It was back in May of 2003 that one of the defining moments of the Iraq War was freeze-framed in our minds. It didn't take place on the battlefields of Iraq, but in the public relations trenches agonizingly fought over for each minute of potential gain on the nightly news.
The commander in chief of the United States came roaring through the sky on a Navy S-3B Viking marked "Navy 1" and onto the flight deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln for a challenging tail-hook landing. He jumped out with a full flight suit and offered a crisp salute to the sailors on board. Tom Cruise--step back!
This was a macho moment of the nation's man-in-charge taking center stage for the "mother of all photo-ops." Nothing could be better!
And, to top it off, right behind him on the ship's main tower was a sprawling banner declaring "Mission Accomplished." This was supposed to be the "cherry on top" of the supposedly dazzlingly quick victory over the forces of an evil tyrant who had thumbed his nose at the world and butchered his own people.
People debate what mission was accomplished by that time, but no one disputes the fact that, four years later, the greater mission in Iraq is far from complete. American troops remain deeply entrenched.
Some thought that the primary challenge was deposing Saddam Hussein, after which the majority of Iraqis would eagerly cooperate in setting up a democracy in the heart of the Islamic theocracies and dictatorships. But then reality set in and any naïveté was swept away. America and its allies discovered again that the evil wasn't quarantined to one man.
How do we define victory?
Since that day on the USS Lincoln, politicians, pundits and talk show veterans have tried to explain what that banner really meant. It meant this. It meant that. My favorite diagnosis is, "It doesn't really mean what it seems to mean." Oh, we've heard all the chatter.
