront real problems, and serve the true interests of their nations. The good and capable people of the Middle East all deserve responsible leadership. For too long, many people in that region have been victims and subjects -- they deserve to be active citizens.
Governments across the Middle East and North Africa are beginning to see the need for change. Morocco has a diverse new parliament; King Mohammed has urged it to extend the rights to women. Here is how His Majesty explained his reforms to parliament: "How can society achieve progress while women, who represent half the nation, see their rights violated and suffer as a result of injustice, violence, and marginalization, notwithstanding the dignity and justice granted to them by our glorious religion?" The King of Morocco is correct: The future of Muslim nations will be better for all with the full participation of women. (Applause.)
In Bahrain last year, citizens elected their own parliament for the first time in nearly three decades. Oman has extended the vote to all adult citizens; Qatar has a new constitution; Yemen has a multiparty political system; Kuwait has a directly elected national assembly; and Jordan held historic elections this summer. Recent surveys in Arab nations reveal broad support for political pluralism, the rule of law, and free speech. These are the stirrings of Middle Eastern democracy, and they carry the promise of greater change to come.
As changes come to the Middle Eastern region, those with power should ask themselves: Will they be remembered for resisting reform, or for leading it? In Iran, the demand for democracy is strong and broad, as we saw last month when thousands gathered to welcome home Shirin Ebadi, the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. The regime in Teheran must heed the democratic demands of the Iranian people, or lose its last claim to legitimacy. (Applause.)
For the Palestinian people, the only path to independence and dignity and progress is the path of democracy. (Applause.) And the Palestinian leaders who block and undermine democratic reform, and feed hatred and encourage violence are not leaders at all. They're the main obstacles to peace, and to the success of the Palestinian people.
The Saudi government is taking first steps toward reform, including a plan for gradual introduction of elections. By giving the Saudi people a greater role in their own society, the Saudi government can demonstrate true leadership in the region.
The great and proud nation of Egypt has shown the way toward peace in the Middle East, and now should show the way toward democracy in the Middle East. (Applause.) Champions of democracy in the region understand that democracy is not perfect, it is not the path to utopia, but it's the only path to national success and dignity.
As we watch and encourage reforms in the region, we are mindful that modernization is not the same as Westernization. Representative governments in the Middle East will reflect their own cultures. They will not, and should not, look like us. Democratic nations may be constitutional monarchies, federal republics, or parliamentary systems. And working democracies always need time to develop -- as did our own. We've taken a 200-year journey toward inclusion and justice -- and this makes us patient and understanding as other nations are at different stages of this journey.
There are, however, essential principles common to every successful society, in every culture. Successful societies limit the power of the state and the power of the military -- so that governments respond to the will of the people, and not the will of an elite. Successful societies protect freedom with the consistent and impartial rule of law, instead of selecting applying -- selectively applying the law to punish political opponents. Successful societies allow room for healthy civic institutions -- for political parties and labor unions and independent newspapers and broadcast media. Successful societies guarantee religious liberty -- the right to serve and honor God without fear of persecution. Successful societies privatize their economies, and secure the rights of property. They prohibit and punish official corruption, and invest in the health and education of their people. They recognize the rights of women. And instead of directing hatred and resentment against others, successful societies appeal to the hopes of their own people. (Applause.)
These vital principles are being applies in the nations of Afghanistan and Iraq. With the steady leadership of President Karzai, the people of Afghanistan are building a modern and peaceful government. Next month, 500 delegates will convene a national assembly in Kabul to approve a new Afghan constitution. The proposed draft would establish a bicameral parliament, set national elections next year, and recognize Afghanistan's Muslim identity, while protecting the rights of all citizens. Afghanistan faces continuing economic and security challenges -- it will face those challenges as a free and stable democracy. (Applause.)
In Iraq, the Coalition Provisional Authority and the Iraqi Governing Council are also working together to build a democracy -- and after three decades of tyranny, this work is not easy. The former dictator ruled by terror and treachery, and left deeply ingrained habits of fear and distrust. Remnants of his regime, joined by foreign terrorists, continue their battle against order and against civilization. Our coalition is responding to recent attacks with precision raids, guided by intelligence provided by the Iraqis, themselves. And we're working closely with Iraqi citizens as they prepare a constitution, as they move toward free elections and take increasing responsibility for their own affairs. As in the defense of Greece in 1947, and later in the Berlin Airlift, the strength and will of free peoples are now being tested before a watching world. And we will meet this test. (Applause.)
Securing democracy in Iraq is the work of many hands. American and coalition forces are sacrificing for the peace of Iraq and for the security of free nations. Aid workers from many countries are facing danger to help the Iraqi people. The National Endowment for Democracy is promoting women's rights, and training Iraqi journalists, and teaching the skills of political participation. Iraqis, themselves -- police and borders guards and local officials -- are joining in the work and they are sharing in the sacrifice.
This is a massive and difficult undertaking -- it is worth our effort, it is worth our sacrifice, because we know the stakes. The failure of Iraqi democracy would embolden terrorists around the world, increase dangers to the American people, and extinguish the hopes of millions in the region. Iraqi democracy will succeed -- and that success will send forth the news, from Damascus to Teheran -- that freedom can be the future of every nation. (Applause.) The establishment of a free Iraq at the heart of the Middle East will be a watershed event in the global democratic revolution. (Applause.)
Sixty years of Western nations excusing and accommodating the lack of freedom in the Middle East did nothing to make us safe -- because in the long run, stability cannot be purchased at the expense of liberty. As long as the Middle East remains a place where freedom does not flourish, it will remain a place of stagnation, resentment, and violence ready for export. And with the spread of weapons that can bring catastrophic harm to our country and to our friends, it would be reckless to accept the status quo. (Applause.)
Therefore, the United States has adopted a new policy, a forward strategy of freedom in the Middle East. This strategy requires the same persistence and energy and idealism we have shown before. And it will yield the same results. As in Europe, as in Asia, as in every region of the world, the advance of freedom leads to peace. (Applause.)
The advance of freedom is the calling of our time; it is the calling of our country. From the Fourteen Points to the Four Freedoms, to the Speech at Westminster, America has put our power at the service of principle. We believe that liberty is the design of nature; we believe that liberty is the direction of history. We believe that human fulfillment and excellence come in the responsible exercise of liberty. And we believe that freedom -- the freedom we prize -- is not for us alone, it is the right and the capacity of all mankind. (Applause.)
Working for the spread of freedom can be hard. Yet, America has accomplished hard tasks before. Our nation is strong; we're strong of heart. And we're not alone. Freedom is finding allies in every country; freedom finds allies in every culture. And as we meet the terror and violence of the world, we can be certain the author of freedom is not indifferent to the fate of freedom.
With all the tests and all the challenges of our age, this is, above all, the age of liberty. Each of you at this Endowment is fully engaged in the great cause of liberty. And I thank you. May God bless your work. And may God continue to bless America. (Applause.)
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
below, a surprising report from TIME magazine and ABC News:
Where Things Stand
Outside the tense Sunni triangle, Iraq is displaying a new dynamism. For a joint report, TIME and ABC News traveled the land to chronicle the changes
By TERRY MCCARTHY I BASRA
On the dock of Abu Fulus port, 20 miles south of Basra, Bassem Saghair deftly works the controls of a crane as he unloads air-conditioning units from the hold of the Hussaini. The ship is one of a dozen crowding the waterfront that have sailed from Dubai up the Shatt al-Arab River laden with consumer goods. Saghair, 15, quit school for this job, which pays $360 a month, double the highest salary any Iraqi official earns from U.S.-occupation authorities.
"Life is not bad," says Saghair, with a shy smile spreading under the beginnings of a mustache. Abu Fulus, which means "father of money," was little used during Saddam Hussein's regime, but with U.N. sanctions against Iraq lifted and all import and customs controls unenforced, the port has become an unofficial entry point for used cars, electronics, clothes and food. There are no government officials here and no British soldiers from the garrison in Basra. Merchants walk up and down the dock, shouting purchase orders into satellite phones as young men in jeans with AK-47s guard against pirates who prowl the river in motorboats. As in the American frontier a century ago, fortunes are being made almost overnight in Iraq, and with the same lack of control. As Saghair hoists a load of fruit from the bottom of the hold, a coconut falls out of the lifting net, narrowly missing a docker's head. What safety procedures are in place at the port? he is asked. He smiles again: "There is no law here."
Iraq is a country where lawlessness comes in many forms. At its most lethal it is the car bombs in Baghdad, the ambushes of U.S. troops around Fallujah, the shootings in Tikrit. But outside the deadly Sunni triangle, the absence of law has produced a chaotic sense of freedom that leaves Iraqis both exhilarated and terrified. To get a clearer picture of conditions in the entirety of Iraq—particularly in the north and south, which have received less media attention—TIME teamed up with ABC News to travel the length of the country, visiting more than 30 towns and conducting more than 600 interviews with Iraqis from all levels of society. We found dramatic contrasts between Greater Baghdad and the rest of the country.
Security, which almost all Iraqis say is their major concern, is far better in both the north and south than it is in the capital. Electricity is much more reliable outside Baghdad. There are almost no power cuts in the south, a region that often had six or less hours of electricity a day before the war.
Schools are mostly back to normal, and commerce is booming as goods flood in across the Turkish and Kuwaiti borders. The military presence of the U.S. in the north and the British in the south is far less visible than are the U.S. forces in and around Baghdad. Despite sporadic ambushes, the foreign troops are largely tolerated by locals, who tend to view them as a necessary evil until a viable Iraqi administration is in place.
There are many complaints—about the increase in banditry on the roads, the slow pace of reconstruction, the rise in prices, the shortage of jobs caused in part by the U.S. dissolution of the Iraqi government and army. But when people in the north and the south were asked whether life has improved since the war, the answer, in Arabic, often came automatically: "Tab'an ahsan" ("Of course, better"). In the village of Duluiyah, in central Iraq, Abdel Fattah al-Juburi, a longtime opponent of the Saddam regime, says of the occupation, "It's clear we got the better of two evils."
Way up in the northern hills of Iraq sits the Christian village of Alqosh. After the U.S. toppled Saddam, improvements were felt there almost immediately. For 12 years, Alqosh existed in a restricted area between Saddam's army and the Kurdish resistance. An army roadblock outside the village severely constrained travel and the movement of goods. After Saddam's fall, the roadblock vanished. Now village stores are crowded with customers lining up to buy refrigerators and televisions. "There is lots of construction now," says Salam Nissan Shamoun, the postmaster. "Before, we couldn't even bring in a single bag of cement." About 25 miles to the south lies Mosul, which is similarly revived. The markets are full of new goods, restaurants are open late and a brightly lit Ferris wheel dominates the amusement park beside the Tigris River.
While the Iraqi private sector has been quick to adapt to the new post-Saddam freedoms, the transition in the public sector has been traumatic and clumsy, dogged by unfulfilled promises from the occupying powers and by burning impatience on the Iraqi side. Dr. Ghalib Shaker, director of Ibn Sina Teaching Hospital in Mosul, says the hospital is short of X-ray film, IV fluid and antibiotics, all of which he says were promised him by the U.S. several months ago. "These are simple things," he says. "I don't know why they can't solve this." Other Iraqi hospitals also complain of shortages, which stem from distribution bottlenecks in Baghdad and the evacuation of many foreign medical workers after the August bombing of the U.N. headquarters in Baghdad.
The Coalition Provisional Authority has acknowledged that Iraq's health-care system is not functioning at prewar levels except perhaps in the north. This is in part because 12% of hospitals were partly damaged during the war and 7% were looted, according to U.N. figures.
Iraqi frustrations are compounded by high expectations of what the U.S. occupiers could do. "We are under the biggest superpower in the world," says Abdulkhalik Thanoon Ayoub, manager of the Mosul Dam, "so people thought the U.S. could do anything—restore power, build new houses, bring tourism, improve life—immediately. But things cannot change at the push of a button."
Another aggravating factor is wounded Iraqi pride. Shaker recalls that 20 years ago, Iraq's hospitals were the envy of the Arab world. "In the '80s, Jordanians and Syrians came here—to this hospital—for treatment, but now they wouldn't dream of sending patients here."
As one heads south into the Sunni heartland, the level of discontent increases sharply. In Tikrit, Saddam's hometown, police stations and official buildings are heavily fortified with sandbags and razor wire, and in the market, a universal complaint is the lack of jobs. "Unemployment is very high here because most Tikritis used to be connected to the old regime," says Tahsin Mohammed, 30, a former military officer. He says he knows a major general from Saddam's Republican Guard who is now selling cigarettes.
Duluiyah, about a half-hour drive south of Tikrit, has a special history. The village was once a source of army, police and intelligence officers for the Saddam regime. But the village fell under a cloud after members of its dominant tribe, the Jubur, tried to overthrow Saddam in 1990. Many in Duluiyah were optimistic when the Americans arrived, but each improvement in the village seems to come with a setback. At first the electricity supply improved, but then it faltered when seasonal maintenance on plants took out some capacity and when a water-pumping station came online nearby, diverting much of Duluiyah's power. Thanks to the pumps, water has been gushing from taps as never before, but it is untreated and must be boiled and disinfected.
The local school has been newly painted, but the Iraqi contractor the Americans hired to do the work stole school furniture. Baghdad, 50 miles to the south, is Iraq's heart of darkness, a place of suicide bombings and great uncertainty. But as one moves out of the Sunni triangle, heading south, the sense of threat abates. Some 100 miles away is Kut, where at midday Haitham Hillal and Ali Rath, two traffic policemen, sit down to drink tea by the Tigris. They talk excitedly about their new salaries: $100 a month—five times what they used to get. Hillal and Rath are aware of the violence in Baghdad but insist there are no such crises in Kut. The main problem locally, they say, is the huge postwar increase in weddings, which has led to a rise in accidental shootings caused by celebratory gunfire. A third man, Hashem Ali, a former security official, joins them, and suddenly an argument breaks out. "Iraqis should be proud of the attacks in Fallujah," says the newcomer, adding that security was much better under Saddam. "Yes, in the mass graves security was perfect," says Hillal, to which Ali has no answer.
The two men glare at each other, but when it is pointed out to them that whatever their differences, they could never have had this argument under Saddam, both smile sheepishly and agree.
Like Kut, Amarah, about 100 miles farther south, is a bustling provincial city, now under British control. In the central market, merchants can't remember a time when business was better. The main reason is the dramatic rise in disposable income now that the coalition is paying public employees $60 to $180 a month. Before the war, teachers earned $5 to $10, policemen $20. Sabri Nama, 54, is a foreman at the Amarah Paper Mill outside town. He is happy about his increase in monthly pay from $25 to $180 but says he would rather be earning it. Because there is still not enough electricity in Amarah to supply the town and the factory, the paper mill, which shut down during the fighting, has still not reopened. "The British are too slow," Nama complains. "They only make promises, never finish anything."
Some 70 miles to the southwest, Nasiriyah General Hospital strains to keep up with demand. The city's other hospital—used as a base by Iraqi militiamen during the fighting—is in ruins. Still, Hassan Mahmoud, father of a 9-year-old boy who suffered head injuries from a fall from a second-floor window, is grateful for one thing. In the past, he says, one had to bribe doctors, nurses and administrators to get hospital care. "Now you don't need money to get a doctor. Now the doctors are honest," he says.
In the teahouses of Nasiriyah, as elsewhere in Iraq, price increases are a big source of complaint. In Saddam's day, the cost of food was regulated. With such regulations no longer in force, and with the infusion of American dollars fueling inflation, tomatoes have gone from 3(cent) to 19(cent) per lb. in Karbala. A house in Kirkuk that rented for $12.50 a month before the regime fell now fetches $50. In Hillah farmers are reeling from a threefold increase in the cost of fertilizer. Jarallah Ali, a patron at a Nasiriyah cafe, complains that he can no longer afford his brand of soap because the price has doubled.
In the south, where the Tigris and Euphrates join, sits Basra, headquarters of the British. The city saw some of the worst looting immediately after the fighting, but with more than 4,000 Iraqi police officers now on the streets, the city is mostly peaceful. Shi'ite Muslims, who were persecuted across the south by Saddam for their 1991 uprising, find themselves free to practice their religion without interference, which has conferred a feel-good bonus on the whole region. Parallel to religious freedom is a new freedom of information. Iraqis are crowding into Internet cafes to get Web access, which was tightly restricted by Saddam's security services. Self-taught computer experts Haider Kadhim, 22, and his brother Mohammed, 25, have established themselves as Internet-cafe consultants, earning $500 fees from each of eight businessmen so far. "The best thing about life now is freedom," says Kadhim. "You can say anything, go anywhere."
Freedom has its dark side. With all the goods coming off the ships from Dubai and the trucks driving up from Kuwait, the roads outside Basra have become notorious for banditry. Murder has increased as people settle scores against former members of the regime. And over the summer Shi'ite extremists firebombed liquor stores belonging to Christians.
Still, says Hani al-Saadi, 29, a former medical student who sells mobile phones in the center of Basra, "we know every birth requires pain." Al-Saadi and his family, who had been living in Jordan, returned to their hometown of Basra after Saddam's fall to try to make the best of new opportunities. Their example reflects the sense of hope that a great number of Iraqis share. Though many told our reporters that certain aspects of their lives were worse today than before the regime's collapse, a majority said they were optimistic about the long term. Even in Baghdad one can find elements of this faith. The change of regime came at a significant cost for Ayad Abdul Kareem Muhssin, an engineer there. During the stress of the U.S. bombing campaign, his wife, pregnant with their fourth child, went into premature labor. Their newborn daughter lived only a few hours. "We made a sacrifice for this freedom," says Muhssin, without bitterness. How long will the freedom last? "Forever, I think. And it'll be better after a month, and after a year, much better. I think so."
Where Things Stand
Outside the tense Sunni triangle, Iraq is displaying a new dynamism. For a joint report, TIME and ABC News traveled the land to chronicle the changes
By TERRY MCCARTHY I BASRA
On the dock of Abu Fulus port, 20 miles south of Basra, Bassem Saghair deftly works the controls of a crane as he unloads air-conditioning units from the hold of the Hussaini. The ship is one of a dozen crowding the waterfront that have sailed from Dubai up the Shatt al-Arab River laden with consumer goods. Saghair, 15, quit school for this job, which pays $360 a month, double the highest salary any Iraqi official earns from U.S.-occupation authorities.
"Life is not bad," says Saghair, with a shy smile spreading under the beginnings of a mustache. Abu Fulus, which means "father of money," was little used during Saddam Hussein's regime, but with U.N. sanctions against Iraq lifted and all import and customs controls unenforced, the port has become an unofficial entry point for used cars, electronics, clothes and food. There are no government officials here and no British soldiers from the garrison in Basra. Merchants walk up and down the dock, shouting purchase orders into satellite phones as young men in jeans with AK-47s guard against pirates who prowl the river in motorboats. As in the American frontier a century ago, fortunes are being made almost overnight in Iraq, and with the same lack of control. As Saghair hoists a load of fruit from the bottom of the hold, a coconut falls out of the lifting net, narrowly missing a docker's head. What safety procedures are in place at the port? he is asked. He smiles again: "There is no law here."
Iraq is a country where lawlessness comes in many forms. At its most lethal it is the car bombs in Baghdad, the ambushes of U.S. troops around Fallujah, the shootings in Tikrit. But outside the deadly Sunni triangle, the absence of law has produced a chaotic sense of freedom that leaves Iraqis both exhilarated and terrified. To get a clearer picture of conditions in the entirety of Iraq—particularly in the north and south, which have received less media attention—TIME teamed up with ABC News to travel the length of the country, visiting more than 30 towns and conducting more than 600 interviews with Iraqis from all levels of society. We found dramatic contrasts between Greater Baghdad and the rest of the country.
Security, which almost all Iraqis say is their major concern, is far better in both the north and south than it is in the capital. Electricity is much more reliable outside Baghdad. There are almost no power cuts in the south, a region that often had six or less hours of electricity a day before the war.
Schools are mostly back to normal, and commerce is booming as goods flood in across the Turkish and Kuwaiti borders. The military presence of the U.S. in the north and the British in the south is far less visible than are the U.S. forces in and around Baghdad. Despite sporadic ambushes, the foreign troops are largely tolerated by locals, who tend to view them as a necessary evil until a viable Iraqi administration is in place.
There are many complaints—about the increase in banditry on the roads, the slow pace of reconstruction, the rise in prices, the shortage of jobs caused in part by the U.S. dissolution of the Iraqi government and army. But when people in the north and the south were asked whether life has improved since the war, the answer, in Arabic, often came automatically: "Tab'an ahsan" ("Of course, better"). In the village of Duluiyah, in central Iraq, Abdel Fattah al-Juburi, a longtime opponent of the Saddam regime, says of the occupation, "It's clear we got the better of two evils."
Way up in the northern hills of Iraq sits the Christian village of Alqosh. After the U.S. toppled Saddam, improvements were felt there almost immediately. For 12 years, Alqosh existed in a restricted area between Saddam's army and the Kurdish resistance. An army roadblock outside the village severely constrained travel and the movement of goods. After Saddam's fall, the roadblock vanished. Now village stores are crowded with customers lining up to buy refrigerators and televisions. "There is lots of construction now," says Salam Nissan Shamoun, the postmaster. "Before, we couldn't even bring in a single bag of cement." About 25 miles to the south lies Mosul, which is similarly revived. The markets are full of new goods, restaurants are open late and a brightly lit Ferris wheel dominates the amusement park beside the Tigris River.
While the Iraqi private sector has been quick to adapt to the new post-Saddam freedoms, the transition in the public sector has been traumatic and clumsy, dogged by unfulfilled promises from the occupying powers and by burning impatience on the Iraqi side. Dr. Ghalib Shaker, director of Ibn Sina Teaching Hospital in Mosul, says the hospital is short of X-ray film, IV fluid and antibiotics, all of which he says were promised him by the U.S. several months ago. "These are simple things," he says. "I don't know why they can't solve this." Other Iraqi hospitals also complain of shortages, which stem from distribution bottlenecks in Baghdad and the evacuation of many foreign medical workers after the August bombing of the U.N. headquarters in Baghdad.
The Coalition Provisional Authority has acknowledged that Iraq's health-care system is not functioning at prewar levels except perhaps in the north. This is in part because 12% of hospitals were partly damaged during the war and 7% were looted, according to U.N. figures.
Iraqi frustrations are compounded by high expectations of what the U.S. occupiers could do. "We are under the biggest superpower in the world," says Abdulkhalik Thanoon Ayoub, manager of the Mosul Dam, "so people thought the U.S. could do anything—restore power, build new houses, bring tourism, improve life—immediately. But things cannot change at the push of a button."
Another aggravating factor is wounded Iraqi pride. Shaker recalls that 20 years ago, Iraq's hospitals were the envy of the Arab world. "In the '80s, Jordanians and Syrians came here—to this hospital—for treatment, but now they wouldn't dream of sending patients here."
As one heads south into the Sunni heartland, the level of discontent increases sharply. In Tikrit, Saddam's hometown, police stations and official buildings are heavily fortified with sandbags and razor wire, and in the market, a universal complaint is the lack of jobs. "Unemployment is very high here because most Tikritis used to be connected to the old regime," says Tahsin Mohammed, 30, a former military officer. He says he knows a major general from Saddam's Republican Guard who is now selling cigarettes.
Duluiyah, about a half-hour drive south of Tikrit, has a special history. The village was once a source of army, police and intelligence officers for the Saddam regime. But the village fell under a cloud after members of its dominant tribe, the Jubur, tried to overthrow Saddam in 1990. Many in Duluiyah were optimistic when the Americans arrived, but each improvement in the village seems to come with a setback. At first the electricity supply improved, but then it faltered when seasonal maintenance on plants took out some capacity and when a water-pumping station came online nearby, diverting much of Duluiyah's power. Thanks to the pumps, water has been gushing from taps as never before, but it is untreated and must be boiled and disinfected.
The local school has been newly painted, but the Iraqi contractor the Americans hired to do the work stole school furniture. Baghdad, 50 miles to the south, is Iraq's heart of darkness, a place of suicide bombings and great uncertainty. But as one moves out of the Sunni triangle, heading south, the sense of threat abates. Some 100 miles away is Kut, where at midday Haitham Hillal and Ali Rath, two traffic policemen, sit down to drink tea by the Tigris. They talk excitedly about their new salaries: $100 a month—five times what they used to get. Hillal and Rath are aware of the violence in Baghdad but insist there are no such crises in Kut. The main problem locally, they say, is the huge postwar increase in weddings, which has led to a rise in accidental shootings caused by celebratory gunfire. A third man, Hashem Ali, a former security official, joins them, and suddenly an argument breaks out. "Iraqis should be proud of the attacks in Fallujah," says the newcomer, adding that security was much better under Saddam. "Yes, in the mass graves security was perfect," says Hillal, to which Ali has no answer.
The two men glare at each other, but when it is pointed out to them that whatever their differences, they could never have had this argument under Saddam, both smile sheepishly and agree.
Like Kut, Amarah, about 100 miles farther south, is a bustling provincial city, now under British control. In the central market, merchants can't remember a time when business was better. The main reason is the dramatic rise in disposable income now that the coalition is paying public employees $60 to $180 a month. Before the war, teachers earned $5 to $10, policemen $20. Sabri Nama, 54, is a foreman at the Amarah Paper Mill outside town. He is happy about his increase in monthly pay from $25 to $180 but says he would rather be earning it. Because there is still not enough electricity in Amarah to supply the town and the factory, the paper mill, which shut down during the fighting, has still not reopened. "The British are too slow," Nama complains. "They only make promises, never finish anything."
Some 70 miles to the southwest, Nasiriyah General Hospital strains to keep up with demand. The city's other hospital—used as a base by Iraqi militiamen during the fighting—is in ruins. Still, Hassan Mahmoud, father of a 9-year-old boy who suffered head injuries from a fall from a second-floor window, is grateful for one thing. In the past, he says, one had to bribe doctors, nurses and administrators to get hospital care. "Now you don't need money to get a doctor. Now the doctors are honest," he says.
In the teahouses of Nasiriyah, as elsewhere in Iraq, price increases are a big source of complaint. In Saddam's day, the cost of food was regulated. With such regulations no longer in force, and with the infusion of American dollars fueling inflation, tomatoes have gone from 3(cent) to 19(cent) per lb. in Karbala. A house in Kirkuk that rented for $12.50 a month before the regime fell now fetches $50. In Hillah farmers are reeling from a threefold increase in the cost of fertilizer. Jarallah Ali, a patron at a Nasiriyah cafe, complains that he can no longer afford his brand of soap because the price has doubled.
In the south, where the Tigris and Euphrates join, sits Basra, headquarters of the British. The city saw some of the worst looting immediately after the fighting, but with more than 4,000 Iraqi police officers now on the streets, the city is mostly peaceful. Shi'ite Muslims, who were persecuted across the south by Saddam for their 1991 uprising, find themselves free to practice their religion without interference, which has conferred a feel-good bonus on the whole region. Parallel to religious freedom is a new freedom of information. Iraqis are crowding into Internet cafes to get Web access, which was tightly restricted by Saddam's security services. Self-taught computer experts Haider Kadhim, 22, and his brother Mohammed, 25, have established themselves as Internet-cafe consultants, earning $500 fees from each of eight businessmen so far. "The best thing about life now is freedom," says Kadhim. "You can say anything, go anywhere."
Freedom has its dark side. With all the goods coming off the ships from Dubai and the trucks driving up from Kuwait, the roads outside Basra have become notorious for banditry. Murder has increased as people settle scores against former members of the regime. And over the summer Shi'ite extremists firebombed liquor stores belonging to Christians.
Still, says Hani al-Saadi, 29, a former medical student who sells mobile phones in the center of Basra, "we know every birth requires pain." Al-Saadi and his family, who had been living in Jordan, returned to their hometown of Basra after Saddam's fall to try to make the best of new opportunities. Their example reflects the sense of hope that a great number of Iraqis share. Though many told our reporters that certain aspects of their lives were worse today than before the regime's collapse, a majority said they were optimistic about the long term. Even in Baghdad one can find elements of this faith. The change of regime came at a significant cost for Ayad Abdul Kareem Muhssin, an engineer there. During the stress of the U.S. bombing campaign, his wife, pregnant with their fourth child, went into premature labor. Their newborn daughter lived only a few hours. "We made a sacrifice for this freedom," says Muhssin, without bitterness. How long will the freedom last? "Forever, I think. And it'll be better after a month, and after a year, much better. I think so."
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Here are the guys the Europeans champion:
Where hearts belong to Saddam Dexter Filkins/NYT The New York Times
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
FALLUJA, Iraq In the epicenter of anti-American hatred, even a generous gesture is viewed with a suspicious eye.
The day after 16 American servicemen died when their helicopter was shot out of the sky here, a group of American soldiers tossed handfuls of candy from their Humvees to the Iraqi children who lined the road.
"Don't touch it, don't touch it!" the Iraqi children squealed. "It's poison from the Americans. It will kill you."
The Humvees rumbled past, and the candy stayed in the dirt.
Loathing for the American occupiers of Iraq looms everywhere in this hardscrabble city west of Baghdad. Hatred laces the conversations. It hangs from the walls. It burns in the minds of children. Like nowhere else in Iraq, Falluja bristles with a desire to confront the American soldiers, to kill them, and to celebrate when they fall.
For the American soldiers trying to pacify this stronghold of the deposed Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein, the road seems long and hard.
"These people hate the Americans," said Specialist Emily Donaghy, who lives behind the high walls of an American base outside of town. "It's going to take generation after generation before they realize what America has done for them."
On Monday, American soldiers picked over the scene of the most dramatic demonstration yet of the locals' passion; the shooting down, with an anti-aircraft missile, of an American helicopter that was loaded with soldiers on their way to holidays in the United States.
The downing of the helicopter, which crashed and burned in a field just outside of town, prompted celebrations from many of the locals here. While anti-American feeling does not extend to everyone in Falluja - American soldiers here have found a handful of allies to work with - it is difficult here to find anyone willing to express anything but deeply negative feelings for the Americans' presence.
Even a group of American-trained Iraqi police officers, whom American officials hope will help crack down on the insurgents, could not bring themselves to say anything positive.
"We want them out of here," said an Iraqi officer who gave only one name, Ahmed. He said he and his colleagues were regularly threatened by local Iraqis for working closely with the Americans, but he said his detractors had it all wrong. "I don't work with the Americans, I don't take orders from them," Ahmed said. "I am doing this for my country."
Falluja, a 60 city kilometers, or 35 miles, west of Baghdad, lies in the heart of what is known as the Sunni Triangle, an area stretching west and north of Baghdad that comprised the foundation of support for Saddam. It is in cities like Falluja where the overwhelming majority of attacks on American soldiers are carried out.
In other parts of the country, in the north and in the south, Iraqis often welcome the Americans as their liberators, and as their tutors in fostering democratic rule.
In places like Falluja, the locals often had a direct stake in Saddam's rule, getting preferential treatment in hiring and earning larger salaries.
One of those was Saad Hamid, who operates a sidewalk tea stand in central Falluja. Until the war, Hamid worked in an armaments factory in Baghdad earning the equivalent of almost $1,000 per month - an almost unheard of salary in this country. Then the Americans arrived, and Hamid lost his job. Today, he pours out tea for just pennies a glass.
Hamid remains a faithful follower of the deposed Iraqi leader. To demonstrate for an American visitor, he held up two pieces of Iraqi currency, the old Iraqi note, with a picture of Saddam, and the new one issued since the Americans took over, which contains no such figure.
"The old currency is better," Hamid said, pointing to the face of the former president, "because Saddam is on it."
A day after the downing of the helicopter, a company of American soldiers stood guard over the site as a huge crane lifted the wreckage from the ground and loaded it into trucks.
"We are gathering up all the pieces," Captain Scott Kirkpatrick said.
Just down the road from the crash site, a crowd of Iraqi young men and boys gathered to watch. Some of them carried small pieces of wreckage they picked up since the crash.
One of the men in the crowd was Khalid Abdullah Jassem. Like the others in the crowd, Jassem exulted over the crash of the American plane, yet at least one of the reasons he gave for his feelings seemed odd.
Whenever the Chinook helicopters flew overhead, Jassem said, the American soldier stationed at the back of the helicopter always hung his feet out of the back door - a sign of disrespect in the Muslim world.
Informed that American soldiers manning the gun at the rear of Chinook helicopters usually sat like that regardless of the country, Jassem was undeterred. "I didn't liked Saddam, but he was better than the Americans," he said.
For all the intensity of the guerrilla war being fought here, the Americans show no signs of being deterred. Over the weekend, the office of Falluja's American-backed mayor was attacked eight times, the mayor was beaten up, and the American liaison office there was destroyed.
Captain Ryan Huston, who spent two sleepless nights defending the police station, seemed hardly bothered by the relentless attacks.
"They are trying to take over this town and turn into a stronghold," Huston said. "And we are not going to let them do it."
Where hearts belong to Saddam Dexter Filkins/NYT The New York Times
Tuesday, November 4, 2003
FALLUJA, Iraq In the epicenter of anti-American hatred, even a generous gesture is viewed with a suspicious eye.
The day after 16 American servicemen died when their helicopter was shot out of the sky here, a group of American soldiers tossed handfuls of candy from their Humvees to the Iraqi children who lined the road.
"Don't touch it, don't touch it!" the Iraqi children squealed. "It's poison from the Americans. It will kill you."
The Humvees rumbled past, and the candy stayed in the dirt.
Loathing for the American occupiers of Iraq looms everywhere in this hardscrabble city west of Baghdad. Hatred laces the conversations. It hangs from the walls. It burns in the minds of children. Like nowhere else in Iraq, Falluja bristles with a desire to confront the American soldiers, to kill them, and to celebrate when they fall.
For the American soldiers trying to pacify this stronghold of the deposed Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein, the road seems long and hard.
"These people hate the Americans," said Specialist Emily Donaghy, who lives behind the high walls of an American base outside of town. "It's going to take generation after generation before they realize what America has done for them."
On Monday, American soldiers picked over the scene of the most dramatic demonstration yet of the locals' passion; the shooting down, with an anti-aircraft missile, of an American helicopter that was loaded with soldiers on their way to holidays in the United States.
The downing of the helicopter, which crashed and burned in a field just outside of town, prompted celebrations from many of the locals here. While anti-American feeling does not extend to everyone in Falluja - American soldiers here have found a handful of allies to work with - it is difficult here to find anyone willing to express anything but deeply negative feelings for the Americans' presence.
Even a group of American-trained Iraqi police officers, whom American officials hope will help crack down on the insurgents, could not bring themselves to say anything positive.
"We want them out of here," said an Iraqi officer who gave only one name, Ahmed. He said he and his colleagues were regularly threatened by local Iraqis for working closely with the Americans, but he said his detractors had it all wrong. "I don't work with the Americans, I don't take orders from them," Ahmed said. "I am doing this for my country."
Falluja, a 60 city kilometers, or 35 miles, west of Baghdad, lies in the heart of what is known as the Sunni Triangle, an area stretching west and north of Baghdad that comprised the foundation of support for Saddam. It is in cities like Falluja where the overwhelming majority of attacks on American soldiers are carried out.
In other parts of the country, in the north and in the south, Iraqis often welcome the Americans as their liberators, and as their tutors in fostering democratic rule.
In places like Falluja, the locals often had a direct stake in Saddam's rule, getting preferential treatment in hiring and earning larger salaries.
One of those was Saad Hamid, who operates a sidewalk tea stand in central Falluja. Until the war, Hamid worked in an armaments factory in Baghdad earning the equivalent of almost $1,000 per month - an almost unheard of salary in this country. Then the Americans arrived, and Hamid lost his job. Today, he pours out tea for just pennies a glass.
Hamid remains a faithful follower of the deposed Iraqi leader. To demonstrate for an American visitor, he held up two pieces of Iraqi currency, the old Iraqi note, with a picture of Saddam, and the new one issued since the Americans took over, which contains no such figure.
"The old currency is better," Hamid said, pointing to the face of the former president, "because Saddam is on it."
A day after the downing of the helicopter, a company of American soldiers stood guard over the site as a huge crane lifted the wreckage from the ground and loaded it into trucks.
"We are gathering up all the pieces," Captain Scott Kirkpatrick said.
Just down the road from the crash site, a crowd of Iraqi young men and boys gathered to watch. Some of them carried small pieces of wreckage they picked up since the crash.
One of the men in the crowd was Khalid Abdullah Jassem. Like the others in the crowd, Jassem exulted over the crash of the American plane, yet at least one of the reasons he gave for his feelings seemed odd.
Whenever the Chinook helicopters flew overhead, Jassem said, the American soldier stationed at the back of the helicopter always hung his feet out of the back door - a sign of disrespect in the Muslim world.
Informed that American soldiers manning the gun at the rear of Chinook helicopters usually sat like that regardless of the country, Jassem was undeterred. "I didn't liked Saddam, but he was better than the Americans," he said.
For all the intensity of the guerrilla war being fought here, the Americans show no signs of being deterred. Over the weekend, the office of Falluja's American-backed mayor was attacked eight times, the mayor was beaten up, and the American liaison office there was destroyed.
Captain Ryan Huston, who spent two sleepless nights defending the police station, seemed hardly bothered by the relentless attacks.
"They are trying to take over this town and turn into a stronghold," Huston said. "And we are not going to let them do it."
Monday, November 03, 2003
William Pfaff: A fiction shattered by America's aggression
William Pfaff IHT Saturday, November 1, 2003
The U.S. in the world
PORTO, Portugal More than nine months into the Iraq crisis, meetings between West Europeans and Americans of goodwill remain strained nondialogues in which most of the American participants find it hard to admit that the catastrophic loss of America's reputation abroad has anything to do with them.
Such a meeting in this old port city last weekend produced the usual American citations of scandalous incidents of foreign anti-Americanism.
The German Marshall Fund statistics were circulated, showing that the gap between American and European attitudes is widening and that Europeans increasingly disapprove of America's position as the sole superpower.
The Americans' response is nearly always that there must have been some failure in communication. Perhaps the United States should "consult" more, they say.
"It's as if they can't hear," said an Irishman who had thought of himself as one of America's best friends abroad.
But every nation has a story - a narrative it tells to explain its place in the flow of history and to give meaning to its actions. The American story since 1942 (and before) is well known, and is considered by Americans and others a story reflecting responsibility and high-mindedness.
Despite aberrations in Vietnam and Latin America, the American story of responsible world leadership has been accepted among democracies as an essentially valid account of the role modern America played during the years leading up to the collapse of the Soviet Union. The problem today is that, in the view of many others, the story has changed. Another one has taken its place, even though most Americans deny that this is so.
Because of the powerful Calvinist influence - predestinarian and theocratic - in American Protestantism, the American story has always described a confrontation between the Elect and the Evil.
When the Soviet Union no longer fulfilled the latter role, Washington tried out several possible successors, finally settling on "rogue nations" - those professing radically un-American ideas and that give evidence of wanting to possess nuclear deterrents.
Their feebleness, however, tended to diminish their credibility when cast in the role of global Evil.
Then came Sept. 11, and the problem was solved. The rogue nations now became the Axis of Evil. They were integral to a vast international threat, capable of striking the United States itself. Moreover, this threat more or less resembled (less, actually, than more) the clash between civilizations that Samuel Huntington had warned would be the "next world war."
Americans declared that "everything has changed, and nothing can be the same." The nation was at war with "terror."
Terror expressed itself through Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Palestinian suicide-bombers, South American narco-terrorists, Chechen separatists and Moro separatists in the southern Philippines. Terror was a ubiquitous force that could ultimately manifest itself in weapons of mass destruction, supplied by the rogue states.
Hence, preventive wars were necessary; Afghanistan and Iraq had to be invaded to seize terror's leaders and their nuclear and biological weapons. International law must step aside.
But what actually has happened during the past nine months is something Americans have yet to grasp, and that others have yet to say out loud: People outside the United States have stopped believing the American story.
They don't think terrorism is an Evil force the United States is going to defeat. They say instead that terrorism is a way people wage war when they don't have F-16's or armored divisions.
They say that Chechens, Moros, Taliban, Colombian insurgents, Palestinian bombers and Iraqi enemies of the U.S. occupation do not really make up a single global phenomenon that the world must mobilize to defeat.
They say that, actually, they had never really believed the American story in the first place. They had listened to it because Washington said it, and they respected Washington. Now they don't.
This is the reason why there is trouble between the United States and the countries that have been its allies. And this is why it may indeed prove true that between them, things "will never be the same."
William Pfaff IHT Saturday, November 1, 2003
The U.S. in the world
PORTO, Portugal More than nine months into the Iraq crisis, meetings between West Europeans and Americans of goodwill remain strained nondialogues in which most of the American participants find it hard to admit that the catastrophic loss of America's reputation abroad has anything to do with them.
Such a meeting in this old port city last weekend produced the usual American citations of scandalous incidents of foreign anti-Americanism.
The German Marshall Fund statistics were circulated, showing that the gap between American and European attitudes is widening and that Europeans increasingly disapprove of America's position as the sole superpower.
The Americans' response is nearly always that there must have been some failure in communication. Perhaps the United States should "consult" more, they say.
"It's as if they can't hear," said an Irishman who had thought of himself as one of America's best friends abroad.
But every nation has a story - a narrative it tells to explain its place in the flow of history and to give meaning to its actions. The American story since 1942 (and before) is well known, and is considered by Americans and others a story reflecting responsibility and high-mindedness.
Despite aberrations in Vietnam and Latin America, the American story of responsible world leadership has been accepted among democracies as an essentially valid account of the role modern America played during the years leading up to the collapse of the Soviet Union. The problem today is that, in the view of many others, the story has changed. Another one has taken its place, even though most Americans deny that this is so.
Because of the powerful Calvinist influence - predestinarian and theocratic - in American Protestantism, the American story has always described a confrontation between the Elect and the Evil.
When the Soviet Union no longer fulfilled the latter role, Washington tried out several possible successors, finally settling on "rogue nations" - those professing radically un-American ideas and that give evidence of wanting to possess nuclear deterrents.
Their feebleness, however, tended to diminish their credibility when cast in the role of global Evil.
Then came Sept. 11, and the problem was solved. The rogue nations now became the Axis of Evil. They were integral to a vast international threat, capable of striking the United States itself. Moreover, this threat more or less resembled (less, actually, than more) the clash between civilizations that Samuel Huntington had warned would be the "next world war."
Americans declared that "everything has changed, and nothing can be the same." The nation was at war with "terror."
Terror expressed itself through Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Palestinian suicide-bombers, South American narco-terrorists, Chechen separatists and Moro separatists in the southern Philippines. Terror was a ubiquitous force that could ultimately manifest itself in weapons of mass destruction, supplied by the rogue states.
Hence, preventive wars were necessary; Afghanistan and Iraq had to be invaded to seize terror's leaders and their nuclear and biological weapons. International law must step aside.
But what actually has happened during the past nine months is something Americans have yet to grasp, and that others have yet to say out loud: People outside the United States have stopped believing the American story.
They don't think terrorism is an Evil force the United States is going to defeat. They say instead that terrorism is a way people wage war when they don't have F-16's or armored divisions.
They say that Chechens, Moros, Taliban, Colombian insurgents, Palestinian bombers and Iraqi enemies of the U.S. occupation do not really make up a single global phenomenon that the world must mobilize to defeat.
They say that, actually, they had never really believed the American story in the first place. They had listened to it because Washington said it, and they respected Washington. Now they don't.
This is the reason why there is trouble between the United States and the countries that have been its allies. And this is why it may indeed prove true that between them, things "will never be the same."
The End of the West?
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Well, the numbers are in and the numbers don't lie. At the Madrid aid conference, Saudi Arabia pledged $1 billion in new loans and credits for Iraq — and Germany and France pledged 0 new dollars. Add it all up and the bottom line becomes clear: Saudi Arabia actually cares more about nurturing democracy in Iraq than Germany and France.
Ah, you say, but that's unfair. Germany and France opposed the war, so why should they pay anything more than their share of the paltry E.U. contribution? Actually, it's not unfair, when you remember that before the war France and Germany were obsessed with the lifting of U.N. sanctions on Saddam's regime — in the name of easing the suffering of the Iraqi people.
Well, the U.S. has removed the whole Saddam regime, which was the real source of suffering for the Iraqi people, and yet that seems to be worth nothing to Germany and France. So there we have it: Pretending to ease the suffering of the Iraqi people — by calling for the removal of sanctions but keeping Saddam in power so he can buy lots of stuff from Germany and France — is priceless to them. But easing the suffering of the Iraqi people by removing Saddam's whole sick regime is worthless to them.
Ah, you say, but that's unfair. The leaders of France and Germany have a principled position. They honestly believe that democracy is not possible in Iraq or anywhere in the Arab world — and trying to deliver it will just make things worse. Now, that's an honest argument worthy of debate. But they never say that out loud — they simply complain at the U.N. that America has not transferred sovereignty to the Iraqi people more quickly. If their real concern was empowering Iraqis to run their own lives, wouldn't they be in there helping Iraqis get their act together faster?
What I'm getting at here is that when you find yourself in an argument with Europeans over Iraq, they try to present it as if we both want the same thing, but we just have different approaches. And had the Bush team not been so dishonest and unilateral, we could have worked together. I wish the Bush team had behaved differently, but that would not have been a cure-all — because if you look under the European position you see we have two different visions, not just tactical differences. Many Europeans really do believe that a dominant America is more threatening to global stability than Saddam's tyranny.
The more I hear this, the more I wonder whether we are witnessing something much larger than a passing storm over Iraq. Are we witnessing the beginning of the end of "the West" as we have known it — a coalition of U.S.-led, like-minded allies, bound by core shared values and strategic threats?
I am not alone in thinking this. Carl Bildt, the former Swedish prime minister, noted to me in Brussels the other day that for a generation Americans and Europeans shared the same date: 1945. A whole trans-Atlantic alliance flowed from that postwar shared commitment to democratic government, free markets and the necessity of deterring the Soviet Union. America saw the strength of Europe as part of its own front line and vice versa — and this bond "made the resolution of all other issues both necessary and possible," said Mr. Bildt.
Today, however, we are motivated by different dates. "Our defining date is now 1989 and yours is 2001," said Mr. Bildt. Every European prime minister wakes up in the morning thinking about how to share sovereignty, as Europe takes advantage of the collapse of communism to consolidate economically, politically and militarily into one big family. And the U.S. president wakes up thinking about where the next terror attack might come from and how to respond — most likely alone. "While we talk of peace, they talk of security," says Mr. Bildt. "While we talk of sharing sovereignty, they talk about exercising sovereign power. When we talk about a region, they talk about the world. No longer united primarily by a common threat, we have also failed to develop a common vision for where we want to go on many of the global issues confronting us."
Just as we once had U.S.-Soviet summits to ease the tensions of the cold war, maybe it's time for a U.S.-French-German summit to ease the tensions of the post-cold war. Leaders of all three nations have behaved badly and have weakened the West, even if they have not ended it. It's time to chart a new Atlantic alliance, but not one that is based on nostalgia for 1945 — one that really bridges the differences between 1989 and 2001.
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Well, the numbers are in and the numbers don't lie. At the Madrid aid conference, Saudi Arabia pledged $1 billion in new loans and credits for Iraq — and Germany and France pledged 0 new dollars. Add it all up and the bottom line becomes clear: Saudi Arabia actually cares more about nurturing democracy in Iraq than Germany and France.
Ah, you say, but that's unfair. Germany and France opposed the war, so why should they pay anything more than their share of the paltry E.U. contribution? Actually, it's not unfair, when you remember that before the war France and Germany were obsessed with the lifting of U.N. sanctions on Saddam's regime — in the name of easing the suffering of the Iraqi people.
Well, the U.S. has removed the whole Saddam regime, which was the real source of suffering for the Iraqi people, and yet that seems to be worth nothing to Germany and France. So there we have it: Pretending to ease the suffering of the Iraqi people — by calling for the removal of sanctions but keeping Saddam in power so he can buy lots of stuff from Germany and France — is priceless to them. But easing the suffering of the Iraqi people by removing Saddam's whole sick regime is worthless to them.
Ah, you say, but that's unfair. The leaders of France and Germany have a principled position. They honestly believe that democracy is not possible in Iraq or anywhere in the Arab world — and trying to deliver it will just make things worse. Now, that's an honest argument worthy of debate. But they never say that out loud — they simply complain at the U.N. that America has not transferred sovereignty to the Iraqi people more quickly. If their real concern was empowering Iraqis to run their own lives, wouldn't they be in there helping Iraqis get their act together faster?
What I'm getting at here is that when you find yourself in an argument with Europeans over Iraq, they try to present it as if we both want the same thing, but we just have different approaches. And had the Bush team not been so dishonest and unilateral, we could have worked together. I wish the Bush team had behaved differently, but that would not have been a cure-all — because if you look under the European position you see we have two different visions, not just tactical differences. Many Europeans really do believe that a dominant America is more threatening to global stability than Saddam's tyranny.
The more I hear this, the more I wonder whether we are witnessing something much larger than a passing storm over Iraq. Are we witnessing the beginning of the end of "the West" as we have known it — a coalition of U.S.-led, like-minded allies, bound by core shared values and strategic threats?
I am not alone in thinking this. Carl Bildt, the former Swedish prime minister, noted to me in Brussels the other day that for a generation Americans and Europeans shared the same date: 1945. A whole trans-Atlantic alliance flowed from that postwar shared commitment to democratic government, free markets and the necessity of deterring the Soviet Union. America saw the strength of Europe as part of its own front line and vice versa — and this bond "made the resolution of all other issues both necessary and possible," said Mr. Bildt.
Today, however, we are motivated by different dates. "Our defining date is now 1989 and yours is 2001," said Mr. Bildt. Every European prime minister wakes up in the morning thinking about how to share sovereignty, as Europe takes advantage of the collapse of communism to consolidate economically, politically and militarily into one big family. And the U.S. president wakes up thinking about where the next terror attack might come from and how to respond — most likely alone. "While we talk of peace, they talk of security," says Mr. Bildt. "While we talk of sharing sovereignty, they talk about exercising sovereign power. When we talk about a region, they talk about the world. No longer united primarily by a common threat, we have also failed to develop a common vision for where we want to go on many of the global issues confronting us."
Just as we once had U.S.-Soviet summits to ease the tensions of the cold war, maybe it's time for a U.S.-French-German summit to ease the tensions of the post-cold war. Leaders of all three nations have behaved badly and have weakened the West, even if they have not ended it. It's time to chart a new Atlantic alliance, but not one that is based on nostalgia for 1945 — one that really bridges the differences between 1989 and 2001.
Hussein Was Sure Of Own Survival
Aide Says Confusion Reigned on Eve of War By
Steve Coll
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 3, 2003; Page A01
BAGHDAD, Nov. 2 -- Saddam Hussein refused to order a counterattack against U.S. troops when war erupted in March because he misjudged the initial ground thrust as a ruse and had been convinced earlier by Russian and French contacts that he could avoid or survive a land invasion, former Iraqi deputy prime minister Tariq Aziz has told interrogators, according to U.S. officials.
Aziz, who surrendered to U.S. authorities on April 24, has also said Iraq did not possess stocks of chemical, biological or nuclear weapons on the eve of the war, an assertion that echoes the previously reported statements of other detained Iraqi leaders and scientists. Yet Hussein personally ordered several secret programs to build or buy long-range missiles in defiance of international sanctions, according to Aziz's reported statements.
The former deputy prime minister has described an argument he had with Hussein in 1999, in which the Iraqi president insisted that U.N. Resolution 687, enacted to limit Iraq's armaments, prohibited long-range missiles only if they were armed with weapons of mass destruction.
Aziz said he countered, "No, it's a range limit," and all Iraqi missiles able to fly beyond 150 kilometers (about 93 miles) were banned, according to a senior U.S. official familiar with the interrogation reports. Hussein demanded in reply, "No, I want to go ahead," according to the senior official.
After nearly five months of prisoner interviews, document searches and site visits, "We know the regime had the greatest problem with the 150-kilometer limit" on missile ranges, said Hamish Killip, a former U.N. arms inspector now working with the Iraq Survey Group, a CIA-supervised body appointed by President Bush to lead the hunt for Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Hussein and his most senior military commanders saw the range limit "as an invasion of their sovereignty," Killip added. They fumed because hostile neighbors might hit Baghdad with missiles, but Iraq would be unable to answer in kind.
Yet investigators have found no comparable evidence to date that Hussein was willing after 1999 to risk being caught in major defiance of U.N. bans on nuclear, chemical or biological weapons, officials involved in the weapons hunt said.
"They seem to have made a mental separation between long-range missiles and weapons of mass destruction," Killip said.
Aziz's statements about the Iraqi missile program have been largely corroborated by documents and interviews with engineers and scientists, officials said. On other subjects, the English-speaking bookworm's reliability as a witness is uncertain. After a turn as the Iraqi president's histrionic spokesman and foreign minister during the early 1990s, Aziz had grown estranged from Hussein as the war approached earlier this year, and officials involved in the interrogations say they are cautioned by Aziz's long history of deceit and opportunism.
Still, Aziz's extensive cooperation with interrogators has become a fulcrum of recent U.S. and British efforts to explore enduring mysteries of Hussein's conduct during the last two years, several officials said.
As the hunt for major finds of chemical or biological arms has turned cold, U.S.-led investigators increasingly seek to understand why Hussein might have acted as he did if he truly had no sizable arsenal of contraband weapons. From their digs in looted factories and sprawling ammunition dumps, they are moving more and more to an exploration of Hussein's mind.
Probing Hussein's Plan
In addition to Aziz, interrogators have systematically interviewed dozens of former Iraqi generals, intelligence officers and scientists in recent months, while trying to isolate them from one another to prevent coordinated answers.
Among the interrogators' questions: If Hussein did not have chemical or biological weapons, why did he fail to disabuse U.S. and other intelligence services of their convictions that he did? Why did he also allow U.N. inspectors to conclude that he was being deceptive?
In early weeks, said officials involved, generals and intelligence officers close to Hussein typically blamed their government's poor record-keeping for arousing suspicions in Washington and at the United Nations, repeating a defense used by Iraqi spokesmen during years of cat-and-mouse struggles with weapons inspectors.
More recently, however, several high-ranking detainees have said they believe that Hussein was afraid to lose face with his Arab neighbors. Hussein concluded, these prisoners explained, that Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates and other countries paid him deference because they feared he had weapons of mass destruction. Hussein was unwilling to reveal that his cupboard was essentially bare, these detainees said, according to accounts from officials.
In separate interviews with The Post, several former high-ranking Iraqi generals not held in detention offered similar views. Hussein "had an inferiority complex," said Maj. Gen. Walid Mohammed Taiee, 62, chief of army logistics as the war approached earlier this year. "From a military point of view, if you did have a special weapon, you should keep it secret to achieve tactical surprise. . . . But he wanted the whole region to look at him as a grand leader. And during the period when the Americans were massing troops in Kuwait, he wanted to deter the prospect of war."
Interrogators asked Aziz whether Hussein was also trying to bluff Iran, fearful that his hostile neighbor might be developing weapons of mass destruction. Aziz replied, according to the senior U.S. official familiar with his interrogation reports: "Every time I brought up the issue with Saddam, he said, 'Don't worry about the Iranians. If they ever get WMD, the Americans and Israelis will destroy them.' "
In the end, say investigators, all of this fragmentary testimony about Hussein's thinking about special weapons is uncorroborated by hard documentary evidence or an unimpeachable inside source.
"The question we all have is, 'What was so damned important that you were willing to go through all of this?' " said Killip of the Iraq Survey Group. He continued: "I've not heard any totally convincing explanation that's backed up with facts. And it's truly puzzling."
Foreign Contacts
Aziz's extensive interrogations -- eased by a U.S. decision to quietly remove his family from Iraq to safe exile in a country that American officials would not name -- paint Hussein on the eve of war as a distracted, distrustful despot who was confused, among other things, by his meetings with Russian and French intermediaries. Aziz said Hussein emerged from these diplomatic sessions -- some secret at the time -- convinced that he might yet avoid a war that would end his regime, despite ample evidence to the contrary.
Aziz has told interrogators that French and Russian intermediaries repeatedly assured Hussein during late 2002 and early this year that they would block a U.S.-led war through delays and vetoes at the U.N. Security Council. Later, according to Aziz, Hussein concluded after private talks with French and Russian contacts that the United States would probably wage a long air war first, as it had done in previous conflicts. By hunkering down and putting up a stiff defense, he might buy enough time to win a cease-fire brokered by Paris and Moscow.
Aziz's account, while provocative, has not been corroborated by other sources, said U.S. officials involved in the interrogations. They said they were aware that Aziz might be trying to pander to his American captors' anger at French and Russian conduct before the war.
The public record of French and Russian back-channel contacts with Hussein on the war's eve is thin and ambiguous. Former Russian prime minister Yevgeny Primakov, long close to Hussein, made an announced visit to Baghdad in February and a secret trip just days before the war's opening on March 20. A few weeks later, after Baghdad's fall, Primakov held a news conference to explain that, at his clandestine last-ditch meeting, he had urged Hussein to resign.
Primakov said Hussein listened attentively to his ideas and asked him to repeat himself in front of Aziz. But then Hussein changed the subject and mentioned that in 1991, the leadership of what was then the Soviet Union had also suggested he resign, and he had ignored them.
"Until the last minute, Russia and President [Vladimir] Putin did everything in their power to prevent this terrible war," Primakov declared at his news conference, according to the Russian Interfax news agency. Russian commentators raised doubts about Primakov's version, however, arguing that he was too close to Hussein to deliver the sort of tough message he described.
The extent and character of French contacts with Hussein before the war is even less clear. Several media outlets reported early this year that France had opened a private channel to Hussein, but the French Foreign Ministry denied these reports, insisting that its diplomats had made plain to Hussein that he should stand down.
In any event, Hussein emerged from these contacts convinced that Washington would not launch an immediate invasion of Iraq, according to Aziz, as U.S. officials described his statements. Even as U.S. and British forces massed on the Kuwaiti border, Hussein was so sure of himself, Aziz reportedly said, that he refused to order an immediate military response when he heard reports that American ground forces were pouring into Iraq, concluding that the crossing was some sort of feint.
Taiee, one of the former major generals interviewed by The Post, agreed that Hussein had "not expected a war." The Iraqi president had concluded that "there would be bombardment as in '98 and the regime would continue and he would be a hero. Then, in case war did happen, these promises he had received from the French and Russians -- plus the resistance he thought the army would put up, not knowing that they would go home -- this would be enough to win a cease-fire and a settlement."
But Maj. Gen. Amer Shia Jubouri, 50, a former army division commander and chief of the Iraqi war college, said in an interview that he believed "the French and Russian governments delivered very clear messages to Saddam that the war was going to happen," and that if Hussein believed otherwise, it was a result of the president's own confusion.
"He obviously misunderstood the theory of deterrence," said Jubouri. "You have to know when this theory can be successful, and when it can be disastrous."
Unexpected Breakdown
Once the war began, Hussein fulfilled few of his threats. The CIA warned that Hussein might use chemical weapons. Instead, after initial resistance, the regime and army melted away.
Investigators have considered the possibility that Hussein intended all along to make a strategic withdrawal from Baghdad and fight a guerrilla war, but they say they can find no evidence of such a strategy from interrogations or documents. They also doubt Hussein could have persuaded his generals to abandon Baghdad as part of a defensive strategy, and they argue that if this was really Hussein's plan, it was poorly executed.
American and British interrogators have asked dozens of generals who served in high-ranking command roles in Iraqi army divisions during this year -- some imprisoned, some living freely -- why Hussein did not use chemical weapons to defend Baghdad. A number of these generals have said that they, too, believed chemical weapons would be deployed by Hussein for the capital's defense. Yet none of the officers admitted receiving such weapons himself.
"The only consistent pattern we've gotten -- 100 percent consistent -- is that each commander says, 'My unit didn't have WMD, but the one to my right or left did,' " said the senior U.S. official involved. This has led some American interrogators to theorize that Hussein may have bluffed not only neighboring governments and the United States, but his own restive generals.
"He would not hesitate to deceive even his hand-chosen commanders if he thought that by this he could achieve success," agreed Jubouri, the former general.
U.S. officials said they remain uncertain about the scope of Hussein's chemical weapons program during 2002 and earlier this year, despite their failure so far to discover Iraqi stocks or any capacity to produce them.
"We have not yet found stocks of weapons, but we are not yet at the point where we can say definitively either that such weapon stocks do not exist," the leader of the Iraq Survey Group, David Kay, told Congress on Oct. 2. U.S. officials said that conclusion still holds one month later.
The investigators' most significant new discovery over the last month, officials said, was that Hussein made a secret deal to purchase Nodong missiles from North Korea, in addition to a previously reported clandestine deal to buy North Korean missile parts between 1999 and 2002. Neither shipment came through, however, because North Korea's government said it was under too much U.S. pressure in 2002 to risk a delivery by sea.
The substantial evidence of Iraq's secret long-range missile programs, combined with more fragmentary testimony in which Hussein reportedly asked scientists how long it might take to reconstitute chemical arms, has led some investigators to conclude that Hussein saw missiles as his most difficult challenge. In this hypothesis, Hussein wanted to build or buy long-range missiles before he took on the risks of secretly restarting banned programs to make weapons of mass destruction.
"The pattern I think we're seeing is, they were working on the long pole in the tent," the missile program, said the senior U.S. official involved in the weapons search. When Hussein asked scientists how long it would take to restart sarin and mustard gas production, he learned the timelines "were all so sufficiently short" that he could afford to hold off until the missile program was further along, the official said.
Yet as the threat of war approached, Hussein apparently took no step to speed the manufacture of special weapons. Perhaps, as Aziz reportedly has said, this was because he believed he could survive the coming war. Or perhaps, as many of his military subordinates now insist, it was because a fading, confused Hussein had outmaneuvered himself.
Investigators of the Iraq Survey Group have discovered that in the months before the war, many specific military and civilian defensive measures ordered by Hussein in past conflicts were only partially carried out or were completely ignored. There appears to have been "some kind of breakdown in the structure that was controlling things," Killip said.
Former military leaders, including dozens of detained generals who have undergone interrogations, have cited the Iraqi president's military incompetence, isolation, and reliance on family and tribe in a time of crisis as central factors in the regime's collapse.
In discussing Hussein's failure to use chemical weapons in the defense of Baghdad, officials said, the generals often rant sarcastically that Hussein's government did not even prepare land mines and other basic military defenses to block or slow the U.S. advance. Why, they ask, should chemical weapons be any different?
"There was no unity of command. There were five different armies being used, no cooperation or coordination," retired Maj. Gen. Abed Mutlaq Jubouri, 63, a former division commander later jailed by Hussein for conspiring against the regime, said in an interview with The Post. "As to the defense of Baghdad, there was no plan."
Staff researcher Robert Thomason in Washington contributed to this report.
Aide Says Confusion Reigned on Eve of War By
Steve Coll
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, November 3, 2003; Page A01
BAGHDAD, Nov. 2 -- Saddam Hussein refused to order a counterattack against U.S. troops when war erupted in March because he misjudged the initial ground thrust as a ruse and had been convinced earlier by Russian and French contacts that he could avoid or survive a land invasion, former Iraqi deputy prime minister Tariq Aziz has told interrogators, according to U.S. officials.
Aziz, who surrendered to U.S. authorities on April 24, has also said Iraq did not possess stocks of chemical, biological or nuclear weapons on the eve of the war, an assertion that echoes the previously reported statements of other detained Iraqi leaders and scientists. Yet Hussein personally ordered several secret programs to build or buy long-range missiles in defiance of international sanctions, according to Aziz's reported statements.
The former deputy prime minister has described an argument he had with Hussein in 1999, in which the Iraqi president insisted that U.N. Resolution 687, enacted to limit Iraq's armaments, prohibited long-range missiles only if they were armed with weapons of mass destruction.
Aziz said he countered, "No, it's a range limit," and all Iraqi missiles able to fly beyond 150 kilometers (about 93 miles) were banned, according to a senior U.S. official familiar with the interrogation reports. Hussein demanded in reply, "No, I want to go ahead," according to the senior official.
After nearly five months of prisoner interviews, document searches and site visits, "We know the regime had the greatest problem with the 150-kilometer limit" on missile ranges, said Hamish Killip, a former U.N. arms inspector now working with the Iraq Survey Group, a CIA-supervised body appointed by President Bush to lead the hunt for Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Hussein and his most senior military commanders saw the range limit "as an invasion of their sovereignty," Killip added. They fumed because hostile neighbors might hit Baghdad with missiles, but Iraq would be unable to answer in kind.
Yet investigators have found no comparable evidence to date that Hussein was willing after 1999 to risk being caught in major defiance of U.N. bans on nuclear, chemical or biological weapons, officials involved in the weapons hunt said.
"They seem to have made a mental separation between long-range missiles and weapons of mass destruction," Killip said.
Aziz's statements about the Iraqi missile program have been largely corroborated by documents and interviews with engineers and scientists, officials said. On other subjects, the English-speaking bookworm's reliability as a witness is uncertain. After a turn as the Iraqi president's histrionic spokesman and foreign minister during the early 1990s, Aziz had grown estranged from Hussein as the war approached earlier this year, and officials involved in the interrogations say they are cautioned by Aziz's long history of deceit and opportunism.
Still, Aziz's extensive cooperation with interrogators has become a fulcrum of recent U.S. and British efforts to explore enduring mysteries of Hussein's conduct during the last two years, several officials said.
As the hunt for major finds of chemical or biological arms has turned cold, U.S.-led investigators increasingly seek to understand why Hussein might have acted as he did if he truly had no sizable arsenal of contraband weapons. From their digs in looted factories and sprawling ammunition dumps, they are moving more and more to an exploration of Hussein's mind.
Probing Hussein's Plan
In addition to Aziz, interrogators have systematically interviewed dozens of former Iraqi generals, intelligence officers and scientists in recent months, while trying to isolate them from one another to prevent coordinated answers.
Among the interrogators' questions: If Hussein did not have chemical or biological weapons, why did he fail to disabuse U.S. and other intelligence services of their convictions that he did? Why did he also allow U.N. inspectors to conclude that he was being deceptive?
In early weeks, said officials involved, generals and intelligence officers close to Hussein typically blamed their government's poor record-keeping for arousing suspicions in Washington and at the United Nations, repeating a defense used by Iraqi spokesmen during years of cat-and-mouse struggles with weapons inspectors.
More recently, however, several high-ranking detainees have said they believe that Hussein was afraid to lose face with his Arab neighbors. Hussein concluded, these prisoners explained, that Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates and other countries paid him deference because they feared he had weapons of mass destruction. Hussein was unwilling to reveal that his cupboard was essentially bare, these detainees said, according to accounts from officials.
In separate interviews with The Post, several former high-ranking Iraqi generals not held in detention offered similar views. Hussein "had an inferiority complex," said Maj. Gen. Walid Mohammed Taiee, 62, chief of army logistics as the war approached earlier this year. "From a military point of view, if you did have a special weapon, you should keep it secret to achieve tactical surprise. . . . But he wanted the whole region to look at him as a grand leader. And during the period when the Americans were massing troops in Kuwait, he wanted to deter the prospect of war."
Interrogators asked Aziz whether Hussein was also trying to bluff Iran, fearful that his hostile neighbor might be developing weapons of mass destruction. Aziz replied, according to the senior U.S. official familiar with his interrogation reports: "Every time I brought up the issue with Saddam, he said, 'Don't worry about the Iranians. If they ever get WMD, the Americans and Israelis will destroy them.' "
In the end, say investigators, all of this fragmentary testimony about Hussein's thinking about special weapons is uncorroborated by hard documentary evidence or an unimpeachable inside source.
"The question we all have is, 'What was so damned important that you were willing to go through all of this?' " said Killip of the Iraq Survey Group. He continued: "I've not heard any totally convincing explanation that's backed up with facts. And it's truly puzzling."
Foreign Contacts
Aziz's extensive interrogations -- eased by a U.S. decision to quietly remove his family from Iraq to safe exile in a country that American officials would not name -- paint Hussein on the eve of war as a distracted, distrustful despot who was confused, among other things, by his meetings with Russian and French intermediaries. Aziz said Hussein emerged from these diplomatic sessions -- some secret at the time -- convinced that he might yet avoid a war that would end his regime, despite ample evidence to the contrary.
Aziz has told interrogators that French and Russian intermediaries repeatedly assured Hussein during late 2002 and early this year that they would block a U.S.-led war through delays and vetoes at the U.N. Security Council. Later, according to Aziz, Hussein concluded after private talks with French and Russian contacts that the United States would probably wage a long air war first, as it had done in previous conflicts. By hunkering down and putting up a stiff defense, he might buy enough time to win a cease-fire brokered by Paris and Moscow.
Aziz's account, while provocative, has not been corroborated by other sources, said U.S. officials involved in the interrogations. They said they were aware that Aziz might be trying to pander to his American captors' anger at French and Russian conduct before the war.
The public record of French and Russian back-channel contacts with Hussein on the war's eve is thin and ambiguous. Former Russian prime minister Yevgeny Primakov, long close to Hussein, made an announced visit to Baghdad in February and a secret trip just days before the war's opening on March 20. A few weeks later, after Baghdad's fall, Primakov held a news conference to explain that, at his clandestine last-ditch meeting, he had urged Hussein to resign.
Primakov said Hussein listened attentively to his ideas and asked him to repeat himself in front of Aziz. But then Hussein changed the subject and mentioned that in 1991, the leadership of what was then the Soviet Union had also suggested he resign, and he had ignored them.
"Until the last minute, Russia and President [Vladimir] Putin did everything in their power to prevent this terrible war," Primakov declared at his news conference, according to the Russian Interfax news agency. Russian commentators raised doubts about Primakov's version, however, arguing that he was too close to Hussein to deliver the sort of tough message he described.
The extent and character of French contacts with Hussein before the war is even less clear. Several media outlets reported early this year that France had opened a private channel to Hussein, but the French Foreign Ministry denied these reports, insisting that its diplomats had made plain to Hussein that he should stand down.
In any event, Hussein emerged from these contacts convinced that Washington would not launch an immediate invasion of Iraq, according to Aziz, as U.S. officials described his statements. Even as U.S. and British forces massed on the Kuwaiti border, Hussein was so sure of himself, Aziz reportedly said, that he refused to order an immediate military response when he heard reports that American ground forces were pouring into Iraq, concluding that the crossing was some sort of feint.
Taiee, one of the former major generals interviewed by The Post, agreed that Hussein had "not expected a war." The Iraqi president had concluded that "there would be bombardment as in '98 and the regime would continue and he would be a hero. Then, in case war did happen, these promises he had received from the French and Russians -- plus the resistance he thought the army would put up, not knowing that they would go home -- this would be enough to win a cease-fire and a settlement."
But Maj. Gen. Amer Shia Jubouri, 50, a former army division commander and chief of the Iraqi war college, said in an interview that he believed "the French and Russian governments delivered very clear messages to Saddam that the war was going to happen," and that if Hussein believed otherwise, it was a result of the president's own confusion.
"He obviously misunderstood the theory of deterrence," said Jubouri. "You have to know when this theory can be successful, and when it can be disastrous."
Unexpected Breakdown
Once the war began, Hussein fulfilled few of his threats. The CIA warned that Hussein might use chemical weapons. Instead, after initial resistance, the regime and army melted away.
Investigators have considered the possibility that Hussein intended all along to make a strategic withdrawal from Baghdad and fight a guerrilla war, but they say they can find no evidence of such a strategy from interrogations or documents. They also doubt Hussein could have persuaded his generals to abandon Baghdad as part of a defensive strategy, and they argue that if this was really Hussein's plan, it was poorly executed.
American and British interrogators have asked dozens of generals who served in high-ranking command roles in Iraqi army divisions during this year -- some imprisoned, some living freely -- why Hussein did not use chemical weapons to defend Baghdad. A number of these generals have said that they, too, believed chemical weapons would be deployed by Hussein for the capital's defense. Yet none of the officers admitted receiving such weapons himself.
"The only consistent pattern we've gotten -- 100 percent consistent -- is that each commander says, 'My unit didn't have WMD, but the one to my right or left did,' " said the senior U.S. official involved. This has led some American interrogators to theorize that Hussein may have bluffed not only neighboring governments and the United States, but his own restive generals.
"He would not hesitate to deceive even his hand-chosen commanders if he thought that by this he could achieve success," agreed Jubouri, the former general.
U.S. officials said they remain uncertain about the scope of Hussein's chemical weapons program during 2002 and earlier this year, despite their failure so far to discover Iraqi stocks or any capacity to produce them.
"We have not yet found stocks of weapons, but we are not yet at the point where we can say definitively either that such weapon stocks do not exist," the leader of the Iraq Survey Group, David Kay, told Congress on Oct. 2. U.S. officials said that conclusion still holds one month later.
The investigators' most significant new discovery over the last month, officials said, was that Hussein made a secret deal to purchase Nodong missiles from North Korea, in addition to a previously reported clandestine deal to buy North Korean missile parts between 1999 and 2002. Neither shipment came through, however, because North Korea's government said it was under too much U.S. pressure in 2002 to risk a delivery by sea.
The substantial evidence of Iraq's secret long-range missile programs, combined with more fragmentary testimony in which Hussein reportedly asked scientists how long it might take to reconstitute chemical arms, has led some investigators to conclude that Hussein saw missiles as his most difficult challenge. In this hypothesis, Hussein wanted to build or buy long-range missiles before he took on the risks of secretly restarting banned programs to make weapons of mass destruction.
"The pattern I think we're seeing is, they were working on the long pole in the tent," the missile program, said the senior U.S. official involved in the weapons search. When Hussein asked scientists how long it would take to restart sarin and mustard gas production, he learned the timelines "were all so sufficiently short" that he could afford to hold off until the missile program was further along, the official said.
Yet as the threat of war approached, Hussein apparently took no step to speed the manufacture of special weapons. Perhaps, as Aziz reportedly has said, this was because he believed he could survive the coming war. Or perhaps, as many of his military subordinates now insist, it was because a fading, confused Hussein had outmaneuvered himself.
Investigators of the Iraq Survey Group have discovered that in the months before the war, many specific military and civilian defensive measures ordered by Hussein in past conflicts were only partially carried out or were completely ignored. There appears to have been "some kind of breakdown in the structure that was controlling things," Killip said.
Former military leaders, including dozens of detained generals who have undergone interrogations, have cited the Iraqi president's military incompetence, isolation, and reliance on family and tribe in a time of crisis as central factors in the regime's collapse.
In discussing Hussein's failure to use chemical weapons in the defense of Baghdad, officials said, the generals often rant sarcastically that Hussein's government did not even prepare land mines and other basic military defenses to block or slow the U.S. advance. Why, they ask, should chemical weapons be any different?
"There was no unity of command. There were five different armies being used, no cooperation or coordination," retired Maj. Gen. Abed Mutlaq Jubouri, 63, a former division commander later jailed by Hussein for conspiring against the regime, said in an interview with The Post. "As to the defense of Baghdad, there was no plan."
Staff researcher Robert Thomason in Washington contributed to this report.
