By most accounts, the United States efforts in Iraq have not gone as smoothly as the architects of the policy expected. Even the most positive reports on the United States operations there acknowledge there are still problems. And if you rely solely on the conventional mainstream media, you will believe the United States’ decision to remove Sadaam Hussein has been a complete disaster. Because of the difficulties, it seems more and more commentators, some traditionally supportive of the so-called “conservatives,” are rushing to label the United States move against Sadaam Hussein as a “mistake.” But since when did tackling a difficult objective become a mistake solely because success did not come easily? Are we becoming a nation that avoids challenges, even if taking them on is in our best interests?
If we have, the ghosts of the heroes from United Airlines Flight 93 will call us to answer for it. In the brilliant movie, “United 93,” released two days ago, the Flight 93 passengers’ choice to take on a difficult task on September 11, 2001 is dramatized with gut-wrenching vividness. I found myself transported back to all those feelings I experienced that day, the worst day in my country’s history during my lifetime. But I added a new feeling. Pride. Those Americans chose to mount the first counterattack against extremist Muslim terrorists, even before the government completely understood what was happening, and well before our government launched the American counterattack. Ultimately, the Flight 93 passengers’ task was too difficult, and though they successfully thwarted the aims of the hijackers, they were not able to manage their own survivals. But the difficulty of the task did not leave them cowering in their seats. They took on the task, and the rest of us were spared a fourth destroyed target because of their courage in the face of overwhelming obstacles. I am proud of those people, proud to be their fellow countrymen.
The spirit of the passengers on United Airlines Flight 93, of taking on a difficult but correct task, even when success is not assured, is strong in the American psyche, and resonates through our history. Was it easy to accept the task of attacking a heavily fortified coast in northern France to liberate Europe from Nazi Germany, guaranteeing that many American mothers, fathers, wives, sons and daughters were going to get some terrible news? But the task had to be done. Should we have avoided it because it was too difficult? If we had been unable to establish a beachhead, and had been thrown back into the sea, would taking on the challenge have been a mistake?
After our initial successes, Americans were told the troops might be home for Christmas. Then Hitler struck, delaying our victory with the famous Battle of the Bulge. Did the opposition party attack our leaders for incompetence because the troops weren’t home by Christmas? Did they demand a timetable for our withdrawal from Europe? (By the way, we still are in Germany. Should we demand to know when we will be able to exit that quagmire?) Was the invasion of Normandy the wrong decision because the troops weren’t home by Christmas?
If our current political climate had existed then, Hitler’s Battle of the Bulge might have been a master-stroke. By making the job more difficult for Americans, delaying that “home-for-Christmas” expectation, he could have triggered a call for American abandonment of their European policy. Members of Congress would have demanded that we pull back—let the Europeans resolve their own problems—they’ve been fighting each other for centuries, and their repeated lapse into wars and dictatorships shows they are not ready for democracy. Hitler could be “contained.” Sure, he was exterminating his own people, but we can’t be the policemen of the world. We can be grateful that Americans of the 1940s refused to adopt this sort of rationalization to abandon their principles. Opposition party leaders set aside their desire for power and stood behind the stated policy of the United States. Hitler got no encouragement that he would see any softening of our determination to defeat his regime.
But here we are in Iraq, with the job getting more difficult. The enemy is motivated to increase our difficulties as much as possible in the hopes we will become impatient and abandon the task, giving them a victory they could not otherwise gain. It is this precipice, this verge of a colossal error, that makes it important for us to distinguish between a “mistake” and a “difficult job.” By identifying this distinction, we will also establish that just because a job becomes difficult does not mean it is wrong to take it on.
I’d like to explore this point with a relatively unknown historical example (that just happens to be the subject of my upcoming novel, The Sultan and the Khan, the second in a trilogy of novels), a pivotal point in history rarely taught in western history classes. We will look at the events and try to decide who made bad decisions, and who struggled with difficult jobs, but correct decisions.
In 1258, Mongols took over and destroyed Baghdad, massacring the majority of the population. Aleppo, in northern Syria, fell to the Mongols in 1260. Damascus surrendered to Mongols without a fight. Mongols had never lost a decisive battle to any army in the world, from China to Central Asia to Eastern Europe. In 1260, the Mongol army prepared to move south to conquer Egypt. They planned to take Egypt, North Africa, then move up into Europe. Their objective was the conquest of the entire world. But as they started their move, Hulegu Khan, grandson of Genghis Khan, received word that the Great Khan (his brother Mongke Khan) had died. Hulegu Khan took the bulk of his army back up into present-day Azerbaijan to be ready for any succession controversy. He left a force of around 10,000 soldiers with his best general, Kitbuqa and ordered Kitbuqa to wait for Hulegu’s return. But Kitbuqa sensed weakness in the fragmented states of Palestine, and considered attacking them immediately before they joined together. After all, the great Mongol general Subedei, in the service of Genghis Khan and his sons, completed conquests on his own. Kitbuqa considered following that example.
Mamluks, the slave-soldier dynasty governing Egypt, discovered that Hulegu’s army had left the area. They had already killed some of Hulegu’s envoys. Because Mongols considered this one of the most egregious offenses one ruler can commit against another, the Mamluk action had already committed them to battle. The question facing Sultan Qutuz, and his advisors, including future Sultan Baybars, was whether they should attack Kitbuqa and try to destroy the usually invincible but now undersized army, or firm their defenses in Egypt and wait for the Mongols to come.
Both Qutuz and Kitbuqa had decisions to make. Would it be a mistake, or a difficult task, for Qutuz to attack the Mongols there and then, while the Mongol numbers were depleted? Would it be a mistake, or a difficult task, for Kitbuqa to pounce on the fragmented Palestinian states and aggressively move the Mongol conquest agenda forward?
My own opinion that the United States made the right decision moving into Iraq remains unchanged. (See Nine-Eleven: Threat to Idealism or a Call for Reaffirmation?) I will not abandon my support for that decision just because the task has turned out to be difficult. If anything, recent captured documents and tapes, and statements from former Iraqi generals, support the decision. Sadaam Hussein either had “weapons of mass destruction” that he either effectively hid or moved out of Iraq, or had active intentions to obtain them as soon as he could bribe or scam (or bribe and scam) the world into lifting sanctions and easing restrictions on his activities. And though Iraq did not participate directly in the Nine-Eleven attacks, there were at least informal contacts, and either existing or planned overt cooperation flowing between Iraq and Al Qaeda. Removing Sadaam Hussein saved lives, both Iraqi and American. This was the right mission, though it has been difficult.
I remember when I was a teenager, back in the late 1960s, a Scottish couple visited my family. The Scottish man expressed an appreciation for the United States, a gratitude for our role in defeating the enemies during World War I and World War II. But he added, with deft diplomacy and a twinge of apology in his British/Scottish accent, that he and other countrymen felt we came with our help too late. “We wish you wouldn’t wait so long.” This time, we didn’t wait too long. We didn’t wait for terrible enemies to become powerful enough to kill millions, and to be come so entrenched that it would cost a million of our own soldiers to defeat them.
At this point, our situation is analogous to a Texas-Hold’em hand. We have put a lot of chips into the pot. We have the winning hand. But our opponent is trying to bluff us out. The opponent has put a significant raise on the table, trying to shake our confidence. We can’t lose the hand unless we fold. Though the raise may be significant, calculated to make us doubt the strength of our hand, we must call this raise. We must call the bluff. We must push our chips into this pot and win this hand. Yes, the raise makes playing the hand more difficult, more stressful. But just because the opponent’s raise makes the hand more difficult to play does not mean it would be a mistake to play the hand. We need to be strong in the face of the raise, call the bluff, and finish the hand by winning it.
In 1260, the Mongols and Mamluks made their decisions. Kitbuqa decided to try to defeat and conquer the fragmented states between Syria and Egypt before Hulegu returned. Qutuz decided to move out of Egypt and meet the previously invincible Mongols in battle. In September of 1260, they met at the Battle of Ayn Jalut (the “Spring of Goliath”), just south of The Sea of Galilee/Lake Tiberias. The hard-fought battle went through twists and turns—the outcome was far from obvious. But at the end, the Mongols were defeated, Kitbuqa was executed, and Egypt was never again threatened by Mongols. This battle marked the end of the Mongol advance. The Middle East and Western Europe were largely spared the full effects of Mongol conquest. In contrast, Central Asia never completely recovered from the effects of the Mongols, who depopulated the areas more extensively than the bubonic plague, converting emptied Central Asian cities to wasteland.
Qutuz took on a difficult mission and almost failed. Were the Mamluks wrong to try to destroy the Mongols when this opportunity presented itself? If Qutuz had taken a poll of the emirs, they probably would have voted to stay in Egypt and wait for the Mongols to come to them. If Qutuz had made his decision based on such a poll, history might have been different. Kitbuqa probably made a wrong decision taking his undersized army into battle against the Mamluks, a decision shaped by Mongol overconfidence. But if he had won the battle, would we be calling him a genius? And is it right to judge decisions after the fact based solely on the final outcome, especially when the final outcome was close?
This is not the time to fold a winning hand in the face of an aggressive bluff. This is not the time to abandon a worthy task because it has become more difficult. Our dead ancestors who stormed the beaches at Normandy would wonder why we have failed to honor their spirit. The United States is not a nation that only takes on the easy tasks. Our Flight 93 countrymen showed us the way. This is not a time to get weak-willed because of some unanticipated obstacles. Because success with this mission could have consequences as far-reaching for the world as Qutuz’s defeat of the Mongols in 1260.
Richard Warren Field is the author of the upcoming novel, The Swords of Faith. For more information, go to RichardWarrenField.com.
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