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52 Weekend Fin | Lunch with The AFR 13-14 December 2014 The Australian Financial Review | www.afr.com T here is a whiff of T.E. Lawrence about David Kilcullen’s career. Like Lawrence, he was a relatively junior officer plucked out to be one of the brains behind a successful military campaign that swept across an Arab nation. Like Lawrence, he rewrote the book on the unconventional warfare of insurgency and counter-insurgency in the process. Unlike Lawrence, Kilcullen worked for the occupiers rather than the rebels. As a top strategist to United States Iraq supremo General David Petraeus, and National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice, he helped to salvage the George W. Bush-led invasion of Iraq that he once described in sol- dierly language as “f---ing stupid”. In civilian life, he runs two Washington DC-based companies, Caerus Associates and First Mile Geo, which use big data crunching and people on the ground to pro- vide detailed analyses of disaster-hit places to potential investors and aid groups. In keeping, the lunch is to be one of military precision. I have exactly one hour with Kilcullen at the Westin, off Sydney’s Martin Place, before he heads for the airport at 12.30pm sharp. The Mosaic Restaurant has arranged to serve us half an hour before the usual opening; our orders placed the day before from an emailed menu. The staff have been briefed and a discreet table kept at the back for a quiet chat in the busy atrium. When Kilcullen appears, just a few minutes late, he is compact, powerful – still the infantryman – but youthful behind the beard. He also has a disarming, breezy friendliness I hadn’t expected. Food arrives quickly. We have both ordered Mosaic’s quick lunch plate, starters, veggies and a fillet of barramundi with asparagus, in neat modular containers. Over the prosciutto, I ask how he suddenly found himself in with Washington’s strategic elite. “Back in 2004, I wrote a paper for the Australian Army, critiquing the then strategy of the war on terror and saying there is a different way to think about this.” US deputy secretary of defence under George W. Bush, Paul Wolfowitz, read it and wrote to the Australian Government asking if they “could borrow Dave. And the Austral- ian Army actually said: ‘He’s only a colonel. We have generals. You can have one of those.’ And the Americans said, ‘No – we want the guy that wrote the paper.’” The paper’s big idea was that al-Qaeda’s jihad is a global network of insurgencies that is greater than the sum of its parts. Attack the links between the parts – linkages of ideas, recruits, attacks, propa- ganda, and grievances – and you take the steam out of the network very quickly. At a time when there was no organising principle for the war on al-Qaeda, it made a big impact. So did Kilcullen’s observation that much of the discontent in Sunni west- ern Iraq was economic, becoming a basis for the successful 2007 US “surge” to tame the insurgency, and for which he wrote the executive plan. His practical guide to counter-insurgency is still carried around by officers in armies worldwide (it is even translated into Russian) and became part of the United States Army’s official manual on the subject. “I didn’t really advise Petraeus. He didn’t need my advice,” Kilcullen smiles. Instead, he uses the jargon of “change man- agement” for his work, leaving me with a slightly weird image of people trundling the battlefields of Iraq spouting McKinsey- ish bullet points. He anticipates that thought: front-line soliders react like everyone else to visiting management wonks, he says. “Put yourself in the circumstance of somebody who’s been fighting in Iraq for a year. They have lost a lot of people killed and you parachute in with lots of brilliant ideas and they’re, like, hang on man, I want to get through my tour before I try anything new. So it was very difficult to get them on board ... but once we did, they changed dramatically.” Kilcullen thinks deeply on the nature of war and muses over its biggest dilemma: each war seems as bad as it can get; so terminally horrible that there is never any political will to think about the next one – even to stop it sliding into something worse. “It’s the refuge of the scoundrel to mention Hitler, but we deal with things when they are small, not when they are big and danger- ous.” The problem is that our “normality bias” kicks in, he says. We think “what it is like now, is how it will always be,” so we never fight the wars we expect. “It’s my job to imagine this stuff,” he says with sudden emphasis. In May this year, President Barack Obama was proclaiming the complete US departure from Iraq, and largely from Afghanistan, as big political wins. Two weeks later – three years after what Kilcullen views as a premature exit there – ISIS exploded across the Iraqi desert to carve out its own jihadist state, shocking the world. “Wouldn’t it have been awesome if we had stayed in Iraq and we would never have had to deal with ISIS,” he says. Islamic State is a different beast from al-Qaeda, but Kilcullen can see more terrible things than either of them. “The worst-case scenario is not that ISIS and al-Qaeda continue to be rivals, it’s that they pal up. You end up with a precipitate withdrawal from Afghanistan, creating space for the Taliban to come back, just like ISIS did in Iraq, then al-Qaeda comes in on the back of that, and then you have ISIS and al-Qaeda on either side of Shia Iran, and then the Sunni-Shia regional civil war is on” – and quite possibly, he says, “with nukes”. I can see the big clock on the old Post Office tower in Martin Place. It’s a little after noon and we are already on to Armageddon. Talking such catastrophe over a piece of fish with this soldier-scholar seems matter of fact, neither silly nor scary. He was always heading for the army, despite left-leaning academic parents, growing up on Sydney’s north shore, then Royal Military College, Duntroon at 17, the infantry, then a PhD from the Australian Defence Force Academy. Childhood memories of the Vietnam War on TV had inspired him. Its lessons shape how Kilcullen thinks terrorism should be fought now. The previous night, giving the John Bonython lecture in Sydney for the Centre for Independent Studies, he warned, “We may destroy our free and open society in order to save it: a fully protected state looks a lot like a police state.” He really does think a terrorist attack here is 100 per cent likely but believes we need “a big public debate” on how much privacy and freedom we should trade off for protection. Spookish security bureaucrats cannot take that decision because they have vested interests, he says, and it cannot be politicians because they are too easy to blame if it goes wrong. “You end up spending lots of money and destroying things about your society that you hold dear – and an attack happens anyway.” That’s a risk “the public at large” has to help decide how to manage. Kilcullen strongly believes Western lib- eral values are also the best answer to people who leave here for the Middle East to become those terrorists. A bad mistake after September 11, he says, was to deal with Muslim communities through intermediaries – usually older authoritarian men – which further segre- gated communities and encouraged them to seek special favours. It strands their young- sters between different worlds. “We need to treat Australian Muslims like Australian Catholics, Australian Hindus or any other Australian with all the rights, freedoms, expectations and responsibilities that come from free membership of a free society,” he told his CIS audience: “The answer to domestic radicalistion is more freedom, not less.” The people flocking to join ISIS are not that different from those going to Spain in the 1930s,” he suggests. They are mostly adventurers rather than zealots “who want to be part of something of world historical importance that’s successful – and ISIS is the biggest game in town. We have got to be say- ing ‘we have a great society here in Australia. You can makes something of yourself . . . which you can’t in Syria or Iraq. Don’t waste your life on jihad.’” It’s 12.20pm. Still OK for the plane. The plates have long been cleared and we order coffee and tea. He cheerfully says he is in the US as a “war bride”: his wife Janine Davidson was a senior US Air Force pilot who went on to become the deputy assistant secretary of defence for plans at the Pentagon. Women now command major US naval and air force units. But great generals and admirals in history were also complete bastards, I suggest, ruthless with their own forces to achieve victory. “You might get into trouble answering this,” I say. “Do women have the, er, insensitivity needed?” “Most women are not ruthless or physi- cally capable enough to be in combat,” he says. “And neither are most men. It’s not a gender thing. There’s always going to be a certain minority in a population that is able to do what it takes to suffer and inflict the violence to keep us safe. “My wife was the first woman to fly C-130 transport planes on operations in the US Air Force. She had a terrible time with basically sexist decisions put in place in the 1950s and that no one wanted to revisit . . . if we now genuinely think there is a climate to put women into the infantry or special forces, we should structure it so that we set up those people for success.” I mention the famous study that found that most US soldiers in the Normandy campaign of World War II did not actually fire their rifles. “Even in all-male units under fire, the majority of men don’t feel ready to take a life,” says Kilcullen, who has been in firefights in East Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan and Somalia, and fired back. “There is noth- ing like someone shooting at you to help overcome your resistance.” We do not give much help to those who end up doing the shooting. “It’s one thing to have been shot at on behalf of your country. It’s another thing entirely to shoot someone else. People come back, having been forced to break a fundamental human taboo, and their society does not necessarily support them.” It is 12.40pm. We quickly make our good- byes, he onwards to the Middle East to meet Iraqi and Syrian contacts, eager for more news that might help tame mayhem. THE MAN FROM ARMAGEDDON The Australian army actually said: ‘He’s only a colonel. We have generals. You can have one of those.’ And the Americans said, ‘No – we want that guy.’ David Kilcullen is the high flying, plain spoken Australian strategist who now thinks the unthinkable about Islamist extremism, writes Kevin Chinnery. MOSAIC Westin Sydney, Martin Place 2 barramundi lunch plates, $76 1 bottle of San Pellegrino, $18 1 double espresso, $9 1 English breakfast tea, $9 Total: $112 Counter-insurgency expert David Kilcullen says Western liberal values are the answer. PHOTO: LOUISE KENNERLEY FBA 052

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52 Weekend Fin | Lunch with The AFR 13-14 December 2014The Australian Financial Review | www.afr.com

There is a whiff of T.E.Lawrence about DavidKilcullen’scareer.

Like Lawrence, hewas a relatively juniorofficer plucked out to beone of the brains behinda successful military

campaign that swept across an Arab nation.Like Lawrence, he rewrote the book on theunconventional warfare of insurgency andcounter-insurgencyintheprocess.

Unlike Lawrence, Kilcullen worked fortheoccupiersratherthantherebels.Asatopstrategist to United States Iraq supremoGeneral David Petraeus, and NationalSecurity Advisor Condoleezza Rice, hehelped to salvage the George W. Bush-ledinvasionofIraqthatheoncedescribedinsol-dierlylanguageas“f---ingstupid”.

In civilian life, he runs two WashingtonDC-based companies, Caerus Associatesand First Mile Geo, which use big datacrunching and people on the ground to pro-vide detailed analyses of disaster-hit placestopotential investorsandaidgroups.

In keeping, the lunch is to be one ofmilitary precision. I have exactly one hourwith Kilcullen at the Westin, off Sydney’sMartin Place, before he heads for the airportat12.30pmsharp.

The Mosaic Restaurant has arranged toserve us half an hour before the usualopening; our orders placed the day beforefrom an emailed menu. The staff have beenbriefed and a discreet table kept at the backforaquietchatinthebusyatrium.

When Kilcullen appears, just a fewminutes late, he is compact, powerful – stillthe infantryman – but youthful behind thebeard. He also has a disarming, breezyfriendlinessIhadn’texpected.

Food arrives quickly. We have bothorderedMosaic’squicklunchplate,starters,veggies and a fillet of barramundi withasparagus,inneatmodularcontainers.Overthe prosciutto, I ask how he suddenly foundhimself inwithWashington’sstrategicelite.

“Back in 2004, I wrote a paper for theAustralian Army, critiquing the thenstrategyofthewaronterrorandsayingthereisadifferentwaytothinkaboutthis.”

US deputy secretary of defence underGeorgeW.Bush,PaulWolfowitz,readitandwrote to the Australian Government askingif they“couldborrowDave.AndtheAustral-ian Army actually said: ‘He’s only a colonel.We have generals. You can have one ofthose.’ And the Americans said, ‘No – wewanttheguythatwrotethepaper.’”

The paper’s big idea was that al-Qaeda’sjihadisaglobalnetworkofinsurgenciesthatisgreaterthanthesumofitsparts.

Attack the links between the parts –linkages of ideas, recruits, attacks, propa-ganda, and grievances – and you take thesteamoutofthenetworkveryquickly.

At a time when there was no organisingprinciple for the war on al-Qaeda, it made abig impact. So did Kilcullen’s observationthat much of the discontent in Sunni west-ernIraqwaseconomic,becomingabasisforthe successful 2007 US “surge” to tame theinsurgency, and for which he wrote theexecutive plan. His practical guide tocounter-insurgency is still carried around

by officers in armies worldwide (it is eventranslated into Russian) and became part ofthe United States Army’s official manual onthesubject.

“I didn’t really advise Petraeus. He didn’tneed my advice,” Kilcullen smiles.Instead, he uses the jargon of “change man-agement” for his work, leaving me with aslightly weird image of people trundlingthe battlefields of Iraq spouting McKinsey-ishbulletpoints.

He anticipates that thought: front-linesoliders react like everyone else to visiting management wonks, he says. “Put yourselfin the circumstance of somebody who’sbeen fighting in Iraq for a year. They havelost a lot of people killed and you parachuteinwithlotsofbrilliantideasandthey’re, like,hang on man, I want to get through my tourbefore I try anything new. So it was verydifficult to get them on board ... but once wedid,theychangeddramatically.”

Kilcullen thinks deeply on the nature ofwar and muses over its biggest dilemma:each war seems as bad as it can get; soterminally horrible that there is never anypolitical will to think about the next one –even to stop it sliding into something worse.“It’s the refuge of the scoundrel to mentionHitler,butwedealwiththingswhentheyaresmall, not when they are big and danger-ous.” The problem is that our “normalitybias” kicks in, he says. We think “what it islike now, is how it will always be,” so weneverfightthewarsweexpect.“It’smyjobtoimagine this stuff,” he says with suddenemphasis.

In May this year, President BarackObama was proclaiming the complete USdeparture from Iraq, and largely fromAfghanistan, as big political wins. Twoweekslater–threeyearsafterwhatKilcullenviews as a premature exit there – ISISexploded across the Iraqi desert to carve outits own jihadist state, shocking the world.“Wouldn’t it have been awesome if we hadstayed in Iraq and we would never have hadto deal with ISIS,” he says. Islamic State is adifferent beast from al-Qaeda, but Kilcullencan see more terrible things than either ofthem.

“The worst-case scenario is not that ISISand al-Qaeda continue to be rivals, it’s thatthey pal up. You end up with a precipitatewithdrawal from Afghanistan, creatingspace for the Taliban to come back, just likeISIS did in Iraq, then al-Qaeda comes in onthe back of that, and then you have ISIS andal-QaedaoneithersideofShiaIran,andthentheSunni-Shiaregionalcivilwarison”–andquitepossibly,hesays,“withnukes”.

I can see the big clock on the old PostOffice tower in Martin Place. It’s a littleafter noon and we are already on toArmageddon. Talking such catastropheover a piece of fish with this soldier-scholarseemsmatteroffact,neithersillynorscary.

He was always heading for the army,despite left-leaning academic parents,growing up on Sydney’s north shore, thenRoyal Military College, Duntroon at 17, theinfantry, then a PhD from the AustralianDefenceForceAcademy.

ChildhoodmemoriesoftheVietnamWaron TV had inspired him. Its lessons shapehow Kilcullen thinks terrorism should be

fought now. The previous night, giving theJohn Bonython lecture in Sydney for theCentre for Independent Studies, he warned,“We may destroy our free and open societyinordertosaveit:afullyprotectedstatelooksalot likeapolicestate.”

Hereallydoesthinkaterroristattackhereis 100 per cent likely but believes we need “abigpublicdebate”onhowmuchprivacyandfreedomweshouldtradeoff forprotection.

Spookish security bureaucrats cannottake that decision because they have vestedinterests,hesays,anditcannotbepoliticiansbecause they are too easy to blame if it goeswrong. “You end up spending lots of moneyand destroying things about your societythat you hold dear – and an attack happensanyway.” That’s a risk “the public at large”hastohelpdecidehowtomanage.

Kilcullen strongly believes Western lib-eralvaluesarealsothebestanswertopeoplewho leave here for the Middle East tobecomethoseterrorists.

A bad mistake after September 11, he says,was to deal with Muslim communitiesthrough intermediaries – usually olderauthoritarian men – which further segre-gatedcommunitiesandencouragedthemtoseek special favours. It strands their young-stersbetweendifferentworlds.

“WeneedtotreatAustralianMuslimslikeAustralian Catholics, Australian Hindus orany other Australian with all the rights,freedoms, expectations and responsibilitiesthat come from free membership of a freesociety,” he told his CIS audience: “Theanswer to domestic radicalistion is morefreedom,notless.”

The people flocking to join ISIS are notthat different from those going to Spain inthe 1930s,” he suggests. They are mostlyadventurers rather than zealots “who wantto be part of something of world historicalimportancethat’ssuccessful–andISISisthebiggest game in town. We have got to be say-

ing‘wehaveagreatsocietyhereinAustralia.You can makes something of yourself . . .which you can’t in Syria or Iraq. Don’t wasteyourlifeonjihad.’”

It’s 12.20pm. Still OK for the plane. Theplates have long been cleared and we ordercoffee and tea. He cheerfully says he is in theUSasa“warbride”:hiswifeJanineDavidsonwas a senior US Air Force pilot who went onto become the deputy assistant secretary ofdefenceforplansatthePentagon.

Women now command major US navaland air force units. But great generals andadmirals in history were also completebastards, I suggest, ruthless with their ownforcestoachievevictory.“Youmightget intotrouble answering this,” I say. “Do womenhavethe,er, insensitivityneeded?”

“Most women are not ruthless or physi-cally capable enough to be in combat,” he says. “And neither are most men. It’s not agender thing. There’s always going to be acertain minority in a population that is ableto do what it takes to suffer and inflict theviolencetokeepussafe.

“My wife was the first woman to fly C-130transport planes on operations in the US AirForce. She had a terrible time with basicallysexist decisions put in place in the 1950s andthat no one wanted to revisit . . . if we nowgenuinely think there is a climate to putwomen into the infantry or special forces,weshouldstructureitsothatwesetupthosepeopleforsuccess.”

I mention the famous study that foundthat most US soldiers in the Normandycampaign of World War II did not actuallyfiretheirrifles.“Eveninall-maleunitsunderfire, the majority of men don’t feel ready totake a life,” says Kilcullen, who has been infirefights in East Timor, Iraq, Afghanistanand Somalia, and fired back. “There is noth-ing like someone shooting at you to helpovercomeyourresistance.”

We do not give much help to those whoend up doing the shooting. “It’s one thing tohave been shot at on behalf of your country.It’s another thing entirely to shoot someoneelse. People come back, having been forcedto break a fundamental human taboo,and their society does not necessarilysupportthem.”

It is 12.40pm. We quickly make our good-byes, he onwards to the Middle East to meetIraqi and Syrian contacts, eager for morenewsthatmighthelptamemayhem.

THEMANFROMARMAGEDDON

The Australian army actuallysaid: ‘He’s only a colonel. Wehave generals. You can have oneof those.’ And the Americanssaid, ‘No – we want that guy.’

David Kilcullen is the high flying, plain spokenAustralian strategist who now thinks the unthinkableabout Islamist extremism, writes Kevin Chinnery.

MOSAICWestin Sydney,Martin Place

2 barramundilunch plates, $761 bottle of SanPellegrino, $181 double espresso, $91 English breakfasttea, $9Total: $112

Counter-insurgency expert David Kilcullen says Western liberal values are the answer. PHOTO: LOUISE KENNERLEY

FBA 052