Before the Obama administration buys into General Stanley McChrystal’s escalation strategy, it might spend some time examining the August 12 battle of Dananeh, a scruffy little town of 2,000 perched at the entrance to the Naw Zad Valley in Afghanistan’s southern Helmand province.
Abdul Qadeer Khan is a now infamous character in the nuclear age, known as the father of Pakistan’s nuclear weapon along with being linked to spreading his nuclear know-how to several rogue states such as North Korea, Iran, and Libya. Gordon Corera’s book opens with a history of the man behind the myth, detailing his fervent desire to make Pakistan a strong, proud country after its humiliation at the hands of India’s army. This desire and perhaps a stroke of luck landed him in the field of nuclear research despite the fact that his professional training was in metallurgy. Once he acquired his nuclear proficiency and its potential for deterrence was understood, bringing that power into the hands of Pakistan was A.Q. Khan’s way of ensuring another military defeat would never happen again.
As President Obama and his advisors debate future troop levels for Afghanistan, a new report by the UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) muddies the water on one of the most important issues in the debate — the effects of Afghanistan’s drug production.
The United States has charted out its relationship with Pakistan for the next 10 years. The recently approved multi-billion-dollar U.S. economic and military aid packages for Pakistan, and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s recent visit there, suggest that this Pakistan policy will be much like the one Washington followed for the last 50 years. For their part, Pakistanis are unlikely to change their views of the United States and may even become more hostile.
Among other legacies of the Bush administration, President Obama must confront his predecessor’s use of the state secrets privilege. The state secrets doctrine protects information from disclosure when “there is a reasonable danger that compulsion of the evidence will expose matters which, in the interests of national security, should not be divulged.” It is typically applied during litigation, when one party seeks to obtain documents from its adversary though the discovery process and the government objects on national security grounds.
In 1945, the Truman administration’s historic decision to unleash atomic bombs on Japan challenged America’s values and shocked the world’s conscience. More recently, the Bush administration’s use of torture in the "war on terror" presents similar controversies. Despite the difference in era and method, the two stories reveal several disturbing parallels in how the U.S. government made and justified such landmark decisions.
A key facet of the Obama administration’s broader foreign policy strategy has been engaging with the Muslim world. This administration’s willingness to do so was welcomed as a beacon of hope across the globe and Obama’s speeches in the Middle East this spring brought long awaited overtures between America and Muslim communities.
When the United States adopted torture as a weapon in its “war on terror,” it was a turn to methods that shock the conscience, and when discovered, officials and their media surrogates went to great lengths to gain public acquiescence for their policies. It was not the first time the country betrayed its highest ideals, nor the first time U.S. citizens were led to deny that any betrayal had occurred. The United States had gone down the same road in 1945, when it used nuclear weapons to destroy two Japanese cities. One case involved the product of intensive scientific research, the other methods dating back hundreds of years, if not to prehistory. But in the way the U.S. government made and justified these fateful decisions, the two stories contain many disturbing parallels.
On the eighth anniversary of the launch of Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan, the spotlight is on the Obama administration’s evolving war strategy in a nation long known as the "graveyard of empires."
The actor Will Smith is no one’s image of a suicide bomber. With his boyish face, he has often played comic roles. Even as the last man on earth in I Am Legend, he retains a wise-cracking, ironic demeanor. And yet, surrounded by a horde of hyperactive vampires at the end of that film, Smith clasps a live grenade to his chest and throws himself at the enemy in a final burst of heroic sacrifice.