inquiries”—outside the UN — to investigate the circumstances of the conflict.
In the light of all these questions, we decided to delay a decision about Aideed.
Seven, the press problem. As word of our mission began to circulate, the media began descending on Mogadishu in droves. They had to be handled carefully. Not only did Aideed remain a master at using the press to his advantage, but an angry and confused American public and congress were watching our every move with careful scrutiny.
In Addis, Meles’s insights, advice, and strong views proved to be extremely helpful. On our two key issues, he had good news and bad:
Aideed had recently declared an unconditional, unilateral cease-fire. Though the UN had not accepted it (preferring, as usual, to ignore him), this was still a positive first step.
But Meles was not so optimistic about getting the prisoners released. The UN at that point held eighty-plus prisoners from Aideed’s side on an island off the southern coast. An unconditional release of Durant and Shantali would be difficult without some sort of exchange for the UN-held prisoners.
As for other issues that concerned us: 1. He thought another conference was a good idea; and he was willing to support it in Addis Ababa. 2. It was his view that an independent tribunal was the best way to deal with the Aideed problem. 3. Most tellingly, he made it clear that UNOSOM was not working well; and the fighting had strengthened Aideed among his followers.
On the tenth of October, we left Addis for Mogadishu.
Because the direct route was risky from the airport to the former U.S. Embassy — now the UNOSOM compound — our helo took a circuitous path. As we approached the embassy, we could see improvements UNOSOM had put in after we left. Comfortable trailers had replaced our tents; and I learned later that “real food” had replaced our MREs. On the face of it, UNOSOM personnel were living a lot easier than we did. However, landing gave us a shock. We found a force under heavy siege. All the troops were dug in or protected by stacks of sandbags. All the new trailers were sandbagged into bunkered positions. Virtually nothing was moving outside the gates.
Oakley and I gave each other a sharp look.
After a series of initial briefs by the U.S. Liaison Office, we met with Generals Bir and Montgomery, who provided a good sense of the military situation. It was clear that the environment on the ground was extremely tense; a fragile and uneasy cessation of fighting was holding, but only by a thread.
It was equally clear that they were not glad to see us. In their view, UNITAF’s “failures” had made it impossible for UNOSOM to succeed; and they took every possible opportunity to pin responsibility on UNITAF for anything that had gone wrong. So it did not sit well that we had come back to attempt a fix.
Our presence did not sit well with Admiral Howe, either, we learned when we met him. As far as he was concerned, our mission was going to be neither helpful nor productive; nor would he yield any of the concessions we thought would smooth negotiations. “UNOSOM II’s strategy must remain as it has been,” he explained, “to isolate, marginalize, and minimalize Aideed, check the intimidation and domination of the other faction leaders, and encourage democratic processes among the ordinary people.” He continued to refuse to declare a cease-fire, as Aideed had done. In his view, Aideed’s cease-fire was nothing but PR — psyops. (Howe did agree, however, to “suspend offensive operations”… a cease-fire under another title. We could live with that.)
Howe’s strategy may have been high-minded; and yet it was also a recipe for war. The factions could only be dealt with through a political process that directly involved them. Their power had to be gradually reduced through cooperative agreements to disarm, followed by organization of a transitional government acceptable to all. A process that replaced the rule of the gun might follow… or so we hoped and prayed.
The UN was moving too fast. They had underestimated the warlords’ power, and had challenged it too soon.
We could not at that point set up a meeting with Aideed himself; he was too unacceptable to UNOSOM. So Aideed’s representatives met us at Oakley’s old USLO compound. Since the Marines protecting the U.S. mission in Mogadishu were not part of UNOSOM, Aideed’s party agreed to let them act as our security. His people treated everyone from UNOSOM like plague-bearers.
The drive through the city was Stalingrad again. The police were absent from the streets, the market stalls had vanished, the buildings more blasted than ever. Everything accomplished after we came nearly a year before had been lost.
Aideed’s men arrived at the compound in a state of high distress. The war had taken a toll on their accustomed arrogance.
Oakley let them vent awhile, then laid out the issues, concentrating on our two key demands. “Your cease-fire and UNOSOM’s cessation of offensive operations are a good start,” he told them. “They provide the environment we need in order to proceed. The next step must be to restart engagement and dialogue. But,” he cautioned, “nothing can move forward without an unconditional release of the prisoners.” When, as expected, they bristled at this, Oakley remained adamant. He knew they wanted an exchange of prisoners, but there’d be no negotiations for the captives.
“At least agree to the release of the UN’s prisoners after we hand over the captured soldiers,” they implored.
“That’s impossible,” Oakley said. “We can’t proceed on anything until there’s an unconditional release.”
After two emotion-packed hours, the Somalis agreed to take the issue back to Aideed and then get back to us.
While all this was going on, a helo passed overhead spreading psyops leaflets calling for Aideed’s arrest. Aideed’s men went ballistic. The leaflets almost derailed the talks. Thanks a lot!
I had earlier checked to make sure no operations would be run during this very sensitive time, but the leaflet drop fell through the cracks. Amazingly, the military operations on the ground were going on with little or no coordination. All the various UNOSOM commands were, as they say in Washington, stovepiped. Everything lined up top to bottom, but nothing connected side to side.
Fortunately, we got things calmed down, and the Somalis left pacified.
Later, when I jumped on the psychological operations officer, he turned out to be totally in the dark about what he should have been doing — and, far more tellingly, who was responsible for it. Under UNITAF command, he’d had a clear line of authority; but now no one coordinated with him, and he had no one to go to for approval.
The following day, he actually tried to get me to approve his leaflets; but I had to tell him I had no authority for that; he had to connect to UNOSOM.
Over the next days, several conversations confirmed what I already knew — Somalia was a mess, and it didn’t have to be.
That evening, I talked with Colonel Kevin Kennedy and some others I knew from the NGOs. (During UNITAF, Kennedy had run our Civil-Military Operations Center. Now retired, he had returned to Somalia to work for UN relief agencies.) Their very outspoken take on the current situation was not encouraging: “UNOSOM creates problems; it doesn’t solve them,” they told me. “Their leadership is either culpably blind to what actually goes on in the streets of Mogadishu, or they’re lying: Most mornings, the relief workers get a briefing from UNOSOM — just like the briefings that used to go on in Moscow back in Soviet times. They’re laughable… except that everything here is too terrible for laughter. They invariably report quiet — no military operations the night before — while we all know that special operations missions went out; we all heard shooting; and we all see the Somali casualties in the hospitals.
