As a Foreign Service Officer with the State Department, Peter Van Buren served on two Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) in Iraq from 2009-2010 . At Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) Hammer and Falcon, his job was to help direct U.S. government funds to projects that would build the Iraqi economy, foster foreign investment, promote the rule of law, confront corruption, supply essential services, empower women, and help turn Iraq in a stable, democratic U.S. ally in the Middle East.
His book is comprised of over 40 chapters that cover a few major themes – the inner workings of the State Department, life on a FOB, and projects the PRT sponsored.
The inner workings of the State department was fascinating, showing how State approached the idea of rebuilding a nation torn down by two wars and economic sanctions over 22 years.
First, State didn’t really train anyone on the language, aside from 90 minutes of simple phrases. At the peak of PRT efforts in 2007, there were 610 personnel in 31 standalone PRTs and 13 ePRTs, of whom 29 people spoke Arabic. The choice to rely almost exclusively on local hire interpreters meant State could never really be sure what was being communicated.
Second, Van Buren explains he was “Unsure of the role, untrained in how to survive in war, and unclear what the point was.” while acknowledging that “9/11 changed everything,” the idea of inserting diplomats into an ongoing insurgency/civil war did not sit well, even if it was remi-required. Being unable to travel anywhere without an armed convoy escort severely limited his team’s ability to get ground-level perspectives.
Third, the training he did get was laughable. He was taught defensive driving, though he never drove. He learned how to fire a pistol, though he was never armed. He got a total of 15 days of training to lead a PRT with a team of contractors “in the midst of a shooting war.” Absent was any “history of the war and our policy, any review of past or current reconstruction projects, any information on military organization, acronyms, and rank structure, any lessons learned from the previous years’ work, or any idea what the hell a PRT was and what our job was going to be.”
The chapters about life on the FOB were reminiscent of my experience in Afghanistan, from the morning routines and the dining facilities to the suicides and rocket atacks.
However, the best chapters concern the community/construction projects that Van Buren's PRTs funded. With everyone in Iraq on a one-year rotation (and more importantly, *evaluation* cycle), short-term projects took precedence over longer-term issues like sanitation, power generation, or safe water. Not that this was necessarily the Embassy's fault -- security concerns prevented meaningful large-scale progess in these areas.
As a result, "lines of effort" were limited to what could be reported on "storyboards" -- single PowerPoint slides with one paragraph explanations. The military would do handouts to children, get a storyboard, and consider its "humanitarian" box checked.
As Thomas Ricks put it (though he was referring to generals), "One-year rotations meant officers came and went without seeing the consequences of their actions, enabling almost all to claim that they presided over progress." [Source]
For its part, State seemed to equate "progress" as "activity." It would sponsor a program to teach bee-keeping to widows (no joke), or provide them with sheep, and then rely on outside parties to select the widows it would assist. It didn't matter that the "widows" happened to all be family members of a sngle sheik -- what mattered was that whatever action taken was reportable.
From the first chapter, Van Buren describes many of these projects. Somehow, somewhere, somebody had an idea to provide an $88,000 container of American literature -- translated into Arabic, at least -- to Iraqi schoolchildren. The ideas was that that, being more literate, they could have a better future. On paper, that sounds like a great idea.
But Iraq already has a centralized school curriculum, and American literature does not figure heavily in it. No school would accept the books, even though they were free. In the end, one school accepted them, on the condition that they wouldn't be the ones to load the truck they provided -- Van Buren was among those who got to do that. A while later, they heard that -- failing to find a buyer on the black market -- the principal just dumped the books behind the school.
As explained in the chapters titled "Everyone was Looking the Other Way" and "Promises to Keep," the Embassy's shifting focus skewed project selection. "The Doura Art Show" was a perenniel favorite (with its four community "rebirths" from 2007 to 2010), but despite its quantifiable, positive impact the Zafraniyah women's health climic was discontinued after the Embassy announced that women's centers were not a "prudent investment."
Security was an ongoing limitation. One project involved compiling a Yellow Pages of local businesses, but distribution was a problem -- they couldn't exactly take the military convoy around to pass out books to each individual residence. They ended up paying a local contractor $7 a copy to distribute. (And if the book project is any indication, they all probably got "distributed" in one stop.)
So after some $60 billion (less the 3%, or $1.8 billion recovered through audits and investigations) we spent in Iraq, what did we get? The country is no safer for us. Even now, the State Department offers a 30-35% Danger Pay and a 25-30% hardship differential for its posts in Baghdad.
Van Buren got fired, which is a shame, but it doesn't really suprise me. In his acknowledgements, he includes, "Not thanks really but a special notice to Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice, who led an organization I once cared deeply for into a swamp and abandoned us there." You can't really do that to the bosses and expect to stay employed.
Even so, he seems to be doing well as a free agent. His Huffington Post blog and book deals seem to be keeping him busy, and according to the same source, he'll be retirerd -- not fired -- from State.
We Meant Well is a great book for understanding 1.) what life on a FOB Iraq was like, 2.) how the State Department works, and 3.) what happens when short-tour government employees with billions in cash are pushed to show progress. Veterans of the U.S. military have written a bunch of books about Iraq, but not so much with the State Department.
This work of catharsis cost the author his job, which (to me) makes its value all the dearer.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Review: We Meant Well
As a Foreign Service Officer with the State Department, Peter Van Buren served on two Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs) in Iraq from 2009-2010 . At Forward Operating Bases (FOBs) Hammer and Falcon, his job was to help direct U.S. government funds to projects that would build the Iraqi economy, foster foreign investment, promote the rule of law, confront corruption, supply essential services, empower women, and help turn Iraq in a stable, democratic U.S. ally in the Middle East.
His book is comprised of over 40 chapters that cover a few major themes – the inner workings of the State Department, life on a FOB, and projects the PRT sponsored.
The inner workings of the State department was fascinating, showing how State approached the idea of rebuilding a nation torn down by two wars and economic sanctions over 22 years.
First, State didn’t really train anyone on the language, aside from 90 minutes of simple phrases. At the peak of PRT efforts in 2007, there were 610 personnel in 31 standalone PRTs and 13 ePRTs, of whom 29 people spoke Arabic. The choice to rely almost exclusively on local hire interpreters meant State could never really be sure what was being communicated.
Second, Van Buren explains he was “Unsure of the role, untrained in how to survive in war, and unclear what the point was.” while acknowledging that “9/11 changed everything,” the idea of inserting diplomats into an ongoing insurgency/civil war did not sit well, even if it was remi-required. Being unable to travel anywhere without an armed convoy escort severely limited his team’s ability to get ground-level perspectives.
Third, the training he did get was laughable. He was taught defensive driving, though he never drove. He learned how to fire a pistol, though he was never armed. He got a total of 15 days of training to lead a PRT with a team of contractors “in the midst of a shooting war.” Absent was any “history of the war and our policy, any review of past or current reconstruction projects, any information on military organization, acronyms, and rank structure, any lessons learned from the previous years’ work, or any idea what the hell a PRT was and what our job was going to be.”
The chapters about life on the FOB were reminiscent of my experience in Afghanistan, from the morning routines and the dining facilities to the suicides and rocket atacks.
However, the best chapters concern the community/construction projects that Van Buren's PRTs funded. With everyone in Iraq on a one-year rotation (and more importantly, *evaluation* cycle), short-term projects took precedence over longer-term issues like sanitation, power generation, or safe water. Not that this was necessarily the Embassy's fault -- security concerns prevented meaningful large-scale progess in these areas.
As a result, "lines of effort" were limited to what could be reported on "storyboards" -- single PowerPoint slides with one paragraph explanations. The military would do handouts to children, get a storyboard, and consider its "humanitarian" box checked.
As Thomas Ricks put it (though he was referring to generals), "One-year rotations meant officers came and went without seeing the consequences of their actions, enabling almost all to claim that they presided over progress." [Source]
For its part, State seemed to equate "progress" as "activity." It would sponsor a program to teach bee-keeping to widows (no joke), or provide them with sheep, and then rely on outside parties to select the widows it would assist. It didn't matter that the "widows" happened to all be family members of a sngle sheik -- what mattered was that whatever action taken was reportable.
From the first chapter, Van Buren describes many of these projects. Somehow, somewhere, somebody had an idea to provide an $88,000 container of American literature -- translated into Arabic, at least -- to Iraqi schoolchildren. The ideas was that that, being more literate, they could have a better future. On paper, that sounds like a great idea.
But Iraq already has a centralized school curriculum, and American literature does not figure heavily in it. No school would accept the books, even though they were free. In the end, one school accepted them, on the condition that they wouldn't be the ones to load the truck they provided -- Van Buren was among those who got to do that. A while later, they heard that -- failing to find a buyer on the black market -- the principal just dumped the books behind the school.
As explained in the chapters titled "Everyone was Looking the Other Way" and "Promises to Keep," the Embassy's shifting focus skewed project selection. "The Doura Art Show" was a perenniel favorite (with its four community "rebirths" from 2007 to 2010), but despite its quantifiable, positive impact the Zafraniyah women's health climic was discontinued after the Embassy announced that women's centers were not a "prudent investment."
Security was an ongoing limitation. One project involved compiling a Yellow Pages of local businesses, but distribution was a problem -- they couldn't exactly take the military convoy around to pass out books to each individual residence. They ended up paying a local contractor $7 a copy to distribute. (And if the book project is any indication, they all probably got "distributed" in one stop.)
So after some $60 billion (less the 3%, or $1.8 billion recovered through audits and investigations) we spent in Iraq, what did we get? The country is no safer for us. Even now, the State Department offers a 30-35% Danger Pay and a 25-30% hardship differential for its posts in Baghdad.
Van Buren got fired, which is a shame, but it doesn't really suprise me. In his acknowledgements, he includes, "Not thanks really but a special notice to Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice, who led an organization I once cared deeply for into a swamp and abandoned us there." You can't really do that to the bosses and expect to stay employed.
Even so, he seems to be doing well as a free agent. His Huffington Post blog and book deals seem to be keeping him busy, and according to the same source, he'll be retirerd -- not fired -- from State.
We Meant Well is a great book for understanding 1.) what life on a FOB Iraq was like, 2.) how the State Department works, and 3.) what happens when short-tour government employees with billions in cash are pushed to show progress. Veterans of the U.S. military have written a bunch of books about Iraq, but not so much with the State Department.
This work of catharsis cost the author his job, which (to me) makes its value all the dearer.
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