Trailhead : Iraq

Biden's Fishy Claim: Three Weeks in Iraq

Chris Wilson — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 03:31:00 GMT

Joe Biden claimed in tonight's debate that "we spend more money in three weeks on combat in Iraq than we spent on the entirety of the last seven years that we have been in Afghanistan building that country." The claim sounds stunning, and Biden has made it before; he said the same thing in a March 2 New York Times op-ed and at a Senate foreign relations committee hearing a year earlier.

The key word here is building. To make the claim work, one needs to compare only the reconstruction costs in Afghanistan with the entire Department of Defense bill for Iraq. According to the most recent Congressional Research Service report on war appropriations, Congress has appropriated $653 billion for Iraq and $172 billion in Afghanistan. (See Page 16. Afghanistan is listed as "OEF" for "Operation Enduring Freedom.") By that comparison, it would take more than a year's worth of Iraq spending to equal the total cost of operations in Afghanistan.

Biden is referring only to rebuilding costs in Afghanistan, which are a small fraction of total spending. The claim is a classic apples-to-oranges analogy, and it's unclear exactly where Biden is getting his price for oranges. The same CRS report lists all foreign aid and diplomatic spending in Afghanistan at $12.4 billion on Page 19, which is getting us closer; if we use fiscal year 2008 numbers for Iraq, when combat costs totalled $145 billion, three weeks comes out $8.4 billion. Biden is probably parsing out that $12.4 billion figure even further. This September 2008 CRS report on postwar policy in Afghanistan says that the U.S. Agency for International Development has spent just under $7 billion in the country (See Table 14 on Page 65).

Is Biden hoping viewers will gloss over his caveats and think he's making a legitimate, apples-to-apples comparison? He certainly fooled this guy. If so, it's bad idea—even in a nation plagued by innumeracy, the claim that we outspend total funding for Afghanistan in three weeks in Iraq fails the smell test. If this isn't the strategy, Biden could try a little harder to explain his reasoning. It didn't help that, when he repeated himself in the debate, he left out all the caveats: "Let me say that again. Three weeks in Iraq; seven years, seven years or six-and-a-half years in Afghanistan."

The Refiner

Christopher Beam — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 15:49:00 GMT

If you flip-flop on an issue that itself flip-flops all the time, is that considered flip-flopping?

That’s the question confronting Barack Obama, who hinted Thursday that he might “refine” his position on withdrawal from Iraq. Obama quickly held a follow-up presser to clarify his determination to pull out as quickly and safely as possible. But Obama’s mistake wasn’t suggesting that his position was subject to change. It was suggesting all along—and letting his opponents suggest—that his 16-month withdrawal timetable was anything more than a goal.

For some reason, the words goal, contingency, and facts on the ground are seen as code for wavering. As such, they rarely made it into Obama’s description of his plan for withdrawal. The RNC giddily rounds up the various instances when Obama articulated his timeline for withdrawal without strong caveats. Perhaps the most explicit moment was Obama’s exchange with Charlie Gibson at the CBS debate on April 16:

MR. GIBSON: And Senator Obama, your campaign manager, David Plouffe, said, when he is—this is talking about you—when he is elected president, we will be out of Iraq in 16 months at the most; there should be no confusion about that. So you'd give the same rock-hard pledge, that no matter what the military commanders said, you would give the order: Bring them home.

SENATOR OBAMA: Because the commander in chief sets the mission, Charlie. That's not the role of the generals. … Now, I will always listen to our commanders on the ground with respect to tactics. Once I've given them a new mission, that we are going to proceed deliberately in an orderly fashion out of Iraq and we are going to have our combat troops out, we will not have permanent bases there, once I've provided that mission, if they come to me and want to adjust tactics, then I will certainly take their recommendations into consideration; but ultimately the buck stops with me as the commander in chief. [E.A]

Gibson’s demand for a “rock-hard pledge” may have been the epitome of gotcha journalism, but Obama fell for it. He could have said, “No, Charlie, it’s not a rock-hard pledge—it’s a goal that’s subject to adjustment based on new facts on the ground.” But that, according to perverse campaign logic, would have been a sign of weakness.

That’s why it was a scandal when Obama foreign-policy adviser Samantha Power suggested that his 16-month plan was a “best-case scenario.” But her words made perfect sense: “You can't make a commitment in March of 2008 about what circumstances are going to be like in January 2009. He will, of course, not rely upon some plan that he has crafted as a presidential candidate or a US senator. He will rely upon an operational plan that he pulls together in consultation with people on the ground.” That’s how strategy works—you adjust your plan according to the circumstances. But somehow Power’s admission became a “gaffe.” If she hadn’t resigned from the campaign for calling Hillary Clinton a “monster,” this remark might have pushed her out instead.

It’s a common problem when politics and war intersect: Promises only hold if the facts on which the promise was based hold as well. Particularly in Iraq, where a relative lull in violence can be instantly upset, as it was this weekend. One can argue that Obama’s withdrawal plan has been overly ambitious all along, and that his attempt to “refine” his position reflects problems inherent to his plan as much as shifting facts. But to stick with a rigid plan when the underlying facts are changing isn’t consistent. It’s irresponsible.

Two Wars

Christopher Beam — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 20:28:00 GMT

You’d think that after an eight-hour testimony like Petraeus and Crocker's yesterday, the presidential candidates would now have a clear set of facts to debate. If only. The problem, as the Times puts it, is that Clinton/Obama and McCain “seemed to be talking about two different wars.” Clinton cited the war’s “tremendous cost to our national security.” Obama suggested our best hope might be a “messy, sloppy status quo” as long as there’s not “huge outbreaks of violence.” McCain seemed cheery by contrast: “We’re no longer staring into the abyss of defeat, and we can now look ahead to the genuine prospect of success.”

Petraeus and Crocker, meanwhile, did little to clarify details. Clinton and Obama pushed them to describe progress that would justify a drawdown in troops. “These factors are fairly clear,” Petraeus told Clinton. “There’s obviously an enemy situation factor, there’s a friendly situation factor with respect to Iraqi forces, local governance, even economic and political dynamics, all of which are considered as the factors in making recommendations on further reductions.” In other words, We have no idea. As Fred Kaplan phrased it, “They laid out a Catch-22: If things in Iraq get worse, we can't cut back, lest things get worse still; if things get better, we can't cut back, lest we risk reversing all our gains.”

How does this change the debate? Not one bit. If anything, it gives both the Obama/Clinton side and the McCain side what they need to keep making their arguments louder than ever. McCain can focus on military progress, which Petraeus said is “significantly better” than before, while Obama/Clinton can focus on the lack of political progress, which is equally undeniable. For McCain, security is the benchmark of success. For Obama/Clinton, who stress that “there is no military solution,” success is a sustainable political structure (which, of course, presumes security). But as yesterday’s testimony showed, there’s no agreement on the state of the war. If the GOP and Democratic nominees were to debate Iraq right now, it would be like ships passing in the night.

Maybe that’s why the recent rhetorical battle over John McCain’s “100 years” remark has been so impenetrable: The candidates are imagining totally different scenarios. McCain insists he’s talking about a long-term occupation akin to that of postwar Japan and Korea, where tens of thousands of troops are still stationed. Americans would accept that sort of peacekeeping role, he says, “as long as our soldiers are not being wounded or maimed or killed.” Obama would dispute the premise. When Obama thinks of 100 years in Iraq, it’s not a peaceful occupation he imagines. It’s a protracted expenditure of money and blood that fails to reach the point where we can draw down troops. From that perspective, cutting our losses makes a lot of sense.

If Petraeus’ testimony clarified anything, it’s that the candidates perceive the war like alternate realities. As Hillary might say, for either candidate to accept the other’s premises requires a “willful suspension of disbelief.” All this should make the debate over the war this fall—like the war itself—protracted and ugly.