With Manmohan Singh. White House/Eric Draper
The nuclear deal naturally raised concerns in Pakistan. Our ambassador, a remarkable veteran Foreign Service officer named Ryan Crocker, argued strongly that we should spend the night in Islamabad as a sign of respect. No president had done that since Richard Nixon thirty-seven years earlier. The Secret Service was anxious, especially after a bombing near the U.S. consulate in Karachi the day before we arrived. But symbolism matters in diplomacy, and I wanted to signal that I valued our relationship. At the airport, a decoy motorcade drove to the embassy mostly empty. My chief of protocol, Ambassador Don Ensenat, took my place in the presidential limo, while Laura and I flew secretly via Black Hawk helicopter.
In contrast to the rigid security precautions, President Musharraf organized a relaxed and enjoyable visit. He and his wife, Sehba, received us warmly at their version of the White House, known as the Aiwan-e-Sadr. We met with survivors of the previous October’s 7.6-magnitude earthquake in northern Pakistan, which killed more than seventy-three thousand people. America had provided $500 million in relief. Our Chinook helicopters became known as “angels of mercy.” The experience reinforced a lesson: One of the most effective forms of diplomacy is to show the good heart of America to the world.
Later in the day, I went to the embassy courtyard to watch some cricket, Pakistan’s national pastime. There I met national team captain Inzamam-ul-Haq, the Pakistani equivalent of Michael Jordan. To the delight of the schoolchildren on hand, I took a few whacks with the cricket bat. I didn’t master the game, but I did pick up some of the lingo. At the elegant state dinner that night, I opened my toast by saying, “I was fooled by a googly,*** otherwise I would have been a better batsman.”
Playing cricket in Pakistan. White House/Eric Draper
My meetings with President Musharraf focused on two overriding priorities. One was his insistence on serving as both president and top general, a violation of the Pakistani constitution. I pushed him to shed his military affiliation and govern as a civilian. He promised to do it. But he wasn’t in much of a hurry.
I also stressed the importance of the fight against extremists. “We’ve got to keep these guys from slipping into your country and back into Afghanistan,” I said.
“I give you our assurances that we will cooperate with you against terrorism,” Musharraf said. “We are totally on board.”
The violence continued to grow. As the insurgency worsened, Hamid Karzai became furious with Musharraf. He accused the Pakistani president of destabilizing Afghanistan. Musharraf was insulted by the allegation. By the fall of 2006, the two were barely on speaking terms. I decided to step in with some serious personal diplomacy. I invited Karzai and Musharraf to dinner at the White House in September 2006. When I welcomed them in the Rose Garden, they refused to shake hands or even look at each other. The mood did not improve when we sat down for dinner in the Old Family Dining Room. Dick Cheney, Condi Rice, Steve Hadley, and I watched as Karzai and Musharraf traded barbs. At one point, Karzai accused Musharraf of harboring the Taliban.
A tense Rose Garden welcome for Pervez Musharraf (left) and Hamid Karzai. White House/Eric Draper
“Tell me where they are,” Musharraf responded testily.
“You know where they are!” Karzai fired back.
“If I did, I would get them,” said Musharraf.
“Go do it!” Karzai persisted.
I started to wonder whether this dinner had been a mistake.
I told Musharraf and Karzai that the stakes were too high for personal bickering. I kept the dinner going for two and a half hours, trying to help them find common ground. After a while, the venting stopped and the meeting turned out to be productive. The two leaders agreed to share more intelligence, meet with tribes on both sides of the border to urge peace, and stop bad-mouthing each other in public.
As a way to staunch the flow of Taliban fighters, Musharraf informed us that he had recently struck a series of deals with tribes in the border region. Under the agreements, Pakistani forces would leave the areas alone, while tribal leaders would commit to stopping the Taliban from recruiting operatives or infiltrating into Afghanistan.
While well intentioned, the strategy failed. The tribes did not have the will or the capacity to control the extremists. Some estimates indicated that the flow of Taliban fighters into Afghanistan increased fourfold.
Musharraf had promised Karzai and me—both skeptics of the strategy—that he would send troops back into the tribal areas if the deals failed. But instead of focusing on that problem, Musharraf and the Pakistani military were increasingly distracted by a political crisis. In March 2007, Musharraf suspended the chief justice of the Supreme Court, who he feared would rule that he was violating the law by continuing to serve as both president and army chief of staff. Lawyers and democracy advocates marched in the streets. Musharraf responded by declaring a state of emergency, suspending the constitution, removing more judges, and arresting thousands of political opponents.
Pressure mounted on me to cut ties with Musharraf. I worried that throwing him overboard would add to the chaos. I had a series of frank conversations with him in the fall of 2007. “It looks ugly from here. The image here is that you have lawyers being beaten and thrown into jail,” I said. “I am troubled by the fact that there is no apparent way forward.” I strongly suggested one: set a date for free elections, resign from the army, and lift the state of emergency.
Musharraf made each of those commitments, and he kept them. When he scheduled parliamentary elections, former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto returned from exile to compete. She ran on a pro-democracy platform, which made her a target of the extremists. Tragically, she was assassinated on December 27, 2007, at a political rally in Rawalpindi. In February 2008, her followers won the elections soundly. They formed a government, and Musharraf stepped down peacefully. Asif Ali Zardari, Bhutto’s widower, took his place as president. Pakistan’s democracy had survived the crisis.
Over time, the Pakistani government learned the lesson of the Bhutto assassination. Pakistani forces returned to the fight in the tribal areas—not just against al Qaeda, but against the Taliban and other extremists as well. Yet more than a year had been lost, as Pakistan’s attention was focused on its internal political crisis. The Taliban and other extremists exploited that window of opportunity to increase their tempo of operations in Afghanistan, which drove up the violence and led many Afghans to turn against their government and our coalition. It was essential that we find a way to retake the offensive.
By the middle of 2008, I was tired of reading intelligence reports about extremist sanctuaries in Pakistan. I thought back to a meeting I’d had with Special Forces in Afghanistan in 2006.
“Are you guys getting everything you need?” I asked.
One SEAL raised his hand and said, “No, sir.”
I wondered what his problem might be.
“Mr. President,” he said, “we need permission to go kick some ass inside Pakistan.”
I understood the urgency of the threat and wanted to do something about it. But on this issue, Musharraf’s judgment had been well-founded. When our forces encountered unexpected resistance, they got into a firefight and made international news. “U.S. Commandos Attack Pakistan Sovereignty,” one Pakistani headline said. Islamabad exploded with outrage. Both houses of parliament passed unanimous resolutions condemning our action. No democracy can tolerate violations of its sovereignty.
I looked for other ways to reach into the tribal areas. The Predator, an unmanned aerial vehicle, was capable of conducting video surveillance and firing laser-guided bombs. I authorized the intelligence community to turn up the pressure on the extremists. Many of the details of our actions remain classified. But soon after I gave the order, the press started reporting more Predator strikes. Al Qaeda’s number-four man, Khalid al-Habib, turned up dead. So did al Qaeda leaders responsible for propaganda, recruitment, religious affairs, and planning attacks ove
rseas. One of the last reports I received described al Qaeda as “embattled and eroding” in the border region.
We also stepped up our support for Pakistan’s democratic government. We provided money, training, and equipment, and proposed joint counterterrorism operations—all aimed at helping increase Pakistani capabilities. When the financial crisis hit in the fall of 2008, we took steps to make sure Pakistan received the assistance it needed to mitigate the effects of the recession and stay focused on fighting the extremists.
One of my national security team’s last projects was a review of our strategy in Afghanistan. It was led by Doug Lute, a brainy three-star general who coordinated day-to-day execution of our operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. The report called for a more robust counterinsurgency effort, including more troops and civilian resources in Afghanistan and closer cooperation with Pakistan to go after the extremists. We debated whether to announce our findings publicly in the final weeks of my presidency. Steve Hadley checked with his counterpart in the incoming administration, who preferred that we pass along our report quietly. I decided the new strategy would have a better chance of success if we gave the new team an opportunity to revise it as they saw fit and then adopt it as their own.
In December 2008, I made a farewell trip to Afghanistan. Air Force One landed at Bagram Air Base around 5:00 a.m., just ahead of the dawn. “I have a message to you, and to all who serve our country,” I told a hangar full of troops. “Thanks for making the noble choice to serve and protect your fellow Americans. What you’re doing in Afghanistan is important, it is courageous, and it is selfless. It’s akin to what American troops did in places like Normandy and Iwo Jima and Korea. Your generation is every bit as great as any that has come before. And the work you do every day is shaping history for generations to come.”
I shook hands with the troops and boarded a Black Hawk helicopter for the forty-minute flight to Kabul. Afghanistan is one of those places you have to see to understand. The mountains are gigantic and rugged; the terrain is harsh and bare; the landscape feels desolate and forbidding. Like many Americans, I sometimes wondered how anyone could hide from our military for seven years. When I looked at the topography of Afghanistan, it was easy to understand.
As we got closer to Kabul, I picked up an acrid smell. I realized it was coming from burning tires—sadly, an Afghan way of keeping warm. The air quality was no better on the ground. I was coughing for a week when I got home, a reminder that the country had a long way to go.
When we landed at the presidential palace, President Karzai strode over to meet me in his trademark robe and cap. He introduced me to his cabinet ministers and escorted me to a large sitting room for tea. As usual, he was energetic and exuberant. He beamed with pride as he showed me photos of his young son, Mirwais, his only child. He talked about his plans to increase Afghanistan’s agricultural yield and stimulate its business sector in areas like telecommunications. After the meetings, he walked me out into the dusty courtyard. We parted with a handshake and a hug. No doubt he had made mistakes. But despite all the forces working against him, he never lost his determination to lead his country toward a better day. He helped give the Afghan people hope, something they hadn’t had in many years. For that, he will always have my gratitude and respect.
With Karzai on the last foreign trip of my presidency. White House/Eric Draper
As I climbed aboard the chopper, I thought back to the afternoon in October 2001 when I announced the opening of the war from the Treaty Room. A country dominated by one of history’s cruelest regimes was now governed by freely elected leaders. Women who had been prisoners in their homes were serving in parliament. While still a danger, al Qaeda had lost the camps it used to train ten thousand terrorists and plan 9/11. The Afghan people had cast their ballots in multiple free elections and had built an increasingly capable army of seventy-nine thousand soldiers. Afghanistan’s economy had doubled in size. School enrollment had risen from nine hundred thousand to more than six million, including more than two million girls. Access to health care had gone from 8 percent to 80 percent. In 2010, the Pentagon revealed that geologists had discovered nearly a trillion dollars’ worth of mineral deposits in Afghanistan, a potential source of wealth for the Afghan people that the Taliban would never have found.
I also knew I was leaving behind unfinished business. I wanted badly to bring bin Laden to justice. The fact that we did not ranks among my great regrets. It certainly wasn’t for lack of effort. For seven years, we kept the pressure on. While we never found the al Qaeda leader, we did force him to change the way he traveled, communicated, and operated. That helped us deny him his greatest wish after 9/11: to see America attacked again.
As I write in 2010, the war in Afghanistan continues. The Taliban remain active, and the Afghan government is struggling to gain full control of its country. From the beginning, I knew it would take time to help the Afghan people build a functioning democracy consistent with its culture and traditions. The task turned out to be even more daunting than I anticipated. Our government was not prepared for nation building. Over time, we adapted our strategy and our capabilities. Still, the poverty in Afghanistan is so deep, and the infrastructure is so lacking, that it will take many years to complete the work.
I strongly believe the mission is worth the cost. Fortunately, I am not the only one. In the fall of 2009, President Obama stood up to critics by deploying more troops, announcing a new commitment to counterinsurgency in Afghanistan, and increasing the pressure on Pakistan to fight the extremists in the tribal areas.
Ultimately, the only way the Taliban and al Qaeda can retake Afghanistan is if America abandons the country. Allowing the extremists to reclaim power would force Afghan women back into subservience, remove girls from school, and betray all the gains of the past nine years. It would also endanger our security. After the Cold War, the United States gave up on Afghanistan. The result was chaos, civil war, the Taliban takeover, sanctuary for al Qaeda, and the nightmare of 9/11. To forget that lesson would be a dreadful mistake.
Before I took off from Bagram Air Base for the flight home in December 2008, I returned to the hangar for the final meeting of my last foreign trip as president. Standing in the room was a group of Special Forces. Many had served multiple tours, hunting the terrorists and Taliban in the freezing mountains. They had one of the hardest and most dangerous jobs in the world. I shook their hands and told them how grateful I was for their service.
Then a small group of soldiers from the 75th Ranger Regiment entered the room. Their platoon leader, Captain Ramon Ramos, asked if I would be willing to participate in a brief ceremony. He reached into a pouch, unfurled a large American flag, and raised his right hand. Several of his men stood opposite him and did the same. He delivered an oath, which the men repeated. “I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. …”
There in that lonely hangar, in the nation where 9/11 was planned, in the eighth year of a war to protect America, these men on the front lines chose to reenlist.
*Vice President Dick Cheney, Secretary of State Colin Powell, Defense Secretary Don Rumsfeld and Deputy Secretary Paul Wolfowitz, Attorney General John Ashcroft and FBI Director Bob Mueller, Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill, CIA Director George Tenet and Deputy Director John McLaughlin, Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman Hugh Shelton and Vice Chairman Dick Myers, White House Chief of Staff Andy Card, National Security Adviser Condi Rice and Deputy National Security Adviser Steve Hadley, White House Counsel Alberto Gonzales, and Chief of Staff to the Vice President I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby.
**The surge in Iraq attracted much more attention.
***A spinning pitch that is hard to hit, similar to a screwball in baseball.
n Wednesday, March 19, 2003, I walked into a meeting I had hoped would not be necessary.
The National Security Council had gathered in the White House Situation Room, a nerve center of commu
nications equipment and duty officers on the ground floor of the West Wing. The top center square of the secure video screen showed General Tommy Franks sitting with his senior deputies at Prince Sultan Air Base in Saudi Arabia. In the other five boxes were our lead Army, Navy, Marine, Air Force, and Special Operations commanders. Their counterparts from the British Armed Forces and Australian Defense Forces joined as well.
I asked each man two questions: Do you have everything you need to win? And are you comfortable with the strategy?
Each commander answered affirmatively.
Tommy spoke last. “Mr. President,” the commanding general said, “this force is ready.”
I turned to Don Rumsfeld. “Mr. Secretary,” I said, “for the peace of the world and the benefit and freedom of the Iraqi people, I hereby give the order to execute Operation Iraqi Freedom. May God bless the troops.”
Tommy snapped a salute. “Mr. President,” he said, “may God bless America.”
As I saluted back, the gravity of the moment hit me. For more than a year, I had tried to address the threat from Saddam Hussein without war. We had rallied an international coalition to pressure him to come clean about his weapons of mass destruction programs. We had obtained a unanimous United Nations Security Council resolution making clear there would be serious consequences for continued defiance. We had reached out to Arab nations about taking Saddam into exile. I had given Saddam and his sons a final forty-eight hours to avoid war. The dictator rejected every opportunity. The only logical conclusion was that he had something to hide, something so important that he was willing to go to war for it.
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