My father served thirty-four years in the United States Army. When he finally realized I was determined to accept a commission, he sat me down and offered that piece of wisdom. He had others, equally memorable, equally brutal. But that one stayed with me. The great majority of flag officers cannot be trusted.
I worked with many generals during my service as an officer and later as a career Senior Executive Service civilian. My father was correct.
The system produces, in peacetime and in any condition short of total war, men who may look like leaders devoted to their trade and its mysteries. They wear the stars. They command the troops. They speak with authority about strategy and tactics and the lessons of history. But underneath the uniform and the medals, they are highly skilled politicians. They will dissemble, lie, and betray anyone or anything to protect themselves and their precious careers.
This is an unpleasant truth. It is also an undeniable one.
Now the question is being asked: how could the United States government have been so deceived about the real capabilities of the Afghan armed forces? How did we spend twenty years and two trillion dollars building an army that collapsed in days?
The answer is simple. The generals in charge of that effort were either so stupid and blind that they could not understand the evidence everywhere around them, or they simply lied in their reporting and to visitors.
Take your pick. Neither option is comforting.
They had twenty years to assess the Afghan military. Twenty years to watch them fight, train, desert, re-enlist, steal equipment, sell supplies, and avoid combat. Twenty years of after-action reports, intelligence assessments, and first-hand observations. And what did they tell Congress, the President, and the American people? Steady progress. Building capacity. We’re turning a corner. Trust us.
They lied. They lied to cover their asses. They lied to make themselves look good to the people who could advantage them. They lied because telling the truth would have meant admitting failure, and admitting failure would have meant losing stars, losing commands, losing the perks and prestige that come with flag rank.
So they lied. And because they lied, we stayed. And because we stayed, we lost. And because we lost, the Taliban are back in power and the Afghans who trusted us are being hunted.
The generals who did this will retire with full pensions. They will write memoirs. They will appear on television as analysts. They will never be held accountable. The system that produced them will produce more just like them.
My father knew this. He spent thirty-four years watching it happen. He wanted me to understand before I put on the uniform that the men wearing stars were not necessarily the men I should emulate. Some were good. Some were honest. Some actually cared about the troops and the mission. But the system selects for something else. It selects for political skill, for the ability to manage upward, for the talent of telling superiors what they want to hear.
In total war, that changes. In total war, the incompetent get killed and the dishonest get exposed. But we haven’t fought a total war since 1945. We’ve fought police actions, counterinsurgencies, forever wars with no front lines and no clear objectives. In those conflicts, the politicians in uniform thrive. They can lie forever because there is no definitive moment when the lie is revealed.
Afghanistan was supposed to be that moment. Twenty years of lies, finally exposed in a few days of collapse. But the men who told those lies are already spinning. They blame the civilians. They blame the politicians. They blame the Afghans themselves. Anything but accept responsibility.
Don’t believe them. Remember how they got to be generals. Remember what they did to stay there. And remember my father’s words the next time you are tempted to trust one.
