Max Hastings: Lessons from Chilcot on the Atlantic Alliance
[The writer is an FT contributing editor.]
Tony Blair’s appearance on Friday before the Chilcot inquiry on the Iraq war conformed to expectations. It was an exercise in self-justification, indeed self-righteousness, at one with everything the former UK prime minister has said since 2003. It may be argued that no national leader can afford to apologise for mistakes of the highest importance. To do so would be to surrender to the vultures the carcass of his reputation.
I am among those sceptical about the merits of holding an Iraq inquest. Britain was the junior partner in a US adventure. No prominent American participants will testify, no Washington documentary evidence is available. The report of Sir John Chilcot and his colleagues will describe a train crash from the perspective of passengers. They can explain the process by which tickets were bought, the coach boarded. But the driver’s absence from the witness box seems an insurmountable impediment to reaching important conclusions.
Furthermore, the important realities have been plain for years. George W. Bush, former US president, and Mr Blair shared a moral and strategic enthusiasm for removing Saddam Hussein. They sincerely believed he possessed weapons of mass destruction. They took the risk of making these their casus belli because by no other means could they secure domestic political endorsements for military action. When the WMD case proved false and Iraq lapsed into bloody chaos, they were left naked before the court of public opinion and posterity.
The most important contribution of the Chilcot proceedings thus far is to emphasise how far British governance has become presidential rather than parliamentary. A host of witnesses – diplomats, civil servants, generals and ministers – have exposed their reservations about, even passionate objections to, the 2003 Iraq invasion. Britain went ahead anyway because one man, Mr Blair, was committed. Nobody was strong or brave enough to stop him. If all those who assert their opposition had declared it publicly at the time, or merely resigned in silence, Mr Blair could probably not have secured a parliamentary majority for war. But, with the exception of one middle-ranking Foreign Office lawyer and two leftwing ministers, the sceptics and dissenters voiced private misgivings then acquiesced.
It is an interesting question whether the Iraq experience means such Whitehall docility will be unforthcoming in a future international crisis. My own guess is that, once raw memories of this disaster fade, deference to the prime minister’s authority will remain the norm. A British national leader today possesses greater power over his own polity than does a US president over his.
Perhaps the most interesting and profitable field for investigation and speculation by Chilcot is that of Britain’s role in the Atlantic alliance. The memory is burnt on my brain of a moment in late 2002 when I heard one of the UK’s most prominent strategists express intense unhappiness about the Iraq commitment, then conclude with a sigh: “But if the Americans are determined to do this, we shall have to go with them.” His view was that Britain’s military linkage with the US was so fundamental to our foreign policy that we must fight willy-nilly. I believe this conviction, etched in the mindset of officials, diplomats and commanders since 1945, was the decisive influence on events.
Every British defence review and government strategy paper assumes we cannot take unilateral military action without US backing. Implicit is the fear that, should we flinch from supporting their cherished purposes, we shall forfeit theirs for our own. The inadequacy of European security policies, the refusal of EU partners to address defence in a credible fashion, reinforces such sentiment. If we are not with the Americans and they are not with us, goes the argument, we shall end up adrift in strategic limbo...
Read entire article at Financial Times (UK)
Tony Blair’s appearance on Friday before the Chilcot inquiry on the Iraq war conformed to expectations. It was an exercise in self-justification, indeed self-righteousness, at one with everything the former UK prime minister has said since 2003. It may be argued that no national leader can afford to apologise for mistakes of the highest importance. To do so would be to surrender to the vultures the carcass of his reputation.
I am among those sceptical about the merits of holding an Iraq inquest. Britain was the junior partner in a US adventure. No prominent American participants will testify, no Washington documentary evidence is available. The report of Sir John Chilcot and his colleagues will describe a train crash from the perspective of passengers. They can explain the process by which tickets were bought, the coach boarded. But the driver’s absence from the witness box seems an insurmountable impediment to reaching important conclusions.
Furthermore, the important realities have been plain for years. George W. Bush, former US president, and Mr Blair shared a moral and strategic enthusiasm for removing Saddam Hussein. They sincerely believed he possessed weapons of mass destruction. They took the risk of making these their casus belli because by no other means could they secure domestic political endorsements for military action. When the WMD case proved false and Iraq lapsed into bloody chaos, they were left naked before the court of public opinion and posterity.
The most important contribution of the Chilcot proceedings thus far is to emphasise how far British governance has become presidential rather than parliamentary. A host of witnesses – diplomats, civil servants, generals and ministers – have exposed their reservations about, even passionate objections to, the 2003 Iraq invasion. Britain went ahead anyway because one man, Mr Blair, was committed. Nobody was strong or brave enough to stop him. If all those who assert their opposition had declared it publicly at the time, or merely resigned in silence, Mr Blair could probably not have secured a parliamentary majority for war. But, with the exception of one middle-ranking Foreign Office lawyer and two leftwing ministers, the sceptics and dissenters voiced private misgivings then acquiesced.
It is an interesting question whether the Iraq experience means such Whitehall docility will be unforthcoming in a future international crisis. My own guess is that, once raw memories of this disaster fade, deference to the prime minister’s authority will remain the norm. A British national leader today possesses greater power over his own polity than does a US president over his.
Perhaps the most interesting and profitable field for investigation and speculation by Chilcot is that of Britain’s role in the Atlantic alliance. The memory is burnt on my brain of a moment in late 2002 when I heard one of the UK’s most prominent strategists express intense unhappiness about the Iraq commitment, then conclude with a sigh: “But if the Americans are determined to do this, we shall have to go with them.” His view was that Britain’s military linkage with the US was so fundamental to our foreign policy that we must fight willy-nilly. I believe this conviction, etched in the mindset of officials, diplomats and commanders since 1945, was the decisive influence on events.
Every British defence review and government strategy paper assumes we cannot take unilateral military action without US backing. Implicit is the fear that, should we flinch from supporting their cherished purposes, we shall forfeit theirs for our own. The inadequacy of European security policies, the refusal of EU partners to address defence in a credible fashion, reinforces such sentiment. If we are not with the Americans and they are not with us, goes the argument, we shall end up adrift in strategic limbo...