Several depressing reports out of Afghanistan lately (see Captain’s Journal, Michael Yon, and Free Range International) reveal something that I’ve considered for some time: that history might show that Iraq, not Afghanistan, was the “good war.” Despite the continual drumbeat of the antiwar left about Iraq being a distraction from the “true war on terror,” I propose that Afghanistan is the true strategic backwater of the two wars, much more akin to the “quagmire” that Iraq was supposed to be. There are (at least) four reasons for this; or, more specifically, differences in four key areas that make Iraq a more important theater of war than Afghanistan. They are: strategic position, resources, human and societal capital, and the presence of a definable and achievable end state. These thoughts are a little unpolished – I just banged this out but lord knows, you could write a book or two on this topic so I have to put something up, even if it’s scatterbrained.
Strategic position
Iraq anchors the Arabian Peninsula, and is a crucial hinge for the Middle East. From the American perspective, it is easily accessible by land, sea, and air, by way of two major U.S. allies (Saudi Arabia and Kuwait). By shattering Saddam Hussein’s regime, the U.S. drove a wedge into the region, separating Ba’athist Syria from its main ally as well as buffering the Shi’a bizzaro-state of Iran.
Afghanistan, on the other hand, is a rugged, landlocked country, sandwiched between Iran, Pakistan, and several of the former Soviet republics. It is inaccessible by sea, and land routes are difficult and dangerous, primarily coming through our nominal ally of Pakistan. This leaves air transport as the primary means of supply and troop movement, and even this is largely dependent on the goodwill of shaky allies like Kyrgyzstan. Holding Afghanistan gives almost no advantage, geographically speaking, since it is the definition of “middle of nowhere.”
Resources
Iraq has water. Iraq has farmland. Iraq, of course, has oil. People say Iraq was a “war for oil” like it’s a bad thing, but face it: without oil, there is no modern civilization. In time, oil will be replaced with something better, but for now, it’s what we’ve got. I don’t buy the war-for-oil theory (didn’t work out too well if it was), but insofar as you can actually call OIF a “war for oil,” it wasn’t some Bush-Cheney-Halliburton axis of greed plot, but rather, a fight to keep one of the most valuable substances in the world out of the hands of terrorist dictatorships.
Afghanistan, on the other hand, has very little, except opium (being the leading exporter in the world).
Human & societal capital
Iraq has a history of civilization dating back for millenia, and has in modern times developed a highly educated and relatively prosperous society (prior to the rise of the Ba’ath Party). Even under Saddam Hussein, Iraq had the trappings of a modern civilization: electricity, roads, central and local government, etc. This means that Iraq has a foundation on which to build functional, free (or free-er) society.
Afghanistan has virtually nothing. Despite having been self-governed since 1919, Afghanistan doesn’t seem to have developed a tradition of structured government. (The Soviet invasion in 1979 certainly didn’t help.) The vast majority of the population is illiterate, poor, and dies at a young age (life expectancy is about 44 years, according to the CIA World Fact Book). Farmers and villagers in the remote mountains of the country don’t know or care about a central government; some are so isolated that American soldiers are being mistaken for Soviet ones (per Marcus Luttrell in Lone Survivor).
Definable and achievable end state
The war in Iraq is already over. The end state was: establishment of a democratic government, capable of managing the security of the nation, with sectarian and terrorist violence at an acceptably low level that would permit the withdrawal of U.S. forces. While the outcome was certainly in doubt, it was always possible to at least imagine this end state actually happening (largely because of the aforementioned factors).
Afghanistan shares the same declared end state, but in reality, I think it’s an impossible goal. How do you declare that a government is in control of the country when such a thing has virtually never happened in its history? How do you repeat the “Anbar Awakening” in a country where many people don’t care who’s in charge, as long as they’re able to live the same simple way as they have for hundreds of years? Furthermore, the nation is just too vast and wild to be pacified – our heavily armed and armored infantrymen can’t root out every cave, every hiding spot in the hills and mountains. We could send a million men there and it still probably wouldn’t be enough.
Pink brings all the bees to the yard
Spring has come early, it seems, which is nice for me since I missed pretty much all of winter in Georgia. This is the bush right outside our front door. I’m glad Mrs. Melobi takes care of the yard and plants pretty things to look at – not only does it save me a lot of work (no grass!) but it also looks better in the spring than boulders or slab concrete would.
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Came across an interesting short documentary about the surge in Iraq in 2007, from the Institute for the Study of War. It’s only 35 minutes and gives a good high-level overview of the situation and strategy, with interviews with the brigade commanders who were there, as well as GEN Petraeus and GEN Odierno, the #1 and #2 men in Iraq at the time. Check it out here.
Buster eats a turkey candy bar
Life in Mordor as a man of the South is always interesting. I’ve found that my attitude has been seriously adjusted following the demon world of ALC – the things that used to bother me greatly about my job are now much less of a problem. Indeed, by and large, I’m as pleased with my work as I ever have been – I just hope the attitude adjustment is permanent, though I doubt it will be.
Apropos nothing, Buster is pictured here eating what amounts to a cold turkey candy bar – a pre-cooked turkey breast that he just munched on one day. I suppose it’s an improvement from his “Atkin’s” diet last year, which largely consisted of pork rinds and Reddi-Whip straight from the can. Also, if you look closely, you’ll see that Buster is a member of the United States Air Force, which – despite what was undoubtedly a multi-million dollar development process (or because of it?) – still managed to come up with a new uniform that is worse than the Army’s ACU.
The one item that has disturbed me of late has been the iPad situation. The Dark Lord has ordered some hundreds more of the things, and I’ll be damned if I can figure out what the point is. The units we have are still the Wi-Fi-only models, which makes them all but useless to somebody on the road outstate. The incoming chief of staff picked his iPad up today and asked, “what do I do if I leave the house and I need directions? I’m fucked, right?” I said, hey, no problem, just swing into the Starbucks parking lot and hook up to their wireless real quick! He laughed but his tough-guy stare told me that he was thinking, “fuck you you computer weenie. Why’d you give me this useless thing anyway?”
The other problem with the Wi-Fi iPad is the implied task that it creates: install (actually, re-install) Wi-Fi in every armory. If Lieutenant Colonel Slapnuts gets an iPad, you better believe he’s going to want to use it at any armory he visits (which is reasonable). But that means Wi-Fi at every armory, which previously was a toxic issue and was nixed after a relatively short trial period. Now, however, it’s basically a given – and with the SSID and WPA key in the wild on all these iPads, it’s only matter of time (about 10 seconds) before every staff officer in every headquarters has it, and brings his or her personal laptop in and starts streaming NPR and watching YouTube and posting on Facebook about the sweet OPORD he just wrote. How do you stop that? MAC filtering? We have ways of doing that (maybe), but the pushback from the field-grades will be severe.
But what do I know? I’m just a man of the South, trying to make sense in the Dark Lord’s realm – while I serve him, I was not born of him, and this will inevitably place me at odds with some of his stranger schemes…
All hail!
Typically, government organizations (and particularly the military) are not at the forefront of consumer technology. However, with the Dark Lord at the helm, the J6 is full participating member in the Church of Jobs – Sauron himself wields a 24″ iMac, a Macbook Air, and an iPhone (all paid by your tax dollars, natch).
Apropos our cult membership, we got three iPads yesterday. Apparently the plan is to replace BlackBerries with iPads for senior staff, since our yearly phone service bill is astronomical. I guess all the field-grade officers will have to get tactical man-purses now.
As far as I can tell from my day with the device, it really is just nine iPhones taped together. This is not surprising, since the device runs the iPhone OS, but it is a little disappointing. I spent most of the first day frantically waving the thing around, trying to get the screen to tilt, until today Saint Gene discovered that there’s a tilt-lock switch on the side. I guess I figured that Apple wouldn’t stoop to something so pedestrian as a physical switch to lock out the tilt sensor, so I never thought to look for it.
The screen is indeed gorgeous – it’s an IPS-type LCD, from what I understand, which gives it excellent viewing angles and no color distortion, even at extreme angles. It’s bright and contrasty, and makes all of the carefully designed icons look quite lickable. However, I stand by my assertion that e-ink devices like the Kindle and nook are superior for long-term reading operations; as nice as the iPad’s screen is, it’s still an LCD, and the backlight makes for tired eyes over long periods.
I doubt the thing will be a “game-changer” like the iPhone arguably has been – the market for phones with shiny things is much larger than tablets with shiny things, and without phone company subsidies, the price is steep – $500 for this one, with only 16GB of storage and no 3G networking (only WiFi). As some have said, it’s a good media consumption device; I could see the utility for someone who travels a lot, or a student who’s on the go and needs to watch cat videos and check up on FarmVille and stalk ex-girlfriends on Facebook. But for guys like me, who work at a computer all day, then go home to several computers in a small house, and who rarely is out at the local coffee shop with horn-rimmed glasses and turtleneck, I don’t see much point.
ALC is over, and in its aftermath I’m left with a palette of feelings that is totally unexpected. It’s a sort of screwed up mix that manifests as irritability, misanthropy, depression, and a general alienation from civilian life. In other words, I’m experiencing the feelings after this stupid NCO school that I was supposed to feel after going to Iraq.
Already I’m forgetting details about my stay at Fort Gordon; where I initially talked in furious specifics about my experiences, I now talk in resigned generalities. My mind is closing off that time like scar tissue over a wound, which is a new experience for me. Perhaps it’s a testament to my easy life, or my resilience, or something else, but I’ve never had an experience that I wanted so desperately to forget. Three months of almost continual simmering anger (and occasional explosive rage), combined with the daily disrespect and pointless belittling by the cadre, combined in my psyche into something toxic that needs to be purged.
It seems to me that the formula for post-event trauma takes the form of the following equation:
(Trauma intensity x Time of exposure x Environmental factors) / (Support network x Sense of purpose)
Therefore, if one would try to quantify Iraq and compare it to ALC (using a notional 10 point scale for all factors)…
Iraq: (3 x 10 x 5) / (10 x 5) = 10
ALC: (5 x 5 x 2) / (2 x 1) = 25
Therefore, since math doesn’t lie, ALC was 2.5 times more traumatic than Iraq.
The most difficult part was the pointlessness of it all. What did I learn? “Do as I say, not as I do” as a primary tenet of leadership? Cronyism is a great way to run an organization? One morning, about two-thirds of the way through, when I was standing in the dark at 5:30 in the cold Georgia morning, I thought, “why am I doing this?” Not in the specific sense of “why am I caterwauling the godawful Signal Corps March for the third fucking time in a row with all these other idiots,” but rather a general sense of, “why am I in the Army? What is this doing for me? What is this doing to me?” I thought, then, just for a minute, “I’m done.” My term of service expires this August. I could just wrap it up, call it a good eight years, and walk away. That’s what the Regimental NCO Academy instilled in me: a desire to quit. Of course, the feeling passed quickly – I remembered that Fort Gordon isn’t the real world, or even the real Army, and that where I come from people speak English and the organizational faults are mostly well-meaning and not malevolent.
I guess I did learn one key lesson from the whole thing: that, as an NCO, I can never allow myself to become like those that I saw at that place. I take my role as an NCO seriously, and I know now what it looks like when the chain of NCOs breaks down completely, and so I’ll do everything I can to prevent that from happening.
5-ton dashboard
In preparation for next week’s FTX, I had to go to the motor pool and PMCS our vehicles. Incredibly, out of a class of 15 NCOs, I was the only one with a valid military driver’s license, which meant that only I could check the oil in the three trucks we were assigned.
The first HMMWV was fine – in surprisingly good condition, fully functional, and even reasonably clean. The second seemed good as well – it started right up, and was in similar condition to the first. However, I noticed that the cooling fan wasn’t spinning when the engine was running (the hood was up at this point), and after stopping the engine, I noticed what looked like a rubber belt, just laying on top of the engine compartment. Sure enough, it was one of the fan belts, torn in half. Another was missing completely (there are a total of four), making the vehicle inoperable.
The third and final vehicle was a venerable 5-ton truck, a vehicle for which I have no license and no experience. Helpfully, the specialist at the academy said, “there should be a manual in there,” not knowing that I love manuals and always read them. Sure enough, there was a manual in old B201, so I gave myself a crash course on starting the 5-ton and conducting PMCS.
Unfortunately, the old beast cranked but would not start; it just wheezed and belched a thick cloud of white smoke from the exhaust stack but wouldn’t turn over. I was able to start the neighboring truck (thus validating my technique), but that truck had a flat tire so was no use to me.
Later, a mechanic was able to start the 5-ton; as with computers, so it goes with vehicles, where sometimes the only requirement for function is the magic touch of an expert. I’m not sure what good this does us, though, since nobody in the class is licensed to drive the beast.
Next week, we begin our much-ballyhooed FTX (field training exercise). The event, already known to us as being mostly pointless, is already shaping up to be a farce of epic proportions.
Apparently, none of the cadre here knew that we were participating in this FTX until yesterday, which left us completely in the dark about our mission, while our compatriots from SLC (Senior Leader’s Course) had been working on their preparations all week. This despite the fact that the training schedule – given to us on the first day of class, over two months ago – clearly had this event marked for next week.
Additionally, the other ALC class slated to participate was exempted so that they could manage next week’s Black History Month event (which naturally takes precedence over any training), which means that our little class will have to simulate a battalion headquarters with just 11 people.
One wonders what the point of the exercise is, exactly, since we’ll have weapons with blanks but no MILES gear (making any combat the equivalent of “bang! you’re dead!”) and a 3 or 4 mile road march (too short to provide any meaningful training) to a FOB that’ll be mostly empty. I guess it’s realistic training for executing a mission of questionable value, with little advance warning and minimal resources, followed by a stretch of mild discomfort and boredom.
The problem is, the SLC classes seem very gung-ho and serious about the whole thing, exhibiting a level of caring that I just can’t seem to work up. I look at them and think, “hey, I’ll be in their shoes before too long” – I could be back here again for SLC in 3 years or so – but somehow, I can’t see myself being like them. The E-7s of SLC seem so earnest, so focused on this silly exercise. They have nearly a ream of paper printed out with PowerPoint slides and a lengthy operations order, crammed with faked-up details about the “cultural terrain” and the “enemy situation” and the “ongoing war between Whogivesafuckistan and their peaceful neighbors in Asscrackistan” and the “commander’s intent” and our “adjacent friendly forces” and whatever, all of which is so patently worthless that it makes me want to scream.
They seem to be going full steam ahead, though, and it makes me wonder: am I insane? Unprofessional? Immature? Am I a lesser NCO because I can’t get excited about what amounts to a high-dollar game of Cowboys & Indians? Excited or not, though, the box must be checked, so next week, it’s off to the woods I go.
Trigun
I just finished watching the anime series Trigun (about twelve years late on that one), and since anime is SERIOUS BUSINESS, it inspired me to pontificate on the morality of killing – specifically, the morality of killing in defense of self or others.
The show is primarily about Vash the Stampede (blond dude at left), who travels around a desert planet, getting into various misadventures.
Vash practices an especially weird brand of pacifism, one where violence and even injuries are acceptable, so long as no one is actually killed. This sort of thing is obviously in the realm of pure fantasy, only made possible because of Vash’s superhuman capabilities (and a tremendously accurate revolver in .45 Long Colt). However, his behavior enables me to make a larger point about the notion of pacifism and nonviolence in general.
Towards the end of the series, Vash is confronted by a character named Legato. Legato has captured two of Vash’s friends and threatens to kill them – unless Vash is willing to shoot Legato in the head. Thankfully, Vash makes the right decision (sparing the show from utter failure) and puts a .45LC slug through Legato’s skull, but he’s tortured by his decision.Vash agonizes about killing Legato even though it was the only option to save Meryl and Milly (and himself). He complains that he’s no longer any different than his evil brother Knives because they both have killed people. This obscures the key moral difference between murder and self-defense: murder is immoral and self-defense is the opposite; indeed, there is no more moral act. Self defense is a fundamental human right, a basic biological imperative, and a crucial underpinning of both civilian and military law. While killing of any kind is regrettable, killing in defense of self or others is the only morally correct response to unprovoked lethal force.
Vash’s agonizing decision to shoot Legato and his subsequent self-flagellation makes no sense and turns an otherwise likable character into a morally repugnant fool. What alternative did he have? In his twisted logic, it would have been better for two innocents – and himself – to die, just so that he could maintain his absurd moral high ground. If he wanted to martyr himself, fine – but allowing two innocent companions to be killed for his principles? Unacceptable. Amazingly, Meryl never calls Vash to task about this, even as he whines to her about the horror of killing Legato. The scene would have had much more dramatic heft if she had done so, but maybe that’s too much to ask from my anime.
Ironically, the struggles of a supporting character, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, are much more interesting and his final episode is as close to real drama as I’ve seen in anime. Unfortunately, he ultimately tries to embrace Vash’s absurdity and dies alone as a result.
What do Enter Sandman, Eye of the Tiger, Sweet Home Alabama, and Jump (by Van Halen) have in common?
If you answered, “songs blasted across an empty field at 0530 on a Friday morning before running five miles,” you’d be correct.
Many units in the Army have “morale runs” on Fridays, where everybody gets together, some unlucky chump gets picked to carry the unit flag, and the rest of the unit follows behind, running really slowly (so as to maintain a “dressed-up” formation, since the main purpose is showing off the unit, rather than any fitness benefit) and chanting the same five cadences over and over.
Friday we were subjected to our first of these “fun runs” at the NCO academy. We were told that “formation was at 0500.” The problem with any time hack (particularly here but also generally in the Army) is that it’s never clear if a given time is the actual time of an event, or a pre-calculated time that already includes the assumed “ten minutes prior” factor. Therefore, I had to decide between the two, and I made the decision that almost everyone else did: better to be there ten minutes early, just in case. I walked outside at 0450; it was a pleasant 50 degrees and a near-full moon hung low over the SLC barracks (luckily, too, because almost all the lights on that side of the compound are broken).
Of course, we all guessed wrong, and spent the next hour shuffling around the field while the cadre tried to decide where to position us. Meanwhile, a crack team of audio experts set up a pair of loudspeakers, which prompted murmurs among the soldiers: “I thought we were going for a run, not having a speech,” one said.
All questions were answered when the familiar guitar intro of Enter Sandman began. I just laughed and someone joked about Eye of the Tiger. As if the erstwhile DJ was listening, that song played next. I asked if they were taking requests and one guy suggested Free Bird; he wasn’t far from the mark, as Sweet Home Alabama was next. Another then said, in his best TV announcer voice, “This album not available in stores!”
Eventually the commandant appeared and addressed us, spinning some incomprehensible tale of his recent trip to California, where it rained every day and a guy in a cardboard shack offered him marijuana on the beach (“I guess it’s legal there, you know, crazy!”) and he met with college educators who had developed some kind of talking recruiting robot for the Army that he hoped we’d be able to use in our future careers. It was totally bizarre and I was glad it was still dark, because we were all stifling laughs and looking at each other, wondering if he had lost his mind.
He called us to attention and more Van Halen began to play, and we marched off, about 200 of us in one snaking mass. We shuffled across Fort Gordon for the next ninety minutes, which included about six laps around the movie theater (God knows why), a lap through every parking lot along the way, and five or ten minutes of running in a circle, Ouroboros-like, while the sergeant major ran counter to us on the inside of the circle, chanting odd administrative things in cadence like, “be sure to update your personnel records” and “don’t drink and drive.” This part bordered on the tribal and I thought for sure that the human sacrifice would begin at any moment.
Luckily I was wrong, and we wrapped up the run at about 0715, marching back to the start point while Queen’s We are the Champions played. Once again, I had to laugh – this kind of thing only happens in the military, which is why I simultaneously love and hate my job.
Guaranteed not to jam the tiny type bars inside your phone!
I’m now a proud owner of a QWERTY-keyboard-equipped cell phone (pictured at left). It strikes me as odd, however, that it’s the second decade of the 21st century and we’re putting keyboards designed in the 1870s on our pocket phones for the purpose of saying stuff like “OMG 2 cool meet me @ the mall!!!”
Legend has it that the QWERTY keyboard layout was designed explicitly to slow down early typists to prevent jams, but apparently this isn’t true. The placement of keys was intended to prevent jams, and any typist-slowing effect was merely a byproduct of the key placement.
The Dvorak keyboard layout is widely considered to be a superior alternative to QWERTY, because of its placement of letters by frequency of use, supposedly making for faster and more ergonomic typing. Of course, most people don’t even know what a Dvorak keyboard is – and, according to some, the advantages may not be as great as have been claimed.
The longevity of QWERTY on the computer keyboard makes sense – there are billions of keyboards and typists out there already. The advantages of Dvorak – whatever they may be – simply aren’t significant enough to warrant a switch. But why QWERTY for phones? It’s not as if I’m going to touch-type on that tiny keyboard; I’m only using my thumbs, anyway. Even the holy iPhone (blessed be its name) only has the option for a QWERTY keyboard layout, even though the keyboard is implemented in software. I guess it doesn’t matter what layout the keyboard has, since no layout is going to appreciably increase your speed when typing with your thumbs on keys the size of dust motes.