Peace Later!

In the wake of the slaying of 16 Afghan civilians by Staff Sergeant Robert Bales, some soul-searching into what’s gone wrong with our Army is appropriate. Talking to officers that I have come to know over the course of the last five years in Afghanistan, several issues not well known to civilians emerge.

One is that the Army lowered its standards and took on youths too troubled to be molded into good soldiers, especially during the 2007–09 period. The good news here is that since most of them enlisted for two years, they are reaching the end of their term, and with our withdrawal from Iraq and drawdown in Afghanistan, the Army no longer needs to lower its standards to fill its ranks.

I wasn’t a bit surprised by the news of the horrific massacre of Afghan civilians by a deranged noncom in a Stryker brigade. Not because I think this sort of thing goes on all the time: in my seven embeds with American troops in Afghanistan, I’ve seen unbelievable patience with hostile locals. But because it was only a matter of time before the inherent frustrations of “counterinsurgency” in Afghanistan collided with some individual who was at the end of his tether, and who joined derangement with weaponry.

Mali is so obscure to the Western world that if you google the name of its president, Amadou Toumani Touré, you only get 202,000 entries, about the same as a mid-level well known American. The country has been afflicted by a civil war for long stretches of the past few decades, most notably from 1990 to 1996, but no one in the US has much noticed. Coverage of the political situation is particularly lacking. So I have been reading Roger Kaplan’s dispatches from Mali for the Weekly Standard, most notably a feature in the current issue, with great attention. As a French speaker with long experience in Africa, Kaplan comes with some credentials. And my knowledge of Mali is fragmentary and way out of date—I was first and last there in 1989.

Unfortunately, Kaplan’s piece “Mischief in Mali” seems more likely to perpetuate American ignorance of what is going on in this part of the world than to dispel it. And because our military is involved, it seems important to critique Kaplan’s reasoning.

It may seem strange to profess mild confidence in Afghanistan’s future even as the Koran-burning riots and slayings continue. But it is precisely the archaism of the country that may be its best hope.

While Americans of my neocon stripe, as well as many Afghans, warn that Afghanistan is in danger of collapse when we withdraw our forces, I am more inclined to say that the country will muddle through, and indeed improve in some respects, despite our grave mistakes in politico-military strategy.

The best outcome would have been for the US to scale down its military presence after 2003, instead of ramping it up. But we decided that if there were more Taliban attacks, this meant that we needed more troops. And we followed this line of reasoning all the way down the line to the surge of 2009. Instead of leading to a safer Afghanistan, this strategy has led to a more dangerous one.

On the eve of February 17th, the anniversary of last year’s Libyan revolution, Tripoli was a dangerous place. “Three men were shot outside my house last night,” a businessman told me. “And outside the Rixos, there was so much celebratory gunfire that I could not leave the hotel for hours”—the Rixos being the five-star hotel where many members of the transitional government live.

While Libyans are organizing political parties to compete in the June 23rd parliamentary elections, many describe the current situation as a power vacuum where there is no real law or order. Especially in western Libya, highly armed militiamen duke it out, often over disputes that have nothing to do with politics. Even in Zwara, the tightly knit Amazigh town of 50,000 that constitutes a separate cultural enclave, the police have not returned to work. Tripoli? Forget about it.

NEW YORK — “Can you imagine what just a few words from Hillary Clinton to the Libyan goverrnment would mean?”

Allen Moucer was referring to the cause that had brought him about thirty other members of the small, East Coast Amazigh community out to demonstrate in front of New York’s Plaza Hotel. Libya’s largest ethnic minority, the Amazigh (or Berbers), were not given any ministries in the newly named second transitional government of Libya, although they represent 10 to 15 percent of the population and speak a distinct language. Libyan Amazigh have been protesting ever since the new government formed, on November 23rd, and over the weekend held solidarity demonstrations in New York, Toronto, Montreal, and Paris.

The United States sometimes seems to make foreign policy in the light of Groucho Marx’s adage that he wouldn’t be a member of any club that would have him: we reward those who hurt and betray us while ignoring our real friends. We put up with murder from the likes of Pakistan and Russia, while giving the cold shoulder to India and the democracies of Eastern Europe.

We seem to be heading this way in our approach to Libya and North Africa too. We’re turning a blind eye to the endless missteps of Libya’s National Transitional Council, especially those that empower Islamic extremists. And we ignore the Libyan ethnic group that are our natural allies, the Amazigh (or Berbers). Recently they have got the short end of the stick, with zero government ministries in the lineup of the new seven-month cabinet. The Amazigh, including the more diffuse Tuaregs spread across the vast southern desert, may number as many as 800,000 of Libya’s close to six million citizens. Anecdotally, the Amazigh of Zwara and the Nafusa Mountains seem more educated than average Libyans. Yet they are vastly under-represented in nearly every branch of government.

It was easy to drink the Kool-Aid offered by the Libyan revolutionaries. With savvy slogans, hip combinations of camo uniforms and T-shirts, and engaging personalities, the young fighters, known as thuwar, were ideal for TV and photos. A good number of the revolutionaries were foreign-educated, others had close relatives in the US or Britain, and almost all had the Libyan pride and directness that strikes a familiar note with Americans particularly. When Libyans spoke of democracy, of the fact that they would “win or die,” it was natural to believe that their attitudes were much like ours, just suppressed by 42 years of a crazy dictatorship.

Now, nearly three months after Tripoli rose up on August 19th, bringing the Qaddafi years to a close, it’s possible to make a more realistic assessment of Libya and the Libyans—and what their future might hold. A few observations stand out.

The New York Times asks the former “Ground Zero Mosque” imam to weigh in on the religious correctness of the Met’s new Islamic world galleries

Ah, the New York Times. Its Sunday “Arts & Leisure” section can usually cure any bout of insomnia, with tiresome articles on artistic “trends” years old. But this week’s front-page summary of the Metropolitan Museum’s freshly redesigned Islamic art galleries manages to open some old wounds and set new records in abasement to the least liberal interpreters of Islam.

SABRATHA, Libya, August 27th — After a cumulative two months in Libya, I’ve come to believe that the fears of an Iraq-style post-Qaddafi fragmentation are misplaced. Many Libyans express the wish to kill Qaddafi—but not his fighters. This augurs well for the future of this closely knit, small-population country. Even ethnic tensions here are at a lower key, with the Berber minority seeking cultural freedom but not separatism.

JADU, Jebel Nafusa, Libya — Spending time with Libya’s revolutionary brigades is fascinating, both for the light it sheds on a Libya deformed by 42 years of a bizarre dictatorship and for the reflections it inspires on the American military.

BENGHAZI, Libya — On February 20th, a mild-mannered, bespectacled, diabetic oil company bureaucrat with an interest in diving and spearfishing sacrificed himself in an act that had arguably the greatest single impact on the Libyan revolution. Its reverberations also suggest the double-edged nature of suicide attacks, which have been almost nonexistent on the rebel side.