he disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan was in many ways a tragically fitting end to America’s war in that country. At nearly every stage of events, from the hasty departures from forward operating bases, the tactically nonsensical closure of Bagram Air Base, and the repositioning of forces to Kabul International Airport, to the inexorable march of the Taliban back to power, Washington either made the wrong decision or no decision at all. What came to pass was entirely the consequence of poor or non–existent planning and the divorce of policy from the real world. It did not need to happen this way, but in many ways after 20 years of war, it appears in hindsight to have been all but inevitable.
Were the consequences of Washington’s failures limited to the world of policy and think tank papers, it would have been an illuminating chapter in the Global War on Terror—an ill–considered, poorly executed campaign against a tactic that saw American power spread far too thinly (to the benefit of strategic adversaries), chasing radical Islamist Jihadists (or the illusions thereof) wherever they appeared.
The strategic consequences of America’s withdrawal from Afghanistan are considerable, but there are moral failures as well, for which there has yet to be–and arguably won’t be–an accounting. Indeed, the consequences for the people of Afghanistan and especially those brave Afghans that stood with and died alongside American, British, and allied service members were all too real, all too violent, and again all too avoidable. Two recent books explore the moral impact that the withdrawal from Afghanistan had on those Afghans who worked with allied forces in the hopes of bettering their country and building a brighter future.
Larisa Brown, the defense editor of the Times of London explores the life of Shaista Gul in “The Gardener of Lashkar Gah,” and the plight of his family as they attempt to leave Afghanistan for the United Kingdom. Brown, who previously worked for the Daily Mail and was instrumental in that paper’s campaign to highlight the plight of Afghan interpreters and workers (though she modestly demurs from noting her own role in the effort), uses the Gul family as a proxy for the broader community of Afghans who worked with the United Kingdom.
Shaista—the titular gardener—his son Jamala, and members of their extended family faced threats of, and actual, violence from the newly ascendant Taliban for their cooperation with the United Kingdom. That they would face such persecution is unsurprising—the warning light was flashing red well before the Taliban marched on Kabul. What readers will undoubtedly find most infuriating about the United Kingdom’s response to this looming tragedy is the bureaucratic idleness and the absence of any sense of urgency from the country’s elected leadership to uphold the commitments made—implied or otherwise—that London would be there for those who were there for its forces.
Politicians were absent and on holiday during the worst of the crisis. There was no process for validating or approving visas or asylum claims under the crush of an advancing enemy or urgent evacuation. Individual civil servants were given the painful task of picking through reams of files on short notice and with no support, literally determining who would live and who would die with their visa approvals—a trauma unlikely to go away soon.
When members of the Gul family arrived in the United Kingdom after extreme difficulty, they did encounter the warmth of their local hosts and support, however limited, from their new communities. Small comfort for the Gul family and those like them, but a comfort nonetheless, one denied to so many who remain behind even still. The war against Ukraine swiftly consumed the government’s attention, which made a great public–facing effort to resettle those displaced by Russia’s war, leaving behind many Afghans hoping to go to the UK.
Mikael Cook, a U.S. Army non–commissioned officer, offers a grittier, tactical look at the events of America’s final withdrawal from Afghanistan. In “Life and Death at Abbey Gate” he provides two stories in one—the first being his own efforts as part of #DigitalDunkirk, one of many similar informal and ad hoc efforts to evacuate Afghans out of the country. The second story details the heroism of the members of 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines at Abbey Gate.
Cook passionately writes about the frantic efforts of a self–assembled group of individuals who sought to evacuate Afghans and their families from the advancing Taliban. It is truly an impressive effort and a testament to the commitment of so many who sought to do so much good in the face of overwhelming odds. Service members like him (current and former), congressional offices, charities, and even podcast hosts worked together to channel information from outside U.S. government channels into the bureaucracy to see that Afghans and their families were able to flee to safety.
The second story Cook pens is that of the bravery and heroism of the Marines at Abbey Gate. It is the creeping tragedy (that would claim the lives of 160 including 13 Americans) that haunts the background of Cook’s book. The Marines deployed from the Gulf to Afghanistan with little training for non–combatant evacuation operations (or NEOs in Pentagon parlance). They ran drills and exercises while waiting for their flight to re–fuel, yet conducted themselves with the honor and bravery one expects from America’s Marines.
They were given an impossible mission—to defend one of the last entry points to the airport while face–to–face with the Taliban against whom the United States had fought for 20 years. The newly re–empowered Islamist group and the Marines were separated by a mass of humanity attempting to flee Afghanistan. Cook details the scenes of horror as families were separated, people died, and babies were handed over concertina wire.
American forces had received warning that the Islamic State was planning an attack, but it remains unclear whether it was preventable, as a recent review found. Whether or not it was preventable is indeed debatable, but it was certainly avoidable. The tragedy of Abbey Gate was the consequence of a long chain of decisions that put the Marines in an impossible situation; decisions that took place well before they arrived and far from the entry to the airport. The culpability is not with the Marines. It is with Washington.
Cook admirably refrains from commenting on the politics behind the war and the withdrawal, choosing instead to focus on the best aspects of a terrible situation—the coming together of such a diverse group of people to aid their Afghan counterparts and their families, and that of the Marines at Abbey Gate. Readers cannot help but find themselves frustrated and indeed rightly angry at what came to pass.
Was it a feat of heroism that people came together, using nothing more than sheer determination, the Signal app, phone trees, and generous donations to evacuate Afghans who served with the United States out of the country? Absolutely. Should it have ever been necessary for individuals and private groups to take on this mission? Absolutely not. Would any withdrawal have involved risks and required putting American and British men and women in uniform in harm’s way? Almost certainly. Was it inevitable that it would have been this chaotic and this violent? Certainly not.
The moral stain of the political and strategic failures in Afghanistan by the United States and the United Kingdom will not easily wash away, nor should it. Washington’s policy failures over successive years led to the events of Abbey Gate, but the failure in Afghanistan was arguably long fore–ordained—an impossible mission from the beginning—and the consequences will reverberate for decades to come. The disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan and America’s political fecklessness undoubtedly contributed to Vladimir Putin’s calculus to expand his invasion of Ukraine, and almost certainly has influenced Xi Jinping’s assessment of America’s resolve. Weakness is weakness, regardless of how it manifests.
The failure to support American and British veterans is appalling given the societal contract of service and commitment into which governments and citizens enter. Many Afghans also entered a contract of sorts, risking their lives and those of their family in pursuit of a better future, and it is imperative that those who stood up for their country and alongside American and British service-members are supported where and when possible. Failure to meet these commitments now will call into question Washington and London’s future endeavors to establish, let alone sustain, local allies and partners.
The Names of the American Service Members Lost at Abbey Gate
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. David Espinoza, 20, of Rio Bravo, Texas.
- Marine Corps Sgt. Nicole Gee, 23, of Roseville, California.
- Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Darin Taylor Hoover, 31, of Utah
- Army Staff Sgt. Ryan Knauss, 23, of Corryton, Tennessee.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Hunter Lopez, 22, of Indio, California.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Rylee McCollum, 20, Jackson, Wyoming.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Dylan R. Merola, 20, of Rancho Cucamonga, California.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Kareem Nikoui, 20, of Norco, California.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Daegan William–Tyeler Page, 23, of Omaha, Nebraska
- Marine Corps Sgt. Johanny Rosario, 25, Lawrence, Massachusetts.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Humberto Sanchez, 22, Logansport, Indiana.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Jared Schmitz, 20, of Wentzville, Missouri.
- Navy Hospital Corpsman Max Soviak, 22, of Berlin Heights, Ohio.
a global affairs media network
The moral consequences of strategic failure in Afghanistan
Kabul, Afghanistan. Photo by Sohaib Ghyasi from Unsplash.
April 27, 2024
Two recent books explore the moral impact that the withdrawal from Afghanistan had on those Afghans who worked with allied forces in the hopes of bettering their country and building a brighter future, writes our book reviewer Joshua Huminski.
T
he disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan was in many ways a tragically fitting end to America’s war in that country. At nearly every stage of events, from the hasty departures from forward operating bases, the tactically nonsensical closure of Bagram Air Base, and the repositioning of forces to Kabul International Airport, to the inexorable march of the Taliban back to power, Washington either made the wrong decision or no decision at all. What came to pass was entirely the consequence of poor or non–existent planning and the divorce of policy from the real world. It did not need to happen this way, but in many ways after 20 years of war, it appears in hindsight to have been all but inevitable.
Were the consequences of Washington’s failures limited to the world of policy and think tank papers, it would have been an illuminating chapter in the Global War on Terror—an ill–considered, poorly executed campaign against a tactic that saw American power spread far too thinly (to the benefit of strategic adversaries), chasing radical Islamist Jihadists (or the illusions thereof) wherever they appeared.
The strategic consequences of America’s withdrawal from Afghanistan are considerable, but there are moral failures as well, for which there has yet to be–and arguably won’t be–an accounting. Indeed, the consequences for the people of Afghanistan and especially those brave Afghans that stood with and died alongside American, British, and allied service members were all too real, all too violent, and again all too avoidable. Two recent books explore the moral impact that the withdrawal from Afghanistan had on those Afghans who worked with allied forces in the hopes of bettering their country and building a brighter future.
Larisa Brown, the defense editor of the Times of London explores the life of Shaista Gul in “The Gardener of Lashkar Gah,” and the plight of his family as they attempt to leave Afghanistan for the United Kingdom. Brown, who previously worked for the Daily Mail and was instrumental in that paper’s campaign to highlight the plight of Afghan interpreters and workers (though she modestly demurs from noting her own role in the effort), uses the Gul family as a proxy for the broader community of Afghans who worked with the United Kingdom.
Shaista—the titular gardener—his son Jamala, and members of their extended family faced threats of, and actual, violence from the newly ascendant Taliban for their cooperation with the United Kingdom. That they would face such persecution is unsurprising—the warning light was flashing red well before the Taliban marched on Kabul. What readers will undoubtedly find most infuriating about the United Kingdom’s response to this looming tragedy is the bureaucratic idleness and the absence of any sense of urgency from the country’s elected leadership to uphold the commitments made—implied or otherwise—that London would be there for those who were there for its forces.
Politicians were absent and on holiday during the worst of the crisis. There was no process for validating or approving visas or asylum claims under the crush of an advancing enemy or urgent evacuation. Individual civil servants were given the painful task of picking through reams of files on short notice and with no support, literally determining who would live and who would die with their visa approvals—a trauma unlikely to go away soon.
When members of the Gul family arrived in the United Kingdom after extreme difficulty, they did encounter the warmth of their local hosts and support, however limited, from their new communities. Small comfort for the Gul family and those like them, but a comfort nonetheless, one denied to so many who remain behind even still. The war against Ukraine swiftly consumed the government’s attention, which made a great public–facing effort to resettle those displaced by Russia’s war, leaving behind many Afghans hoping to go to the UK.
Mikael Cook, a U.S. Army non–commissioned officer, offers a grittier, tactical look at the events of America’s final withdrawal from Afghanistan. In “Life and Death at Abbey Gate” he provides two stories in one—the first being his own efforts as part of #DigitalDunkirk, one of many similar informal and ad hoc efforts to evacuate Afghans out of the country. The second story details the heroism of the members of 2nd Battalion, 1st Marines at Abbey Gate.
Cook passionately writes about the frantic efforts of a self–assembled group of individuals who sought to evacuate Afghans and their families from the advancing Taliban. It is truly an impressive effort and a testament to the commitment of so many who sought to do so much good in the face of overwhelming odds. Service members like him (current and former), congressional offices, charities, and even podcast hosts worked together to channel information from outside U.S. government channels into the bureaucracy to see that Afghans and their families were able to flee to safety.
The second story Cook pens is that of the bravery and heroism of the Marines at Abbey Gate. It is the creeping tragedy (that would claim the lives of 160 including 13 Americans) that haunts the background of Cook’s book. The Marines deployed from the Gulf to Afghanistan with little training for non–combatant evacuation operations (or NEOs in Pentagon parlance). They ran drills and exercises while waiting for their flight to re–fuel, yet conducted themselves with the honor and bravery one expects from America’s Marines.
They were given an impossible mission—to defend one of the last entry points to the airport while face–to–face with the Taliban against whom the United States had fought for 20 years. The newly re–empowered Islamist group and the Marines were separated by a mass of humanity attempting to flee Afghanistan. Cook details the scenes of horror as families were separated, people died, and babies were handed over concertina wire.
American forces had received warning that the Islamic State was planning an attack, but it remains unclear whether it was preventable, as a recent review found. Whether or not it was preventable is indeed debatable, but it was certainly avoidable. The tragedy of Abbey Gate was the consequence of a long chain of decisions that put the Marines in an impossible situation; decisions that took place well before they arrived and far from the entry to the airport. The culpability is not with the Marines. It is with Washington.
Cook admirably refrains from commenting on the politics behind the war and the withdrawal, choosing instead to focus on the best aspects of a terrible situation—the coming together of such a diverse group of people to aid their Afghan counterparts and their families, and that of the Marines at Abbey Gate. Readers cannot help but find themselves frustrated and indeed rightly angry at what came to pass.
Was it a feat of heroism that people came together, using nothing more than sheer determination, the Signal app, phone trees, and generous donations to evacuate Afghans who served with the United States out of the country? Absolutely. Should it have ever been necessary for individuals and private groups to take on this mission? Absolutely not. Would any withdrawal have involved risks and required putting American and British men and women in uniform in harm’s way? Almost certainly. Was it inevitable that it would have been this chaotic and this violent? Certainly not.
The moral stain of the political and strategic failures in Afghanistan by the United States and the United Kingdom will not easily wash away, nor should it. Washington’s policy failures over successive years led to the events of Abbey Gate, but the failure in Afghanistan was arguably long fore–ordained—an impossible mission from the beginning—and the consequences will reverberate for decades to come. The disastrous withdrawal from Afghanistan and America’s political fecklessness undoubtedly contributed to Vladimir Putin’s calculus to expand his invasion of Ukraine, and almost certainly has influenced Xi Jinping’s assessment of America’s resolve. Weakness is weakness, regardless of how it manifests.
The failure to support American and British veterans is appalling given the societal contract of service and commitment into which governments and citizens enter. Many Afghans also entered a contract of sorts, risking their lives and those of their family in pursuit of a better future, and it is imperative that those who stood up for their country and alongside American and British service-members are supported where and when possible. Failure to meet these commitments now will call into question Washington and London’s future endeavors to establish, let alone sustain, local allies and partners.
The Names of the American Service Members Lost at Abbey Gate
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. David Espinoza, 20, of Rio Bravo, Texas.
- Marine Corps Sgt. Nicole Gee, 23, of Roseville, California.
- Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Darin Taylor Hoover, 31, of Utah
- Army Staff Sgt. Ryan Knauss, 23, of Corryton, Tennessee.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Hunter Lopez, 22, of Indio, California.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Rylee McCollum, 20, Jackson, Wyoming.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Dylan R. Merola, 20, of Rancho Cucamonga, California.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Kareem Nikoui, 20, of Norco, California.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Daegan William–Tyeler Page, 23, of Omaha, Nebraska
- Marine Corps Sgt. Johanny Rosario, 25, Lawrence, Massachusetts.
- Marine Corps Cpl. Humberto Sanchez, 22, Logansport, Indiana.
- Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Jared Schmitz, 20, of Wentzville, Missouri.
- Navy Hospital Corpsman Max Soviak, 22, of Berlin Heights, Ohio.
