Barack Obama can claim two big foreign policy accomplishments: getting American forces out of Iraq and compressing his predecessor’s expansive, grandiose-sounding “Global War on Terror” into a narrowly focused, unremitting campaign against the remnants of the al-Qaeda network, relying largely on high-tech intelligence gathering and pilotless drones. The most conspicuous achievement of that campaign—the raid by Navy SEALS on the compound where Osama bin Laden had been sojourning for six years, hard by the Pakistani military academy, just an hour’s drive from the capital, Islamabad—shook the foundations of the state and put relations with this exasperating, supposed ally in a deep freeze.
As an outcome, this was not entirely reassuring. David Sanger enables us to eavesdrop on the president when, a half-year after Osama was wrapped in a shroud and sent to his watery grave, he confronts the likelihood that the highly satisfying elimination of the most wanted terrorist had only deepened the dilemma still posed by Pakistan. “His biggest single national security concern,” he’s reported to have told advisers late last year, was that Pakistan would “disintegrate” and lose control of its nukes.
This hearsay, passed along by an unnamed White House official, can’t be read as a considered policy statement. Taken literally, it would mean that Obama’s worries over Pakistan had come to outweigh his concerns over the Iranian nuclear program or al-Qaeda itself. But the case can be made and Sanger comes close to making it. Describing Pakistan as “the world’s most dangerous nation,” this veteran New York Times correspondent1 slips in enough scary particulars to induce insomnia in any reader inclined to parse the president’s logic. Not only does Pakistan have “the fastest-growing nuclear arsenal on earth,” but, we’re told, the latest additions are “smaller, easier-to-hijack weapons.” Under George W. Bush and Obama, the United States has spent hundreds of millions of dollars underwriting programs to help Pakistan secure those weapons but still doesn’t know where many of them are kept.
Sanger speaks of an “American paranoia about a Pakistani meltdown.” That can be taken as a figure of speech mirroring the chronic paranoia of Pakistan’s military chieftains, which was greatly inflamed by the bin Laden raid in a host of ways: not least the undeniable violation of their sovereignty that it represented and the apparent duplicity it exposed.2 Even more galling was the professional humiliation of the failure of their forces to react during the three and a half hours the SEALS were in the country. Least obvious but perhaps worst of all was the instantaneous calculation that the Americans might one day use similar tactics to seize or dismantle some of Pakistan’s precious nuclear weapons.
In the aftermath of the assault, Sanger tells us, orders were issued “to move elements of the arsenal around the country.” In other words, while American envoys were imploring the Pakistanis to act against armed fundamentalists within their borders, they were preoccupied with defending themselves against us—that’s to say, against a country that has since September 11, 2011 rained billions on their military establishment. Meeting with Senator John Kerry, agitated top officials even demanded a written statement that a raid on the arsenal would never be attempted. Kerry said he’d write it in blood, Sanger says, but no written pledge was apparently delivered. Some alliance.
The chief merit of Sanger’s attempt to piece together a primer on the tactical shortcuts that he (and other commentators before him) branded the “Obama Doctrine” is that it mines a vein of recent information, yielding glimpses of actual hard choices and the costly trade-offs they entailed. The hottest of his revelations came with his depiction of Obama’s aggressive use of new cyberwar techniques first authorized by George W. Bush and deployed—in close coordination with Israel—to cripple a thousand or so centrifuges at the heart of the Iranian nuclear program. The discovery that the notorious “Stuxnet worm” (as it came to be known when it was unintentionally unleashed on the Internet in 2010) was made in the USA raises obvious questions about consequences that won’t soon be answered.
Sanger’s book breaks new ground in its discussion of the president’s hands-on involvement in stepping up the cyberwarfare campaign against Iran (a discussion spun off on June 1 as a front-page article in the Times). This contributed to accusations that the White House had timed disclosures of classified information with the election in mind, to advertise the president’s toughness. I’ve no inside information but such charges strike me as more than a little plausible and not very shocking. How else, after all, can Obama respond to Mitt Romney’s constant harping on his supposed weakness and passivity? But the most sensitive information in the article—its portrayal of the American–Israeli collaboration in cyberwarfare—had been in the public domain for nearly a year and a half (having first been reported by Sanger, William Broad, and John Markoff in the Times in January 2011).
The serious questions the earlier coverage raised haven’t been much debated and are unlikely to get scrutiny in the relentless volleys of a political campaign. Neither side has an incentive to stress a key point about “Olympic Games,” as the program was known inside the government: that it was intended as a less destructive, less risky alternative to conventional warfare. The idea was to “put additional time on the clock,” as Sanger says in the lingo of ESPN: in other words, to delay Tehran’s progress to a bomb by a year or two (and thereby forestall attacks on Iran’s buried and dispersed nuclear sites that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has more recently been threatening, almost promising, with full awareness that he’ll never have a greater hold on this president’s attention than in an election year).
One obvious question for the long run has to do with the likely Iranian reaction to the cyberattacks, with their effect on the chance of a negotiated settlement if ever there was one. The disclosure of Israeli–US collaboration in the physical destruction by a cyber-attack on the centrifuges installed deep underground at Natanz could easily have been taken by Ayatollah Khamenei and his shadowy inner circle as confirmation of their darkest fears, proof that the Supreme Leader was wise to shun the broad engagement Obama proffered in secret letters in the early days of his administration; that whatever Obama says or has said, American enmity to the theocratic regime will remain a constant. The Great Satan never questions, scarcely even acknowledges, the existence of the Israeli nuclear arsenal.
From the perspective of the men in turbans, the question of what offers the regime more security, a diplomatic settlement or the bomb, may be said to answer itself. If, finally, they opt for something that can be called a settlement bringing them close but not all the way to a bomb, will it have been because of economic sanctions, in spite of the attacks? Would they then be promised that the attacks would cease?
Another obvious question left hanging in the aftermath of “Olympic Games” has to do with the future of cyberwarfare itself. Having been the first nation to use it purposefully against the weapons program of another state—to have “crossed the Rubicon,” as General Michael Hayden, the former Bush intelligence chief, put it—will we eventually be judged to have hastened its spread? What role will we be able to claim for ourselves in drafting a code that might inhibit copycat cyberattacks on our own vulnerable systems? Similar questions can be asked about drones. Already these are not a monopoly. Israel has used a drone of its own design in an attack on Islamic militants in Gaza. How long will it be before Indian drones fly over Pakistani outposts near the line of control in Kashmir? Or cyberwarfare starts between the subcontinent’s two nuclear powers? Or, scariest of all, China and the United States start playing cyber-chicken?
“The United States lost a bit of the moral high ground when it comes to warning the world of the danger of cyberattacks,” Sanger writes. “A bit” may one day seem to be a peculiar understatement.
Sanger, who has been in Washington longer than Obama, faults the president for “rookie mistakes.” Here he’s discussing the new administration’s failure to foresee or finesse Hamid Karzai’s blatant theft of the 2009 Afghan election. Pages later “the rookie president,” having extended his hand to the clerical regime in Tehran, is blamed for being slow to express support for the protesters who poured into the streets there to denounce the ballot stuffing that kept the chosen candidates of the mullahs in power. “For Obama’s education as a president,” he writes, “it was an important practice run for the Arab Spring revolutions that followed.”
When it comes to filling in a report card on Obama’s overall conduct of foreign policy, covering most of a first term that may yet turn out to be his last, our author seems disposed to award him something like a B-plus. He credits the president with having thought through the limits on American power in regional and dollar terms, and with recognizing that “we can no longer afford troop-heavy interventions, unless our national survival is at stake.” The corollary is that Washington need not seize the lead on every burning issue; that it can support allies, but leave some costs and decisions to others, as it tried to do in Libya. Obama gets high marks, too, for “patience and ingenuity” in dealing with immediate challenges like Iran. On energy policy, climate issues, and the national debt, he gets “incompletes” after all of three and a half years.
Only in the aftermath of the last administration does Obama’s rethinking, however rigorous and serious, seem truly original. It has been half a century since a president promised to “pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe….” More recent presidents have tried to pick their fights, discovering new issues of “national survival” in faraway places. Ronald Reagan landed the Marines in Lebanon, then withdrew them, but got embroiled in covert operations from Central America to Afghanistan, invading tiny Grenada for good measure. The first Bush faced down Saddam Hussein after the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, decided the United States had no national interest in the breakup of Yugoslavia (“no dog in this fight” was the way Secretary of State James Baker put it), but landed troops in Somalia just before leaving office. Bill Clinton got out of Somalia after the body of an American soldier was dragged through the streets, opposed intervention during the Rwanda genocide, waited nearly two and a half years before sending US planes on bombing runs over Serbia, but later bombed Belgrade itself in the cause of self-determination for tiny Kosovo.
Obama is now being criticized for his hesitation, even “paralysis,” about Iraq’s neighbor, Syria. We’ll see how long that lasts. In the meantime, it’s useful to remember that, for all our interventions, hesitation has not infrequently been a presidential trait. When journalists draw up report cards and balance sheets on Obama, it’s hard not to wonder: Which more farsighted and prudent presidents are they remembering?
James Mann’s new book, awkwardly titled, or mistitled, The Obamians, is similarly preoccupied with the question of what’s new about this president’s approach to national security issues. The book has less fresh inside detail than Sanger’s but more time for historical and political table-setting. Mann, a former Los Angeles Times reporter, employs the template of his more searching and effective 2004 book, Rise of the Vulcans, which set out the overlapping histories and built-in conflicts of the veteran policymakers—Cheney, Rumsfeld, Powell, Rice, Wolfowitz—in what he termed “Bush’s war cabinet.”
The reasons that formula doesn’t work this time around are fairly obvious. The insiders he dubs Obamians—a circle of staffers who rose to their present positions in his campaign or on his Senate staff—are still, in the fourth year of this administration, scarcely known outside Washington and mainly notable, so it seems, for the consistency with which their thinking reliably anticipates, intuits, and mirrors his. They are behind-the-scenes types like Denis McDonough, Ben Rhodes, Susan Rice, and Samantha Power (a trenchant writer whose take on the Obama years may one day, two or six years from now, rival Obama’s own). Of these, only Rice, the ambassador to the United Nations, has cabinet rank and, on occasion, a public profile.
By Mann’s definition, Hillary Clinton, Robert Gates, Leon Panetta (who replaced Gates at the Pentagon), and Vice President Biden are not Obamians. Neither is Tom Donilon, the usually self-effacing national security adviser who pretty obviously was available to “background” these two authors, Sanger especially. Donilon, who worked in the Clinton administration and initially supported Joe Biden in 2008, appears to have won the president’s confidence by making himself indispensable. John Brennan, who moved over from the CIA to become the White House point man on counterterrorism, also can’t be counted as an Obamian.
1 The reviewer cheerfully acknowledges that in his long ago days as an editor, David Sanger was a valued Times colleague. ↩
2 Washington says it has no proof that Pakistan’s top generals were aware of Osama’s presence in Abbotabad; just as there was never any proof they had advance knowledge of the terrorist attack on Mumbai in 2008 by a group called Lashkar-e-Taiba they had sponsored; or proof of their awareness that A.Q. Khan, their top nuclear expert, was the world’s worst proliferator of nuclear technology. ↩
The reviewer cheerfully acknowledges that in his long ago days as an editor, David Sanger was a valued Times colleague. ↩
Washington says it has no proof that Pakistan’s top generals were aware of Osama’s presence in Abbotabad; just as there was never any proof they had advance knowledge of the terrorist attack on Mumbai in 2008 by a group called Lashkar-e-Taiba they had sponsored; or proof of their awareness that A.Q. Khan, their top nuclear expert, was the world’s worst proliferator of nuclear technology. ↩