The title of this blog is taken from Lewis Carol’s Alice in Wonderland. Down the Rabbit Hole is the title of chapter one of this classic example of literary nonsense in which Alice enters her fantasy world. Much like Alice, I have gone down a rabbit hole and entered a fantasy world wherein things are not as they appear. This is the story of my first foray into the combined, joint, inter-agency world. Thrust into a seemingly nonsensical world, I, along with numerous genuinely talented and honorable military and civilian personnel, am attempting to bring the rule of law to a country in desperate need of it.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Closing Thoughts

**As I will redeploy soon, this will be my last post on this blog.  Thank you for reading.**
As I approach the end of a long year, I’ve become a bit introspective regarding my time here and self-absorbed in those thoughts.  What have I done here?  Have I made a difference?  What have I learned?  I am not unique in asking these questions.  We all ask them to ourselves, but I suspect we do have unique answers.  None completely right, none completely wrong, but simply a reflection of individual experiences.   We all endure a snapshot of Afghanistan as very few (perhaps none?) of us have access to all of the information that can build a complete and accurate picture.  Thus, the picture drawn becomes not an accurate representation of how things are in Afghanistan, but rather a picture of how one perceives things to be in Afghanistan.  There is truth there, but amongst the truth one also finds scraps of bias and individual experience that mold the picture as a whole.  As succinctly put by French novelist Gustave Flaubert, “there is no truth.  There is only perception.”  Of course, that is merely his perception of things but, I think, an accurate representation this place.
A recent article, by Lt Col Daniel L. Davis, provocatively titled “Truth, Lies, and Afghanistan,” purports to shine the light of truth on the darkness of lies and distortions of reality.  Davis thus seeks to apply an absolutist view to a relative situation.  Davis’ argument is grounded in moral absolutism in the sense that he proposes that his view of the truth here is the absolute truth, there can be no other.  He uses this as a springboard for accusing our military leadership of lying about the supposed success here.  Although perhaps cliché in some segments of society, honor and integrity have real meaning within military circles and they should not be attacked lightly.  Davis’ mistake is not in his perception of a lack of success here, for my own experience causes me to agree with him on this point, but rather than he has failed to consider that, here, truth is a relative concept having a subjective value dependent upon one’s perception and experience within this highly complex environment. 

To lie implies the conveyance of misleading information with knowledge that the information conveyed is indeed wrong.  I do not believe our leadership is doing this with respect to Afghanistan.  You should not, however, mistake this minimal defense for concurrence.  I believe leadership (both military and civilian) to be wrong in their characterization of the effort here and its ultimate results.  However, I do not believe them to be intentionally so.  American author Upton Sinclair is credited with saying that “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.”  This concept is applicable here in that it is difficult to perceive a situation objectively when one’s career or legacy dictates otherwise.  No military leader or politician wants to preside over a withdrawal of troops from conflict, particularly when the withdrawal is in the face of a failure to achieve goals.  Cutting one’s losses is an anathema, even when it does make strategic sense.  But why is this so?

Americans have confused warfare and war.  Warfare is the actual fighting.  It is, in current military vernacular, putting steel on target.  It is death and destruction and, when we want to be, we Americans are quite good at it.  In pure warfare, we use technology, discipline, and overwhelming firepower to impose our will on the enemy.  However, there is no such thing as pure warfare or fighting for fighting’s sake because warfare has a purpose.  This is what we call war – the political tool (much like diplomacy is a tool) for achieving a political objective when other tools are deemed insufficient.  The political will always influence warfare, especially in a democratic government.  The political is why malign actors in Afghanistan have Pakistan as a sanctuary; it is the reason why care, beyond that which is required under international law, is taken to avoid civilian casualties, and it is why we seem to tolerate the corruption within the Afghan government even as it makes success here that much harder to achieve. 

Our mistake is that once the fighting begins, we allow our concept of warfare to override the concept of war in some respects.  We forget that warfare is the tool to achieve not victory, but a political objective.  When that political objective changes (and it often does), we fail to understand that the warfare tool may no longer be sufficient for the job – that we must look to other tools or consider abandoning the project.  There is no shame in this.  It is a political calculation, as it should always be in war – a cost-benefit analysis.  Is the energy we expend, in light of the political objective, worth the expected benefit?  Here it is not.  This is so because we will have to either expend much more energy in the short term (i.e. full on offensive, killing a lot of people) or expend the same amount of energy we’ve been expending for a much longer period of time.  The simple fact is that we cannot afford the former politically nor the latter financially. Thus, the expected benefit must be overwhelming to overcome this.  That is simply not the case when it comes to Afghanistan, something empires and armies have realized about this place for centuries.  Davis touches on this misperception of the cost-benefit analysis and, I think, it is the crux of his frustration.  I see it too, but unlike Davis, I do not believe it to be sustained by lies.  It is perception.

Afghanistan is not a simple endeavor.  Only a fool believes that if we simply do “x” (insert favorite strategy/tactic here), we will achieve our goals.  There are simply too many things in play.  Obviously, there is the Taliban that seek to frustrate our goals through use of violence.  But even that observation is simplistic.  While the term “Taliban” is the phrase preferred by the talking heads in the media, there are many more players here, each with their own agenda.  In addition to the Taliban, there is the Haqqani Network, Hizb-i-Gulbiddin (HIG), Al Qaeda and associates, and many others.  Even the Taliban are divided into Afghan and Pakistani versions.  Some of these groups even have supporters within the Afghan government or have the support of foreign governments.    Add to this the dynamics of having former (and perhaps once again) warlords in prominent positions within the Afghan government and one gets a sense of how complicated just determining the players are here.

However, that isn’t all.  Consider the mosaic of tribes here as well.  A cursory glance at the tribal situation here reveals real and potential divides between Pashtuns, Tajiks, Hazaras, Uzbeks, and other, smaller tribes.  However, each of these tribes is subdivided into smaller units that may or may not have coinciding objectives vis-à-vis the Afghan government or coalition forces.  For example, the Pashtun Tribe is divided into four confederacies composed of approximately 350-400 sub-tribes and clans.  Some will fight for us, some for the Taliban, some for themselves.  Establishing the loyalties of these tribes, sub-tribes, and clans, however, is quite easy.  They are loyal to themselves.  The complexity results in determining when their goals align with ours and when those goals or alignments change.  The Davis article seems to ignore these, sometimes subtle, complexities.

Davis is not, however, completely wrong from my perspective.  His conclusion that the results (real, imagined, or expected) are not worth the effort is accurate from my own perspective.  While Davis toured with combat units, I toured with development folks working in the area of rule of law.  Thus, our views become complimentary in that counterinsurgency doctrine places great importance on the development of rule of law, as it is the glue that allows hard won combat victories to mature into sustainable civil society.  The issues of rule of law are every bit as complicated as the tribal and enemy dynamics described above.  However, some are of our own making.

Americans have a tendency to throw money at problems in the belief that money can fix everything.  Combine this with a myopic view of rule of law and the effort here becomes stagnant.  Afghanistan is a poverty-stricken country with little hope of matching the influx of coalition money in the near future.  Given the history of warfare here, Afghans are more likely to think in the short term than in the long term.  This dictates that Afghan powerbrokers will look to absorb as much money from the coalition as possible before the coalition leaves (having an end date certainly provides incentive for this conduct).  Thus, Afghan officials within the rule of law sector constantly ask for infrastructure and financial support for personnel.  This is accomplished with little thought to sustainability.  In other words, how will this infrastructure and personnel be paid for when the coalitions leaves?  This strategy, however, does lead to a perception of success since supporters can point to the number of courthouses built, judges hired, and bad guys prosecuted without any in-depth thought to the long term sustainability of the effort.  Unlike Davis, I do not see lies here – I see misperception.

Our approach to rule of law is also, generally speaking, too focused on criminal law.  This, I believe, stems from the fact that criminal law is viewed as “sexy” by lawyer and layman alike.  After all, Hollywood doesn’t make television shows about contract law, do they?  However, when one is trying to build a sustainable government, it is necessary to generate revenue to pay for that government’s operations.  Contract law fosters security of business contracts, which increases foreign investment.  Customs regulations assist in the generation of tax revenue.  Transportation law allows the efficient movement of people and cargo so that business can flourish.  Lawyers and judges trained to settle land disputes (a huge issue here) allow for resort to courts rather than to violence.  Sure criminal law is important, but not to the exclusion of civil law or the relegation of it to almost an afterthought. 

The complexities of the situation here, and our seeming inability to address them, lead me to a pessimistic (although I think realistic is a more accurate term, but that’s my perception) view of the sustainability of this effort.  Applying this to the questions I asked in the first paragraph regarding my contribution also results in a cynical outlook.  As I do not think this endeavor to be sustainable (indeed I see civil war on the horizon) I cannot say I’ve made a difference.  The men and women that reduced Al Qaeda to a shadow of its former self made the difference here, which, incidentally, was the original political objective of this war.  Conversely, I have learned a lot, although I’m not sure that what I learned was actually intended.  Unintended learning, though, is sometimes the best kind of learning.  For that knowledge, at least, I am thankful.  

Friday, January 20, 2012

A Ray of Hope


Our footsteps echo down the long, cold hallway.  The beige walls hold no heat and the cold lingers as if the walls had never known warmth.  Windows interspaced along the hall reflect the gray sky.  Turning the corner, we come to a young man armed with an Ak-47.  He looks at us pensively, and then seeing a member of our party he recognizes, waives us through the metal detector – somewhat of a luxury in Afghan governmental buildings.  We walk down another long hallway, our footsteps creating an echo chamber from the absence of furnishings.   

Another guard opens a non-distinct, dark brown, wooden door and we step from the cold into the warmth of Maria Bashir’s office.  Just off center is a wood–burning stove providing a bit of heat in this cold, barren building.  Large, black, leather chairs adorned the side walls, glass tables in front with small trays of nuts and dried fruits – a testament to Afghan hospitality in spite of meager surroundings.  The warmth of the stove was, perhaps, symbolic of the warmth radiating from this brave woman.

Maria Bashir is the only female prosecutor in Afghanistan and she fights corruption and protects the rights of women in one of its largest cities.  However, her battle is a bit more difficult than that of other prosecutors; she fights not just injustice, but a misogynistic culture – one that almost demonizes the female.  By all accounts she is different, untouched by the corruption that is endemic in this country.   In a nation lacking truly admirable statesmen, it is a woman that stands out.  She is indeed fighting the good fight. That she continues her struggle in the face of continual threats and multiple attempts on her life is a testament to her courage.  If the men who purport to run this country had any sense, they would harness the righteousness and international acclaim that follows this woman.  That they do not is quite telling.              

I watched her as she met with my boss.  She seemed at war with herself.  Almost reflexively she continually pushed her hair back into her headscarf and readjusted its position.  I saw her do this numerous times at an earlier event and also during television interviews.  Perhaps it was her strong will causing her to instinctively chafe under a metaphorical yoke, as if the headscarf served as a symbol of all that stood in the way of equality and her desired accomplishments.  She spoke in an almost demure manner, not always maintaining eye contact and held a reserved posture.  However, when the topic came to her efforts to rid Herat of corruption, she changed.  Her voice lifted slightly, eye contact was constant and the firmness in her voice hinted at the rigidity of her convictions.  At that moment, there was no doubt who held control of the room; her presence filled it.

As I watched her I couldn’t help but think about her future.  What will happen to her when the international coalition leaves, when the money for her private security dries up?  She does not seem to be of the type to leave for she stayed even during the Taliban years and secretly educated women in her home.  Former mujahidin commander Ismail Khan controls Herat, the city in which she lives and works.  Given his power, one would think she operates at his pleasure, even now.  Afghanistan can only hope he will continue to support her efforts.  But, I wonder….   

Friday, January 13, 2012

Snow


Fresh snow, it seems, makes anything beautiful.  And so it is with Kabul.  The giant, silver dollar sized flakes fell down in greeting as I stepped from the back of a C-130 (out of Pope AFB, NC).  Returning from an R&R more than nine months in waiting, the flakes were a gentle reminder that it would not be nearly as long until I was in Colorado again.  Seventy more days, to be exact, and I would again leave this place for the splendor of the Rockies and, much more importantly, to the family I cherish.  Yes, the snow was a fitting welcome; a frozen smile designed to begin the last leg of a long deployment on a positive note.  Things will be good.

Nine and a half continuous months is a long sentence in a deployed location.  Despite the dynamic nature of the job and all the travel, it becomes monotonous.  One Forward Operating Base begins to look like any other, the food is bland everywhere, and you’ve exchanged all the stories you can with your comrades.  Nothing really changes until you go on R&R – 15 glorious days in a location of your choice.  Time enough to recharge the batteries.

On leaving Afghanistan for R&R, one must go through Bagram Air Base, an industrial hellhole that makes one want to get to wherever one is headed whether it is Kabul or Colorado.  For those transiting through Bagram, it seems as if a concerted effort was made to ensure the complete absence of comfort.  From the metal seats in the passenger terminal to the dirty, flimsy, spring-enhanced mattresses in the transient tents, Bagram is a place one wants to leave as quickly as possible by any means possible (one guy caught a convoy rather than wait for a flight the next day). 

When leaving Bagram for Kuwait, it is crucial to know the type of aircraft you’ll use.  A C-17 is quicker, but the seating is problematic.  Most of the seating is of the type used in commercial aircraft, but due to aircraft configuration, the seating is crammed together so that legroom is severely limited, especially for anyone near or over six feet tall.  There are also seats along each wall that have no seats in front, so they are obviously at a premium.  Aside from high-ranking individuals that sit at the front, seating is dependent upon when one enters the aircraft.  Passengers must enter the aircraft, proceed to the front and fill in every seat from front to rear.  However, the seats along the wall fill first, so it is imperative that you are among the first 20 or so to enter (and doing so on the side furthest from the drop-off point also helps).

A C-130, though, is different.  It takes roughly 30 percent longer to get to Kuwait, but the seating is better.  The seats are made similar to camping chairs but are benches instead.  Many folks hate these seats, but I have no issue with them.  There are four rows of seats running fore to aft, with the center rows facing outboard toward the other rows.  Passengers are supposed to enter from the rear of the aircraft and fill in seats from front to rear.  Thus, entering last dictates that you get an end seat (going first does as well, but the wall makes seating somewhat constricted).  Moreover, should seats run out for some reason, the last one or two passengers may be asked to sit up in the additional cockpit seats (happened to me twice).  Of course, if you see me waiting for the same plane that you are waiting for, ignore all of this!

For some reason unknown to me, flights in Kuwait land at the international airport rather than at the air base (probably something to do with money, I’m sure).  You must take a bus ride of approximately 1 ½ hours to get to the base.  Procedure requires that you enter the bus and proceed to the rear, filling in every available seat, keeping your gear in your lap.  Expect to hear me yelling at you if you fail to do this, it is a pet peeve of mine.  Bus rides aren’t that long folks, and filling from the front requires others to maneuver around you with all their gear.  It’s a pain in the ass solely attributable to your laziness.

Ali al Salem is actually a pretty nice set up, although its clearly temporary nature makes you want to get out quickly.  The folks that run the place have the system down pat.  You almost feel like you’re on an assembly line; of course, folks on the way out for R&R are much more compliant which probably lends to the efficiency of the process.  Like most folks, as soon as I finished my initial in-processing, I headed to the McDonalds they have there.  Although they were out of the Big Mac special sauce (isn’t really isn’t a Big Mac without that sauce, right?), the two cheeseburgers I ate were heavenly.  I ended up spending only about 18 hours there before boarding a plane for “the land of the big BX,” “the world,” or home sweet home.  I was positively giddy.

The long, mostly boring flight from Kuwait to Dallas, Texas is a small price to pay after more than nine months without seeing your family.  As the plane touched down, my only thought was getting an earlier flight home.  You could sense the excitement as more than 200 uniformed military members walked from the plane to the customs area.  As we entered the room, a long line of civilians spontaneously burst into applause for us.  We were stunned and a bit embarrassed, but it was quite gratifying.  However, that was not the only display of gratitude I witnessed that day.  Apparently, there is a group of folks in the Dallas area that meet every R&R plane that comes in.  They line the exit hallway from the customs area and applaud, high-five, and shake hands with all of us.  Being deployed puts you in your own little world; a part of you actually forgets the States a bit.  You just assume everyone is going on with their lives, oblivious to the fact that you’re out here.  But these folks understand and they took time out of their day to say thanks to us.  It is definitely appreciated.  If anyone that participates in that welcome home process is reading this, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Thanks for making me feel good about being over here. 

I thought about that welcome again as I watched the snow gently falling from the sky.  It added to the warmth I actually felt at seeing the snow.  Yes, the snow gave me a sense of Colorado, a sense of home and family.  It won’t be long now . . . .