The ruling also affected the CIA interrogation program. In his majority opinion, Justice John Paul Stevens ruled that a part of the Geneva Conventions known as Common Article III—written exclusively for “armed conflict not of an international character”—somehow applied to America’s war with al Qaeda. The provision prohibited “outrages upon personal dignity,” a vague phrase that could be interpreted to mean just about anything. As a result, CIA lawyers worried that intelligence personnel who questioned terrorists could suddenly face legal jeopardy. The CIA informed me that it had to suspend the interrogation program that had yielded so much lifesaving information.
I disagreed strongly with the Court’s decision, which I considered an example of judicial activism. But I accepted the role of the Supreme Court in our constitutional democracy. I did not intend to repeat the example of President Andrew Jackson, who said, “John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce it!” Whether presidents like them or not, the Court’s decisions are the law of the land.
Similar to the TSP leak, the Supreme Court decision made clear it was time to seek legislation codifying the military tribunal system and CIA interrogation program. I took the issue to the people with a series of speeches and statements. The most dramatic came in the East Room of the White House in September 2006. As a way to highlight the stakes of passing the bill, I announced that we would transfer Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and thirteen other high-ranking al Qaeda detainees from CIA custody overseas to Guantanamo, where they would face trial under the new tribunals Congress would create.
“This bill makes the president a dictator,” one congressman proclaimed. Other lawmakers compared the conduct of our military and CIA professionals to the Taliban and Saddam Hussein.
I was confident the American people had better judgment. Most Americans understood the need for intelligence professionals to have the tools to get information from terrorists planning attacks on our country. And they did not want Guantanamo detainees brought to the United States and tried in civilian courts with the same constitutional rights as common criminals.
Within a month of my East Room speech, Congress passed the Military Commissions Act of 2006 by a comfortable bipartisan majority. It contained everything we asked for, including authority for the tribunals to restart and for a president to use enhanced interrogation techniques, should he choose to do so.
As I listened to my last CIA briefing the morning before President Obama’s Inauguration, I reflected on all that had happened since 9/11: the red alerts and the false alarms, the botulinum toxin we thought would kill us, and the plots we had disrupted. Years had passed, but the threat had not. The terrorists had struck Bali, Jakarta, Riyadh, Istanbul, Madrid, London, Amman, and Mumbai. My morning intelligence reports made clear that they were determined to attack America again.
After the shock of 9/11, there was no legal, military, or political blueprint for confronting a new enemy that rejected all the traditional rules of war. By the time I left office, we had put in place a system of effective counterterrorism programs based on a solid legal and legislative footing.
Of course, there are things I wish had come out differently. I am frustrated that the military tribunals moved so slowly. Even after the Military Commissions Act was passed, another lawsuit delayed the process again. By the time I left office, we had held only two trials.
The difficulty of conducting trials made it harder to meet a goal I had set early in my second term: closing the prison at Guantanamo in a responsible way. While I believe opening Guantanamo after 9/11 was necessary, the detention facility had become a propaganda tool for our enemies and a distraction for our allies. I worked to find a way to close the prison without compromising security. By the time I left office, the number of detainees at Guantanamo had dropped from nearly 800 to fewer than 250. My hope is that many of those remaining will stand trial for their crimes. Some of the hardened, dangerous terrorists at Guantanamo may be very difficult to try. I knew that if I released them and they killed Americans, the blood would be on my hands. Deciding how to handle them is the toughest part of closing Guantanamo.
In retrospect, I probably could have avoided some of the controversy and legal setbacks by seeking legislation on military tribunals, the TSP, and the CIA enhanced interrogation program as soon as they were created. If members of Congress had been required to make their decisions at the same time I did—in the immediate aftermath of 9/11—I am confident they would have overwhelmingly approved everything we requested. Yet in the case of the TSP and the CIA program, the risk of exposing operational details to the enemy was one I could not take until we had a better handle on the security situation.
I have been troubled by the blowback against the intelligence community and Justice Department for their role in the surveillance and interrogation programs. Our intelligence officers carried out their orders with skill and courage, and they deserve our gratitude for protecting our nation. Legal officials in my administration did their best to resolve complex issues in a time of extraordinary danger to our country. Their successors are entitled to disagree with their conclusions. But criminalizing differences of legal opinion would set a terrible precedent for our democracy.
From the beginning, I knew the public reaction to my decisions would be colored by whether there was another attack. If none happened, whatever I did would probably look like an overreaction. If we were attacked again, people would demand to know why I hadn’t done more.
That is the nature of the presidency. Perceptions are shaped by the clarity of hindsight. In the moment of decision, you don’t have that advantage. On 9/11, I vowed that I would do what it took to protect America, within the Constitution and laws of our nation. History can debate the decisions I made, the policies I chose, and the tools I left behind. But there can be no debate about one fact: After the nightmare of September 11, America went seven and a half years without another successful terrorist attack on our soil. If I had to summarize my most meaningful accomplishment as president in one sentence, that would be it.
*In 2010, after an exhaustive investigation, the Justice Department and FBI concluded that Dr. Bruce Ivins, a U.S. government scientist who committed suicide in 2008, had executed the anthrax attack alone.
**Congress named the law the Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act.
he Treaty Room was one of my favorite places in the White House. Spacious and stately, it sits on the second floor between the Lincoln Bedroom and the Yellow Oval Room. Before the construction of the West Wing, the Treaty Room was the presidential office. Its name dates back to 1898, when President William McKinley chose it to sign the treaty ending the Spanish-American War.
Working in the Treaty Room. White House/Joyce Boghosian
The dominant piece of furniture is a large, dark walnut desk, where the treaty was signed and the cabinet of President Ulysses S. Grant met. I used the desk to edit speeches, read briefing papers, and make phone calls, usually in the evening after I had come back from the Oval Office.
Opposite the desk was a large oil painting, The Peacemakers. It shows President Lincoln aboard the River Queen steamer with General Grant, General William Tecumseh Sherman, and Rear Admiral David Porter in the final month of the Civil War. Lincoln is consulting with his military commanders on the strategy to defeat the Confederacy and establish a just and lasting peace. Before 9/11, I saw the scene as a fascinating moment in history. After the attack, it took on a deeper meaning. The painting reminded me of Lincoln’s clarity of purpose: He waged war for a necessary and noble cause.
Just after noon on Sunday, October 7, 2001, I walked into the Treaty Room to address the nation. Hours earlier, long-range bombers had taken off from Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri. American and British submarines in the Arabian Gulf had launched their Tomahawk missiles. And Navy fighter planes had lifted off the decks of the USS Carl Vinson and the USS Enterprise.
“On my orders,�
� I said, “the United States military has begun strikes against al Qaeda terrorist training camps and military installations of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.”
I felt the gravity of the decision. I knew the war would bring death and sorrow. Every life lost would devastate a family forever. At the end of my speech, I quoted a letter I had received from a fourth-grade girl with a father in the military. “As much as I don’t want my dad to fight,” she wrote, “I’m willing to give him to you.”
My anxiety about the sacrifice was mitigated by the urgency of the cause. Removing al Qaeda’s safe haven in Afghanistan was essential to protecting the American people. We had planned the mission carefully. We were acting out of necessity and self-defense, not revenge.
I looked out the window of the Treaty Room. In the distance I could see the Jefferson Memorial, where the words of the Declaration of Independence are carved into the wall: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” Across the Potomac sat the scarred Pentagon. For twenty-six days after 9/11, we had planned and prepared. Now the wait was over. America’s counterattack was under way. The liberation of Afghanistan had begun.
Sending Americans to war is the most profound decision a president can make. I saw that in 1989, when Laura, the girls, and I spent Christmas at Camp David. On December 20, Dad had deployed twenty-seven thousand troops to Panama to remove dictator Manuel Noriega and restore democracy.
Operation Just Cause was a success. The dictator was deposed quickly. American casualties were few. Most were in a celebratory mood. But not Dad. For the wounded and the families of the fallen—and for their commander in chief—the cost of battle was painfully high.
I was standing next to Mother and Dad at a Christmas Eve caroling session when the Navy chaplain walked over. He said, “Sir, I’ve just returned from Wilford Hall in San Antonio, where the wounded troops lie. I told the boys that if they had a message for the president, I’d be seeing you tonight.”
He continued: “They said, ‘Please tell the president we’re proud to serve a great country, and we’re proud to serve a great man like George Bush.’ ” Dad’s eyes filled with tears.
The poignant moment gave me an up-close look at the personal toll of sending troops into combat. But nothing prepared me for the feeling when I was the president who gave the order.
As I knew from my visits during Dad’s time in office, Camp David is one of the great privileges afforded the president. Nestled in Maryland’s Catoctin Mountains about seventy miles from Washington, the 200-acre site is a thirty-minute helicopter ride from the White House. It feels much more removed than that. The retreat is run by the Navy and protected by the Marines. It consists of rustic cabins, a gym and swimming pool, a bowling alley, a chipping green, and scenic trails through the woods for hiking and biking. The atmosphere fosters reflection and clear thinking.
At Camp David with Laura. White House/Eric Draper
The presidential cabin is known as Aspen. Its interior is simple but comfortable. The wooden structure has three bedrooms, a perfect size for our family; a sunlit living room where I watched football with my brother Marvin and friends; and a stone fireplace beside which Laura and I liked to read at night.
About a quarter mile down the hill is Laurel, a large lodge with a spacious dining area, a small presidential office, and a wood-paneled conference room that Jimmy Carter used when he negotiated the Camp David Peace Accords.
That was where my national security team gathered on Saturday morning, September 15, to start developing the battle plan for Afghanistan. The mood was somber, serious, and focused. With me at the big oak table were the top national security officials from across the government.* Together they had decades of crisis management experience.
Meeting with Dick Cheney, Colin Powell, and my national security team at Camp David the Saturday after 9/11. White House/Eric Draper
The first key presentation that morning came from CIA Director George Tenet. Six months earlier, at my direction, George and the National Security Council had started developing a comprehensive strategy to destroy the al Qaeda network. In the four days between 9/11 and the Camp David meeting, the CIA team had beefed up their plan. George proposed that I grant broader authority for covert actions, including permission for the CIA to kill or capture al Qaeda operatives without asking for my sign-off each time. I decided to grant the request.
The heart of the CIA plan was a new offensive in Afghanistan, where 9/11 had been planned. The roots of the terrorist presence in Afghanistan traced back to 1979, when the Soviet Union invaded and installed a communist puppet regime. Afghan tribes, along with a band of hard-core Islamic fighters known as the Mujahideen, rose up against the foreign occupation. With assistance from the United States, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia, the rebels inflicted fifteen thousand casualties and drove out the Soviets in 1989. Two years later, the superpower collapsed.
Free of the communist occupiers, the Afghan people had a chance to rebuild their country. But the U.S. government no longer saw a national interest in Afghanistan, so it cut off support. America’s noninvolvement helped create a vacuum. Tribal warriors who had defeated the Soviets turned their guns on one another. Ultimately, the Taliban, a group of Islamic fundamentalists, seized power. They imposed a fanatical, barbaric brand of Islam that prohibited girls from going to school, required men to grow beards of a certain length, and forbade women from leaving their homes without a male relative as an escort. The simplest pleasures—singing, clapping, and flying kites—were banned.
The Taliban’s rules were enforced by brutal religious police. A 1998 State Department report described a woman struggling to carry two small children and a load of groceries on a street in Mazar-i-Sharif. When her body-length burqa slipped from her face, she was beaten with a car antenna. Petty thieves were taken to the national soccer stadium to have their limbs hacked off.
Homosexuals were stoned to death, as was anyone suspected of adultery. Shortly after the Taliban seized Kabul, they kidnapped the former president of Afghanistan from his UN compound. After beating and castrating him, they hung his body from a lamppost. In Bamiyan Province, home to the minority Hazaras, the Taliban massacred at least 170 innocent civilians in January 2001. Later that year, they dynamited two cherished 1,500-year-old Buddha sculptures.
There were some who received warm hospitality from the Taliban. Shortly after taking power, the radical mullahs offered sanctuary to Osama bin Laden, the founder of al Qaeda. Between 1996 and 2001, bin Laden established camps in Afghanistan that trained an estimated ten thousand terrorists. In return, bin Laden drew on his personal fortune to fund the Taliban. By 9/11, Afghanistan was not only a state sponsor of terror, but a state sponsored by terror.
While the Taliban’s ideology was rigid, its control of the country was not. In a small section of northern Afghanistan, a group of tribal commanders called the Northern Alliance held the allegiance of the local population. On September 9, 2001, bin Laden operatives assassinated the Northern Alliance’s beloved leader, Ahmad Shah Massoud. His murder galvanized the Alliance to cooperate with America. We shared an enemy and a determination to end Taliban rule.
George’s plan called for deploying CIA teams to arm, fund, and join forces with the Northern Alliance. Together they would form the initial thrust of the attack. By mating up our forces with the local opposition, we would avoid looking like a conqueror or occupier. America would help the Afghan people liberate themselves.
We would not act alone. Colin Powell had done an impressive job rallying countries to our coalition. Some, such as Great Britain and Australia, offered to deploy forces. Others, including Japan and South Korea, pledged humanitarian aid and logistical support. South Korea later sent troops. Key Arab partners, such as Jordan and Saudi Arabia, shared sensitive intelligence on al Qaeda’s operations.
The most pivotal nation we recruited was Pakistan. No country wielded more influence in Afghanistan than its eastern neighbor. On 9/11, Pakistan wa
s one of only three countries that recognized the Taliban. Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates were the other two.
Some in Pakistan may have sympathized with the Taliban’s ideology. But the primary motive was to counterbalance India, Pakistan’s bitter archrival. So long as Pakistan held the loyalty of Afghanistan’s government, it would never be encircled.
Pakistan had a troubled history with the United States. After our close cooperation in the Cold War, Congress suspended aid to Pakistan—including coveted F-16s America had promised to sell them—out of concern over the government’s nuclear weapons program. In 1998, Pakistan conducted a secret nuclear test, incurring further sanctions. A year later, General Pervez Musharraf overthrew the democratically elected government in a coup. By 2001, America had cut off virtually all aid to Pakistan.
On September 13, Colin called President Musharraf and made clear he had to decide whose side he was on. He presented a list of nonnegotiable demands, including condemning the 9/11 attacks, denying al Qaeda safe haven in Pakistan, sharing intelligence, granting us overflight rights, and breaking diplomatic relations with the Taliban.
Musharraf faced intense internal pressure. Turning against the Taliban was unthinkable for hardliners in his government and intelligence service. I called Musharraf from Camp David during a break in the war council meeting. “I want to thank you for listening to our sad nation’s requests, and I look forward to working with you to bring these people to justice,” I said.
Decision Points Page 22