It was serendipitous timing that I happened to be reading Evan Thomas' marvelous biography of Robert Kennedy yesterday -- and was up to the early Kennedy administration period -- when I took a break to read more current goings on. Serendipitous, because given the twofold timelines it soon became hard to separate history from modernity.
The current material, from the Washington Post, was "U.S. Notes Limited Progress in Afghan War" -- reporting that quickly departed from noting "limited progress" and instead largely outlined a failing effort. Gloomy, to be kind, pretty much captured its essence:
"Intelligence analysts acknowledge the battlefield victories, but they highlight the Taliban's unchallenged expansion into new territory....
"While the military finds success in a virtually unbroken line of tactical achievements, intelligence officials worry about a looming strategic failure....
"While U.S. and other NATO forces have maintained a firm hold on major cities, they have been unable to retain territory in the vast rural areas where 75 percent of Afghanistan's population lives, several sources said. Ground hard-won in combat has been abandoned and reoccupied by Taliban forces."
The underlying problems run deep, from "lackluster counterinsurgency efforts by Pakistani forces" to -- even deeper -- "the absence ... of a strategic plan that melds the U.S. military effort with a comprehensive blueprint for development and governance throughout the country."
Almost needless to mention, these "contrasting views echo repeated internal disagreements over the Iraq war," as well.
So how did Robert Kennedy fit into all this?
Just after reading the Afghan war article I returned to the Kennedy biography, and thereupon started reading about the presidential brother's enthusiastic efforts in the innovative field of "counterinsurgency" -- a term, noted the author, reportedly coined by RFK.
His enthusiasm was ginned up by a 1961 Khrushchev speech, in which the Soviet premier predicted that communism would triumph not through conventional warfare -- the escalation to nuclear was too great a danger -- but through insurgent campaigns of national liberation and guerrilla activity.
In response to the speech, and at RFK's personal intervention and direction, "Almost overnight, a new and faddish weapon was added to the Cold War arsenal: counterinsurgency."
Special Forces were now to wage "people's wars" in winning the "hearts and minds" of the local populace being bullied and deceived by communist insurgents. The U.S. would triumph, thought RFK, through implementing "civilizing missions that ranged from land reform to child delivery."
On paper, it sounded like a boffo idea. But, wrote Thomas, "other government officials could see not only the limitations of trying to win the war of 'hearts and minds,' but also the dangers of trying."
For instance "one of RFK's pet ideas was to train the police forces of developing countries [Bernie Kerik-style, no doubt]." Said one State Department official: "He thought that by making their cops more like ours, we could stop communism."
But the official and his colleagues "knew, from firsthand observation, that the fragile democracies of Asia and Latin America had 'no control over their security services....' By making them more 'professional' [Sunni insurgents, anyone?], the well-meaning Americans risked simply making them more efficient engines of repression."
Observed Thomas, these counterinsurgency methods seemed, "certainly in theory, a better way to defeat communist movements in the Third World," from Vietnam to Cuba. "The actual experience, however, became a lesson to Robert Kennedy in the limits of power...."
RFK did indeed learn his lesson, and his following, all-too-brief years became a monument to spectacular character development and extraordinary intellectual growth.
Contrast his learning curve with what we have in the White House today, and the missing historical pieces explaining our failures in Afghanistan and Iraq fall into place.