McChrystal's Exit Strategy

I know very little about military matters.  In my short history of paying attention to politics in a country fighting two wars, I haven’t shown any gift for analyzing war strategy.  When I was 14, I supported the Iraq War.  A few years later I opposed the surge.  Last fall I supported Obama’s strategy in Afghanistan.  Conventional wisdom of today might say I’ve been wrong on all three of these, the largest military decisions of the last ten years.

But I’ve taken a great interest in General McChrystal’s comments and subsequent resignation, which has elicited diverse responses from different thinkers.  Tom Ricks, who wrote the fantastic account of the early Iraq War, Fiasco, wrote that McChrystal had simply been out in the field too long.  An article in the New York Review of Books suggested that McChrystal’s comments reflect the frustration of a general facing an impossible mission and an unwinnable war.  Another writer suggested that one should view McChrystal and his aides as a group of soldiers on shore-leave unwisely letting off some steam.  Fareed Zakaria characterized McChrystal as a great warrior and a charismatic leader, but a poor statesmen with little appreciation for the civilian side of the COIN strategy.  I’m skeptical of Zakaria’s portrayal since McChrystal helped design this strategy, and I don’t recall anyone questioning his suitability for its particular demands last fall.

My initial thought was how could any general make a mistake this big?  You don’t criticize your boss or your colleagues in public.  McChrystal--and any military officer--surely knows this better than anyone.  Plus this Michael Hastings, the writer of the expose, is from Rolling Stone Magazine, which has for fifty years divulged the private lives of rock stars and celebrities to its subscribers.  

Indeed, when my friend, Erin, and I first read the article here in Moldova, she immediately posed the question of what McChrystal could have been hoping to achieve in the article.  Thus arose the possibility that this was perhaps intentional, a way for McChrystal to signal something to the White House.  Few seem to have taken this line, except Rolling Stone Magazine itself.  The executive editor of the magazine said these weren’t “off-the-cuff remarks” and that the general and his aides “knew what they were doing.”  Likewise, in an interview with CNN Hastings says that McChrystal is a “risk-taker” who, he suggested, may have been “pushing an agenda” and simply “pushed the envelope too far.”  Hastings also said that he didn’t exactly have to dig for this information.  He landed on the ground, and the comments started flying.  I have to think that McChrystal at least partially knew what he was doing.  He may have miscalculated, but he could not possibly have said these things in front of a reporter without the expectation that they would eventually reach the American public and the president.  

So what was his calculation?  Based on his documented contempt for Special Envoy Holbrooke and Ambassador Eikenberry, and the documented pressure from soldiers to have freer rules of engagement, I think McChrystal may have been signaling to President Obama that he should either rein in the civilians or fire the general because the current balance of power was unsuitable.  If this was his intention he seems to have executed it poorly.  Even so I find this more plausible than the general and his aides accidentally confiding in a magazine known for reporting what happens behind closed doors and backstage.

This left President Obama in a difficult long-term political situation.  It capped a few weeks of negative reports about the Afghanistan War, and certainly provides ammunition against him for the next election.  

But Obam’s solution for the short-term seemed fairly clear to me.  Not firing McChrystal could have been justified, especially if McChrystal is as popular with the troops as reports say.  But Obama still would have appeared weak, and given that the media’s quickest analogy was President Truman and General MacArthur, keeping McChrystal would have gone against historical precedent as well.  

But he could have his cake and eat it too by firing McChrystal and replacing him with Gen. Petraeus.  Petraeus would meet approval from the troops, the Republican Party, the media, and the public.  Today Sen. Graham said that if Petraeus can’t lead the United States to victory in Afghanistan, “no one can.” And that’s exactly what Obama needed.  It won’t save his skin if the war ends in defeat of US interests, but he may be spared the sharpest criticism if the consensus is that the task he inherited was simply impossible.  

It remains to be seen what this episode has sown for the future.  President Obama was lucky to have a convenient exit strategy for this one.  That’s more than I can say for the United States military in Afghanistan.

Traveling Thoughts

Some observations while circumnavigating:

Overheard conversation in China:
Chinese girl: chinesechinesechinese--Obama--chinesechinesechinese?
American girl: chinesechinesechinesechinese--uhh, white guilt--chinesechinese.

I may have promised someone I'd help them emigrate to the United States for their travel help.

I'm no expert on women's fashion in the world, but Russian fashion has to be the worst.  It's routinely some combination of high-heel shoes entirely impractical for Eastern Europe's cobblestone streets, striking but off-putting colors like puke green, purses of black shiny leather, black tights, and a blouse or dress with leopard print.  It feels less like the modern world has been unleashed upon Eastern European women and more like Eastern European women have been unleashed on the modern world.

As for men's fashion, I'll just say that a wife-beater, track shorts, and flip-flops is not appropriate dress attire for public.

In any European airport, I inevitably see one or two people who look so obviously French they shouldn’t  need a passport.  Olive skin, a pursed mouth for making those narrow sounds, and a general air of condescension, all stylishly performed.  The moment of recognition in which I find one of these people is the highlight of any layover.  I never confirm my suspicions.  Their Frenchness is self-evident, and further investigation could reveal a kind of racial/ethnic/cultural profiling that is socially unacceptable.

Overheard on the plane:
Man: “I’m headed to California for a half-marathon actually”
Woman: “Wow, do you usually run marathons?”
Man: “Not usually, but this is for charity”
Woman: “What charity?”
Man: “Ummm . . . Leukemia, or something like that”
Woman: “Wowww”

From Phoenix to Chicago there was a crying baby sitting behind me.  The mother could only calm the child down by singing “Old McDonald Had a Farm” over and over again.  As they say, out of the frying pan and into . . .

From Chicago to Brussels there was also a child crying, except this was like a 6-year old French boy. He won't be dispelling the stereotypes any time soon I suppose.

Flying from Tripoli to Bangui, Central African Republic, I of course couldn't understand the pilot's announcements in Arabic.  But I could understand "Inshallah" several times.  From the person responsible for my 700mph, 7-mile-high journey, more than one "God willing" becomes disconcerting.

In the last two weeks I have watched the World Cup commentated in four different languages, none of them English.

To be continued . . .

Remembering Turkey

I left Turkey on May 31, having spent nine months studying at Bogazici University in Istanbul.  I wanted to just share this list of what things I will always miss in Turkey, and what things I won‘t.  I’m leaving people off of this list.  If you’re reading this, you probably know me well enough that you would have been included.

Things I will miss from Turkey:

Et doner.  A great et doner (what we often call a gyro) is the final messenger of good street food in Turkey.  It costs about $2.50, unless you get ripped off.  The reward is inconsistent.  Sometimes the street vendor’s lamb meat has been out in the cold too long.  Often I would forget to say no lettuce and tomatoes (I make the same mistake at Burger King, probably 1/3 of my lifetime sandwich orders have been failures).  Somehow that all makes the excellent et doner that much more enticing.  It’s not just buying tasty street food; it’s hunting for that perfect one.

The Bosphorus.  Istanbul has one trump card over any other city on earth.  Flowing right through its center is the beautiful Bosphorus Strait.  It’s been sought for centuries by empires for its strategic value, but I can’t believe Mehmet the Conqueror didn’t have his eye on the remarkably blue strait for aesthetic reasons as well.  I was so lucky to attend Bogazici University, which means University in the Bosphorus.  Every day my walk to school included one of the best views in the city.

Bogazici University.  Bogazici is essentially the Harvard of Turkey, but I’m thinking of its beautiful campus.  There are a lot of beautiful universities in the world (ASU isn’t one of them).  But Bogazici possesses a special quality.  Yes, it looks a little like Princeton dropped into Turkey, as one of my friends said.  But actually it looks like Princeton if it were abandoned for ten years.  Grass shoots up between cracks in the sidewalk.  Vines conceal buildings.  Trees overhang the roads that are bound by unwieldy hedges.  The original concept of Bogazici--an American university plopped into the Ottoman Empire--might have been imposed on the city, but today the university feels embedded within it.

Turkish hospitality.  I’ve been given a free place to stay, free meals, and legal assistance from the kindness of strangers in Turkey.  Since I’m not really a people-person, most of the time I ignored people’s niceties, and occasionally I tired of them.  But honestly my year in Turkey was much more enjoyable because I was in a country with remarkably friendly and welcoming people.   

Natural Beauty.  The Bosphorus gives Istanbul its appeal, but most of Turkey is pretty stunning.  In the Northeastern region of Karadeniz tall hills line the Black Sea Coast, every one of them covered with the black tea that accompanies almost every meal in Turkey.  Drive or hike into the hills and you’ll find cliffs, waterfalls, like driving through the Rocky Mountains, but with more mist and jungle.  The southwestern coast of Turkey is Mediterranean beaches, the way I imagine Italy and the Greek islands.  The central Anatolian plain is gentle golden hills, less noteworthy but somehow very Turkish.

Things I will not miss from Turkey (this list is much easier to make, but also much less important):

Bargaining.  This is a process I despise just about anywhere in the world.  One only bargains in Turkey when buying knock-off products or touristy souvenirs.  Even so, bargaining in Turkey is more pleasant than in Mexico or China, based on my experience.

Public Transportation.  The occasional hot, rainy day on the 559C was enough for me to move from $200/month apartment to a $350/month apartment from which I didn’t have to take a bus.  When you’re standing in a crowded bus, it’s like God has vacuum-sealed you in a cage with two hundred other commuters.

Istanbul Traffic.  My particular personality is attracted to efficiency.  I dread transit times.  I think to myself: in 20 minutes I won’t be trapped in traffic anymore.  To escape the boredom and sickness, I imagine the life I am going to live after I arrive wherever I’m going.  Once my bus to school had such bad traffic that I got out and ran the rest of the way in heavy snow.  I hate running.  My feet froze for hours probably.  Whatever, worth it.

Turkish Conspiracy Theories.  I feel like people in the United States usually accept the narrative of events we’re given by the media and the government (see: Noam Chomsky).  In Turkey, by contrast, they seem to revel in counter-narratives and secret stories.  A remarkable amount of Turkey’s history is wrapped up in secret plots, military coups, ideological movements supported by mysterious foreign interferences.  When I explain to a Turk that this isn’t how things work everywhere, their response is that I’m obviously naïve.  I suspect somewhere in the middle is true, but it’s extremely annoying.

These are the complaints that make everyday life in Istanbul sometimes miserable.  Of course, after one leaves, these drift from memory.  Overall, Istanbul is an incredible and beautiful city.  I’m just very glad I lived there.