The elections produced a national assembly, which named a committee to draft the constitution. In August, the Iraqis reached agreement on the most progressive constitution in the Arab world—a document that guaranteed equal rights for all and protected the freedoms of religion, assembly, and expression. When the voters went to the polls on October 15, the turnout was even larger than it was in January. Violence was lower. More Sunnis voted. The constitution was ratified 79 percent to 21 percent.
The third election of the year, held in December, was to replace the interim assembly with a permanent legislature. Once again, Iraqis defied terrorist threats. Nearly twelve million people—a turnout of more than 70 percent—cast their ballots. This time Sunnis participated in overwhelming numbers. One voter stuck his ink-stained finger in the air and shouted, “This is a thorn in the eyes of the terrorists.”
With absentee Iraqi voters in the Oval Office. White House/Paul Morse
I was proud of our troops and thrilled for the Iraqis. With the three elections of 2005, they had accomplished a major milestone on the path to democracy. I was hopeful the political progress would isolate the insurgents and allow our troops to pick off al Qaeda fighters one by one. After all the sadness and sacrifice, there was genuine reason for optimism.
The Askariya shrine at the Golden Mosque of Samarra is considered one of the holiest sites in Shia Islam. It contains the tombs of two revered imams who were father and grandfather to the hidden imam, a savior the Shia believe will restore justice to humanity.
On February 22, 2006, two massive bombs destroyed the mosque. The attack was an enormous provocation to the Shia, akin to an attack on St. Peter’s Basilica or the Western Wall. “This is the equivalent of your 9/11,” the influential Shia leader Abdul Aziz al Hakim told me.
I thought back to the letter Zarqawi had written to al Qaeda leaders in 2004, in which he proposed to incite a war between Iraqi Shia and Sunnis. While there were some immediate reprisal attacks, the violence did not seem to be spiraling out of control. I was relieved. The Shia had shown restraint, and I encouraged them to continue. In a speech on March 13, I said the Iraqis had “looked into the abyss and did not like what they saw.”
I was wrong. By early April, sectarian violence had exploded. Roving bands of Shia gunmen kidnapped and murdered innocent Sunnis. Sunnis responded with suicide bombings in Shia areas. The crisis was exacerbated by the lack of a strong Iraqi government. Parties had been jockeying for position since the December election. That was a natural part of democracy, but with the violence escalating, Iraq needed a strong leader. I directed Condi and Ambassador Zal Khalilzad—who had moved from Kabul to Baghdad—to lean hard on the Iraqis to select a prime minister. Four months after the election, they made a surprise choice: Nouri al Maliki.
With Zal Khalilzad (left) and Nouri al Maliki. White House/Eric Draper
A dissident who had been sentenced to death by Saddam, Maliki had lived in exile in Syria. I called him the day he was selected. Since he had no secure phone, he was at the U.S. embassy. “Mr. President, here’s the new prime minister,” Zal said.
“Thanks,” I said, “but stay on the phone a little longer so the prime minister will know how close you and I are.”
“Congratulations, Mr. Prime Minister,” I said when Maliki got on. “I want you to know the United States is fully committed to democracy in Iraq. We will work together to defeat the terrorists and support the Iraqi people. Lead with confidence.”
Maliki was friendly and sincere, but he was a political novice. I made clear I wanted a close personal relationship. So did he. In the months ahead, we spoke frequently by phone and videoconference. I was careful not to bully him or appear heavy-handed. I wanted him to consider me a partner, maybe a mentor. He would get plenty of pressure from others. From me he would get advice and understanding. Once I had earned his trust, I would be in a better position to help him make the tough decisions.
I hoped the formation of the Maliki government would provide a break in the violence. It didn’t. The reports of sectarian killings grew more gruesome. Death squads conducted brazen kidnappings. Iran supplied militants with funding, training, and highly sophisticated Explosively Formed Projectiles (EFPs) to kill our troops. Iraqis retreated into their sectarian foxholes, looking for protection wherever they could find it.
Our ground commander in Iraq was General George Casey, an experienced four-star general who had commanded troops in Bosnia and served as vice chief of staff of the Army. Don Rumsfeld had recommended him for the Iraq command when General Ricardo Sanchez stepped down in the summer of 2004.
Before George deployed to Baghdad, Laura and I invited him and his wife, Sheila, to dinner at the White House. We were joined by Ambassador to Iraq John Negroponte**—an experienced and skilled diplomat who had volunteered for the job—and his wife, Diana. George gave me a biography of legendary football coach Vince Lombardi. George had worked as an equipment manager for the Washington Redskins during Lombardi’s final season. The gift was telling. Like the coach he admired, George was not flashy or glamorous. He was a solid, straightforward commander—a “block of granite,” as Lombardi was once known.
General Casey—like General Abizaid and Don Rumsfeld—was convinced our troop presence created a sense of occupation, which inflamed violence and fueled the insurgency. For two and a half years, I had supported the strategy of withdrawing our forces as the Iraqis stepped forward. But in the months after the Samarra bombing, I had started to question whether our approach matched the reality on the ground. The sectarian violence had not erupted because our footprint was too big. It had happened because al Qaeda had provoked it. And with the Iraqis struggling to stand up, it didn’t seem possible for us to stand down.
Everyone on the national security team shared my concerns about the deteriorating conditions. But it was my national security adviser, Steve Hadley, who was first to help me find a solution.
Steve came to my attention during the 2000 campaign, when he was part of the foreign policy advisory group assembled by Condi. Steve was a reluctant public figure. Yet when he was placed before the camera, his scholarly demeanor and logical presentation carried great credibility. Behind the scenes, he was thoughtful and steady. He listened, synthesized, and pondered without brooding. He articulated options clearly. Once I had reached a decision, he knew how to work with the team to implement it.
Steve is a formal person. He would board the airplane for long overseas flights in his tie, sleep in his tie, and emerge with a crisp knot still in place. He once volunteered for cedar chopping at the ranch. His job was to pile up cut branches. He performed the task meticulously, effectively, and in his brogan shoes. Behind the formality, Steve is a kind, selfless, humorous man. I spent many weekends at Camp David with him and his wife, Ann. The two have a great love affair. Both are cerebral. Both are hikers. And both are great parents to their two lovely girls.
With Steve Hadley. White House/Eric Draper
I met with Steve almost every morning of my second term. After a particularly rough day in the spring of 2006, we reviewed the blue sheet at the Resolute desk. I shook my head and glanced up. Steve was shaking his head, too.