11/9: Ce n’est pas les Afghans qui ont frappé l’Amérique il y a huit ans (It was not the Afghans that struck America eight years ago)

Le front central dans la guerre contre le terrorisme n’est pas et n’a jamais été en Irak. Pour cette raison, mettre un terme à cette guerre est décisif si nous voulons en finir avec les terroristes responsables des attentats du 11 septembre, c’est-à-dire al Qaeda et les taliban, présents en Afghanistan et au Pakistan. Barack Obama (juillet 2008)

Après la défaite des Occidentaux en Afghanistan, le jihad continuera ailleurs. (…) Un exemple : si un élément particulièrement radical se manifeste dans un pays comme le Soudan, les services secrets saoudiens vont chercher à négocier avec lui. S’il veut vraiment se battre, ils lui disent d’aller en Afghanistan, car ce pays est devenu un champ de bataille international. (…) il y a des membres de l’ISI qui, individuellement, collaborent avec les talibans. Nous recevons aussi de l’aide des pays qui veulent que les Etats-Unis soient piégés en Afghanistan. Nous utilisons des armes comme les Sam-7 fabriqués en Russie et en Chine. Nous les achetons avec l’argent que nous recevons d’Arabie saoudite. Wahid Mojda (“théoricien islamiste” des talibans, Libération, le 19.08.09)

En ce 8e anniversaire du 11/9 …

Fouad Ajami pointe l’ambivalence fondamentale de la gauche américaine et de l’Aministration Obama face à la menace terroriste.

Et la non moins fondamentale erreur de vouloir distinguer la prétendue “guerre de choix” en Irak de la soi-disant “guerre de nécessité” en Afghanistan.

Autrement dit, la fondamentale malhonnêteté intellectuelle de présenter d’une part les attentats du 11/9 comme la raison de la guerre en Afghanistan tout en menaçant ses propres soldats de poursuites pour y avoir fait face sur le théâtre irakien.

Et ce tout simplement parce que “c’était la furie du Monde arabe et non pas l’Afghanistan qui a frappé l’Amérique il y a huit ans”.

D’où les réelles difficutés et les dangers qu’une telle attitude augure pour l’avenir de cette guerre dont personne, notamment du côté des alliés européens de l’Amérique, ne veut et pour laquelle nul n’est surtout prêt à contribuer sérieusement …

9/11 and the ‘Good War’
It was the furies of the Arab world, not Afghanistan, that struck America eight years ago today.
Fouad Ajami
The Wall Street Journal
September 11, 2009

The road that led to 9/11 was never a defining concern of President Barack Obama. But he returned to 9/11 as he sought to explain and defend the war in Afghanistan in a speech to the Veterans of Foreign Wars in Phoenix, Ariz., on Aug. 17. “The insurgency in Afghanistan didn’t just happen overnight and we won’t defeat it overnight, but we must never forget: This is not a war of choice; it is a war of necessity. Those who attacked America on 9/11 are plotting to do so again. If left unchecked, the Taliban insurgency will mean an even larger safe haven from which al Qaeda could plot to kill more Americans.”

This distinction between a war of choice (Iraq) and a war of necessity (Afghanistan) has become canonical to American liberalism. But we should dispense with that distinction, for it is both morally false and intellectually muddled. No philosophy of just and unjust wars will support it. It was amid the ferocious attack on the American project in Iraq that there was born the idea of Afghanistan as the “good war.” This was the club with which the Iraq war was battered. This was where that binary division was set up: The good war of necessity in the mountains of Afghanistan, the multilateral war born of a collective NATO decision—versus George W. Bush’s war of choice in Iraq, fought in defiance of the opinions of allies who had been with us in the aftermath of 9/11, and whose goodwill we squandered in the cruel streets of Fallujah and the deserts of Anbar.

Our elections last November, this narrative had it, had given us a chance to bring America’s embattled solitude and isolation in the world to an end. A man with strands of Islam woven into his identity and biography was catapulted to the presidency. We had drained the swamps of anti-Americanism. Assalam aleikum (peace be upon you) in Cairo, Ankara and Tehran. The great enmity, that unfashionable clash of civilizations, was declared done and over with. A new history presumably began with Mr. Bush’s return to his home in Texas.

But it will not do to offer up 9/11 as a casus belli in Afghanistan while holding out the threat of legal retribution against the men and women in our intelligence services who carried out our wishes in that time of concern and peril. To begin with, a policy that falls back on 9/11 must proceed from a correct reading of the wellsprings of Islamist radicalism. The impulse that took America from Kabul to Baghdad had been on the mark. Those were not Afghans who had struck American soil on 9/11. They were Arabs. Their terrorism came out of the pathologies of Arab political life. Their financiers were Arabs, and so were those crowds in Cairo and Nablus and Amman that had winked at the terror and had seen those attacks as America getting its comeuppance on that terrible day. Kabul had not sufficed as a return address in that twilight war; it was important to take the war into the Arab world itself, and the despot in Baghdad had drawn the short straw. He had been brazen and defiant at a time of genuine American concern, and a lesson was made of him.

No Arabs had been emotionally invested in Mullah Omar and the Taliban, but the ruler in Baghdad was a favored son of that Arab nation. The decapitation of his regime was a cautionary tale for his Arab brethren. Grant George W. Bush his due. He drew a line when the world of the Arabs was truly in the wind and played upon by powerful temptations. Mr. Obama and his advisers need not pay heroic tribute to the men and women who labored before them. But they have so maligned their predecessors and their motives that the appeal to 9/11 rings hollow and contrived. In those years behind us, American liberalism distanced itself from American patriotism, and the damage is there to see.

In the best of circumstances, this Afghan campaign would be a hard sell. This is doubly so at a time of economic distress at home. There is no tradition of central government to be restored in that most tribalized of countries. The lessons, and the analogy, of Vietnam should perhaps be laid to rest. This is not Mr. Obama’s Vietnam. It is what it is—his Afghanistan. But there are irresistible parallels with Lyndon Baines Johnson and the way he committed his presidency, and the nation, to a war he dreaded from the start.

This is LBJ in 1964, from a definitive history by A.J. Langguth, “Our Vietnam,” published in 2000: “I just don’t think it is worth fighting for, and I don’t think we can get out. It’s just the biggest damn mess.” He would prosecute what he called that “bitch of a war” with a premonition that it could wreck his Great Society programs. He knew America’s mood. “I don’t think the people of the country know much about Vietnam, and I think they care a hell of a lot less.” Yet, he took the plunge, he would try to “cheat”—guns and butter at the same time, the war in Asia and the domestic agenda of civil rights and the Great Society. History was merciless. It begot a monumental tragedy in a land of no consequences to American security.

Wars are great clarifiers. Barack Obama’s trumpet is uncertain. His call to arms in Afghanistan does not stir. He fears failure in Afghanistan, and nothing more. Having disowned Iraq, kept its cause at a distance, he is forced to fight the war in Afghanistan. So he equivocates and plays for time. Forever the campaigner, he has his eye on the public mood, the steel that his predecessor showed in 2007 when all was in the balance in Iraq is not evident in Mr. Obama.

For the American effort in Afghanistan to stick on the ground in the face of a Taliban insurgency that’s gaining in strength and geographical reach, Mr. Obama will have to make a hard choice. He will need a troop commitment of sufficient weight to turn the tide of war. Furthermore, he will have to face his own coalition on the left and convince it that there is a project in Afghanistan worth fighting (and paying) for.

By the evidence of things, this is a decision that he has refused to make, as he pursues his sweeping domestic agenda while keeping Afghanistan in play. He had been sure that NATO forces would rush to his banners, that Europe had stayed away from a serious commitment in Afghanistan because it had been seized with an animus for his predecessor. But Mr. Bush had been an alibi all along. The Europeans are in no mood for this war.

There is a British contingent of decent size in Afghanistan, but there had been one in Iraq as well. The likes of Jacques Chirac and Gerhard Schroeder (who dabbled in the most craven of anti-Americanism) are gone and forgotten, but the French and the Germans have not ridden to the rescue of Kandahar. The stringent restrictions on their forces, their very rules of engagement, have left Afghanistan an Anglo-American burden in much the same way Iraq had been.

Eight years ago, we were visited by the furies of Arab lands. We were rudely awakened from a decade whose gurus and pundits had announced the end of ideology, of politics itself, and the triumph of the world-wide Web and the “electronic herd.” We had discovered that on the other side of the world masterminds of terror, and preachers, and their foot-soldiers were telling of America the most sordid of tales. We had become, without knowing it, a party to a civil war in the Arab-Islamic world between the autocrats and their disaffected children, between those who wanted to live a normal life and warriors of the faith bent on imposing their will on that troubled arc of geography.

Our country answered that call, not always brilliantly, for we are fated to be strangers in that world and thus fated to improvise and make our way through unfamiliar alleyways. We met chameleons and hustlers of every shade and had to learn, in a hurry, incomprehensible atavisms and pathologies. We fared best when we trusted our sense of things. We certainly haven’t been kept safe by the crowds in Paris and Berlin, or by those in Ankara and Cairo who feign desire for our friendship while they yearn for our undoing.

Mr. Ajami, a professor at Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies and an adjunct fellow at Stanford’s Hoover Institution, is the author, among other books, of “The Foreigner’s Gift: The Americans, the Arabs and the Iraqis in Iraq” (Free Press, 2007).

Voir aussi:

The Afghan Stakes
A U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan would have terrible consequences in the war on terror.
Bret Stephens
The Wall Street Journal
SEPTEMBER 7, 2009

So George Will has noticed that Afghanistan is a backward place ill-suited to nation-building, and Nicholas Kristof thinks that war is a tricky, dirty business, and Tom Friedman is hedging his bets on yet another conflict he once supported but which now disturbs his moral equilibrium. Thus do three paladins of the right, left and center combine to erode support for a war that, if lost, would be to the United States roughly what the battle of Adrianople in 378 A.D. —you can look it up—was to the Roman Empire. Things did not go well for Western civilization for 1,100 or so years thereafter.

Overstated? I don’t think so.

The simplistic case for NATO’s mission in Afghanistan is that it’s the country that harbored al Qaeda when the plans for 9/11 were hatched. The simplistic rebuttal is that nothing prevents al Qaeda from planning another attack from another country, if not in the Pakistan hinterland then perhaps in Somalia or Yemen—and the U.S. has no plans to physically occupy any of these places. Ergo, goes the argument, we should “offshore” our military and intelligence capabilities so we can strike at will while leaving Afghans to their own incompetent and tragic devices.

But Afghanistan matters not because that’s where 9/11 was conceived. It matters because that’s where it was imagined.

In 1979 the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. A little less than a decade later, the Soviets left, humiliated and defeated. Within months the Berlin Wall fell and two years later the USSR was no more. Westerners may debate whether credit for these events belongs chiefly to Mikhail Gorbachev, Ronald Reagan, Pope John Paul II, Charlie Wilson or any number of people who stuck a needle in the Soviet balloon. But in Islamist mythology, it was Afghan and Arab mujahedeen who brought down the godless superpower. And if one superpower could be brought down, why not the other?

You can’t “offshore” a handshake.

Put simply, it was the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan that laid much of the imaginative groundwork for 9/11. So imagine the sorts of notions that would take root in the minds of jihadists—and the possibilities that would open up to them—if the U.S. was to withdraw from Afghanistan in its own turn.

Notion One: Attacks on the scale of 9/11 are by no means fatal to the cause of radical Islam. On the contrary, despite the huge losses the movement has suffered over the past eight years, it would emerge from a U.S. defeat in Afghanistan with something it was denied in Iraq: a monumental political and ideological victory from which it could recruit a new field of avid jihadists. Ergo, further attacks on the U.S. homeland could yield similar long-term benefits.

Notion Two: The U.S. has no stomach for long-term counterinsurgency. Ergo, surrender or political accommodation to apparent U.S. military success is pointless; if you hold out long enough, they leave and you win.

Notion Three: The U.S. is not prepared to stand by its clients in the Third World if it believes those clients are morally tainted. That happened to South Vietnam’s Nguyen Van Thieu, it happened to the Shah of Iran and, if the U.S. leaves Afghanistan, it will happen to the lamentable Hamid Karzai. Ergo, other shaky or dubious U.S. allies in the Muslim world—Algeria, for instance, or, yes, Saudi Arabia—are prime targets for renewed assault.

Notion Four: A U.S. that doesn’t have the stomach for a relatively easy fight like Afghanistan, where even now casualties are a fraction of what they were in Iraq during the worst of the fighting, will have even less stomach for much tougher fights. Ergo, maximum efforts should go into destabilizing and, not implausibly, taking over Pakistan, a country that, as Mr. Will says, “actually matters.”

And from here the possibilities flow. Withdrawal from Afghanistan, and a Taliban takeover in Kandahar and perhaps Kabul, would plunge Afghanistan into another civil war infinitely bloodier than what we have now. Withdrawal would force Islamabad to abandon its war on terror and again come to terms with its own militants, as it did in the 1990s. Only this time, it wouldn’t be clear who is patron and who is client. Withdrawal would give Pakistan’s jihadists the freedom to shift fronts to India, with all the nightmare scenarios that entails. Withdrawal would invite the al Qaeda remnant in Iraq—already on an upswing—to redouble its efforts, and do so with the confidence that the U.S. has permanently soured on Middle Eastern interventions.

This is a partial list. The alternative is a winding and bloody struggle to defend and improve a hapless and often corrupt government in a godforsaken land of often (though by no means pervasively) ungrateful people. This is not the noblest fight, and no sane nation would wage it by choice. But we did not choose it and, if we keep our nerve, we can win it. Otherwise, the consequence will be ashes flying again in our own streets, something to remember on the eve of another 9/11 anniversary.