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By
FOUAD AJAMI September 28,
2006; Page A16
The scaffolding of the Iraq war is under renewed attack. So
there had been no meeting between Mohamed Atta and Iraqi intelligence
operative Ahmad al-Ani in Prague; and Saddam's regime was "intensely
secular" while al Qaeda was steeped in religious doctrine. Tariq Aziz,
once Goebbels to his master, now in captivity, says that Saddam had only
"negative sentiments" about Osama bin Laden, and that the despot had
issued a decree "outlawing Wahhabism in Iraq and threatening offenders
with execution."
The case against the Iraq war now has a new canonical
document: a report by the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence,
released on Sept. 8. Opponents of the war -- to use their own language
against the Bush administration -- now "cherry pick" this report, and they
find in it the damning evidence that had been their conviction all along.
In their eyes, the case for this war was a willful hoax. And on the heels
of this report, it was revealed that the National Intelligence Estimate
now depicts Iraq as the breeding ground of a new generation of
terrorists.
Intended or not, the release of the Senate report, around
the fifth anniversary of 9/11, has been read as definitive proof that the
Iraq war stands alone, that the terrors that came America's way on 9/11
had nothing to do with the origins of the war. Few will read this report;
fewer still will ask why a virtually incomprehensible Arab-Islamic world
that has eluded us for so long now yields its secrets to a congressional
committee. On the face of it, and on the narrowest of grounds, the report
maintains that the link between the war on terror and the invasion of Iraq
cannot stand in a Western court of inquiry.
But this brutal drawn-out struggle between American power
and the furies of the Arab-Islamic world was never a Western war. Our
enemies were full of cunning and expert at dissimulation, hunkering down
when needed. No one in the coffeehouses of the Arab world (let alone in
the safe houses of the terrorists) would be led astray by that distinction
between "secular" and "religious" movements emphasized by the Senate
Intelligence Committee. They live in a world where the enemies of order
move with remarkable ease from outward religious piety to the most secular
of appearances. It is no mystery to them that Saddam, once the most
secular of despots, fell back on religious symbols after the first Gulf
War, added Allahu Akbar (God is great) to Iraq's flag, and launched
a mosque-building campaign whose remnants -- half-finished mosques all
over Baghdad -- now stand mute.
No Iraqi agents had to slip into hotel rooms in Prague for
meetings with jihadists to plot against America. The plot sprang out of
the deep structure of Arab opinion. We waged a war against Saddam in 1991
and then spared him. We established a presence in the Arabian Peninsula to
monitor him, only to help radicalize a population with religious phobias
about the "infidel" presence on Arabian soil. The most devout and the most
religiously lapsed of the Arabs alike could see the feebleness of
America's response to a decade of subversion and terror waged by Arab
plotters and bankrolled by Arab financiers. The American desire to launch
out of Iraq a broader campaign of deterrence against the radical forces of
the region may not have been successful in every way, but the effort was
driven by a shrewd reading that, after Kabul, the war had to be taken deep
into the Arab world itself.
* * *
Strictly speaking, the National Intelligence Estimate --
another "canonical" document -- is not a finding: It is an assessment of
Islamic terrorism and its perceived links to Iraq. (It is odd, and ironic,
that the intelligence agencies that had been mocked by liberal opinion for
their reporting on Iraq before the war have now acquired an aura of
infallibility. ) Islamic terror did not wait on the Iraq war. The
assertion that Islamic terrorism has "metastasized and spread across the
globe" because of Iraq takes at face value what the jihadists themselves
proclaim. It would stand to reason that their Web sites, and the
audiotapes of their leaders, would trumpet their attachment to the cause
of Iraq. It is inevitable that American analysts glued to jihadist
cyberspace, and lacking intimate knowledge of Arab ways, would take the
jihadists at their word. But Islamic radicals have not lacked for
grievances. The anti-Americanism and antimodernism that brought them onto
American soil five years ago predated Iraq. For the good part of two
decades, jihadist terror blew at will, driven by the conviction in the
lands of Islam and its diaspora communities that America was a pampered
land with little zeal for bloody struggles.
The declassified portions of the NIE are not particularly
profound in the reading of Islamism. Their sociologese is of a piece with
a big body of writing on Islamist movements -- that the resentments of
these movements arise out of "anger, humiliation and a sense of
powerlessness" in the face of the West. I dare guess that were Ayman
al-Zawahiri to make his way through this report, he would marvel at the
naïveté of those who set out to read him and his fellow warriors of the
faith. Ayoob al-Masri (Zarqawi's successor in Iraq) would not find himself
and his phobias and his will to power in this "infidel document." These
warriors have a utopia -- an Islamic world ruled by their own merciless
brand of the faith. With or without Iraq, the work of "cleansing" Islam's
world would continue to rage on.
It was inevitable that the Arabs would regard this American
project in Iraq through the prism of their own experience. We upended an
order of power in Baghdad, dominated as it had been by the Sunni Arabs;
and we emancipated the Shiite stepchildren of the Arab world, as well as
the Kurds. Our innocence was astounding. We sinned against the order of
the universe, but called on the region to celebrate, to bless our work.
More to the point, we set the Shia on their own course. We did for them
what they could not have done on their own. For our part, we were
ambivalent about the coming of age of the Shia. We had battled radical
Shiism in Iran and in Lebanon in the 1980s. The symbols of Shiism we
associated with political violence -- radical mullahs, martyrology,
suicide bombers. True, in the interim, we had had a war -- undeclared, but
still a war -- with Sunni jihadists. But there lingered in us an aversion
to radical Shiism, an understandable residue of the campaign that
Ayatollah Khomeini had waged against American power in the '80s. We were
susceptible as well to the representations made to us by rulers in the
Sunni-ruled states about the dangers of radical Shiism.
The case against the war makes much of Iran's new power in
Iraq. To the war critics, President Bush has midwifed a second Islamic
republic in Iraq, next door to Iran. But Iran cannot run away with Iraq,
and talk of an ascendant Iran in Iraqi affairs is overblown. We belittle
the Iraqi Shiites -- their sense of home, and of a tradition so thoroughly
Iraqi and Arab -- when we write them off as instruments of Iran.
Inevitably, there is Iranian money in Iraq, and there are agents, but this
is the logic of the 900-mile Iranian-Iraqi border.
True, in the long years of Tikriti/Saddamist dominion,
Shiite political men persecuted by the regime sought sanctuary in Iran; a
political party, the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq,
and its military arm, the Badr Brigade, rose in those years with Iranian
patronage. But the Iraqi exiles are not uniform in their attitudes toward
Iran. Exile was hard, and the Iranian hosts were given to arrogance and
paternalism. Iraqi exiles were subordinated to the strategic needs of the
Iranian regime. Much is made, and appropriately, of the way the Americans
who prosecuted the first Gulf War called for rebellions by the Shiites
(and the Kurds), only to walk away in indifference as the Saddam regime
struck back with vengeance. But the Iranians, too, averted their gaze from
the slaughter. States are merciless, the Persian state no exception to
that rule.
We should not try to impose more order and consensus on the
world of Shiite Iraq than is warranted by the facts. In recent days a
great faultline within the Shiites could be seen: The leader of the
Supreme Council for the Revolution in Iraq, Sayyid Abdulaziz al-Hakim, has
launched a big campaign for an autonomous Shiite federated unit that would
take in the overwhelmingly Shiite provinces in the south and the middle
Euphrates, but this project has triggered the furious opposition of
Hakim's nemesis, the young cleric Moqtada al-Sadr. Hakim's bid was
transparent. He sought to be the uncrowned king of a Shiite polity. But he
was rebuffed. Sadr was joined in opposition to that scheme by the Daawa
Party of Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, by the Virtue Party, and by those
secular Shiites who had come into the national assembly with former Prime
Minister Iyad Allawi. A bitter struggle now plays out in the Shiite
provinces between the operatives of the Badr Brigade and Sadr's Mahdi
Army. The fight is draped in religious colors -- but it is about the
spoils of power.
The truculence of the Sunni Arabs has brought forth the
Shiite vengeance that a steady campaign of anti-Shiite terror was bound to
trigger. Sunni elements have come into the government, but only partly so.
President Jalal Talabani put it well when he said that there are elements
in Iraq that partake of government in the daytime, and of terror at night.
This is as true of the Sunni Arabs as it is of the Shiites. The (Sunni)
insurgents were relentless: In the most recent of events, they have taken
terror deep into Sadr City. The results were predictable: The death squads
of the Mahdi Army struck back.
It is idle to debate whether Iraq is in a state of civil
war. The semantics are tendentious, and in the end irrelevant. There is
mayhem, to be sure, but Iraq has arrived at a rough balance of terror. The
Sunni Arabs now know, as they had never before, that their tyranny is
broken for good. And the most recent reports from Anbar province speak of
a determination of the Sunni tribes to be done with the Arab
jihadists.
It is not a rhetorical flourish to say that the burden of
rescuing Iraq lies with its leaders. No script had America staying
indefinitely, fighting Iraq's wars, securing Iraq's peace. The best we can
do for Iraq is grant it time to develop the military and political
capabilities that would secure it against insurgencies at home and
subversion from across its borders. No one can say with confidence how
long the American body politic will tolerate the expense in blood and
treasure. It would be safe to assume that this president will stay with
this war, that its burden is likely to be passed onto his successor. The
Iraqis are approaching reckoning time, for America's leaders are under
pressure to force history's pace. The political process here at home is
not likely to impose a precise deadline for withdrawal. But the Iraqis
should not be lulled into complacency, for the same political process is
more likely to place limits on this commitment in Iraq.
For their part, the Iranians will press on: The spectacle
of power they display is illusory. It is a broken society over which the
mullahs rule. A society that throws on the scene a leader of Mahmoud
Ahmadinejad' s derangement is not an orderly land; foreigners may not be
able to overthrow that regime, but countries can atrophy as their leaders
-- armed, here, by an oil windfall of uncertain duration -- strut on the
world stage. Iran's is a deeper culture than Iraq's, possessed of a keen
sense of Persia's primacy in the region around it. What Iranians make of
their own history will not wait on the kind of society that will emerge in
Iraq. On the margins, a scholarly tradition in Najaf given to moderation
could be a boon to the clerics of Iran. But the Iranians will not know
deliverance from the sterility of their world if Iraq were to fail. Their
schadenfreude over an American debacle in Iraq will have to be brief. A
raging fire next door to them would not be pretty. And, crafty players,
the Iranians know what so many in America who guess at such matters do
not: that Iraq is an unwieldy land, that the Arab-Persian divide in
culture, language and temperament is not easy to bridge.
We needn't give credence to the assertion of President Bush
-- that the jihadists would turn up in our cities if we pulled up stakes
from Baghdad -- to recognize that a terrible price would be paid were we
to opt for a hasty and unseemly withdrawal from Iraq. This is a region
with a keen eye for the weakness of strangers. The heated debate about the
origins of our drive into Iraq would surely pale by comparison to the
debate that would erupt -- here and elsewhere -- were we to give in to
despair and cast the Iraqis adrift.
Mr. Ajami, a professor at the School of Advanced
International Studies at Johns Hopkins, is the author, most recently, of
"The Foreigner's Gift" (Free Press, 2006). He is a recipient of the 2006
Bradley Prize.
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