Those who deplore America's invasion of Iraq have no shortage of official villains, but to them perhaps none is more diabolical than Paul Wolfowitz, the deputy secretary of defense, who, in a promotion that vexes his detractors, will soon take over leadership of the World Bank. His name alone suggests sharp teeth and a thirst for the kill. Even in the hawkish administration of President George W. Bush there was no more forceful proponent for the war that toppled Saddam Hussein.
Fallows@Large: "Wolfowitz = McNamara, Chapter 402" (April 5, 2007)
"Jeez louise. How much inner peace does it suggest about a person if he refuses to talk about the event for which he will always be principally known?" By James Fallows
Last fall Wolfowitz agreed to a series of private and wide-ranging interviews about his tenure at the Pentagon. My conversations with him took place during four meetings over six months. Wolfowitz's office is large, its pale-blue walls hung with landscape paintings and one big photograph of "P-Dubs" (as he is sometimes known at the Pentagon) holding the hand of a small Iraqi boy during a visit to the war zone. Cynics may doubt America's motives in Iraq, but Wolfowitz appears well-intended: he is a proud liberator. The anteroom and office are decorated with reminders of power: flags, patriotic emblems, photographs of the Dep posing with President Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, and others. The view from behind his desk looks out on the gray Potomac River and beyond, to the grand landmarks of the capital.
Whatever history's ultimate verdict on Wolfowitz, he works hard at his job. Famous for his long hours in the office, where he requires two shifts of staff members to keep pace, he has the year-round ghostly pallor of the work-addicted, accentuated by the graying of his defiantly unruly mop of straight hair (ridiculed by the antiwar filmmaker Michael Moore, who captured him trying to tame it with a comb and some spittle before a public appearance). There is nothing bellicose in Wolfowitz's manner; on the contrary, he is gentle and professorial—he was once the dean of the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies, at Johns Hopkins—and speaks so softly that at times I had to lean closer to catch his words. He frequently interjects "I might be wrong" before delivering an opinion. And while he can be persuasive, no one would ever accuse him of being smooth. He is genuine, unguarded, and above all preoccupied. He seems always at some remove and has an endearing awkwardness; he will stride across a room to shake one's hand and then just stand there, smiling earnestly. Unless some effort is made to engage him, he drifts off—even if he hasn't physically moved. That distance evaporates when one asks him a question—and rather than giving tidy, guarded, prepackaged summaries of his thinking, he steps right onto the careening raft of his consciousness.
At the core of Wolfowitz's view of the ongoing struggle in Iraq is the conviction that the tenacious enemy there consists primarily of organized remnants of Saddam's old regime. Critics of the American effort tend to see the Iraqi resistance as a broad-based popular one motivated by nationalism and anti-Americanism, and spearheaded by jihadis. If they are right, then the invasion of Iraq may simply have stirred up an ongoing civil war in that country, and could lead to the formation of a fundamentalist Islamic government that—allied with neighboring Iran—could serve as precisely the kind of haven for Islamist terrorists that the United States had hoped to destroy, one perhaps worse for America than Saddam Hussein's old regime. If Wolfowitz is right, then the insurgency consists of a relatively small number of brutal Saddamite thugs whose only popular support is based on fear. In his view, this core group, which he likens to the mafia, can be defeated, and Iraq in the near future will be a stable and self-governing ally in the region.
His conviction is partly a leap of faith. He likes to tell the story of a conference in Washington where a critic of America's foreign policy stood up to denounce the arrogance of imposing "our" democratic values on the Arab world, only to have an Arab stand up to complain that true arrogance was to assume such values were "ours," when they are universal. Underlying his faith about Iraq is the belief that mankind everywhere seeks freedom and self-government. If there were no polls or even anecdotal evidence to support the view, Wolfowitz would still believe that that is what a majority of Iraqis want, and that those who would restore dictatorship or impose religious extremism are, by definition, a minority. Democracy, in his view, is both a universal ideal and a universal default position. When a Polish interviewer suggested that his policy was about "exporting democracy," Wolfowitz objected. "'Export of democracy' isn't really a good phrase," he said. "We're trying to remove the shackles on democracy."
My aim in talking with Wolfowitz was not to debate policy or to second-guess decisions but to elicit a fuller explanation of his thinking.
By almost any measure the war appeared to be going badly. Nearly sixteen months after President Bush had dramatically declared victory, Iraq was still a bloody battleground. Americans were hunkered down behind concrete barriers and barbed wire. A string of kidnappings and gruesome videotaped beheadings had horrified most of the world and inspired jihadis and die-hard Saddamites. A number of small Iraqi cities and towns—most notably Fallujah, scene of the murder and mutilation of American contract workers months earlier—were under the control of insurgents. Fallujah had effectively been ceded to the insurgency in April, when the newly formed Iraqi forces sent to reclaim it had allied themselves with the rebels. About fifty Americans had already died in Iraq that month, and sixty-six had been killed the month before. At home a report prepared for the CIA—and leaked—concluded that Saddam Hussein had no weapons of mass destruction, although he did have the means to manufacture them, and would probably have done so if UN sanctions had been lifted—a step the UN was considering prior to the invasion. On this very day Kofi Annan, the UN secretary general, would tell the BBC that the U.S. invasion was unjustified and "illegal," and that conditions in Iraq were unsuitable for the elections scheduled for just four months hence.
Wolfowitz made no effort to paint a rosier picture. He seemed both concerned and determined. Not all the news was bad. A combined force of U.S. and Iraqi soldiers had partially retaken Samarra, a small city under insurgent control, and the intervention of Iraq's Shia spiritual leader, Ayatollah Ali Sistani, had persuaded the forces of the rebel cleric Muqtada al-Sadr to lay down their arms in Najaf and "Sadr City," an enclave in Baghdad. A national assembly had been chosen to oversee the interim government of Iraqi Prime Minister Ayad Allawi, and the Occupation Authority (whose very existence Wolfowitz had opposed)
"Concretely, it's what do you do about Fallujah," he said without hesitation. "When do you do it? Is the success that is being reported through our military channels in Samarra real, or is it another Fallujah? Is what I think was a success in Najaf being followed up aggressively enough against the Sadr people elsewhere? What should we be doing about Syria, which I think is very actively promoting trouble in Iraq, perhaps even to the point of shipping young Lebanese suicide volunteers to Iraq?"