Invasion Force: Western troops return from an exercise in the Saudi Arabian desert in the run-up to Operation Desert Storm (1990-91). St Thomas Aquinas enjoined his fellow Christians to avoid all wars in which the cost of their participation was, by any rational calculation, likely to be higher, in human terms, than their abstention. Is the Middle East a better or worse place after 25 years of Western intervention?
BY THE TIME you read these words, the dispatch of New
Zealand troops to Iraq will, almost certainly, have been announced. For the
fourth time in less than quarter-of-a-century, Kiwi boots will be kicking up sand
in the Middle East. Unasked, presumably, by those seated around the Cabinet
Table yesterday morning, were the questions:
“Has the Middle East become a better, or a worse, place
since the West’s first, massive, post-war incursion, back in 1991?”
And: “Will it be a better, or worse, place for the Western
“Club’s” intervention in 2015?”
It is worth reminding ourselves that Osama Bin Laden’s
decision to shift Al Qaida’s focus to the “far-away enemy” was triggered by the
arrival of the US Army’s 82nd Airborne Division in the Arabian Peninsula – home
of the holy Muslim cities of Mecca and Medina. Imagine how Catholic Christians
would react to the sight of several Arab divisions setting up camp in the
Vatican City, and you’ll have some inkling of how profoundly affected Bin Laden
and his followers were by the Americans’ arrival.
The past has much less purchase on the sensibilities of the
average Westerner than it does on the hearts and minds of those belonging to
the Islamic faith. Even today, both Al Qaida and Islamic State denounce the
military contingents of the West as “Crusaders” – referencing the Frankish
knights who invaded the Muslim world early in the Twelfth Century. Nor is this
mere rhetoric on their part. Through all the intervening centuries, street-singers
from Beirut to Baghdad have kept alive the horrors perpetrated by the Christian
invaders, and recounted proudly how Islam’s great captain, Saladin, recaptured
the holy city of Jerusalem. The Crusades are as real to the people of the
Middle East as the much more recent tragedy of Gallipoli is to us.
Every grain of sand kicked-up by Kiwi soldiers’ boots in
Iraq will be weighted down with centuries of history. It is, moreover, a living
past, inextricably intertwined with the present, and its effects can be deadly.
The terrible punishments meted out to those who have fallen into the clutches
of Islamic State are not the random choices of sadistic criminals, but the fate
prescribed by Islam’s 1,383-year-old holy book, the Quran:
“The punishment of those who wage war against Allah and His
Messenger, and strive with might and main for mischief through the land is:
execution, or crucifixion, or the cutting off of hands and feet from opposite
sides, or exile from the land: that is their disgrace in this world, and a
heavy punishment is theirs in the Hereafter”.
This is the world into which our government has decided to
send one hundred or more young New Zealanders. Our soldiers will now be
numbered among “those who wage war against Allah and His Messenger”. From the
moment New Zealand’s participation in the war against Islamic State is
announced, the fate of any Kiwi soldier, or citizen, falling into the hands of
Islamic State, is sealed.
New Zealand is very far from Iraq and Syria; so far that it
is possible the self-proclaimed Caliph, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, has forgotten we
exist. The news that 100 New Zealand troops are on their way to join the ranks
of the “Crusaders” will, therefore, come as a forceful reminder of our role in
Middle Eastern history. It is to be hoped that Prime Minister Key has not
forgotten how far the influence of al-Baghdadi’s regime now reaches. If he
needs instruction, he has only to ask the citizens of Copenhagen, Paris, Sydney
and Ottawa. The “Caliphate’s” arm has grown very long indeed.
If our Government has deliberately invited the religious fervour
of the Middle East into these peaceful and hitherto tolerant islands, then we,
ourselves, will have to answer the questions they refused to consider: “Has
intervention worked in the past?”, “Will it work now?” And, “Is it justified?”
The first two answers are, obviously, “No.” But what about
the third? What possible justification can we offer for dispatching troops to a
country where millions of the people they’ve been sent to help will curse them
as enemies of God?
Is it possible that we, like the gullible inhabitants of
Medieval Europe, have allowed ourselves to be goaded into action by sermons
filled with the details of hideous atrocities? Are our soldiers about to depart
these shores with the red cross of the crusader knights emblazoned – if only
metaphorically – on their uniforms? If so, then we are embarked upon a fool’s
errand that can only end in horror and despair.
St Thomas Aquinas enjoined his fellow Christians to avoid
all wars in which the cost of their participation was, by any rational
calculation, likely to be higher, in human terms, than their abstention.
Our presence in Iraq cannot be justified. It will end badly.
This essay was originally published in The Press of Tuesday, 24 February 2015.



