The Obama campaign touts a commander in chief who never flinches,
but the truth is more complex. In an excerpt from his new book, Kill or
Capture: The War on Terror and the Soul of the Obama Presidency, Daniel
Klaidman reveals a lot of secrets.
‘Kill or Capture: The War on Terror and the Soul of the Obama Presidency’ by Daniel Klaidman
By Daniel Klaidman
‘Kill or Capture: The War on Terror and the Soul of the Obama Presidency’ by Daniel Klaidman
Barack
Obama came to the White House with no military background and negligible
national-security experience. But he inherited an American killing machine that
was very much on the offensive, hunting suspected terrorists from the lawless
regions of Pakistan to the militant strongholds of Somalia. Within days of his
inauguration he faced life-and-death decisions. One of them went terribly
wrong.
Obama
had just signed a series of executive orders aimed at rolling back the worst
excesses of the Bush administration’s war on terror, and he was flush with the
possibilities of what could be accomplished in the years ahead. Learning his
way around the labyrinthine West Wing, he poked his head into an aide’s office.
“We just ended torture,” he said. “That’s a pretty big deal.” Now, on the
morning of Jan. 23, CIA director Michael Hayden informed the president of a
drone missile strike scheduled to take place in the tribal areas of Pakistan,
near the Afghan border.
The
targets were high-level al Qaeda and Taliban commanders. Hayden, accustomed to
briefing the tactically minded George W. Bush, went into granular levels of
detail, describing the “geometry” of the operation to the new president. Obama,
who preferred his briefings concise, grew impatient and irritated with Hayden.
But he held his tongue, and raised no objections.
Tribesmen
a world away, in the tiny village of Karez Kot, later heard a low, dull buzzing
sound from the sky. At about 8:30 in the evening local time, a Hellfire missile
from a remotely operated drone slammed into a compound “of interest,” in CIA
parlance, obliterating a roomful of people.
It
turned out they were the wrong people. As the CIA’s pilotless aircraft lingered
high above Karez Kot, relaying live images of the fallout to its operators, it
soon became clear that something had gone terribly awry. Instead of hitting the
CIA’s intended target, a Taliban hideout, the missile had struck the compound
of a prominent tribal elder and members of a pro-government peace committee.
The strike killed the elder and four members of his family, including two of
his children.
Obama
was understandably disturbed. How could this have happened? The president had
vowed to change America’s message to the Muslim world, and to forge a “new
partnership based on mutual respect and mutual interest.” Yet here he was,
during his first week in the White House, presiding over the accidental killing
of innocent Muslims. As Obama briskly walked into the Situation Room the following
day, his advisers could feel the tension rise. “You could tell from his body
language that he was not a happy man,” recalled one participant.
Obama
settled into his high-backed, black-leather chair. Hayden was seated at the
other end of the table. The conversation quickly devolved into a tense
back-and-forth over the CIA’s vetting procedures for drone attacks. The
president was learning for the first time about a controversial practice known
as “signature strikes,” the targeting of groups of men who bear certain
signatures, or defining characteristics associated with terrorist activity, but
whose identities aren’t known. They differed from “personality” or “high-value
individual” strikes, in which a terrorist leader is positively identified before
the missile is launched.
Sometimes
called “crowd killing,” signature strikes are deeply unpopular in Pakistan.
Obama struggled to understand the concept. Steve Kappes, the CIA’s deputy
director, offered a blunt explanation. “Mr. President, we can see that there
are a lot of military-age males down there, men associated with terrorist
activity, but we don’t always know who they are.” Obama reacted sharply.
“That’s not good enough for me,” he said. But he was still listening. Hayden
forcefully defended the signature approach. You could take out a lot more bad
guys when you targeted groups instead of individuals, he said. And there was
another benefit: the more afraid militants were to congregate, the harder it
would be for them to plot, plan, or train for attacks against America and its
interests.
Obama
remained unsettled. “The president’s view was ‘OK, but what assurances do I
have that there aren’t women and children there?’?” according to a source
familiar with his thinking. “?‘How do I know that this is working? Who makes
these decisions? Where do they make them, and where’s my opportunity to
intervene?’?”
In
the end, Obama relented—for the time being. The White House did tighten up some
procedures: the CIA director would no longer be allowed to delegate the
decision to carry out a drone strike down the chain. Only the director would
have that authority, or his deputy if he was not available. And the White House
reserved the right to pull back the CIA’s signature authority in the future.
According to one of his advisers, Obama remained uneasy. “He would squirm,”
recalled the source. “He didn’t like the idea of ‘kill ’em and sort it out
later.’?”
Still,
Obama’s willingness to back the drone program represented an early inflection
point in his war on terror. Over time, the attacks grew—far beyond anything
that had been envisioned by the Bush administration. When Obama accepted the
Nobel Peace Prize in December 2009, he had authorized more drone strikes than
George W. Bush had approved during his entire presidency. By his third year in
office, Obama had approved the killings of twice as many suspected terrorists
as had ever been imprisoned in Guantánamo Bay. “We’re killing these sons of bitches
faster than they can grow them,” the head of the CIA’s counterterrorism
division boasted to The Washington Post in 2011.
The
president had come a long way in a short time. Schooled as a constitutional
lawyer, he had had to adjust quickly to the hardest part of the job: deciding
whom to kill, when to kill them, and when it makes sense to put Americans in
harm’s way. His instincts tilted toward justice and protecting the innocent,
but he also knew that war is a messy business no matter how carefully it is
conducted. He saw the drones as a particularly useful tool in a global
conflict, but he was also mindful of the possibility of blowback.
In
this overheated election season, Obama’s campaign is painting a portrait of a
steely commander who pursues the enemy without flinching. But the truth is more
complex, and in many ways, more reassuring. The president is not a robotic
killing machine. The choices he faces are brutally difficult, and he has
struggled with them—sometimes turning them over in his mind again and again.
The people around him have also battled and disagreed. They’ve invoked the
safety of America on the one hand and the righteousness of what America stands
for on the other.
Obama’s
discomfort with being “jam-med” into broad signature-style attacks extended to
the military, which was conducting its own counterterror campaigns. Unlike the
CIA, when the military engaged in kill missions outside of conventional
battlefields—in places like Yemen or Somalia—it needed presidential approval
for each individual attack. And the military was more prone to broaden its
targets.
In
March 2009, most of the top generals were itching to take the war deep into
Somalia. This desperately poor, chaotic country was home to Al-Shabab, then a
loose affiliate of al Qaeda. The military saw Somalia as a time bomb, and
wanted to act before it was too late.
At
a Situation Room meeting, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Adm. Mike
Mullen, briefed the president and his national security advisers on a “kinetic
opportunity” in southern Somalia, Al-Shabab’s stronghold. There was
intelligence that a high-level operative associated with the group would be
attending a “graduation ceremony” at an Al-Shabab training area. But the
military couldn’t pinpoint his precise location at any given time. So why not
just take the whole camp out? The Pentagon had even prepared a “strike package”
that could devastate an entire series of training areas. Obama was skeptical,
but listened without revealing his doubts. At the end of Mullen’s presentation,
Obama said, “OK, let’s go around the table.”
In
effect Obama was inviting dissent with Admiral Mullen. None of the principals
raised objections. But then Obama pointed to one of the uniformed men sitting
just behind Mullen, against the wall: James “Hoss” Cartwright, the four-star
Marine general and vice chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Obama knew Cartwright,
and valued his candor. “Mr. President, generally the wars we’ve been
prosecuting have had these rules,” Cartwright said in a low-key, Midwestern
manner. An enemy “did something to us, we went in and did something back—and
then we had a moral obligation to put back together whatever we broke. In these
places where they have not attacked us, we are looking for a person, not a
country.”
Cartwright
was now beginning to veer off from Mullen, his superior officer. Then he laid
it on the line: “If there is a person in the camp who is a clear threat to the
United States we should go after him. But carpet bombing a country is a really
bad precedent.” Some of the other military men began to shift in their chairs.
“I ask you to consider: where are we taking this activity? Because the logical
next thing after carpet bombing is that we go there and open up a new front.”
Obama
seized on Cartwright’s words to lay down his own marker. “That’s where I am,”
he said. He told his assembled advisers that he was committed to getting bad
guys—terrorists who posed a clear and demonstrable threat to Americans—but that
he wanted “options” that were precise. The signature strike against Al-Shabab
was a no go.
Cartwright,
on the other hand, was on an upward trajectory within the corridors of the
White House. What would emerge in early 2009 was an unusual alliance that would
serve to guide Obama through the shadow wars: Cartwright would join Obama’s top
counterterrorism aide, John Brennan, in advising the president about terrorist
targets, the three forming a kind of special troika on targeted killings.
By
this time, Brennan had already established himself as an imposing figure in the
White House. Massively built, with closely cropped hair, a ruddy complexion,
and deep-set eyes that could appear menacing at times, “Mr. Brennan,” as he was
referred to deferentially by junior White House staffers, was seen as “the real
thing,” a bona fide CIA terrorist hunter who had been on the trail of Osama bin
Laden for a decade. “He is like a John Wayne character,” David Axelrod said. “I
sleep better knowing that he is not sleeping.”
In
the coming months and years, Brennan and Cartwright would find themselves
pulling the president out of black-tie dinners or tracking him down on a secure
phone to discuss a proposed strike. Obama could be known to muster a little
gallows humor when Cartwright or Brennan showed up at the Oval Office
unannounced. “Uh-oh, this can’t be good,” he would say, arching an eyebrow. One
of Brennan’s least favorite duties was pulling Obama away from family time with
his wife and daughters for these grim calls.
The
three men were making life-and-death decisions, picking targets, rejecting or
accepting names put forward by the military, feeling their way through a new
kind of war—Obama’s war. But such decisions took their toll. In quiet
conversations with his advisers, the president would sometimes later reflect on
whether they knew with certainty that the people they were targeting posed a
genuine and specific threat to American interests.
Similar
angst and debate was coursing through the administration as a whole. Every
targeted killing, in fact, had to be lawyered—either by the CIA’s attorneys, in
the case of agency operations, or by other lawyers when the military was
involved. If any two men typified the assertion of law in the terror wars, it
was Harold Hongju Koh and Jeh C. Johnson. As the top lawyers at the State
Department and the Pentagon, respectively, they exercised considerable
influence over counterterrorism operations. But their ideological differences—Koh
a liberal idealist who had served as the Clinton administration’s top
human-rights official, and Johnson a pragmatic centrist and former
prosecutor—colored their legal interpretations. Koh could be brusque and
tactless with his colleagues, though he would just as easily break into boyish
giggles when something amused him. Johnson, a former partner in a white-shoe
Manhattan law firm, was restrained in manner, and a deft inside operator.
For
most of Obama’s first term, the two men fought a pitched battle over legal
authorities in the war on al Qaeda. Like Johnson, Koh had no problem going
after AQ’s most senior members. But things got murkier when the military wanted
to kill or capture members of other jihadist groups. Johnson took a more hawkish
position, arguing that the United States could pursue AQ members or
“co-belligerents” more expansively. The two men battled each other openly in
meetings and by circulating rival secret memos.
Despite
their differences, both men were grappling with the same reality: their advice
could ensure death for strangers who lived thousands of miles away—or spare
them. It was an especially unlikely turn for Koh, a former dean of Yale Law
School. At Yale he had memorized the names and faces of his students, bright-eyed
idealists who wanted to use the law to improve the world. Now he studied highly
classified PowerPoint slides that detailed the intelligence against individual
terrorist targets. (The military dryly called them “baseball cards.”) “How did
I go from being a law professor to someone involved in killing?” he wondered.
At
the Pentagon even Johnson felt stressed by the institutional impulse to always
do more, not less. Like Koh, he wondered whether he could withstand the heavy
pressure exerted by the military to expand operations. After approving his
first targeted killings one evening, he watched the digital images of the
strike in real time—“Kill TV,” the military calls the live battlefield feed.
Johnson could see the shadowy images of militants running drills in a training
camp in Yemen. Then suddenly there was a bright flash. The figures that had
been moving across the screen were gone. Johnson returned to his Georgetown
home around midnight that evening, drained and exhausted. Later there were
reports from human-rights groups that dozens of women and children had been
killed in the attacks, reports that a military source involved in the operation
termed “persuasive.” Johnson would confide to others, “If I were Catholic, I’d
have to go to confession.”
In
early 2010, on a secure conference call with Obama’s top counterterrorism
advisers, Johnson stunned many of his colleagues when he nixed the targeted
killings of members of Al-Shabab. The decision came just as the military was
ramping up its operations in Somalia. Pentagon officers left the meeting
without saying a word to Johnson. It was a lonely moment for an ambitious
lawyer who was used to getting along with his uniformed colleagues. But he did
have one supporter: Koh told Johnson this was his “finest moment.”
The
amity didn’t last, however. The military kept up its pressure on Johnson, and
mounted a fierce campaign to persuade him to change his position on Al-Shabab.
Officers brought him intelligence and “threat streams” about terrorist
activities, and told him “bad things” would happen if they couldn’t act first.
Johnson understood the political risks. There would be an uproar if Al-Shabab
launched a successful attack against the United States and it later turned out
that Obama administration lawyers had declared the group off limits. Finally,
some months after Al-Shabab militants bombed a soccer stadium in Uganda,
killing 74 people, he changed tack.
The
Koh-Johnson rivalry was reignited during a secure call with the White House in
the fall of 2010. The military wanted to hit three top Al-Shabab leaders. The
two lawyers agreed on a pair of the targets, but Koh differed on the case of
Sheikh Mukhtar Robow. He had studied the intelligence and saw credible evidence
that Robow represented a less extreme faction of Al-Shabab that was opposed to
attacking America. While Johnson was fine with targeting Robow, Koh forcefully
insisted that the “killing would be unlawful.” Robow was removed from the
targeting list. But the pressure to expand the list rarely lets up. After
Al-Shabab’s top leader swore his organization’s allegiance to al Qaeda earlier
this year, Obama officials renewed their earlier debate. Robow’s life again
hangs in the balance.
One
targeted killing that inspired little angst was the raid on Osama bin Laden in
May 2011. Rather, its success got everyone itching to intensify the fight.
Brimming with confidence, the generals believed they could deliver a “knock-out
blow” to al Qaeda and its most dangerous affiliate, al Qaeda in the Arabian
Peninsula (AQAP) in Yemen. The military began talking about “running the table”
in Yemen, while the CIA began pushing to expand its signature strikes both
there and in Somalia. It was the same approach Admiral Mullen and some top
generals had backed in the first weeks of Obama’s administration but which the
president had rejected. Obama at that time had wanted to stay “AQ-focused,” as
he put it, and not unnecessarily widen the conflict.
But
in May 2011, the military proposed killing 11 AQAP operatives at once, by far
the largest request since it stepped up operations in Yemen. The Arab Spring’s
turmoil had spread to the country, and al Qaeda was moving quickly to take
advantage of the chaos. Gen. James Mattis, who heads U.S. Central Command, warned
darkly of an emerging new terror hub in the Horn of Africa. Obama and a few of
his senior advisers, however, were wary of getting dragged into an internal
conflict—or fueling a backlash—by targeting people who were not focused on
striking the United States. Obama and his aides reduced the target list to four
people, all of whom were eliminated.
The
pressure didn’t abate, however. Brennan came to believe that the commander in
chief needed to make an unequivocal statement—to brush back the people calling
for more and larger attacks. The chance came in mid-June, during a regularly
scheduled “Terror Tuesday” briefing. At one point during the discussion, one of
the president’s military advisers made a reference to the ongoing “campaign” in
Yemen. Obama abruptly cut him off. There’s no “campaign” in Yemen, he said
sharply: “We’re not in Yemen to get involved in some domestic conflict. We’re
going to continue to stay focused on threats to the homeland—that’s where the
real priority is.”
In
Barack Obama’s mind, Anwar al-Awlaki was threat No. 1. The Yemen-based leader
of AQAP had grown up in the United States, spoke fluent American-accented
English, and had a charisma similar to that of Osama bin Laden: soft eyes, a
mastery of language, and a sickening capacity for terror. Obama told his
advisers that Awlaki was a higher priority than even Ayman al-Zawahiri, who had
succeeded bin Laden as al Qaeda’s top commander. “Awlaki had things on the
stove that were ready to boil over,” one of Obama’s national-security advisers
observed. “Zawahiri was still looking for ingredients in the cupboard.”
What
worried President Obama most was Awlaki’s ingenuity in developing murderous
schemes that could evade America’s best defenses. Already he had launched the
Christmas Day plot, in which a Nigerian operative had nearly brought down a
packed airliner by trying to set off explosives hidden in his underwear. Then,
in October 2010, AQAP had managed to put improvised bombs—ink toner cartridges
filled with explosive material—on cargo planes headed to the United States.
(They were intercepted as a result of a tip from Saudi intelligence.) During
the summer of 2011 Obama was regularly updated on a particularly diabolical
plan that AQAP’s master bomb builder, Ibrahim Hassan Tali al-Asiri, was
devising. The intelligence indicated that he was close to being able to
surgically implant bombs in people’s bodies. The wiring was cleverly designed
to circumvent airport security, including full-body scanners. AQAP’s terror
doctors had already successfully experimented with dogs and other animals.
The
president made sure he got updates on Awlaki at every Terror Tuesday briefing.
“I want Awlaki,” he said at one. “Don’t let up on him.” Hoss Cartwright even
thought Obama’s rhetoric was starting to sound like that of George W. Bush,
whom Cartwright had also briefed on many occasions. “Do you have everything you
need to get this guy?” Obama would ask.
But
that sense of fierce determination was a product of long experience and didn’t
come easily. By the time United States intelligence agents got Awlaki in their
sights, Obama had adjusted and readjusted his views on targeted killings
several times. Usually he tried to measure the possible benefits of a specific
killing or killings against the possible downsides, including the slaying of
innocents and getting the United States more deeply embroiled in civil
conflicts. The Awlaki case was in a special category, however: By almost
anyone’s definition, he was a threat to the homeland, but he was also an
American citizen, born in New Mexico.
The
capture of a Somali operative who worked closely with Awlaki produced key
intelligence, including how he traveled, the configuration of his convoys, his
modes of communication, and the elaborate security measures he and his entourage
took. Finally, in the spring and summer of last year, U.S. and Yemeni
intelligence started to draw a bead on him. A tip from a Yemeni source and a
fatal lapse in operational security by the cleric eventually did him in.
The
standing orders from Obama had always been to avoid collateral damage at almost
any cost. In many instances, Cartwright would not even take a proposed
operation to the president if there was a reasonable chance civilians would be
killed. But as the Americans were closing in on Awlaki, Obama let it be known
that he didn’t want his options preemptively foreclosed. If there was a clear
shot at the terrorist leader, even one that risked civilian deaths, he wanted
to be advised of it. “Bring it to me and let me decide in the reality of the
moment rather than in the abstract,” he said, according to one confidant.
In
September, U.S. intelligence tracked Awlaki to a specific house in Al Jawf
province, where he stayed for two weeks—often surrounded by children. On the
morning of Sept. 30, however, Awlaki and several of his companions left the
safe house and walked about 700 yards to their parked cars. As they were
getting into the vehicles, they were blown apart by two Hellfire missiles.
Within
less than six months, Obama had taken out America’s two top enemies, delivering
crippling blows to al Qaeda’s morale and its ability to conduct fresh attacks.
And yet perhaps no other action upset liberals and civil libertarians more than
the killing of Anwar al-Awlaki. What Obama considered a necessary and lawful
act of war, one that was vital to protecting the lives of Americans, his
critics saw as a summary execution of an American citizen without trial—on the
basis of secret evidence. Even Bush had not gone that far. One of the
president’s top advisers says he was unmoved, however. Despite all of the
hand-wringing by critics, Obama had “no qualms.”
And
the shadow wars continued. Throughout 2011, Obama’s basic strategy held: he
approved missions that were surgical, often lethal, and narrowly tailored to
fit clearly defined U.S. interests. But even as Awlaki and others were taken
out, Yemen fell further into chaos, and AQAP gained more and more
territory—even threatening the strategic port city of Aden. It looked like the
military’s dire warnings were becoming a reality.
By
2012 Obama was getting regular updates on a Saudi double agent who’d managed to
penetrate AQAP. He had volunteered to be a suicide operative for al-Asiri,
AQAP’s master bomb maker, and instead delivered the latest underwear-style
explosive device to his handlers. By then the military and CIA were pushing
again for signature-style strikes, but they’d given them a new name:
terrorist-attack-disruption strikes, or TADS. And this time, after resisting
for the first three years of his presidency, Obama gave his approval.
The
White House was worried that Yemeni forces were collapsing under the brutal
AQAP assault. The more territory AQAP controlled, the more training camps they
could set up, and the easier it would be to plot and plan attacks against the
United States and its interests. Obama concluded that he had no choice but to
defend the Yemeni Army against a common enemy. “They are decapitating Yemeni
soldiers and crucifying them,” one senior administration official said in
justifying the American escalation. “These are murderous thugs, and we are not
going to stand idly by and allow these massacres to take place.”
In
the spring of 2012, the United States carried out more drone attacks in Yemen
than in the previous nine years combined—dating all the way back to when the
CIA conducted its first such operation.
-This article was published in the Newsweek on 28/05/2012 and it
is excerpted from Kill or Capture: The War on Terror and the Soul of the Obama
Presidency by Daniel Klaidman. Copyright 2012 by Daniel Klaidman. To be
published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt on June 5, 2012
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