by Leon Panetta
5. Finally, we would make key investments, recognizing that even as parts of our operation shrank, new demands required us to expand others. Special operations forces would grow; we would add unmanned systems and intelligence capabilities; we’d invest in cyber warfare, both offensive and defensive; and we would continue the development of space-based systems.
Those principles drove certain decisions that made up our new strategy. We moved to reduce the size of the army to 490,000 troops within five years—a less severe cut than some had sought but one that brought it to the lowest level since 9/11, reflecting our determination to no longer serve as an occupying force in two locations simultaneously. We killed some weapons systems and found economical alternatives to some surveillance aircraft. We considered eliminating an aircraft carrier group, but elected to keep it, though we did trim the number of new ships we would buy. And we found money for new investments in cyber security, special operations forces, and new technologies.
By far the most important strategic decision we made was to rebalance the focus of our military toward the Asia-Pacific region. The rebalance reflected priorities outlined by the president and by Secretary Clinton to effectuate an overall “pivot” to the Asia-Pacific region. That meant sending more troops and naval forces to the area. Until then, our fleets were divided roughly fifty-fifty between the Atlantic and Pacific. Once it was complete, we aimed to deploy about 60 percent in Asia and 40 percent in the Atlantic region—a decision I announced on June 2, 2012, at the annual gathering of Asia defense leaders at the Shangri-La Hotel in Singapore.
In announcing this new orientation, I began by emphasizing the common interests of the United States and its Asian allies: stability, security, prosperity. Ever since it reached the West Coast in the nineteenth century, I emphasized, the United States has “been a Pacific nation.” I stressed the value of partnerships and presence and sought to reassure any doubters that our commitment would survive our budget challenges. “Through times of war, times of peace, under Democratic and Republican leaders and administrations, through rancor and comity in Washington, through surplus and through debt, we were there then, we are here now, and we will be here for the future,” I concluded. Our partners were encouraged—and relieved.
Those were the mainstays of our new defense strategy, but just as important as the substance was the process. First, I held numerous meetings with our senior military and civilian leaders to get not only their input but their buy-in. Involving them in the process ensured that they would be advocates for the outcome. Even more important, President Obama participated throughout—rare for a commander in chief on a matter of strategic planning—and thus not only approved of the result but also had a direct hand in shaping it. He hosted a series of meetings to develop the strategy in the Oval Office and Situation Room, and he invited all the combatant commanders, service secretaries, service chiefs, and civilian leaders to join him in the East Room, where the president called on each of the twenty or so participants and asked for their input. In those sessions, he insisted that at the end of the process we remain the strongest military in the world, but he embraced the goals of the strategy—he was, for instance, a strong supporter of the rebalance to Asia—and he helped refine other aspects of the proposal. Above all, he insisted that troops be protected—I could see in his adamancy the influence of the first lady and Dr. Jill Biden, both of whom were leading efforts to care for military families—and he made the brave call that we could afford to reduce the size of our armed services. Cutting back the size of the military is hard for any president, especially a Democrat, but President Obama was persuaded by the idea that we needed a new type of military for a new mission. His engagement shaped the outcome, and his support made it possible.
• • •
In February 2010, the president had agreed to add Anwar al-Awlaki to the list of approved targets, concluding that he was a high-level Al Qaeda operative, that he was directing attacks against the United States, and that he was thus a military enemy of his native country. As noted earlier, congressional officials were advised of this on February 5, 2011. Though the Awlaki case was different from most of those targeted in that he was an American citizen, the underlying rationale—that he was an enemy combatant waging war against the United States—was identical, and that position was supported by the Justice Department.
Adding him to the target list and actually finding him, however, were two different things. He was difficult for U.S. officials to track down. At one point he was expected at a wedding of an associate; either he didn’t show or U.S. officials couldn’t spot him.
Awlaki was an inspirational figure urging followers to take up arms against the United States; one of those who had, Major Nidal Malik Hasan, committed the Fort Hood attack that left thirteen dead in 2009. Hasan was, according to Awlaki, a “hero” and a “man of conscience.”7 More important, Awlaki was not merely a motivational speaker, whose comments, however vile or incendiary, deserved protection as free speech. He was directly connected to the assassination attempt on bin Nayef and the attempted downing of the airliner on Christmas Day 2009. The bomber in the latter attack, Abdulmutallab, had traveled to Yemen to meet Awlaki, who approved his mission and directed him to carry it out over the United States. Awlaki had also devised a plan to blow up cargo planes over the United States. He was an active terrorist conducting ongoing attacks on America.
On September 30, 2011, the Pentagon received word that U.S. operators had located Awlaki in Jawf Province, one of the more remote areas of Yemen. Awlaki was part of a small group of men eating their breakfast. Apparently hearing the drones overhead, they ran for their trucks, though not fast enough. The missiles were fired, the trucks destroyed. Awlaki and a second American, Samir Khan, were killed (Khan was not a target, and U.S. operators did not know he was there at the time).
In the aftermath, there was much debate over whether America has the legal or moral right to kill American citizens abroad. The American Civil Liberties Union filed a lawsuit naming me as its lead defendant and charging that the U.S. government was carrying out “deliberate and premeditated killings” and that those killings were “unlawful.” According to the ACLU, the killing of Awlaki specifically was illegal because his actions did not pose a “concrete, specific, and imminent threat of death or serious physical injury.”8
I’m more often allied with the ACLU than not, but in this case I didn’t buy either its analysis or its assessment of Awlaki. He actively and repeatedly took action to kill Americans and instill fear. He did not just exercise his rights of speech, but rather worked directly to plant bombs on planes and in cars, specifically intending those to detonate on or above American soil. He devoted his adult life to murdering his fellow citizens, and he was continuing that work at the time of his death. His case was reviewed at the highest levels of American government, and no action was taken against him until it had been approved by the president and shared with the relevant members of Congress.
A police officer who confronts an armed suspect has the right and obligation to shoot if that suspect is about to kill someone else, irrespective of that suspect’s nationality or citizenship. Surely the members of our military and intelligence forces have that same obligation. We too protect Americans, and Awlaki was an armed and dangerous suspect.
• • •
The Awlaki operation was the subject of much debate, and properly so. Unfortunately, however, much of that conversation has focused narrowly on the technology employed—what is so often and misleadingly referred to as the nation’s “drone program.”
When I returned to government service in 2009, the place of drones within the larger effort against Al Qaeda was a barely discussed aspect of the Bush administration’s approach. In fact, I was largely unaware of it until I moved to take up my new duties. Since that time, the discussion gradually has broadened. President Obama himself, on May 23, 2013, described in considerable detail our use of drones and the ca
re we were taking to minimize civilian casualties. He expanded on that discussion in a series of interviews and during his speech at West Point in May 2014. As the world now knows, these operations are authorized by the president, overseen by Congress, and carried out by the U.S. government. And as the president has described, the intelligence community plays an important role in finding targets and fixing their locations.
But the singular preoccupation with drones distracts from the larger context of the struggle we are waging. Yes, the United States possesses and uses drones to target senior Al Qaeda leaders who are otherwise beyond our reach to capture. And yes, I appreciate the fascination with technology. Advances in weapon design often are captivating—witness the crowds at the annual Rose Parade as they gasp when the Stealth bombers pass overhead.
But to call our campaign against Al Qaeda a “drone program” is a little like calling World War I a “machine gun program.” Technology has always been an aspect of war: The North developed repeating rifles to use against the South in the Civil War; machine guns and tanks debuted in World War I; the Allies used radar, code-breaking, and nuclear weapons to defeat Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan during World War II. Those breakthroughs saved American lives and secured historic victories, though sometimes at great cost.
Today, as with those historical examples, what is most crucial is not the size of the missile or the ability to deploy it from thousands of miles away; what matters far more are the rules of law and engagement. Again, those rules reflect painstaking consideration across the government; they require presidential authorization, specific policies approved by the National Security Council, intelligence collection, and analysis by a number of agencies, legal opinions, and reviews and congressional oversight. Those legal standards in turn reflect the basic values that guide this work, and those who are involved in debating and constructing those rules work zealously to protect the values—notably the minimization of risk to American lives and those of noncombatants—that they express.
Some of my colleagues in the Obama administration argued that these operations were far too secretive and that they should be conducted with full public explanation of each operation. One official even suggested that we send out press releases with each strike. I certainly agree with President Obama that we need to be far more transparent in the way we explain our drone policy. However, I also believe that certain operational details need to remain secret. The president, as commander in chief, needs a range of tools to defend the nation, and secrecy is one of those tools.
In addition, drone strikes have been well managed within the executive branch. Changing the chain of command or creating a new interagency bureaucratic process would have sharply reduced our agility, eroded our effectiveness, and taken the pressure off the enemy. These operations fundamentally are driven by information, which can change or disappear in moments. Careful planning and then lightning speed in execution have been the keys to our success.
Moreover, just because the operations weren’t announced publicly did not mean that they were kept secret within the government or that they were conducted with impunity. Congress and the White House were extensively informed. The director of national intelligence and the White House staff were briefed every morning after an operation. The key congressional committees received notifications on every operation and were even provided video when requested. Occasionally, when an especially high-value target came into view or where there were complicating circumstances, White House officials were consulted in advance of making a decision.
At one point in 2009, the president chaired a meeting to review drone operations: how they were conducted, the precise criteria for action, and how the agencies involved worked to minimize the risk of harm to noncombatants. Those with principal responsibility for this work laid it all out for the president, with maps and videos, over the course of two hours. The president was impressed, both with the success and by the care with which these missions were conducted. The operations continued and accelerated under President Obama.
I recognize that the public was not privy to those conversations, but the checks and balances of our government ensured that these operations were subjected to appropriate scrutiny while still keeping details out of the hands of our enemies.
And yet, as the president recognized that day and has since publicly acknowledged, this is an area admittedly fraught with complexity: When an American missile snuffs out an avowed enemy of this country, lives are both lost and saved.* A terrorist who is committed to blowing up an airplane or destroying a skyscraper is eliminated, and those he would have killed are spared his brutality. At the same time, a young person who loses a father or a brother, who digs out the embers of a relative from the smoking wreckage of a Hellfire missile may be radicalized, may turn his anger against those who killed his loved one. It is a hard business of agonizing choices. In the world of theory, it is easy to be certain. In the world as it is, many brave men and women risk their lives to protect others from danger, and every decision is subject to dispute.
As with enhanced interrogation, the use of drones provokes strong feelings and strenuous debate in our nation. It should. But as with the interrogation discussion, it’s important to recognize that neither side has a monopoly on reason. Relying too heavily for too long on technology that spies down from above and can unleash deadly force from half a world away surely reinforces a worrisome image of malevolent American omniscience. Moreover, this technology is rapidly spreading across the world. Americans would undoubtedly recoil if China, for instance, were to spot a dissident in Mexico and eliminate him with a missile.
To be clear, however, there also would be consequences to not using this technology. Because it represents our only reach into certain parts of the world, refusing to take advantage of it would concede those regions to those who are actively plotting and engineering violence against our country. A training camp in Yemen can produce just as many steely fanatics as one in Afghanistan. A bomb built in Somalia is just as explosive as one built in Los Angeles. If those who are working to harm Americans have safe harbor in which to train, plot, build, and deploy, they will.
In addition, the technology of these devices is in some ways frightening but in others reassuring and even protective. They kill more precisely than bombs; they expose American soldiers to little if any danger; they allow the United States to locate and eliminate dangerous enemies with minimal risk of unintended casualties, not only to Americans but also to those who find themselves in the vicinity of terrorists who are targeted. That precision can be chilling, but surely it is more desirable to kill a single terrorist than to eliminate him by wiping out an entire village. All of which argues not only for the effectiveness of unmanned aerial vehicles but also for their morality.
As America grapples with the implications of drone warfare, the conversation should comprehend two important truths: To use drones too much, too often, or without careful consideration is to invite the world’s condemnation; to use them too little or not at all is to give our enemies free rein. Our experience makes clear what they will do with that latitude.
War in the twenty-first century is no longer confined to the battlefield. The enemy we are confronting is capable of using an IED, a suicide vest, a hijacked airplane, a car bomb, or an attack on a shopping mall. We also face the potential of more traditional enemies, those who may threaten us with missiles, bombers, and ships. Faced with such diverse threats, we must be able to respond with the best-trained, best-equipped forces we can field. We are the strongest power on Earth. The key to that power is not only in the technology we have, but also in our people, and, most important, in the values that guide our action.
We must not be forced to choose between security and our values. We can and we must preserve both.
• • •
Through the fall of 2011, the main question facing the American military in Iraq was what our role would be now that combat operations had come to
a conclusion. When President Obama announced the end of our combat mission in August 2010, he’d acknowledged that we would maintain troops for a while. As he put it, “Going forward, a transitional force of U.S. troops will remain in Iraq with a different mission: advising and assisting Iraq’s security forces; supporting Iraqi troops in targeted counterterrorism missions; and protecting our civilians. Consistent with our agreement with the Iraqi government, all U.S. troops will leave by the end of next year.”9 Now that the deadline was upon us, however, it was clear to me—and many others—that withdrawing all our forces would endanger the fragile stability then barely holding Iraq together.
Privately, the various leadership factions in Iraq all confided that they wanted some U.S. forces to remain as a bulwark against sectarian violence. But none were willing to take that position publicly, and Prime Minister Maliki concluded that any Status of Forces Agreement, which would give legal protection to those forces, would have to be submitted to the Iraqi parliament for its approval. That made reaching agreement very difficult given the internal politics of Iraq, but representatives of the Defense and State departments, with close scrutiny from the White House, continued to try to negotiate a deal.
We had leverage. We could, for instance, have threatened to withdraw reconstruction aid to Iraq if Maliki would not support some sort of continued U.S. military presence. My fear, as I voiced to the president and others, was that if the country split apart or slid back into the pervasive violence that we’d experienced in the years immediately following the U.S. invasion, it could become a new haven for terrorists to plot attacks against the United States. Iraq’s stability thus, in my view, was not only in Iraq’s interest but in ours. With that in mind, I privately and publicly advocated leaving behind a residual force that could provide training and security for Iraq’s military.
