Lazarus Rising

by John Howard

  Blair was a little more restrained, but only by degrees. He was after all meant to be barracking for the other side. He fully absorbed the significance of what had happened, as had Bush. Iraq had not been an impediment for me, therefore it might not be for them, despite the fact that their nations’ respective involvements had been greater than had been Australia’s.

  Bush went on to win the 2004 presidential election quite comfortably. When I rang to congratulate him, his first words were, ‘John, I’ve fought my last election campaign.’ It was a reminder of the different character of a presidential system, with term limits, when compared with a parliamentary system. He knew then that he would retire from the White House on 20 January 2008.

  During the election campaign in Australia I had been asked, several times, the routine question as to whether or not more troops would be sent to Iraq. I had replied in the negative, as that accurately reflected the fact that the Americans had not asked for more, and the issue simply had not come up within the Government.

  In mid-November, however, the issue did arise. The Japanese had an engineering detachment doing reconstruction work in Al Muthanna Province in southern Iraq. Security had been provided for them by Dutch troops. They were going home, which created a problem. Without force protection, the Japanese engineers would need to be withdrawn, which obviously neither the British (who had overall responsibility for the southern section of Iraq), nor the Americans, wanted.

  At a military level our Coalition partners said that they would like us to supply the 500 or so soldiers needed to plug the gap. Bush would not ask me directly for help, feeling that that would go against our original understanding that our involvement of combat troops would be limited to the initial invasion phase. The Japanese wanted us involved. After a good deal of discussion, the NSC decided to provide the troops. Blair and Junichiro Koizumi, the Japanese Prime Minister, both made formal requests of me.

  I saw this decision as important in building a strategic dimension to our longstanding economic partnership with Japan. It was this deployment which paved the way for the historic Joint Declaration on Security Cooperation I was to sign with the Japanese Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, in 2007. The fact that the soldiers were being sent to guard Japanese engineers helped win acceptance of the decision from the Australian public. We had come a long way from World War II. Japan had become, to most Australians, a key partner, economically and now strategically.

  Earlier in this chapter, I touched on the proper context in which to assess America’s decision to go into Iraq. The other requirement for a more balanced appreciation of US, British and Australian policy on Iraq is to understand just how much pain and difficulty the Iraqis have endured to establish some kind of democratic structure in their country. At a national level there have already been four separate sets of elections. The first was to vote in a Transitional National Assembly. The second was to approve a new constitution, in which 80 per cent of the electorate voted. The third was in December 2005, to elect a new parliament. Another full parliamentary poll took place in March 2010, with a turnout slightly higher than that which elected Barack Obama. In addition, there have been provincial elections. These were held in January 2009 in 14 of Iraq’s 18 provinces.

  Millions of Iraqis have voted, despite intimidation involving death threats, murder and other acts of violence designed to frustrate the emergence of democracy. That the Iraqis have endured all of this and persisted with embracing their form of democracy means that the democratic ideal has more long-term appeal in that country than many of George Bush’s critics want to admit.

  These elections have been carried out in the glare of international inspection. By and large they have passed the test of authenticity and transparency. The contrast between what occurred in Iraq from 2005 to 2010 and the disgraceful sham of the 2009 election in Iran could not be more pronounced.

  It will be a long time before there is a settled historical verdict on Iraq. Much will depend on that country’s future internal stability and interaction with other Middle Eastern states. If Iraq consolidates into a functioning democracy, a lot will have been achieved. Given its natural resources (largely oil), and a well-educated population, it has much potential. The crucial determinant will be the extent to which Sunnis, Shi’ites and Kurds can live together as Iraqis.

  America and her allies were justified in taking out Saddam’s regime. There was a proper legal basis, flowing from the unrequited resolutions of the UN Security Council. Given the wholly understandable concern of the Americans, after 11 September 2001, that there would be another attack, Saddam’s past record, and the reasonably entertained belief that he had WMDs, meant that leaving him be was too great a risk for the United States to take.

  In the prelude to March 2003, I and my colleagues carefully argued the case that Saddam had WMDs. Never far beneath the surface was, however, the alliance dimension of the decision. As I have already written, Americans do fret about how they are seen around the world. The image of Americans as arrogant, gun-toting individuals who are insensitive to foreign opinion has never been particularly accurate. Americans felt especially vulnerable after 11 September. There was a latent feeling amongst many that a mistake had been made in 1991 in not finishing off Saddam, after the liberation of Kuwait.

  Australia’s emphatically supportive reaction, in the wake of the terrorist attacks, lifted our relationship to a new and higher level. Americans, as well as their President, were touched by our support. For the citizens of such a powerful country, Americans have always had a surprising sense of isolation, verging on a feeling of unpopularity. Thus, open support coming from Australia, with which they have long felt an affinity, because of our common settler and new world histories, was especially welcome.

  In May 2003, after the combat phase of the war in Iraq was over, I attended a baseball game at Yankee Stadium in New York. My presence was acknowledged; I received a standing ovation from the crowd and was deeply moved by a short on-field ceremony honouring recent war dead, which involved parading the flags of our two nations as well as the Marine Flag. That crowd of sports-mad New Yorkers knew who their nation’s friends were. At the game, I was interviewed by a cable-TV sports channel. The presenter had been provided with that wonderful old photograph taken in the early 1930s of Babe Ruth and Don Bradman during the latter’s visit to the USA. He showed it on the screen and we talked about the significance of these two lengendary figures to their respective countries.

  Just as the United States had gratefully accepted allies in striking against the Taliban in Afghanistan, so it was that she would be seeking allies in any invasion of Iraq. It was almost instinctive that the US would look to nations such as Britain and Australia for support. We had been together before on so many occasions. The added dimension this time was that Islamic fanaticism viewed as anathema the open, liberal pluralistic societies of which the United States, Britain and Australia were so emblematic.

  From the start George Bush knew that going into Iraq would be controversial, no matter how strong the feeling to do so might be in the United States. It would be a world away from the relatively simple task his father had faced in putting together the alliance to expel Saddam from Kuwait. There an orthodox invasion of the old-fashioned kind had occurred. Saddam’s army had rolled across the border and taken Kuwait. It would have been impossible for the United Nations to have stood by and done nothing.

  Iraq in 2003 was entirely different. There had been no conventional aggression to which all could point. Rather the case against Iraq rested on cumulative acts of non-compliance with United Nations resolutions, a track record of condoning and supporting acts of terrorism, as well as compelling evidence that Iraq had WMD stockpiles. The other overwhelming difference from 1991 was that in 2001 America felt vulnerable and genuinely scared that there would be another assault by terrorists.

  In all of these circumstances I found it inconceivable, given our shared history and values, that we would not stand beside the Americans. To
baulk at that decision, purely on the basis that the Security Council had not passed another resolution — especially when it had not been deemed necessary in 1998, when similar action was contemplated — seemed to me to be cloaking unwillingness to confront the substance of the issue with a thin and legalistic veneer.

  My attitude has not changed.

  35

  GEORGE BUSH

  My close personal friendship with George Walker Bush, the 43rd President of the United States, attracted great attention in my time at the Lodge. We were closer friends than any other two occupants of the leadership positions we once respectively held. We remain in regular contact. We have seen each other and dined together with our wives on a number of occasions since both being out of office. Janette and I have been to the home they established in the suburbs of Dallas, Texas, after leaving the White House. It is a genuine friendship. We enjoy each other’s company.

  That authority on friendships Dr Samuel Johnson said that one never has to explain them. That ought to be as true of presidents and prime ministers as it is of others, but my experience has been that it is not. If an association between heads of government becomes a friendship, as was the case with me and Bush, then there seems to be a lot of explaining to do.

  I was in office for almost 12 years and thus had the opportunity of many associations with fellow leaders. Most of them did not progress beyond the stage of professional cordiality, either through infrequency of meetings or departure from office or, in some instances, not finding much to talk about except the business at hand. At our only meeting, Joseph Estrada, the Philippines President, nodded off.

  Others became closer, reaching a certain level of friendship. Into that category I would place Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono of Indonesia, Jiang Zemin of China, Helen Clark of New Zealand, Jean Chrétien, the former prime minister of Canada, as well as his successor but one, Stephen Harper. In Harper’s case I was the one who departed the scene. We only shared office for some 18 months, but became quite friendly. We were philosophically aligned, and in that short time I addressed a sitting of the Canadian parliament and Harper a joint sitting in Canberra, the only Canadian prime minister to do so. We remain in touch.

  I have written elsewhere of my relationship with Helen Clark. We are different people with different perspectives on life. Our common desire to keep relations between our countries as close as possible produced an amiable relationship when we were both in government. I write in Chapter 38 of my friendship with Jiang Zemin.

  Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, the President of Indonesia, is easy to like. His instincts towards Australia are naturally warm and friendly. We first connected when he was a senior minister in Megawati’s Government. A progressive Muslim, he understood the threat that extremism posed to his country as well as to the reputation of his faith. He knew that the terrorists had to be actively hunted down and removed from society. I was delighted when he was elected president in 2004. We became good friends during the time that we led our respective governments. The legacy of that friendship is to be found in the continuing good relations between Indonesia and Australia.

  A common passion for cricket was a bond between Perves Masharaff, the former president of Pakistan, and me. I liked him a lot and we visited each other’s country when in office. Australia’s loss of the Ashes in 2005 coincided with a large UN meeting in New York. At the formal reception I congratulated Tony Blair on England’s win. Masharaff saw us together and came over, saying to me, ‘John, we will avenge you.’ Pakistan’s cricket team was as good as their President’s word. Later that year Pakistan defeated the touring Englishmen. Masharaff and his wife were progressive Muslims, who strongly supported an improved place for women in Pakistani society.

  My last conversation, as PM, with Masharaff was early in November 2007. He was by then deep in the constitutional stand-off following his dismissal of the chief justice of Pakistan. As a friend, I said that his action against the judiciary was not something that I could possibly defend. It did not in any way involve Australia, but as someone who liked him, I felt I owed him the candour of my views.

  He never sought the presidency, but I found Colin Powell an impressive and engaging man, gregarious and good-humoured. He called to see me only a few months after my election, and we spent two hours one Saturday morning at Kirribilli House talking extensively about a range of international issues as well as his experience in the American military. I knew from that meeting that he would never be a candidate for the US presidency, although filling another high position was not out of the question.

  I asked him why the Coalition forces had not gone on to Baghdad in 1991 and finished off Saddam Hussein. My strongest recollection of his response was Powell saying that Coalition forces would have found it morally repugnant to pursue the Iraqi Army, which by then was so shattered and vulnerable that heavy losses would have been inflicted on a defenceless foe. It was a soldier’s explanation rather than the rationale of a politician. He sounded sincere.

  Close though these relationships were, they did not match the intensity of my interactions with both George Bush and Tony Blair. The shared adversity of what we did together, especially over Iraq, created a natural bond.

  The former British prime minister was a polished public presenter, widely respected in Australia, even by many who strongly opposed his support for the invasion of Iraq. I always found the embarrassment of the Australian Labor Party regarding Blair as quite exquisite. Here was their man, a highly successful Labour leader, agreeing with the approach of George Bush and me on the most controversial foreign policy issue of the day. When Labor furiously attacked Bush and me over Iraq, there was never a mention of Blair. Our opponents just didn’t quite know how to handle this. And it was not as if Blair soft-pedalled his position on Iraq. He was always full-on with what he both said and did.

  His address to a joint sitting of the Australian parliament on 27 March 2006 led to feet shuffling from some Labor members. He was uncompromising in his attacks on terrorism and made no apologies for Britain’s staunch support of Bush’s Iraqi policy. Speaking of both Iraq and Afghanistan, he declared, ‘We must not hesitate in the face of a battle utterly decisive as to whether the values we believe in triumph or fail.’1 He could not have been plainer. Blair drew a more enthusiastic response from our side than he did from our opponents.

  Bush and I came from the same side of politics. I don’t want to overvalue this, but it can matter in how a relationship starts. I had a natural sympathy for George Bush from the beginning, not only because he was a Republican and the son of his father, whom so many Australians liked. He was also not Al Gore. Gore had stood in for Clinton at the APEC meeting in Kuala Lumpur in 1998, and had appeared to me, and, I suspect, many others, as arrogant and overbearing.

  The tense and protracted ballot count in the disputed election of 2000 guaranteed an even greater sense of satisfaction with the outcome and interest in the victor, when it was finally resolved. Whilst publicly neutral, privately I had wanted Bush to win. There was a small personal element in it because of his mother and father. I had first met them both, 18 years earlier, when they had represented their country at Battle of the Coral Sea celebrations in Australia in 1982. I sat next to Barbara Bush at an official dinner. The wife and mother, respectively, of two future presidents is a forceful, eminently likeable woman. Her candour is both genuine and endearing. Her son has his mother’s bluntness, in spades, and his father’s whimsical sense of humour.

  In 1986, George Bush, the older, received me in his Vice-presidential capacity when I went to Washington as Leader of the Opposition. Twelve years later we met again on the Royal Melbourne Golf Course, when, as spectators we followed some of the contestants in the President’s Cup competition, won on that occasion by the Rest of the World team captained by Australia’s own Peter Thomson. We talked a lot about American politics and the possibility of his son seeking the Republican nomination. The younger Bush had just been re-elected as Governor of Texas. The older Bu
sh exhibited huge pride in the prospect of his son also going into the White House. Although it would have been against his nature ever to have said it, there must have been a sense in which the father was hoping that the son would at least have that extra four years in the White House which Bill Clinton’s victory of 1992 had denied him.

  Always alive to the future, Michael Thawley, who became Australia’s ambassador in Washington early in 2000, established contact with Condi Rice, who had joined the Bush team before he won the Republican nomination. Methodically Michael built the relationship with her. Coincidentally, my regularly seeing Dick Cheney, whenever he came to Australia on Halliburton business (he was CEO of the company), meant that another valuable link existed when he was nominated as Bush’s running mate. An overarching rule of politics is constant networking. The frequency of international travel means there is always somebody in town who wants to see you. Unless one has finally and utterly left public life, you always try and fit in as many calls as possible. I enjoyed seeing Cheney, but I had no idea when he started coming that he would in a few years’ time be Vice-president.

  I spoke to Bush by phone when he was still Governor of Texas, and after he had secured his party’s nomination for the presidency. That was our only contact before he became president. The prolonged 2000 presidential ballot drama meant that the normal round of congratulatory phone calls of a newly elected president did not take place. Bush had a rushed transition. As a result we did not speak to each other as president and prime minister until early in February, two weeks after his inauguration.