The Politics of Truth_Inside the Lies That Put the White House on Trial and Betrayed My Wife's CIA Identity

by Joseph Wilson

  At EUCOM we quickly mobilized security assets to monitor these events and began to plan a military operation to stabilize the situation. We activated the new liason and joint planning arrangements we had put in place with the French, which allowed us to share not just the conclusions our analysts had reached on the numbers of refugees involved but also the way we had reached those conclusions. Though we still had serious differences over how many refugees were at risk, we had narrowed them down, even as French and American politicians continued to squabble publicly.

  In late November, the command hosted a planning conference for the purposes of assembling a coalition of the willing, under the command of a Canadian general, to deploy a force into eastern Zaire. The goal was to stabilize the situation and stop the violence that was devastating the refugee population, by now dispersed into the forests and reduced to foraging for food and shelter, at the mercy of the local hostile population. The military planning was straightforward. Our command had already set up a number of forward bases in eastern Africa to facilitate the flow of troops in the event a decision were made to deploy them. The questions that remained were about who would provide troops and what tasks each force would undertake. Our ACRI program was already bearing fruit, as a number of African militaries were present at the conference and expressed a desire to participate.

  The international politics were much more problematic. There was no consensus at the United Nations on how to proceed. There were several different factions fighting in eastern Zaire, and it was impossible to negotiate a cease-fire that would permit the international force to enter peacefully; they were probably going to have to fight their way into position and defend their presence against hostile indigenous forces. Moreover, the presence of an international force would have an impact on Kagame’s and Kabila’s war against Mobutu. Some, including the United States, wanted Mobutu out after more than thirty years of dictatorship that had ruined his country; others, the French included, feared that his military overthrow would lead to even greater instability in the region, and opposed the Rwandan armed forces for the inflammatory role they were playing in the conflict. Intelligence analysts worried that nations in eastern Africa were moving to dismember Zaire and reap the spoils from its resource-rich carcass.

  In the end, the political differences and security concerns doomed the deployment, and tens of thousands of refugees perished while the fighters who were based among the refugees in the camps slipped out to fight in the conflicts that continued to convulse the region. Our inability to prevent the killing was more proof of the need for the international community to develop new streamlined means to react to these human catastrophes, means such as the ACRI. While the planning conference itself marked a milestone for the command—the first time a multilateral meeting had been convened to prepare for a mission in Africa—as good as the planning was, we never received the political authority to act, and thousands more perished.

  Before he left EUCOM, a year after I did, Jim Jamerson had visited almost every country on the continent, broken new ground, and worked to increase contact and cooperation with African militaries in anticipation of the operations we would inevitably be mounting with many of them.

  Chapter Eleven

  U.S. Peacekeeping in Bosnia

  THE MOST SIGNIFICANT DEPLOYMENT of American armed forces during my tenure in Stuttgart was into Bosnia, to stabilize that former Yugoslavian state after years of bloodshed and “ethnic cleansing” at the direction of the Serbs in Belgrade. After four years of stonewalling and thwarting the efforts of the United Nations, including the humiliation of U.N. peacekeepers, in 1995 Serbian President Milosevic finally agreed to the Dayton peace plan brokered by veteran American diplomat Richard Holbrooke. The parties—Milosevic, along with Alijia Izetbegovic of Bosnia and Franjo Tudjman of Croatia—agreed that an international force would serve as peacekeepers, drawn from NATO member states and other Central and Eastern European countries that agreed to serve under NATO command. The United States provided 20,000 of the approximately 45,000 troops. EUCOM retained responsibility for the American contingent until the troops arrived at the base NATO had established in Tuzla, Bosnia, after which they were turned over to the nato commander. Practically, that meant that EUCOM was responsible for the training of the troops and the logistics of moving them and 300,000 tons of armaments and supplies through several countries before finally arriving in Bosnia. The diplomacy and negotiation of agreements with the countries to permit the transit of our troops and equipment was a complicated effort that fell to me and my EUCOM colleagues. Each country—Austria, Croatia, the Czech Republic, France, Germany, Italy, Hungary, Slovakia, Slovenia, and Switzerland—had its own laws and rules and regulations, and they were often very different from each other; yet each set of national laws had to be honored in this unprecedented move across Central Europe and into the fragmented Balkans by NATO troops.

  The command put together a team, led by me, to travel to the capitals of most of the countries on the force’s route. We had an airplane dedicated to our use and a team of colonels, lieutenant colonels, and majors to explain what we were going to do, and how we were going to do it, for civilian and military authorities in the countries that U.S. forces would be transiting.

  The American officers and I were received by top officials in all the countries we visited. I met personally with the American ambassadors in each country before meeting with the host governments; representatives from our embassies were always present at those briefings. After our initial trips, we would send experts in each of the areas of concern to the countries to resolve whatever problems might still exist and to sign Status of Forces agreements that governed everything related to the journey the soldiers were about to make across their lands: illnesses and injuries to soldiers in transit, carrying of sidearms in countries that forbade it, and soldier misconduct were all among the issues that needed close attention. We traveled by airplane several days a week, often to two capitals in the same day, returning late each evening to Stuttgart to debrief our generals and to organize the follow-up trips with the experts, logisticians, doctors, and lawyers to nail down the agreements. We also invited each country to send a liaison officer to our logistical headquarters to coordinate all aspects of the transit through their country.

  There were vastly different reactions to our briefings from the countries we visited. In Belgrade, the head of the former Yugoslavia’s defense forces, General Momcilo Perisic, a nervous chain smoker, used the occasion to launch a diatribe against the West, “with whom we have been allied in every major war,” for having supposedly betrayed that historic friendship. He then stomped out, bringing a briefing that had not yet begun to a screeching halt. We looked around the conference table at Yugoslav analysts who could not mask their disappointment at the early end to the briefing that would have provided them with a treasure trove of intelligence about our plans—innocuous plans as far as we were concerned, but otherwise unavailable to them.

  After I reported this encounter to General Joulwan, he traveled to Belgrade himself, strode right past the welcoming Perisic to meet directly with Milosevic, to reinforce our commitment to a successful operation that would brook no Serbian interference.

  The Croatians claimed to be worried about environmental damage that might be created by our moving through their country, a crass attempt to extort funds for road repair. In Prague, Czech Republic, the official in charge was the same man who had managed the logistics of the “Velvet Divorce” in 1993, when the republic separated from Slovakia. He was delighted with what we were planning and asked only that we provide advance notice before the transit of the first train so that the Czechs could welcome our arrival with appropriate fanfare. In a classic instance of Murphy’s Law, the first train arrived forty-eight hours before it was scheduled, disrupting all the plans for a brass band and confetti reception.

  By contrast, just across the border, in Bratislava, Slovakia, the government was much more ambivalent about the American
effort, and was reluctant to permit any transit across its territory for fear of criticism by the sitting government’s energized opposition, with a consequent domestic backlash. While we were ultimately able to resolve the differences, the negotiations were protracted and difficult, for reasons that appeared insignificant to us. Of course, we had not grown up on propaganda that defending the nation and the people against the NATO hordes was the highest national priority, lest they attack and pillage and rape across the countryside. An enemy they had grown up fearing was about to transit their country and set up on their eastern front.

  The Swiss courted our command assiduously, to encourage a shipment to transit the Alpine country. They were in the midst of redefining their cherished neutrality in the post-Cold War world and wanted to demonstrate to their citizenry that participation in an internationally sanctioned peacekeeping and humanitarian operation did not compromise their long-standing principles. They met with us on every possible occasion and even sent their defense chief to our headquarters in Stuttgart to lobby us. We were amenable and wanted to be supportive, but there was a significant logistic hurdle. In a comic scenario that reminded me a bit of children playing with toys, we learned that trains passing through mountainous Switzerland are obliged to travel through tunnels, most of which are too small to accommodate large and bulky items like tanks or armored personnel carriers. In the end, the U.S. Army configured a special load that met the specifications for Swiss tunnels, and we sent it on its way through the Alps, happy we could satisfy the request.

  Other nations besides the former Yugoslavia also used our visits to air their grievances. When we visited Rome, the Italian chief of defense asked me to step away from the briefing our officers were providing and join him in his offices. Anticipating a cup of delicious cappuccino, I gladly mounted the worn marble stairs to his high-ceilinged office overlooking one of Rome’s busiest and noisiest streets. We sat, and as I sipped, the general launched into a recitation of every complaint the Italians had against the American military, dating back to when we were allies for the last two years of World War II.

  The coffee was so delicious, I did not have the heart to tell him that in fact we had been enemies throughout most of that war. When I called Joulwan to report on the meeting, he was not at all surprised. He knew the speech, having heard it himself every time he met with his Italian counterpart. He made a note to stop in Rome to schmooze with the Italians once again.

  The command also strove to develop close relations with many nongovernmental organizations prior to the deployment. General Joulwan understood that when the military first arrived in Bosnia, it would be required to handle all activities, civilian as well as military. These included humanitarian relief, food distribution, and medical support for the civilian population in Bosnia, in addition to the core responsibility of separating the belligerents and securing the peace. In his briefing presentation, he was fond of showing one particular slide that communicated his vision of the relationship between the militaries and the NGOS.

  On one side of the image was a big M for military, and a little C for civilian. On the other side the letters were reversed, a little M and a big C. Joulwan knew that the military was responsible for everything during the stabilization phase of the operation. The instability made it impossible for civilian and nongovernmental organizations to take on the tasks for which they were constituted, at least until order was established. This meant that there would be a big military component at the outset, and a very limited civilian responsibility. As peace and security returned, the military role—the big M—would shrink, and civilian NGOs—the little C—would take on additional tasks until such time as the military was out of the humanitarian relief and development business altogether. It made sense. As peace was restored, the military could sideline activities that weren’t usually part of its core mission and focus on what it does best.

  In the fall of 1995, we traveled to Geneva to meet with Mrs. Sadako Ogata, the U.N. high commissioner for refugees, to establish a liaison office that would manage the relationship between the military and the relief community. Joulwan had done the same thing in the spring of 1994 during the genocide in Rwanda, and the system he had established had worked well. Not surprisingly, the military and the NGO community view the world from vastly different perspectives. Many in the humanitarian relief business are viscerally antiwar, for one thing. Their work often takes them into conflict zones, and they see firsthand the effects of war on civilian populations. The military often finds the work of the NGOS a distraction. A good part of the mutual suspicion is due as well to the lack of contact between the two communities. Joulwan understood that there were legitimate roles for each to play and gave early attention to fostering cooperation between the two. It paid off.

  Through a series of planning sessions and other meetings, the friction was eased as relationships were developed. Once our troops and the civilian relief workers realized that they shared many of the same objectives, and that working together made achieving those objectives easier, much of the mutual antipathy disappeared.

  After our efforts at developing closer cooperation with the French began producing results, including the joint planning for eastern Zaire, we also undertook evacuations of foreigners caught up in the conflicts in the Central African Republic and Sierra Leone. Next, Jim Jamerson decided we should branch out and try to create the same relationships with other European militaries. The mechanism for coordination within Europe was NATO, but there was no similar entity to coordinate operations outside of the alliance’s backyard. Jim and I traveled to London to meet with the British and visited their newly created Joint Command, and to Brussels to meet with the Belgians and with the fledgling European Defense Force office.

  These new relationships were put to the test when, in May 1997, Laurent Kabila’s forces finally surrounded Kinshasa, Zaire, preparatory to invading the capital and driving Mobutu out. Our fear was that the upcoming battle would result in anarchy in the capital of four million, generating panicked refugees trying to flee across the wide and dangerously swift Congo River that separated Kinshasa from Brazzaville, Congo, on the northern bank. We worked with the British, French, and Belgians, deploying forces from all four countries to Libreville, Gabon, and Brazzaville, in the event we would be required to move into Kinshasa to prevent chaos.

  In the end, Mobutu willingly went into exile and Kinshasa fell to the rebels without violence, so we did not need to send in the troops we had readied. It was, nonetheless, an excellent example of how American civilian and military leadership could work with our counterparts in other governments and militaries to anticipate a crisis, plan a productive approach together, and ultimately deploy and operate jointly. We were now cooperating closely at the military and diplomatic level, even as there were disputes among our political masters.

  In May 1997, I was offered a position on the staff of President Clinton’s National Security Council as the senior director for African Affairs. It was an offer I could not refuse, and despite the great satisfaction of serving at EUCOM and the great respect I had for the men and women who serve in the United States armed forces, I prepared to return to Washington. Before I left, I was honored with the Defense Department’s Distinguished Service award, one of that department’s most senior decorations. The citation read, in part: “Ambassador Wilson’s strategic vision and diplomatic talents significantly contributed to the United States’ defense policy and goals in Central and Eastern Europe and in Africa. His efforts were instrumental in the smooth transit of soldiers and equipment in support of the Implementation Forces in Bosnia. He aggressively pursued new political-military initiatives in Africa by articulating and revising command goals and objectives. . . . Ambassador Wilson’s foresight and skill unequivocally bolstered USEUCOM’s sphere of influence in the European theater.” It was signed by William S. Cohen, the secretary of defense.

  It was extraordinarily gratifying to have my contributions recognized by the military, an institution
I had come to admire so much, even though I had never served in uniform.

  At dinner with Jim Jamerson on the eve of my departure, he commented that if historians ever wrote about the command, they would have to acknowledge that the previous two years had marked a fundamental shift in the direction of the command, with the military bureaucracy increasingly focusing on new threats as those in the heart of Europe receded. He believed we could take great pride in our contributions. Of course, he added wryly, we would have to be the ones writing the history for that story to be told, and it seemed highly unlikely either of us would ever do so. I chuckled too, so unlikely did it seem that I would be writing a book within a few years.

  In many ways, African conflicts propelled the European Command into the political realities of the late twentieth century. Integral to our security agenda were peacekeeping and peacemaking operations, critical interventions in small but bloody conflicts before they could spill across borders to affect other countries. They pointed to the need for greater military cooperation among allies, friends, and potential coalition partners.

  The Bosnian peacekeeping operation offered numerous lessons. As in African crises, a coalition of forces limited American exposure and spread responsibility among many parties for the outcome. Coordination with civilian relief organizations before the deployment helped to minimize confusion and disruption to affected populations; occupation casualties were directly proportionate to the numbers of troops deployed; the more troops on the ground, the fewer the casualties. It is true that today the American military can project lethal force farther and faster than ever in history, and that as a consequence, the practice of taking territory has changed. But holding on to that territory is still dangerous, all the more so if we are undermanned. The most important assets in the U.S. armed forces are the men and women in uniform defending our nation. Not to provide them with the best protection we can is derelict, and a breach of trust.