As Porter saw it from up close—perhaps as close as anyone on the staff except Hope Hicks—the Trump election had rekindled the divide in the country. There was a more hostile relationship with the media. The culture wars were reinvigorated. There was a racist tinge. Trump accelerated it.
Porter wondered if trying to repair any of those divisions after Charlottesville was almost a lost cause. There was no turning back. Trump had crossed the point of no return. To the Trump opponents and haters, he was un-American, racist. There was so much fuel on that fire already, and Trump had added so much more. The fire was going to burn, and it was going to burn brightly.
It was now an almost permanent state of suspicion, disbelief and hostility. “It’s just all-out war now.”
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In the midst of the Charlottesville controversy, Bannon called Kelly. “I know this guy,” he said. “If you don’t start having people in the White House covering” for Trump, there would be trouble. “You’ve got to cover for him.”
Republican senator Bob Corker had told reporters “the president has not yet been able to demonstrate the stability nor some of the competence” needed to succeed in office. And Politico had run a long piece on Trump’s anger issues, calling Trump “driven by his temper” and saying “anger serves as a way to manage staff, express his displeasure or simply as an outlet that soothes him.”
“Not one guy in the White House at the senior level has come out and defended him,” Bannon said.
Bannon felt that Trump should be winning the messaging war. “President Trump, by asking, ‘Where does this all end’—Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln—connects with the American people. The race-identity politics of the left wants to say it’s all racist. Just give me more . . . I can’t get enough of it.”
Vice President Mike Pence had dutifully retweeted some of Trump’s more benign remarks and added, “As @POTUS Trump said, ‘We have to come together as Americans with love for our nation . . . & true affection for each other.’ #Charlottesville.”
Bannon told Kelly, “If he gets boxed in, you’re going to have free shots on goal from the guys on Capitol Hill. You have to start protecting this guy.”
“Do you fucking want to take this job?” Kelly asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want to be fucking chief of staff?”
“What are you talking about?” Bannon replied. “Don’t pull that on me. You know you’re the only guy to do it.”
“Listen,” Kelly said, “my problem right now is I think I’m going to lose half the guys here, and I could lose a third of the cabinet. You don’t understand. This thing’s on a knife’s edge. People are not going to just tolerate this. This has got to be condemned. If you think you’ve got a solution . . .”
Bannon did not. But he did tell Kelly he was going to resign.
“Look, I’m going to leave on Friday,” Bannon said. Tomorrow would be his last day.
I think that may be best, said Kelly.
But Bannon was worried about Trump’s upcoming weekend at Camp David that would include the final NSC meeting before the Afghanistan decision.
“Just make sure the president gets every option and detail.”
“I’ll make sure that happens,” Kelly said. That was his standard line—the president would get the full story and the full range of options.
“Make sure Pompeo gets a full chance to make his pitch.”
Kelly said he would.
Bannon knew Trump was heading toward a globalist decision. The forces of the national security establishment, led by McMaster, were setting him up. They were creating a record that Trump had been briefed fully about the potential Afghanistan threat as a base for future 9/11-style terrorism. If the threat materialized, they would leak to The Washington Post or The New York Times that Trump had ignored the warning.
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Under the plan for the NSC meeting on August 18, Sessions and Kellogg would advocate pulling out of Afghanistan. CIA Director Pompeo would argue for expanding the CIA paramilitary role instead of additional troops, a position he and Bannon had crafted. McMaster would argue for staying the course, which meant adding 4,000 troops.
Sessions began by noting that he had been on the Senate Armed Services Committee since 9/11. I’ve always heard the same thing. We’re six months to 18 months from turning Afghanistan around. Time and time again, the same. You guys have always been wrong. Look at the major decisions to add tens of thousands of troops by Obama, he hammered. A major turnaround promised and expected. Always wrong. That’s why we’ve been here for 16 years. The Taliban now control more than half the country. Withdraw now. Give it up.
Kellogg concurred. “Got to come home.”
Pompeo had gone through some come-to-Jesus sessions at Langley. The old hands reminded him that Afghanistan was the graveyard not just of empires but of careers. The agency had spent years in a subsidiary role with the CTPT paramilitary teams, avoiding full responsibility. Afghanistan was the Army’s problem, the agency old hands advised; keep it that way. Another consideration: Under Pompeo’s proposed plan, the Army would be in charge of the CTPT and would never give the CIA real control. There was no guarantee, or reasonable expectation, of success, and somebody’s going to get blamed down the road.
When it came time for Pompeo to make the case for the middle course, he rained all over his own alternative. It would take us about two years for the CIA to get ready to expand its CTPT counterterrorist effort, he said. We’re not physically ready and don’t have the infrastructure. We don’t have the ability to step in and co-run such an ambitious undertaking with Special Forces. The CIA assets in Afghanistan have atrophied. It’s not a viable alternative today.
McMaster was then up to make the case for staying the course and adding up to 4,000 troops. His key argument was that a major strategic objective was to prevent al Qaeda or other terrorists from hitting the U.S. homeland or other allies.
“I’m tired of hearing that,” Trump said, “because you guys could say that about every country in the world. You keep talking about there’s ISIS all over. They could be organizing an attack on us. We can’t be everywhere.”
Trump exploded, most particularly at his generals. You guys have created this situation. It’s been a disaster. You’re the architects of this mess in Afghanistan. You created these problems. You’re smart guys, but I have to tell you, you’re part of the problem. And you haven’t been able to fix it, and you’re making it worse.
And now, he added, echoing Sessions, you’re wanting to add even more troops to something I don’t believe in. I was against this from the beginning.
He folded his arms. “I want to get out,” the president said. “And you’re telling me the answer is to get deeper in.”
Mattis, with his quiet style, had immense impact on the decision. He was not a confronter. As he often did, he adopted the approach that less was more.
I think what you’re saying is right, he told Trump, and your instincts are right on the money. But a new approach could work—ending artificial Obama-style timelines and lifting restrictions on the on-the-ground commanders. Leaving could precipitate the collapse of the Afghan state. U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan had left the vacuum for al Qaeda to create a terrorist sanctuary leading to the 9/11 attacks. The problem is that a new terrorist attack, especially a large one, originating from Afghanistan would be a catastrophe.
He argued that if they pulled out, they would create another ISIS-style upheaval. ISIS already had a presence in Afghanistan.
What happened in Iraq under Obama with the emergence of ISIS will happen under you, Mattis told Trump, in one of his sharpest declarations. It was a barb that several present remembered.
“You all are telling me that I have to do this,” Trump said grudgingly, “and I guess that’s fine and we’ll do it, but I still think you’re wrong. I don’t know what this is for. It hasn’t gotten us anything. We’ve spent trillions,” he exaggerated. “We’ve lost all these lives.” Yet, he acknowledged, they probably could not cut and run and leave a vacuum for al Qaeda, Iran and other terrorists.
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