November 26, 2005

PHONEY WAR describes the period of unreal peace — sometimes lengthy — before a widely expected war actually starts. Those who were then alive remember very keenly the phoney war at the start of the Second World War. The Gospels speak of "wars and rumours of wars" and people who live through both know that rumour of war can be as edgy a time as the real thing; sometimes more so.

Oddly enough, rumour of armistice can be equally unsettling. The phoney peace — the period after the likely outcome of a conflict has become apparent, but before hostilities have actually ceased — is often protracted and nerve-racking. This is especially true for dispirited troops, and for those who worry for them. Whatever they do will not alter the outcome, yet they are in as much personal danger as if the war were in an early and critical phase. They can still die, but without the comfort that their sacrifice could have made any difference. Those they leave behind will be haunted in bereavement by the feeling that their fallen fell pointlessly.

Of course commanding officers and the politicians who lead them have ready the sort of pep talk that must rightly serve. We could all write it. "Steady as she goes . . . leave in a timely and ordered manner . . . chaos if we jump the gun . . . highest duty to see things through to the bitter end . . ."

. . . But bitter indeed for those who fall when that end is in sight. They perished when nothing (it seemed) made any difference anyway.

This may not be logical but it is how people feel. Until that point when a nation thinks it can see how a conflict will be resolved, we can tell ourselves that because we thought our cause right, because we did not know how things would end and because victory might have depended on our efforts, the fight was noble, whatever history may later say of its chances. That "history" should "speak" may sound colourful but it is how people think.

In Iraq I believe history will soon have spoken. Therefore, the reputations of the politicians leading the coalition powers are entering an exceptionally dangerous phase: dangerous in a new way.

My view runs counter to a consensus emerging among many commentators. The consensus (both among those who supported and opposed the invasion of Iraq) is persuasive. It says that in terms of political "capital", there is little left to be gained or lost from Iraq as a domestic controversy in Britain and America. It accepts that the outlook in Iraq itself is not encouraging, but questions what further impact this is likely to have on the fortunes of those who led the invasion.

A core of opinion (says this consensus) holds that the invasion was a crime and a blunder; the other core holds that it was the right thing to do; both cores are now fairly impregnable to impact from future facts. Everybody agrees that what’s done is done; and those who turned against their political leaders because of the war have done so already. Anti-war parties have already taken their profits from the investment they made in opposing the war; pro-war parties like new Labour and the Conservatives have already taken their knocks. Hostilities may or may not continue, but domestic politics has moved on. The Iraq factor can therefore be more or less removed from domestic contests still to come.

To join me in challenging this consensus you will have to accept my unspoken main premise: that nobody seriously now thinks the invasion and occupation of Iraq was a good idea or is going anywhere useful. You will not lack for evidence against my view. Take Tony Blair. Probably he thinks he thinks he was right, though I doubt anyone else in the Cabinet does. Among the commentariat, admirable figures such as David Aaronovitch, Michael Gove, Daniel Finkelstein and whoever writes the leading articles for this newspaper and others remain as gallant as they are eloquent in their support for the war and occupation.

But people have unconscious minds and a nation has a collective unconscious. It is possible to consult an unconscious mind but you must be armed not with a questionnaire and a pencil, but a tape recorder and stop-watch. Don’t ask "Are we right: yes or no?" or the conscious man will at once tick the "yes" box. Ask instead: "Imagine you were to wake up tomorrow and realise all this invasion of Iraq stuff had just been a dream. Would your waking thought be 'Aargh! Bad news. We aren’t in Iraq after all. We must occupy that country at once — no time to lose!’ Is that what you’d think?"

Even to that question, expect the conscious man, if he’s on record as supporting the war, to work out that logic requires a "yes". Ignore his answer. Instead, time the delay before he gives it, and listen for the hesitation in his voice. Here is the unconscious mind speaking. All the rest is a mix of pride, loyalty, self-justification and the urge to sound consistent.

Come on, chaps. It proved a mistake and in your hearts you know it. In return for your admitting as much, we who opposed the war should concede with better grace than we have, that you who supported it genuinely followed conscience and intellect in the stand you took. It might have worked out; it might have achieved its aim; that did seem possible. At one time even I thought success quite likely.

Through all that period our political leaders have a strong defence in the dock of history: their war was for aims that seemed achievable and in which they profoundly believed. A president or prime minister may rightly send men to die in such a war, and with a clear conscience. The men, if they have chosen to be soldiers, may be expected to face death knowing that they are part of a force which may change the world for the better, sent by their masters in good faith.

But what when that belief has gone? Among the most idiotic questions that polling organisations have put to the public was "Should our troops stay in Iraq until liberal democracy is safe in Iraq’s own hands?" Well of course — if that is an available prize.

But is it? That is the only question. This winter there will be the slow shifting of our collective conscious mind as a nation behind the position already occupied by our collective unconscious: that the war is lost. The occupation didn’t work. Only the order of retreat remains to be settled.

That will create a new situation. Any suggestion that the pullout is being delayed for reasons of political pride, that the timetable is being driven by a need to protect prime ministers’ rears and that the dignity of politicians rather than safety of troops are what’s most important at stake, will be desperately destructive of reputations. That London is ready to withdraw but Washington is not, leaving the British contingent stranded in Basra against the better judgment of our own ministers would be a serious charge.

The allegation that London and Washington are letting events take their course, preferring to shift with a shifting popular consensus, rather than anticipate it, saving the lives of troops and cutting losses, is a grave one. So is the charge that London is waiting for Washington to move.

It is a mite early to make such allegations. Maybe Jalal Talabani, the President of Iraq, did not really believe his preposterous claim that the Iraqi army could be ready next year to replace ours — but was reflecting coalition partners’ private resolve to withdraw, ready or not.

I hope so. Whenever we leave, Iraq will not be ready. The longer we stay the more of our people will die. Phoney peaces take real lives and they will cost more politically than lives lost in a battle still undecided. Stand not upon the order of your going, London and Washington, but go.