that drew the United States further into the region.
In the mid-1980s, as the Deputy Assistant Secretary for Intelligence at the State Department, I produced a series of analyses of the cost to the Soviet Union of fighting the proxy wars in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Angola, Mozambique, and Afghanistan. We had only estimates, inferences, of the effect on the Kremlin treasury. Nonetheless, even the low-end guesses would place a serious burden on what was already a badly underperforming Soviet economy. That was, of course, what President Reagan and CIA director Bill Casey had hoped, that by turning the tables, going on the counteroffensive in the proxy wars and by rapidly increasing our own defense spending, America could force the Kremlin to respond in ways that would overtax the Soviet economy.
Afghanistan offered Reagan and Casey their best opportunity to drain the other superpower. Moscow had overcommitted there. Rather than just manipulate the Kabul government and secure the area around the capital, after invading in late 1979, the Red Army had decided to pacify the country. It was a major deployment for which they were not ready, equipped, or trained. The initial fighting showed the weaknesses of the Red Armyâs conscript divisions, but Moscow had responded with Spetsnaz Special Forces and Airborne troops. They began to employ heavily armed helicopters and new close-support aircraft, which were beginning in 1985 to have devastating effects.
Yet, despite their rhetoric, the Reagan administration had not significantly funded the Afghan resistance. The Afghan war analysts on my staff kept numerical indicators of the fighting, as well as anecdotal information on the spirit of the Afghan fighters. By 1985 the analysts were growing concerned that the tide had shifted in favor of Moscow.
My boss and mentor was a career ambassador, but hardly from central casting. Morton Abramowitz filled his darkened office with cigar smoke, and left ashes in his wake. He was oblivious to the fact that what little hair he had was often standing straight up. He had saved hundreds of thousands of Cambodians when, as U.S. Ambassador to Thailand, he had initiated a cross-border feeding program. Later, as Ambassador to Turkey, he would be responsible for starting a similar effort to save the Kurds in the wake of the First Gulf War. He focused not on appearances, but on getting things done.
âDonât just tell me weâre losing, Clarke, tell me what the fuck to do about it.â That was how Abramowitz received our analysis of the shifting tide in Afghanistan.
Our analysis had focused on the Hind-D helicopter as being the thing that had worked for the Soviets. Afghan bullets bounced off its armor plate, while the helicopterâs rockets ripped apart the hidden mujahedeen camps. âWe need to give them Stingers to shoot down the Hinds,â I shot back.
âAgh, come up with a new thought. CIA and the Pentagon wonât agree to release the missiles.â Mort was relighting the stub of a cigar. âYou wanna do something? Go see your friend Richard Perle, the Prince of Darkness, get him to release the Stingers.â
Perle was Assistant Secretary of Defense and greatly distrustful of the State Department, whom he saw as capitulationists and accommodationists in the Cold War. Following the military coup in Turkey in 1984, Perle had flown to Ankara to counteract the State Departmentâs denunciations of the takeover. His message: deal with the instability, but lay out a roadmap for a return to civilian rule. Perle charmed the Turkish pashas, as the four-star generals were known. He clearly loved their country, insisting on traveling throughout it and buying rugs and copper pots. I had been assigned by State to go along on the trip to keep an eye on Perle. Instead, I too had been charmed by his manner and persuaded by his logic about the strategic importance of Turkey.
Now, at Abramowitzâs urging, I used my nascent
In the mid-1980s, as the Deputy Assistant Secretary for Intelligence at the State Department, I produced a series of analyses of the cost to the Soviet Union of fighting the proxy wars in El Salvador, Nicaragua, Angola, Mozambique, and Afghanistan. We had only estimates, inferences, of the effect on the Kremlin treasury. Nonetheless, even the low-end guesses would place a serious burden on what was already a badly underperforming Soviet economy. That was, of course, what President Reagan and CIA director Bill Casey had hoped, that by turning the tables, going on the counteroffensive in the proxy wars and by rapidly increasing our own defense spending, America could force the Kremlin to respond in ways that would overtax the Soviet economy.
Afghanistan offered Reagan and Casey their best opportunity to drain the other superpower. Moscow had overcommitted there. Rather than just manipulate the Kabul government and secure the area around the capital, after invading in late 1979, the Red Army had decided to pacify the country. It was a major deployment for which they were not ready, equipped, or trained. The initial fighting showed the weaknesses of the Red Armyâs conscript divisions, but Moscow had responded with Spetsnaz Special Forces and Airborne troops. They began to employ heavily armed helicopters and new close-support aircraft, which were beginning in 1985 to have devastating effects.
Yet, despite their rhetoric, the Reagan administration had not significantly funded the Afghan resistance. The Afghan war analysts on my staff kept numerical indicators of the fighting, as well as anecdotal information on the spirit of the Afghan fighters. By 1985 the analysts were growing concerned that the tide had shifted in favor of Moscow.
My boss and mentor was a career ambassador, but hardly from central casting. Morton Abramowitz filled his darkened office with cigar smoke, and left ashes in his wake. He was oblivious to the fact that what little hair he had was often standing straight up. He had saved hundreds of thousands of Cambodians when, as U.S. Ambassador to Thailand, he had initiated a cross-border feeding program. Later, as Ambassador to Turkey, he would be responsible for starting a similar effort to save the Kurds in the wake of the First Gulf War. He focused not on appearances, but on getting things done.
âDonât just tell me weâre losing, Clarke, tell me what the fuck to do about it.â That was how Abramowitz received our analysis of the shifting tide in Afghanistan.
Our analysis had focused on the Hind-D helicopter as being the thing that had worked for the Soviets. Afghan bullets bounced off its armor plate, while the helicopterâs rockets ripped apart the hidden mujahedeen camps. âWe need to give them Stingers to shoot down the Hinds,â I shot back.
âAgh, come up with a new thought. CIA and the Pentagon wonât agree to release the missiles.â Mort was relighting the stub of a cigar. âYou wanna do something? Go see your friend Richard Perle, the Prince of Darkness, get him to release the Stingers.â
Perle was Assistant Secretary of Defense and greatly distrustful of the State Department, whom he saw as capitulationists and accommodationists in the Cold War. Following the military coup in Turkey in 1984, Perle had flown to Ankara to counteract the State Departmentâs denunciations of the takeover. His message: deal with the instability, but lay out a roadmap for a return to civilian rule. Perle charmed the Turkish pashas, as the four-star generals were known. He clearly loved their country, insisting on traveling throughout it and buying rugs and copper pots. I had been assigned by State to go along on the trip to keep an eye on Perle. Instead, I too had been charmed by his manner and persuaded by his logic about the strategic importance of Turkey.
Now, at Abramowitzâs urging, I used my nascent
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