WASHINGTON — When America fights its wars in the Middle East, it has a nasty habit of recruiting local forces as proxies and then jettisoning them when the going gets tough or regional politics intervene.
This pattern of "seduction and abandonment" is one of our least endearing characteristics. It's one reason the U.S. is mistrusted in the Middle East. We don't stick by the people who take risks on our behalf in Iraq, Egypt, Lebanon and elsewhere. And now, I fear, this syndrome is happening again in Syria, as a Kurdish militia group known as the YPG, which has been America's best ally against the Islamic State, gets pounded by the Turkish military.
The YPG is a special case for me because I had a chance to meet some of their fighters in May at a secret U.S. special operations forces training camp in northern Syria. They described battling to the last man (and sometimes, woman) as they drove the Islamic State from its strongholds. Special ops officers embedded with the YPG recounted their battlefield exploits with deep respect, expressing what one called "the brotherhood of the close fight."
Unfortunately, last Thursday, Turkey said its warplanes shot 18 targets in YPG-controlled areas of northern Syria. The Turks want to prevent the YPG from playing a leading role in the liberation of Raqqa, the Islamic State's capital, as the U.S. had planned.
"If it doesn't stop, it could pre-empt all plans for Raqqa," warns a Pentagon official about the Turkish onslaught. Kurdish sources tell me that because the U.S. isn't responding, the YPG is appealing to Russia.
The U.S. alliance with the YPG was forged during the liberation of Kobane from the Islamic State in late 2014. The Kurds were down to a few hundred fighters when U.S. special ops forces intervened. The assistance was brokered by Lahur Talabani, the intelligence chief of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, or PUK. He sent several of his operatives into Kobane with GPS devices to call in U.S. close air support, via an operations center in the PUK's headquarters in Sulaymaniyah, Iraq.
"It was the right thing to do," Talabani told me Tuesday in an interview in Washington. He explained that the YPG's success against the Islamic State has saved Kurdish lives in Syria and taken pressure off Kurdish forces in Iraq, who are now fighting to liberate Mosul from the extremists.
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The Obama administration embraced the YPG because the Kobane victory was the first major battlefield success against the Islamic State. At last, the U.S. had a partner that could fight. But this alliance was built atop an ethnic fault line. That ruptured this past August, when a YPG-dominated force captured Manbij, just south of the Turkish border. A few weeks later, the Turks invaded Syria and began their barrage against YPG targets.
The U.S. has tried, unsuccessfully, to finesse the Turkish-Kurdish animosity.
Turkey's regional ambitions have swollen as President Recep Tayyip Erdogan consolidated power after the coup attempt. Even as Turkish forces harass the YPG and consolidate a border strip in Syria, they're also advancing in Iraq, seeking a role in the liberation of Mosul despite warnings from Iraq and the U.S. to stay out. Erdogan speaks of Aleppo and Mosul as former Ottoman regional capitals.
"One wild card is how to manage the role of Turkey in both theaters," warns a senior U.S. official.
Maybe the Kurds should have known better than to ally with the United States, or to trust Turkey to stay out. Kurdish history is a story of betrayal. Fortunately for the U.S., some goodwill remains from "Operation Provide Comfort," the no-fly zone over northern Iraq that the U.S. imposed after the 1991 Gulf War, which helped create a thriving Kurdish regional government in Iraq.
One Iraqi Christian leader recently rejected the suggestion of new American help, post-Islamic State. "You'll walk away," said the priest. "That's what you do."