“The decision to invade Iraq was [President George W.] Bush’s alone to make. But he had an abundance of help. Some in the upper tiers of the administration vigorously urged that decision. Others did what they could to make his decision less difficult. None of them advised him to decide otherwise. Those lower down the Bush administration’s food chain who would have counseled against the decision variously did not speak up or were not given the chance to speak or did speak but went unheeded…[This] story…is very much a human narrative of patriotic men and women who, in the wake of a nightmare, pursued that most elusive of dreams: finding peace through war…”
- Robert Draper, To Start a War: How the Bush Administration Took America Into Iraq
It’s an odd time to read Robert Draper’s To Start a War, about President George W. Bush’s disastrous choice to invade Iraq in 2003. The reason is that the war, which began seventeen years ago (and “officially” ended in 2011), feels like it took place in a different age. At the time, it seemed like the Iraq War would be an epochal event; coming off a year in which (among many other things) a worldwide pandemic has killed roughly the same number of Americans as World War II, it no longer feels quite so enormous.
With that said, the Bush Administration’s heedless leap into an unnecessary conflict remains among the great blunders in the history of the United States. It was an emblematic moment that marked eight years of fear, hysteria, and political fracturing, involving issues that were once too red-hot to be viewed with anything resembling coolness and dispassion.
Now, time and intervening events have given us some measure of perspective.
Unsurprisingly, Draper’s cool and dispassionate judgment is that President George W. Bush, abetted eagerly by men such as Vice President Dick Cheney and Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, and unwittingly by others such as Secretary of State Colin Powell, led America into a long-running, lethal, and high-priced war based on false pretenses and obviously-flawed intelligence. More than that, the light-footprint war plan devised by Rumsfeld cavalierly lacked any plans or preparation for what happened after the military victory that was sure to come.
These are conclusions that are carried by the overwhelming weight of the evidence, and have been known for years. Nevertheless, the value of To Start a War is in its telling.
Make no mistake: Draper does not pull any punches in assessing the Iraq adventure. At the same time, however, this is an extremely humanistic look at a self-inflicted disaster, about as far from Michael Moore as you can get. Instead of greedy corporatists looking to seize oil, Draper’s account paints a picture of an administration filled with dangerously zealous idealists, gripped by a tremendous fear following 9/11. There is a great deal of nuance on display – which might not sit well with some – and even a little bit of sympathy. This is not a fire-breathing polemic but a Greek tragedy.
Draper begins his narrative on September 11, 2001, at a Pentagon that has just been struck by American Airlines Flight 77. From there, he shows how startlingly fast the Bush Administration began looking at Iraq as a target for retribution. Once that ball got rolling, it never slowed, and it never stopped, not until the unsuccessful decapitation strikes launched on March 19, 2003, the opening stage of our longest war.
I enjoyed To Start a War a great deal, but as I noted above, it is not breaking any new ground. Most of Bush’s mistakes are well known. It has long since became clear that Saddam Hussein (a secularist) and Osama Bin Laden (assuredly not a secularist) never plotted together. Beyond that, despite everyone’s presumption that Saddam possessed weapons of mass destruction, it has been made abundantly clear that he had no ongoing nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons programs. These are not revelations.
Instead of presenting an “unknown story,” the value of To Start a War is that it delivers a well-known tale with incredible skill. Draper elegantly structures this volume so that even as he moves forward chronologically, he provides a larger context for events by jumping back in time to recount the rise of Saddam Hussein, the invasion of Kuwait, and the stunningly successful Operation Desert Storm. No matter where he is on the timeline, though, Draper works to orient the reader as to where they are, and what is happening at the same time. The pacing is fantastic, a real-life thriller where knowing the outcome does nothing to sap the drama.
Best of all is Draper’s marvelous thumbnail sketches of the participants. From top to bottom, the characters involved are given real dimensions, even when they were catastrophically wrong. There is Colin Powell, of course, one of the most respected men in all of government, whose carefully built-up credibility was squandered in a single infamous speech, and who was thanked by the Administration by being unceremoniously dumped in the second term. You have bureaucratic infighter extraordinaire Don Rumsfeld, he of the smug, smirking, spectacularly self-satisfied tautologies and homey aphorisms. There is also Deputy Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz, the much vilified arch neoconservative and alleged “architect” of the Iraq War, who came off as a cartoon troll in Fahrenheit 9/11. Here he is presented as a true believer of the need to topple Saddam Hussein who, as Draper reminds us, was not exactly as pure as the driven snow.
As Commander-in-Chief, responsibility resides with President Bush, and Draper underlines that repeatedly. Others seem more villainous, especially Cheney, who dissembled and lied to the American public on numerous occasions, saying things he knew to be untrue or unproven. Ultimately, though, Cheney (for all his ambitions) did not have constitutional authority to launch the invasion. That belonged to Bush alone. It may well be that Bush is a relatively decent and compassionate man, but he sowed the wind, and reaped the whirlwind.
Aside from President Bush, there is more than enough blame to go around. The Central Intelligence Agency, and Director George Tenet, are raked over the coals for shoddy spy work and shoddier analysis. According to Draper, Tenet – in an effort to keep his access with the President – essentially started telling Bush what he wanted to hear, instead of what he needed to hear. The American media, too, is given a scolding for their relentless support of the drive toward war. It is hard to believe that Bush would have prevailed in public opinion without the vigorous work of Washington Post and New York Times reporters and editors who – like many others – abandoned reason in the wake of the collapse of the Twin Towers. Also playing key roles were the United States Armed Forces, manipulative expatriates such as Ahmad Chalabi, the United States Congress who gave President Bush a blank check, and British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
The lesson of To Start a War is no less important for being simple and obvious: ideology can be a dangerous thing. For the Bush Administration, Saddam Hussein and Iraq were an idée fixe. Their beliefs were so strong that it caused them to believe poor intelligence, discount good intelligence, and to engage in a great deal of magical thinking about how the dominoes would fall once Saddam was removed. It is still – seventeen years later – too soon to tell how it will all play out. Yet it is abundantly clear that the initial decision to invade Iraq was a toxic combination of bad process, bad strategy, bad assumptions, and bad foresight. Likely this will serve as a case study in terrible decision-making for as long as such things are studied.
***
Looking back at it now, the Iraq War seems even more futile and wasteful. In the days after September 11, 2001, and in the leadup to war, Americans were told repeatedly that we faced an existential threat. We were convinced that the peril emanating from the Middle East was going to kill us all. Threat levels were created, and then raised; we took off our shoes at the airport; we all believed that we were going to die suddenly and violently, if not in a skyscraper gutted by a hijacked airliner, then coughing in a cloud of sarin gas, or vaporized in the light-clap of a suitcase-sized nuclear bomb smuggled into a major metropolis. Bush and his minions told us that freedom was under attack, that our very way of life hung in the balance.
How quaint a notion.
When the terrorists eventually took the United States Capitol building - on January 6, 2021 - they did not do it using commandeered vehicles or suicide vests or even heavy weapons. They did not come from Iraq or Iran or Afghanistan or any other place we’d been taught to fear. They did not believe in an extremist vision of Islam. They did not shout “God is Great.”
No, when the terrorists captured the United States Capitol, in an attempt to overthrow the government, they came from the United States itself. With bum-rush tactics, a bit of police gear, and a lot of slogans, they did what Jefferson Davis and Adolf Hitler and Hideki Tojo and Joseph Stalin and Saddam Hussein could never do, not – in the words of Lincoln – “in the trial of a thousand years.”
As Draper carefully details, with regard to Iraq, President Bush was wrong about everything. The thing he got most wrong, however, was the vector of the risk to this nation.
It turns out that we were the existential threat all along.