The President Who Cried Wolf

I was in the airport a few days ago waiting to catch a flight. Sitting next to me at the gate was an Army staff sergeant in combat fatigues. I asked if he had just returned from the Middle East. He said he was actually on his way back to Iraq after two weeks' leave. He'd been in Iraq since last November and was eager to return to his force protection unit.

I asked if he thought Iraq was in a civil war. He said "absolutely." I told him I had been a lowly E-4 in the Army many years ago, and that now I'm a political science professor who teaches Middle East politics and ethnic conflicts. And I said that from a political science perspective, Iraq has qualified as a "civil war" for about two years now.

I didn't go into the details of how political scientists code cases of civil war. I didn't tell him that Iraq meets our standard three-pronged test: a minimum death toll of 1,000 per year, parties knowing that they will have to cohabit the state with their rivals, and the "multiple sovereignty" of armed factions not loyal to a central government. Although the sergeant's evidence was anecdotal, his somber soldier's eye view of Iraq was far more compelling than any academic observations I might have made in the conversation.

The sergeant was not complaining. He was not denouncing the war or his commander in chief. He wanted to get back to his men and do his duty as best as he could. I respected him for that.

I also respected him for his intellectual honesty--something sorely lacking in the White House and in the civilian leadership at the Pentagon.

The Bush administration's fear of admitting mistakes or acknowledging failure has prevented it from dispassionately examining the situation in Iraq. Had Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld acknowledged, early on, that there was indeed an Iraqi insurgency--instead of denying it for months on end--perhaps we might have begun implementing serious counter-insurgency operations drawing on the lessons from our own past and that of others, especially the British.

Important lessons and ideas could also be drawn from our knowledge of previous civil wars and ethnic conflicts. But to date the administration refuses to acknowledge that there is a civil war in Iraq. Before you can look for prescriptions, you must first be willing to make the diagnosis.

Sadly, such clear thinking seems unlikely from the Bush team. Were they physicians, they would be charged with malpractice. Ignoring the wise counsel of generals with actual combat experience, Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld have stretched the US military to the breaking point with a poorly planned and weakly justified war that has squandered American blood and treasure.

Three years on, former military officers, including some highly respected generals, are publicly denouncing the administration's handling of the war.

As I observe President Bush's handling of Iraq, two children's fables come to mind: "The Emperor's New Clothes" and "The Boy who Cried Wolf."

Every day, more evidence comes to the fore suggesting that, indeed, our Emperor is naked--even as he and his courtiers continue to pretend otherwise. And this leads to the tale of the boy shepherd.

As we seem to move inexorably toward our next war, with Iran, the administration's credibility gap has become a chasm. There may really be a wolf out there this time, in Tehran. But can we trust the shepherd? Can we believe what he says, and even if we do, can we rest assured that--this time--he knows what he's doing?