Top Military Officers Unload on Trump
The
commander in chief is impulsive, disdains expertise, and gets his intelligence
briefings from Fox News. What does this mean for those on the front lines?
Illustration: Paul Spella; Michael
Heiman / Getty
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For most of the past two decades,
American troops have been deployed all over the world—to about 150 countries.
During that time, hundreds of thousands of young men and women have experienced
combat, and a generation of officers have come of age dealing with the
practical realities of war. They possess a deep well of knowledge and
experience. For the past three years, these highly trained professionals have
been commanded by Donald Trump.
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To
get a sense of what serving Trump has been like, I interviewed officers up and
down the ranks, as well as several present and former civilian Pentagon
employees. Among the officers I spoke with were four of the highest ranks—three
or four stars—all recently retired. All but one served Trump directly; the
other left the service shortly before Trump was inaugurated. They come from
different branches of the military, but I’ll simply refer to them as “the
generals.” Some spoke only off the record, some allowed what they said to be
quoted without attribution, and some talked on the record.
Military
officers are sworn to serve whomever voters send to the White House. Cognizant
of the special authority they hold, high-level officers epitomize respect for
the chain of command, and are extremely reticent about criticizing their
civilian overseers. That those I spoke with made an exception in Trump’s case
is telling, and much of what they told me is deeply disturbing. In 20 years of
writing about the military, I have never heard officers in high positions
express such alarm about a president. Trump’s pronouncements and orders have
already risked catastrophic and unnecessary wars in the Middle East and Asia,
and have created severe problems for field commanders engaged in combat
operations. Frequently caught unawares by Trump’s statements, senior military
officers have scrambled, in their aftermath, to steer the country away from
tragedy. How many times can they successfully do that before faltering?
Amid
threats spanning the globe, from nuclear proliferation to mined tankers in the
Persian Gulf to terrorist attacks and cyberwarfare, those in command positions
monitor the president’s Twitter feed like field officers scanning the horizon
for enemy troop movements. A new front line in national defense has become the
White House Situation Room, where the military struggles to accommodate a
commander in chief who is both ignorant and capricious. In May, after months of threatening Iran, Trump ordered the
carrier group led by the USS Abraham Lincoln to shift from the Mediterranean
Sea to the Persian Gulf. On June 20, after an American drone was downed there,
he ordered a retaliatory attack—and then called it off minutes before it was to be
launched. The next day he said he was “not looking for war” and
wanted to talk with Iran’s leaders, while also promising them “obliteration
like you’ve never seen before” if they crossed him. He threatened North Korea with “fire and fury” and
dispatched a three-aircraft-carrier flotilla to waters off the Korean
peninsula—then he pivoted to friendly summits with Kim Jong Un,
with whom he announced he was “in love”; canceled
long-standing U.S. military exercises with South Korea; and dangled the possibility of withdrawing American forces
from the country altogether. While the lovefest continues for the
cameras, the U.S. has quietly uncanceled the canceled military exercises, and
dropped any mention of a troop withdrawal.
Such
rudderless captaincy creates the headlines Trump craves. He revels when his
tweets take off. (“Boom!” he says. “Like a rocket!”) Out in the field, where
combat is more than wordplay, his tweets have consequences. He is not a
president who thinks through consequences—and this, the generals stressed, is
not the way serious nations behave.
The
generals I spoke with didn’t agree on everything, but they shared the following
five characterizations of Trump’s military leadership.
I. HE DISDAINS EXPERTISE
Trump
has little interest in the details of policy. He makes up his mind about a
thing, and those who disagree with him—even those with manifestly more
knowledge and experience—are stupid, or slow, or crazy.
As
a personal quality, this can be trying; in a president, it is dangerous. Trump
rejects the careful process of decision making that has long guided commanders
in chief. Disdain for process might be the defining
trait of his leadership. Of course, no process can guarantee good
decisions—history makes that clear—but eschewing the tools available to a
president is choosing ignorance. What Trump’s supporters call “the deep state”
is, in the world of national security—hardly a bastion of progressive politics—a
vast reservoir of knowledge and global experience that presidents ignore at
their peril. The generals spoke nostalgically of the process followed by
previous presidents, who solicited advice from field commanders,
foreign-service and intelligence officers, and in some cases key allies before
reaching decisions about military action. As different as George W. Bush and
Barack Obama were in temperament and policy preferences, one general told me,
they were remarkably alike in the Situation Room: Both presidents asked hard
questions, wanted prevailing views challenged, insisted on a variety of options
to consider, and weighed potential outcomes against broader goals. Trump
doesn’t do any of that. Despite commanding the most sophisticated
intelligence-gathering apparatus in the world, this president prefers to be
briefed by Fox News, and then arrives at decisions without input from others.
One
prominent example came on December 19, 2018, when Trump announced, via Twitter,
that he was ordering all American forces in Syria home.
“We
have defeated ISIS in Syria, my only reason for being there during the Trump
presidency,” he tweeted. Later that day he said, “Our boys, our young women,
our men, they are all coming back, and they are coming back now.”
This
satisfied one of Trump’s campaign promises, and it appealed to the isolationist
convictions of his core supporters. Forget the experts, forget the chain of
command—they were the people who, after all, had kept American forces engaged
in that part of the world for 15 bloody years without noticeably improving
things. Enough was enough.
At
that moment, however, American troops were in the final stages of crushing the
Islamic State, which, contrary to Trump’s assertion, was collapsing but had not
yet been defeated. Its brutal caliphate, which had briefly stretched from
eastern Iraq to western Syria, had been painstakingly dismantled over the
previous five years by an American-led global coalition, which was close to
finishing the job. Now they were to stop and come home?
Here,
several of the generals felt, was a textbook example of ill-informed decision
making. The downsides of a withdrawal were obvious: It would create a power
vacuum that would effectively cede the fractured Syrian state to Russia and
Iran; it would abandon America’s local allies to an uncertain fate; and it
would encourage a diminished ISIS to keep fighting. The decision—which prompted
the immediate resignations of the secretary of defense, General James Mattis,
and the U.S. special envoy to the mission, Brett McGurk—blindsided not only
Congress and America’s allies but the person charged with actually waging the
war, General Joseph Votel, the commander of U.S. Central Command. He had not
been consulted.
Trump’s
tweet put General Votel in the position of telling our allies, in effect, We’re
screwing you, but we need you now more than ever.
Trump’s
tweet put Votel in a difficult spot. Here was a sudden 180-degree turn in U.S.
policy that severely undercut an ongoing effort. The American contingent of
about 2,000 soldiers, most of them Special Forces, was coordinating with the
Iraqi army; the Syrian Democratic Forces, or SDF, consisting primarily of
Kurdish militias and Syrians opposed to President Bashar al-Assad; and
representatives of NATO, the Arab League, and dozens of countries. This
alliance had reduced ISIS’s territory to small pockets of resistance inside
Syria. America’s troops were deep in the Euphrates Valley, a long way from
their original bases of operation. An estimated 10,000 hard-core Islamist
soldiers were fighting to the death. Months of tough combat lay ahead.
Votel’s
force in Syria was relatively small, but it required a steady supply of food,
ammunition, parts, and medical supplies, and regular troop rotations. The
avenue for these vital conveyances—through hundreds of miles of hazardous Iraqi
desert—was truck convoys, protected almost exclusively by the SDF. To protect
its troops during a retreat, America could have brought in its own troops or
replaced those truck convoys with airlifts, but either step would have meant
suddenly escalating an engagement that the president had just pronounced
finished.
For
the American commander, this was a terrible logistical challenge. An orderly
withdrawal of his forces would further stress supply lines, therefore
necessitating the SDF’s help even more. Votel found himself in the position of
having to tell his allies, in effect, We’re screwing you, but we need
you now more than ever.
Field
commanders are often given orders they don’t like. The military must bow to
civilian rule. The generals accept and embrace that. But they also say that no
careful decision-making process would have produced Trump’s abrupt about-face.
Votel
decided to take an exceedingly rare step: He publicly contradicted his
commander in chief. In an interview with CNN he said that no, ISIS was not yet
defeated, and now was not the time to retreat. Given his responsibility to his
troops and the mission, the general didn’t have much choice.
Votel
held everything together. He took advantage of the good relationship he had
built with the SDF to buy enough time for Trump to be confronted with the
consequences of his decision. A few days later, the president backed down—while
predictably refusing to admit that he had done so. American forces would stay
in smaller numbers (and France and the U.K. would eventually agree to commit
more troops to the effort). The 180-degree turn was converted into something
more like a 90-degree one. In the end, the main effects of Trump’s tweet were
bruising the trust of allies and heartening both Assad and ISIS.
Illustration: Paul Spella; Nicholas Kamm;
Olivier Douliery / AFP / Getty; Erik S. Lesser / AP; Kevin LaMarque / Reuters
II. HE TRUSTS ONLY HIS OWN INSTINCTS
Trump
believes that his gut feelings about things are excellent, if not genius. Those
around him encourage that belief, or they are fired. Winning the White House
against all odds may have made it unshakable.
Decisiveness
is good, the generals agreed. But making decisions without considering facts is
not.
Trump
has, on at least one occasion, shown the swiftness and resolution commanders
respect: On April 7, 2017, he responded to a chemical-warfare attack by Assad
with a missile strike on Syria’s Shayrat Airbase. But this was not a hard call.
It was a onetime proportional retaliation unlikely to stir international
controversy or wider repercussions. Few international incidents can be cleanly
resolved by an air strike.
“How
did we even get to that point?” one general asked me in astonishment. What kind
of commander in chief would risk war with Iran over a drone?
A
case in point is the flare-up with Iran in June. The generals said Trump’s
handling of it was perilous, because it could have led to a shooting war. On
June 20, Iran’s air defenses shot down an American RQ-4A Global Hawk, a
high-altitude surveillance drone the Iranians said had violated their airspace.
The U.S. said the drone was in international airspace. (The disputed
coordinates were about 12 miles apart—not a big difference for an aircraft
moving hundreds of miles an hour.) In retaliation, Trump ordered a military strike on Iran—and then abruptly
called it off after, he claimed, he’d been informed that it would kill about 150 Iranians. One general told me
this explanation is highly improbable—any careful discussion of the strike
would have considered potential casualties at the outset. But whatever his
reasoning, the president’s reversal occasioned such relief that it obscured the
gravity of his original decision.
“How
did we even get to that point?” the general asked me in astonishment. Given
what a tinderbox that part of the world is, what kind of commander in chief
would risk war with Iran over a drone?
Not
only would a retaliatory strike have failed the litmus test of proportionality,
this general said, but it would have accomplished little, escalated the dispute
with Iran, and risked instigating a broad conflict. In an all-out war, the U.S.
would defeat Iran’s armed forces, but not without enormous bloodshed, and not
just in Iran. Iran and its proxies would launch terrorist strikes on American
and allied targets throughout the Middle East and beyond. If the regime were to
fall, what would come next? Who would step in to govern a Shiite Muslim nation
of 82 million steeped for generations in hatred of America? The mullahs owe
their power to the American overthrow of Iran’s elected government in 1953, an
event widely regarded in Iran (and elsewhere) as an outrage. Conquering
Americans would not be greeted by happy Persian crowds. The generals observed
that those who predicted such parades in Baghdad following the ouster of Saddam
Hussein instead got a decade-long bloodbath. Iran has more than twice Iraq’s
population, and is a far more developed nation. The Iraq War inspired the
creation of ISIS and gave renewed momentum to al‑Qaeda; imagine how war with
Iran might mobilize Hezbollah, the richest and best-trained terrorist
organization in the world.
Sometimes,
of course, war is necessary. That’s why we maintain the most expensive and
professional military in the world. But a fundamental reason to own such power
is to avoid wars—especially wars that are likely to create
worse problems than they solve.
General
Votel, who commanded American forces in the region until he retired in March,
told me that if the U.S. had carried out a retaliatory strike, “the trick for
the military in this case would be to orchestrate some type of operation that
would very quickly try and get us to an off-ramp—give them an off-ramp or
provide us with an off-ramp—so we can get to some kind of discussion to resolve
the situation.” Trump’s attack might have targeted some of the Iranian navy’s
vessels and systems that threaten shipping in the Strait of Hormuz, Votel said,
or it might have leveled a measured strike against the air defenses that struck
the drone. Ideally it would have been followed by a pause, so diplomatic
processes could kick in. The strike would have demonstrated to Iran that we
have the capability and willingness to strike back if provoked, and made clear
that in a serious fight, it could not prevail. But all of this presumes a
sequence that would unfold in an orderly, rational way—a preposterous notion.
“This
is all completely unpredictable,” Votel said. “It’s hard for me to see how it
would play out. We would be compelled to leave large numbers of forces in the
region as a deterrent. If you don’t have an off-ramp, you’re going to find
yourself in some kind of protracted conflict.” Which is precisely the kind of
scenario Trump has derided in the past. His eagerness to free the U.S. from
long-term military conflicts overseas was why he made his abrupt announcement
about pulling out of Syria. Evidently he didn’t fully consider where a military
strike against Iran was likely to lead.
The
real reason Trump reversed himself on the retaliatory strike, one general said,
was not because he suddenly learned of potential casualties, but because
someone, most likely General Joseph Dunford, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs
of Staff, aggressively confronted him with the extended implications of an
attack.
“I
know the chairman very well,” the general said. “He’s about as fine an officer
as I have ever spent time around. I think if he felt the president was really
heading in the wrong direction, he would let the president know.” He added that
Secretary of State Mike Pompeo may have counseled against an attack as well.
“Pompeo’s a really bright guy. I’m sure he would intervene and give the
president his best advice.”
III. HE RESISTS COHERENT STRATEGY
If
there is any broad logic to Trump’s behavior, it’s Keep ’em confused.
He believes that unpredictability itself is a virtue.
Keeping
an enemy off-balance can be a good thing, the generals agreed, so long as you
are not off-balance yourself. And it’s a tactic, not a strategy. Consider
Trump’s rhetorical dance with the North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un. No
president in modern times has made progress with North Korea. Capable of
destroying Seoul within minutes of an outbreak of hostilities, Pyongyang has ignored
every effort by the U.S. and its allies to deter it from building a nuclear
arsenal.
Trump
has gone back and forth dramatically on Kim. As a candidate in 2016, he said he
would get China to make the North Korean dictator “disappear in one form or
another very quickly.” Once in office, he taunted Kim, calling him “Little
Rocket Man,” and suggested that the U.S. might immolate Pyongyang. Then he
switched directions and orchestrated three personal meetings with Kim.
“That
stuff is just crazy enough to work,” one of the generals told me with a what-the-hell? chuckle.
“We’ll see what happens. If they can get back to some kind of discussion, if it
can avert something, it will have been worth it. The unconventional aspect of
that does have the opportunity to shake some things up.”
In
the long run, however, unpredictability is a problem. Without a coherent
underlying strategy, uncertainty creates confusion and increases the chance of
miscalculation—and miscalculation, the generals pointed out, is what starts most
wars. John F. Kennedy famously installed a direct hotline to the Kremlin in
order to lower the odds of blundering into a nuclear exchange. Invading Kuwait,
Saddam Hussein stumbled into a humiliating defeat in the first Gulf War—a
conflict that killed more than 100,000 people—after a cascading series of
miscommunications and miscalculations led to a crushing international response.
Unpredictability
becomes an impediment to success when it interferes with orderly process. “Say
you’re going to have an engagement with North Korea,” a general who served
under multiple presidents told me. “At some point you should have developed a
strategy that says, Here’s what we want the outcome to be. And then
somebody is developing talking points. Those talking points are shared with the
military, with the State Department, with the ambassador. Whatever the issue
might be, before the president ever says anything, everybody should
know what the talking points are going to be.” To avoid confusion and a sense
of aimlessness, “everybody should have at least a general understanding of what
the strategy is and what direction we’re heading in.”
Which
is frequently not the case now.
“If
the president says ‘Fire and brimstone’ and then two weeks later says ‘This is
my best friend,’ that’s not necessarily bad—but it’s bad if the rest of the
relevant people in the government responsible for executing the strategy aren’t
aware that that’s the strategy,” the general said. Having a process to figure
out the sequences of steps is essential. “The process tells the president what
he should say. When I was working with Obama and Bush,” he continued, “before
we took action, we would understand what that action was going to be, we’d have
done a Q&A on how we think the international community is going to respond
to that action, and we would have discussed how we’d deal with that response.”
To
operate outside of an organized process, as Trump tends to, is to reel from
crisis to rapprochement to crisis, generating little more than noise. This
haphazard approach could lead somewhere good—but it could just as easily start
a very big fire.
If
the president eschews the process, this general told me, then when a
challenging national-security issue arises, he won’t have information at hand
about what the cascading effects of pursuing different options might be. “He’s
kind of shooting blind.” Military commanders find that disconcerting.
“The
process is not a panacea—Bush and Obama sometimes made bad decisions even with
all the options in front of them—but it does help.”
Illustration: Paul Spella; Eric Thayer /
Reuters
IV. “HE IS REFLEXIVELY CONTRARY”
General
H. R. McMaster, who left the White House on reasonably good terms in April 2018
after only 14 months as national security adviser, is about as can-do a
professional as you will find. He appeared to take Trump seriously, and
tailored his briefings to accommodate the president’s famous impatience, in
order to equip him for the weighty decisions the office demands. But Trump
resents advice and instruction. He likes to be agreed with. Efforts to broaden
his understanding irritate him. McMaster’s tenure was bound to be short. Weeks
before accepting his resignation, the president let it be known that he found
McMaster’s briefings tedious and the man himself “gruff and condescending.”
Distrusting
expertise, Trump has contradicted and disparaged the intelligence community and
presided over a dismantling of the State Department. This has meant leaving
open ambassadorships around the world, including in countries vital to American
interests such as Brazil, Canada, Honduras, Japan, Jordan, Pakistan, Russia,
and Ukraine. High-level foreign officers, seeing no opportunities for
advancement, have been leaving.
“When
you lose these diplomats and ambassadors that have all this experience, this
language capability, this cultural understanding, that makes things very, very
difficult for us,” one of the generals said. “And it leads to poor decisions
down the line.”
Trump
so resists being led that his instinct is nearly always to upend prevailing
opinion.
“He
is reflexively contrary,” another of the generals told me.
According
to those who worked with him, McMaster avoided giving the president a single
consensus option, even when one existed. He has said that he always tried to
give the president room to choose. After leaving the White House, he criticized
others in the national-security community for taking a different approach,
accusing them of withholding information in hopes of steering Trump in the
direction they preferred. McMaster has not named names, but he was most likely
talking about Mattis and General John Kelly, who, after serving as Trump’s
homeland-security secretary, became the president’s second chief of staff.
McMaster has said that he considered such an approach tantamount to subverting
the Constitution—but if his allegation is true, it shows how poorly equipped
those people felt Trump was for the job. Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s
report records numerous instances of civilian advisers trying to manage the
president, or simply ignoring presidential directives they deemed ill-advised
or illegal.
During
his brief tenure on Trump’s staff, McMaster oversaw the production of a broad
national-security strategy that sought to codify Trump’s “America first”
worldview, placing immigration at the head of national-security concerns, right
alongside nuclear proliferation and terrorist attacks. The idea was to build a
coherent structure around the president’s scattershot diplomacy. Trump
rhapsodized about the document at its unveiling, according to someone who was
there, saying, “I love it! I love it! I want to use this all the time.”
He
hasn’t. Like its author, the document has been dismissed. Those who were
involved in writing it remain convinced, somewhat hopefully, that it is still
helping guide policy, but John Bolton, McMaster’s successor, said scornfully—a
few months before he, too, was ousted by Trump—that it is filed away somewhere,
consulted by no one.
Trump
is no more likely to have read the thing than he is to have written his own
books. (Years ago, after he published The Art of the Deal, he asked
me if I was interested in writing his next book. I declined.) Trying to shape
this president’s approach to the world into a cogent philosophy is a fool’s
errand. For those commanding America’s armed forces, it’s best to keep
binoculars trained on his Twitter feed.
V. HE HAS A SIMPLISTIC AND ANTIQUATED
NOTION OF SOLDIERING
Though
he disdains expert advice, Trump reveres—perhaps fetishizes—the military. He
began his presidency by stacking his administration with generals: Mattis,
McMaster, Kelly, and, briefly, Michael Flynn, his first national security
adviser. Appointing them so soon after their retirement from the military was a
mistake, according to Don Bolduc, a retired brigadier general who is currently
running as a Republican for the U.S. Senate in New Hampshire. Early on, the
biggest difference Bolduc saw between the Trump administration and its
predecessors, and one he felt was “going to be disruptive in the long term,”
was “the significant reliance, in the Pentagon at least, on senior military
leadership overriding and making less relevant our civilian oversight. That was
going to be a huge problem. The secretary of defense pretty much surrounded
himself with his former Marine comrades, and there was, at least from that
group, a distrust of civilians that really negatively affected the Pentagon in
terms of policy and strategy in Afghanistan, Syria, and Iraq, by following the
same old failed operational approaches.” Trump’s reliance on military solutions
is problematic because “there are limits to what the military can solve. I
think initially the Trump administration held this idea that general officers
somehow have all the answers to everything. I think the president discovered in
short order that that’s really not the case.”
Bolduc
also pointed out an unusual leadership challenge caused by having a general of
McMaster’s rank serve as national security adviser—he did not retire when he
assumed the post. “McMaster, for whom I have tremendous respect, came in as a
three-star general. Leaving him a three-star forces him on a daily basis to
have to engage with four-star generals who see his rank as beneath theirs, even
though his position is much more than that.”
The
problems posed by Trump’s skewed understanding of the military extend beyond
bad decision making to the very culture of our armed forces: He apparently
doesn’t think American soldiers accused of war crimes should be prosecuted and
punished. In early May, he pardoned former Army Lieutenant Michael Behenna, who
had been convicted of murdering an Iraqi prisoner. Two weeks later, he asked
the Justice Department to prepare pardon materials for a number of American
servicemen and contractors who were charged with murder and desecration of
corpses, including Special Operations Chief Edward Gallagher, a Navy SEAL who
stood accused by his own team members of fatally stabbing a teenage ISIS
prisoner and shooting unarmed civilians. (He was ultimately acquitted of the
murders but convicted of posing for photos with the boy’s body.) Trump
subsequently chastised the military attorneys who had prosecuted Gallagher, and
directed that medals awarded to them be rescinded. All of the generals agreed
that interfering with the military’s efforts to police itself badly undermines
command and control. When thousands of young Americans are deployed overseas
with heavy weaponry, crimes and atrocities will sometimes occur. Failing to
prosecute those who commit them invites behavior that shames everyone in
uniform and the nation they serve.
“He
doesn’t understand the warrior ethos,” one general said of the president. “The
warrior ethos is important because it’s sort of a sacred covenant not just
among members of the military profession, but between the profession and the
society in whose name we fight and serve. The warrior ethos transcends the laws
of war; it governs your behavior. The warrior ethos makes units effective
because of the values of trust and self-sacrifice associated with it—but the
warrior ethos also makes wars less inhumane and allows our profession to
maintain our self-respect and to be respected by others. Man, if the warrior
ethos gets misconstrued into ‘Kill them all …’ ” he
said, trailing off. Teaching soldiers about ethical conduct in war is not just
about morality: “If you treat civilians
disrespectfully, you’re working for the enemy! Trump doesn’t
understand.”
Having
never served or been near a battlefield, several of the generals said, Trump
exhibits a simplistic, badly outdated notion of soldiers as supremely
“tough”—hard men asked to perform hard and sometimes ugly jobs. He also buys
into a severely outdated concept of leadership. The generals, all of whom have
led troops in combat, know better than most that war is hard and ugly, but
their understanding of “toughness” goes well beyond the gruff stoicism of a
John Wayne movie. Good judgment counts more than toughness.
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Bolduc
said he came up in a military where it was accepted practice for senior leaders
to blame their subordinates, lose their temper, pound on desks, and threaten to
throw things, and the response to that behavior was “He’s a hard-ass.
Right? He’s tough. That is not leadership. You don’t get
optimal performance being that way. You get optimal performance by being
completely opposite of that.”
Bolduc
worries that, under Trump’s command, a return to these antiquated notions of
“toughness” will worsen the epidemic of PTSD plaguing soldiers who have served
repeated combat tours. Senior military officers have learned much from decades
of war—lessons Bolduc said are being discarded by a president whose closest
brush with combat has been a movie screen.
The
military is hard to change. This is bad, because it can be maddeningly slow to
adapt, but also good, because it can withstand poor leadership at the top. In
the most crucial areas, the generals said, the military’s experienced leaders
have steered Trump away from disaster. So far.
“The
hard part,” one general said, “is that he may be president for another five
years.”
This
article appears in the November 2019 print edition with the headline “General
Chaos.”
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