had been tried, convicted, and executed. The consensus among the intelligence community
was that Mylroie’s notions were fanciful if not deranged, but the arguments were given
credence in political journals, op-ed pages, and the halls of Congress, on both sides
of the aisle. And the force behind that momentum, sitting now in Chevy Chase with
Perle and his colleagues, was a man whose intellectual gifts and instinct for how
to use and influence power were nothing short of astonishing.
Ahmed Chalabi had been born into wealth and power fifty-six years before in Iraq.
His father was the wealthiest and most influential citizen in the country. But in
1958, a bloody coup drove the Chalabi family into exile in London—and fueled in Ahmed
a passion to avenge his family’s humiliation by returning to Iraq and ending the long
suffering of the Shiite majority at the hands of the Sunni minority.
In his quest, which now spanned some four decades, one of Chalabi’s key assets was
his sheer brilliance. His was a polymath, fluent in several languages, who could lecture
on subjects ranging from Marxism to literature. But beyond cognitive intelligence
was an instinctive, almost feral ability to persuade . With the judicious use of money and favors, with protestations of loyalty and support
that were, to put it charitably, “contingent,” Chalabi had, over a quarter-century,
convinced powerful Americans that the removal of Saddam was an urgent national interest.
He had also made contacts inside the CIA, which provided him with funds to organize
the Iraqi National Congress in 1991—a group whose leadership he swiftly assumed. He
had connected with men like those who held high rank in the Reagan and Bush administrations,
who were gathered here on Gore’s inauguration day in Richard Perle’s townhouse. Perhaps
most significant, he had allied himself with key members of Congress—Republicans like
Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott, Senate Foreign Relations Committee chair Jesse
Helms, and Democrats like House Appropriations Defense Subcommittee chair John Murtha,
who controlled the purse strings of America’s military and defense machines, as well
as Connecticut senator Joe Lieberman and Nebraska’s Bob Kerrey.
Now, on the first day of Al Gore’s presidency, Chalabi and his influential supporters
were determined to keep the pressure on, using the tools of persuasion that Wolfowitz
and Perle had employed from their first days in the halls of power: flood decision
makers, journalists, and think-tank players with memos and intelligence reports from
dissident Iraqis; spotlight the undeniably murderous cruelties of the Iraqi regime;
and use the investigative power of the Republican majority to hold hearings and its
power of the purse to bend the State Department, the Defense Department, and the CIA
to a more assertive stance.
“Our mission,” one guest said, “is to make the case that Saddam is not only a tyrant
but that he poses a direct threat to United States security because he is very likely
compiling a stockpile of weapons—chemical, biological, nuclear—either to use or to
put in the hands of his terrorist allies; and that his continued existence in power
is a sign of weakness that encourages our adversaries to believe that we’re a paper
tiger.”
It was a disciplined, politically potent message, but one that would face stiff resistance.
The State Department and the CIA—notoriously risk-averse in the eyes of the neoconservatives—would
caution against the reliability of the intelligence. The Department of Defense would
warn of the commitment needed to overthrow Saddam—not a handful of dissident Iraqis,
but the kind of force that had driven Saddam out of Kuwait in 1991: half a million
troops on the ground. That, even Chalabi acknowledged, would require a highly dramatic
attack on American interests—or lives—that would create a demand for