Syria: Ten Days That Changed The World
SYRIA CRISIS | THE INSIDE STORY
Syria: Anthony Seldon on ten days that changed the world
Assad’s chemical attack on his own people in August 2013 was a clear red line. Obama and Cameron
Five years ago this month a sequence of events spread over 10 days shook the established world order. Their long-term impact can be compared to 9/11 or the financial crash of 2008. At stake was much more than the moral authority of the West. The world we live in today is powerfully shaped by the events of those 10 days in 2013 and will be for many years to come.
Five years on, from contemporary notes and witness accounts, we can now piece together exactly what happened, why the promise of resolute action crumbled and who was to blame.
On Wednesday, August 21, 2013, President Bashar al-Assad of Syria launched a chemical attack in eastern Ghouta, near Damascus. Sarin nerve gas dropped from the air killed more than 1,000 people, many of them children. How would the West respond?
Exactly a year before, President Barack Obama had warned: “We have been very clear to the Assad regime ... that a red line for us is we start seeing a whole bunch of chemical weapons moving around or being utilised. That would change my calculus; that would change my equation.”
The West’s resolve was clearly being tested in eastern Ghouta. No response would mean that the threats were hollow. In a muddy conflict where it was becoming increasingly hard to see who were the bad guys, here was an issue of moral clarity. Blindingly so.
David Cameron was on the beach in north Cornwall with his family, chilling after a fraught summer. Photos of him trying to change into his swimming trunks under a Mickey Mouse towel on Polzeath beach had already disobligingly appeared all over the press. He yearned for some peace and quiet.
Flicking through his iPad, he came across images of children writhing in agony. They made him feel physically sick. Corpses were lined up on hospital floors. Some, barely alive, frothed at the mouth as they choked to death.
To let Assad get away with it would be intolerable. Chemical weapons had been seen as utterly unacceptable since the Great War 100 years before. That many of the victims were children touched a very deep nerve. But Cameron knew at once that to act would be fraught with difficulties. Memories of the 2003 Iraq War — and the sense that the Blair government had deceived parliament — were raw. Convincing MPs of the need for action would not be easy.
It was worrying, too, that Vladimir Putin, the Russian president, felt that Cameron had hoodwinked him over the western intervention in Libya in 2011 — talking up the protection of civilians to ensure Russian abstention in the security council and then taking action that led to regime change. Putin was unlikely to let the West lead again.
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Identifying bodies after the Ghouta attack
Cameron’s first step was to try to speak urgently to Obama on a secure line from his Cornish hideaway, but contact proved difficult. The two men eventually spoke on Saturday, August 24, three days after the attack. The Downing Street team listening in noted that the call was dominated by a download of the president’s thinking, very different from the style of George W Bush, who tended to ask for the thoughts of his interlocutor.
Obama suggested a cruise missile strike was likely the next Monday because of a “rapidly closing window”, but he was at pains to say: “I have not, repeat not, made a decision.”
Immediately after hanging up, Cameron asked for a conference call with key members of his inner circle. He gave a brief summary of his conversation with Obama — saying the most likely outcome was a missile attack and that the UK would play a supporting role.
William Hague, the foreign secretary, was one of the first to speak, saying that he feared Assad and the Russians might string things out — and that the evidence of sarin would degrade quickly.
In the coalition government, Liberal Democrat views mattered. Nick Clegg, party leader and deputy prime minister, was tracked down by the No 10 switchboard. He made clear he would be supportive so long as a multilateral force was assembled, including the French. He wanted to demonstrate that everything possible had been tried at the United Nations.
The next day Cameron moved up from Cornwall to Chequers and held a meeting of key staff. Obama was beginning seriously to worry them. If he failed to act swiftly, it was hard to see how parliament would not have to be involved, bringing back MPs deep into their summer holidays. Officials highlighted the difficulty of second-guessing a president who did not seem fully to understand the pressures that would be brought to bear on a UK prime minister by delay.
Their advice was clear: parliament would almost certainly have to be recalled and Labour support for action would be crucial.
Cameron decided he would write Obama a personal letter. In it he would make clear that he was supportive of action, but needed reassurance on three points: that there was indisputable evidence about what had happened, a clear legal basis for military action and that the UN was behind it, with a proper role.
Cameron struggled to contact the White House on a secure line
The fears of delay were quickly realised when it became clear that Obama had cold feet about taking action sooner rather than later. The Syrian government had cleverly announced that UN weapons inspectors would be allowed to investigate. Obama could hardly attack while they were in the country.
The consequences of not acting quickly lie at the heart of this story. Both Obama and Cameron had spoken of an early strike on Syria. So why did that not happen?
By Monday, August 26, pressure was mounting for a recall of parliament. Cameron resisted but agreed that he would have to return to No 10, even though this was certain to intensify the already febrile atmosphere. He ordered preparation for a meeting of the national security council and the cabinet.
His priority that day was to speak to Putin. A call was set up for 4pm. At 4.05 an apologetic translator came on the line to say there were problems tracking down the president because he was not in Moscow. The team listening in debated if this was Putin game-playing.
At 4.07 the translator came on again: “I believe the president is coming from his last meeting — so please be patient, Mr Prime Minister.” Another update came at 4.09. Cameron did his best to be polite.
Putin finally came on the line five minutes later. Cameron opened by saying how much he valued their relationship and that they always spoke frankly before getting down to brass tacks. He went on: “I wanted to take your time today to discuss these dreadful chemical weapons attacks. It is a clear red line that we and Russia have set out. I would be very interested in your perspective — but we have high levels of confidence that a chemical weapons attack was perpetrated by the regime. Actions must have consequences.”
There was a long pause. Putin said “Hello?” as if he thought the line was dead. Cameron repeated himself.
Putin came back on: “I am glad to hear from you. Regards from Siberia. I am across your message from August 23 when you asked to convince Syria to give access to the UN to investigate. That permission was given on August 25. Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Putin told him he wanted to be frank, as “a colleague and a friend”, but to him the events of August 21 looked like a pretext to drag the international community into action, undermining the options to have an international conference on Syria. Why would Damascus use chemical weapons to bring forward interference? There was no data that Assad’s forces used those weapons. It was easy to start a war. Wait to see what the UN experts said, he finished.
Cameron listened patiently before replying. He agreed UN inspectors needed access, but for five days they had been stopped from entering — while the site had been shelled repeatedly, making their job extremely difficult.
It simply was not credible to suggest the opposition was responsible for this attack, he protested. There was no evidence that any opposition group could use chemical weapons and the war was not going to be stopped by denying what was clearly the case — that the regime had used chemical weapons on a number of occasions. He told Putin: “If we don’t act, there is a message to dictators everywhere that it is OK to use chemical weapons, when it isn’t.”
“I fully agree chemical weapons use is unacceptable,” Putin replied. “But as of now we have no evidence they were used, or used by the government.”
Cameron’s first step was to try to speak urgently to Obama on a secure line from his Cornish hideaway, but contact proved difficult. The two men eventually spoke on Saturday, August 24, three days after the attack. The Downing Street team listening in noted that the call was dominated by a download of the president’s thinking, very different from the style of George W Bush, who tended to ask for the thoughts of his interlocutor.
Obama suggested a cruise missile strike was likely the next Monday because of a “rapidly closing window”, but he was at pains to say: “I have not, repeat not, made a decision.”
Immediately after hanging up, Cameron asked for a conference call with key members of his inner circle. He gave a brief summary of his conversation with Obama — saying the most likely outcome was a missile attack and that the UK would play a supporting role.
William Hague, the foreign secretary, was one of the first to speak, saying that he feared Assad and the Russians might string things out — and that the evidence of sarin would degrade quickly.
In the coalition government, Liberal Democrat views mattered. Nick Clegg, party leader and deputy prime minister, was tracked down by the No 10 switchboard. He made clear he would be supportive so long as a multilateral force was assembled, including the French. He wanted to demonstrate that everything possible had been tried at the United Nations.
The next day Cameron moved up from Cornwall to Chequers and held a meeting of key staff. Obama was beginning seriously to worry them. If he failed to act swiftly, it was hard to see how parliament would not have to be involved, bringing back MPs deep into their summer holidays. Officials highlighted the difficulty of second-guessing a president who did not seem fully to understand the pressures that would be brought to bear on a UK prime minister by delay.
Their advice was clear: parliament would almost certainly have to be recalled and Labour support for action would be crucial.
Cameron decided he would write Obama a personal letter. In it he would make clear that he was supportive of action, but needed reassurance on three points: that there was indisputable evidence about what had happened, a clear legal basis for military action and that the UN was behind it, with a proper role.
Cameron struggled to contact the White House on a secure line
The fears of delay were quickly realised when it became clear that Obama had cold feet about taking action sooner rather than later. The Syrian government had cleverly announced that UN weapons inspectors would be allowed to investigate. Obama could hardly attack while they were in the country.
The consequences of not acting quickly lie at the heart of this story. Both Obama and Cameron had spoken of an early strike on Syria. So why did that not happen?
By Monday, August 26, pressure was mounting for a recall of parliament. Cameron resisted but agreed that he would have to return to No 10, even though this was certain to intensify the already febrile atmosphere. He ordered preparation for a meeting of the national security council and the cabinet.
His priority that day was to speak to Putin. A call was set up for 4pm. At 4.05 an apologetic translator came on the line to say there were problems tracking down the president because he was not in Moscow. The team listening in debated if this was Putin game-playing.
At 4.07 the translator came on again: “I believe the president is coming from his last meeting — so please be patient, Mr Prime Minister.” Another update came at 4.09. Cameron did his best to be polite.
Putin finally came on the line five minutes later. Cameron opened by saying how much he valued their relationship and that they always spoke frankly before getting down to brass tacks. He went on: “I wanted to take your time today to discuss these dreadful chemical weapons attacks. It is a clear red line that we and Russia have set out. I would be very interested in your perspective — but we have high levels of confidence that a chemical weapons attack was perpetrated by the regime. Actions must have consequences.”
There was a long pause. Putin said “Hello?” as if he thought the line was dead. Cameron repeated himself.
Putin came back on: “I am glad to hear from you. Regards from Siberia. I am across your message from August 23 when you asked to convince Syria to give access to the UN to investigate. That permission was given on August 25. Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
Putin told him he wanted to be frank, as “a colleague and a friend”, but to him the events of August 21 looked like a pretext to drag the international community into action, undermining the options to have an international conference on Syria. Why would Damascus use chemical weapons to bring forward interference? There was no data that Assad’s forces used those weapons. It was easy to start a war. Wait to see what the UN experts said, he finished.
Cameron listened patiently before replying. He agreed UN inspectors needed access, but for five days they had been stopped from entering — while the site had been shelled repeatedly, making their job extremely difficult.
It simply was not credible to suggest the opposition was responsible for this attack, he protested. There was no evidence that any opposition group could use chemical weapons and the war was not going to be stopped by denying what was clearly the case — that the regime had used chemical weapons on a number of occasions. He told Putin: “If we don’t act, there is a message to dictators everywhere that it is OK to use chemical weapons, when it isn’t.”
“I fully agree chemical weapons use is unacceptable,” Putin replied. “But as of now we have no evidence they were used, or used by the government.”
Putin was in Siberia and hard to track down
Realising he was getting nowhere, Cameron wrapped up the call cordially and quickly.
On Tuesday, the pressure on the prime minister became intense. He travelled by helicopter to central London but was still wearing holiday clothes because he had no suit. His director of communications, Craig Oliver, arranged for one so he would not be seen entering the front door of No 10 looking scruffy.
From that point on, a rolling meeting occupied Cameron’s study involving his core team, members of the national security council, Clegg, Hague and the chancellor, George Osborne.
Top of the agenda was whether to recall parliament. It was understood that there was no constitutional requirement for MPs’ approval to declare war. The royal prerogative gave ministers the authority to send troops into battle. However, political reality — after Iraq and the success of backbenchers in laying down markers — suggested otherwise.
Realising he was getting nowhere, Cameron wrapped up the call cordially and quickly.
On Tuesday, the pressure on the prime minister became intense. He travelled by helicopter to central London but was still wearing holiday clothes because he had no suit. His director of communications, Craig Oliver, arranged for one so he would not be seen entering the front door of No 10 looking scruffy.
From that point on, a rolling meeting occupied Cameron’s study involving his core team, members of the national security council, Clegg, Hague and the chancellor, George Osborne.
Top of the agenda was whether to recall parliament. It was understood that there was no constitutional requirement for MPs’ approval to declare war. The royal prerogative gave ministers the authority to send troops into battle. However, political reality — after Iraq and the success of backbenchers in laying down markers — suggested otherwise.
William Hague feared he would have to resign, but Cameron blamed himself for the ‘pickle’ they were in
The person most forceful in cautioning against recall was Hague, who pointed out that, if they really must do it, there were parliamentary procedures that meant they did not have to have a vote. Oliver said that although this might be theoretically possible, there was a real danger of people crying foul. George Young, the chief whip, was quietly confident that he could deliver the numbers. It proved a fatal miscalculation.
Cameron ended the discussion: parliament was to be recalled. Oliver dipped out of the room to draft a tweet from the prime minister’s account: “Speaker agrees my request to recall Parliament on Thursday. There’ll be a clear Govt motion & vote on UK response to chemical weapons attacks.” The die was cast.
Inside Cameron’s study a debate was raging about whether intelligence around the attack would be shared. Clegg was losing patience, saying: “Look, it is inconceivable that we wouldn’t release the intelligence after what happened over Iraq.” Cameron agreed.
The intelligence given to him said the spooks were not 100% certain that chemical weapons had been used. That did not sound overwhelming. Intelligence officers were asked if they could be more precise but would not go beyond there being a very high chance. “Very certain” was suggested. But one of the team responded: “You can’t have degrees of certain. It is either certain or it isn’t.”
Cameron was becoming exasperated. His beef was that had the US responded instantaneously to the sarin attack, people would be left debating something that had happened already. Instead, those who opposed action had time to marshal their forces.
A series of military top brass were invited to join the meeting. Wearing grey pinstripe suits and carrying briefcases, they struck some of Cameron’s team as if they had come from a different era.
They unveiled a potential US-UK plan of action with four steps: 1) Prepare; 2) Strike; 3) Diplomatic activity; 4) Strike again if necessary. The mood sobered when it became apparent that, based on computer modelling, 30 people could be killed at one possible target and 700 at another. But top government buildings were ruled out. It was a clear indication of quite how limited the US wanted any military action to be.
The person most forceful in cautioning against recall was Hague, who pointed out that, if they really must do it, there were parliamentary procedures that meant they did not have to have a vote. Oliver said that although this might be theoretically possible, there was a real danger of people crying foul. George Young, the chief whip, was quietly confident that he could deliver the numbers. It proved a fatal miscalculation.
Cameron ended the discussion: parliament was to be recalled. Oliver dipped out of the room to draft a tweet from the prime minister’s account: “Speaker agrees my request to recall Parliament on Thursday. There’ll be a clear Govt motion & vote on UK response to chemical weapons attacks.” The die was cast.
Inside Cameron’s study a debate was raging about whether intelligence around the attack would be shared. Clegg was losing patience, saying: “Look, it is inconceivable that we wouldn’t release the intelligence after what happened over Iraq.” Cameron agreed.
The intelligence given to him said the spooks were not 100% certain that chemical weapons had been used. That did not sound overwhelming. Intelligence officers were asked if they could be more precise but would not go beyond there being a very high chance. “Very certain” was suggested. But one of the team responded: “You can’t have degrees of certain. It is either certain or it isn’t.”
Cameron was becoming exasperated. His beef was that had the US responded instantaneously to the sarin attack, people would be left debating something that had happened already. Instead, those who opposed action had time to marshal their forces.
A series of military top brass were invited to join the meeting. Wearing grey pinstripe suits and carrying briefcases, they struck some of Cameron’s team as if they had come from a different era.
They unveiled a potential US-UK plan of action with four steps: 1) Prepare; 2) Strike; 3) Diplomatic activity; 4) Strike again if necessary. The mood sobered when it became apparent that, based on computer modelling, 30 people could be killed at one possible target and 700 at another. But top government buildings were ruled out. It was a clear indication of quite how limited the US wanted any military action to be.
The meeting ended, but Cameron’s core team stayed to prepare for his first discussion with the Labour leader, Ed Miliband. It was dawning on the prime minister quite how this could go badly wrong. As sandwiches were brought in, he threw out a question: “What would our Plan B be if Labour and the Lib Dems decide they won’t support action?”
The best anyone could come up with included helping the US with refuelling, which was considered to be pathetic and humiliating. Cameron decided all wobbly Conservative MPs must be told clearly that any British military action would be limited and that they should not allow him to be the first Conservative prime minister who said “No” when a US president came calling.
He phoned Miliband, who like every other parliamentarian had been hoping for a few blessed days to swap politics for family and holiday. The No 10 team made detailed notes of their conversation, which show clearly that at this stage the Labour leader was open to supporting action but was insisting that “the evidence has to be clear”.
In his study that afternoon, the prime minister briefed Miliband and his team on what was known about the chemical attack and said he was ready to take part in a military response if Obama decided on one. Cameron said he supported a multilateral approach through the UN that was proportional, legal and focused on deterring chemical weapons use. He made clear he was not seeking a wider role for Britain in the Syria conflict.
“I hope we can act on an all-party basis to deplore chemical weapons use and pressure the regime,” he said.
Clegg rowed in behind him: “I’m thoroughly convinced chemical weapons have been used. It’s abhorrent.”
Miliband listened very carefully before saying: “Four questions: what about the UN inspectors and their efforts, why not wait for that? What legal authority would we be acting on? What would be the military objectives? And how would it be demonstrable that we’d be stopping something worse happening?”
Cameron said he was willing to share the legal advice on a privy council basis, adding: “It’s important to at least be seen to try and fail at the UN.”
At the end of the meeting Miliband concluded: “I really don’t want to oppose this, but we have to take the public with us ... the parliamentary timetable is very tricky.” Afterwards Cameron said he felt the Labour leader was being “helpful and responsible” and signalling that the operation was politically “doable”.
The best anyone could come up with included helping the US with refuelling, which was considered to be pathetic and humiliating. Cameron decided all wobbly Conservative MPs must be told clearly that any British military action would be limited and that they should not allow him to be the first Conservative prime minister who said “No” when a US president came calling.
He phoned Miliband, who like every other parliamentarian had been hoping for a few blessed days to swap politics for family and holiday. The No 10 team made detailed notes of their conversation, which show clearly that at this stage the Labour leader was open to supporting action but was insisting that “the evidence has to be clear”.
In his study that afternoon, the prime minister briefed Miliband and his team on what was known about the chemical attack and said he was ready to take part in a military response if Obama decided on one. Cameron said he supported a multilateral approach through the UN that was proportional, legal and focused on deterring chemical weapons use. He made clear he was not seeking a wider role for Britain in the Syria conflict.
“I hope we can act on an all-party basis to deplore chemical weapons use and pressure the regime,” he said.
Clegg rowed in behind him: “I’m thoroughly convinced chemical weapons have been used. It’s abhorrent.”
Miliband listened very carefully before saying: “Four questions: what about the UN inspectors and their efforts, why not wait for that? What legal authority would we be acting on? What would be the military objectives? And how would it be demonstrable that we’d be stopping something worse happening?”
Cameron said he was willing to share the legal advice on a privy council basis, adding: “It’s important to at least be seen to try and fail at the UN.”
At the end of the meeting Miliband concluded: “I really don’t want to oppose this, but we have to take the public with us ... the parliamentary timetable is very tricky.” Afterwards Cameron said he felt the Labour leader was being “helpful and responsible” and signalling that the operation was politically “doable”.
Ed Miliband backed out of helping when his party said he was playing with fire after the Iraq War
When Miliband consulted key figures in his shadow cabinet, however, they cautioned that the Labour Party was playing with fire after Iraq. His tone turned instantaneously from supportive within limits, to actively unhelpful.
That evening he called the prime minister and told him: “We can’t do this without a UN resolution, or if a UN resolution is vetoed by Russia.” It appeared as if he was setting the bar deliberately and impossibly high.
His chief of staff, Tim Livesey, called the private office at No 10 to underline the point: “For the avoidance of any doubt, a UN moment is essential.”
Cameron knew it was a fool’s errand, but he set about demonstrating that he had done everything in his power to secure UN support. He told the British team in New York to start consultations with the permanent members of the security council (including Russia) on a resolution, which everyone knew was doomed to fail.
Later that evening Clegg strode into Cameron’s office. They agreed they were in a very tight spot. Clegg was the more optimistic: “We can still thread the eye of this needle with something dramatic to convince the public that we have tried and hit a brick wall with the Russians.”
To Cameron’s relief, Obama, who had been hard to get hold of, was willing to talk to him again. He underlined to the president: “We would like a UN moment and more allies in any military action.”
Obama was losing patience. He made clear to Cameron he did not want this to drag on — not least because he would be leaving the US in less than a week on a trip to the G20 summit in St Petersburg. He did not want there to be action while he was out of the country.
There was a moment at the end of the call when Obama said that “we may need to have a difficult conversation”, pointing out the US might be going it alone. Cameron was clear about the gravity of the situation: it was rare for the US to ask for UK help and find London unable to deliver.
The prime minister repeated this point at a bleak meeting with his team early next morning (Wednesday, August 28). They said the argument was not cutting any ice with Conservative MPs who — with a day to go before parliament was recalled — were becoming very wobbly.
Little succour came from a YouGov poll in The Sun, saying the public opposed action by two to one. Cameron spelt it out: “We could lose the vote in the House of Commons if we don’t get this right.”
At that point Clegg walked in and said he was having serious trouble with his party too. Even Paddy Ashdown was telling him he would remove his support if there was no “UN moment”.
Cameron steeled himself before striding into the national security council and spelling out the case for action. One account recalls an uncomfortable moment when he made clear: “There is no secret intelligence. This is a question of judgment. It is easy to not take action — but when we look back at Rwanda and Srebrenica we feel we made the wrong choice.” He acknowledged that the shadow of Iraq loomed large for those opposed to action, saying: “This sometimes feels like 2003, not 2013.”
One of his aides, Oliver Dowden, was waiting back in his office with the results of a ring round of back-bench MPs: “A third say no way, a third that they are persuadable and a third that they will vote with the government.” The room froze for a moment. Then came the realisation that without Labour’s support there was no way a vote could be won.
The chief whip named the MPs who would not support action. Osborne interjected: “Right! There are about 10 of those people who want a job.”
Cameron’s famous sangfroid under pressure turned several shades colder as he looked back over the events of the past few days: “The next time I ask to talk to the president about chemical weapons attacks, tell me to turn over on my sun lounger and go to sleep.”
Miliband and his shadow foreign secretary, Douglas Alexander, were invited back into Downing Street to meet Cameron, Clegg and Hague. The earlier cordiality had evaporated and the argument was heated.
The Labour team said the UN was saying that its inspectors needed another week to finish their work. Cameron pointed out there was no doubt what had happened in the sarin attack and that the inspectors’ remit did not allow them to establish blame, anyway.
The meeting descended into what the notes described as “bickering”. Alexander accused Cameron of wanting a UN security council meeting as a “moment of theatre not substance”.
Miliband followed up: “How can the Commons vote before weapons inspections? I need some time to reflect.”
Cameron tried to force the pace: “Time is tight. I’ve tried to get your signature, I’ve tried to meet your need with lots of clauses and a long motion. If it’s not likely to get your support, I need to know because then I’ll go for a shorter approach.”
When Miliband consulted key figures in his shadow cabinet, however, they cautioned that the Labour Party was playing with fire after Iraq. His tone turned instantaneously from supportive within limits, to actively unhelpful.
That evening he called the prime minister and told him: “We can’t do this without a UN resolution, or if a UN resolution is vetoed by Russia.” It appeared as if he was setting the bar deliberately and impossibly high.
His chief of staff, Tim Livesey, called the private office at No 10 to underline the point: “For the avoidance of any doubt, a UN moment is essential.”
Cameron knew it was a fool’s errand, but he set about demonstrating that he had done everything in his power to secure UN support. He told the British team in New York to start consultations with the permanent members of the security council (including Russia) on a resolution, which everyone knew was doomed to fail.
Later that evening Clegg strode into Cameron’s office. They agreed they were in a very tight spot. Clegg was the more optimistic: “We can still thread the eye of this needle with something dramatic to convince the public that we have tried and hit a brick wall with the Russians.”
To Cameron’s relief, Obama, who had been hard to get hold of, was willing to talk to him again. He underlined to the president: “We would like a UN moment and more allies in any military action.”
Obama was losing patience. He made clear to Cameron he did not want this to drag on — not least because he would be leaving the US in less than a week on a trip to the G20 summit in St Petersburg. He did not want there to be action while he was out of the country.
There was a moment at the end of the call when Obama said that “we may need to have a difficult conversation”, pointing out the US might be going it alone. Cameron was clear about the gravity of the situation: it was rare for the US to ask for UK help and find London unable to deliver.
The prime minister repeated this point at a bleak meeting with his team early next morning (Wednesday, August 28). They said the argument was not cutting any ice with Conservative MPs who — with a day to go before parliament was recalled — were becoming very wobbly.
Little succour came from a YouGov poll in The Sun, saying the public opposed action by two to one. Cameron spelt it out: “We could lose the vote in the House of Commons if we don’t get this right.”
At that point Clegg walked in and said he was having serious trouble with his party too. Even Paddy Ashdown was telling him he would remove his support if there was no “UN moment”.
Cameron steeled himself before striding into the national security council and spelling out the case for action. One account recalls an uncomfortable moment when he made clear: “There is no secret intelligence. This is a question of judgment. It is easy to not take action — but when we look back at Rwanda and Srebrenica we feel we made the wrong choice.” He acknowledged that the shadow of Iraq loomed large for those opposed to action, saying: “This sometimes feels like 2003, not 2013.”
One of his aides, Oliver Dowden, was waiting back in his office with the results of a ring round of back-bench MPs: “A third say no way, a third that they are persuadable and a third that they will vote with the government.” The room froze for a moment. Then came the realisation that without Labour’s support there was no way a vote could be won.
The chief whip named the MPs who would not support action. Osborne interjected: “Right! There are about 10 of those people who want a job.”
Cameron’s famous sangfroid under pressure turned several shades colder as he looked back over the events of the past few days: “The next time I ask to talk to the president about chemical weapons attacks, tell me to turn over on my sun lounger and go to sleep.”
Miliband and his shadow foreign secretary, Douglas Alexander, were invited back into Downing Street to meet Cameron, Clegg and Hague. The earlier cordiality had evaporated and the argument was heated.
The Labour team said the UN was saying that its inspectors needed another week to finish their work. Cameron pointed out there was no doubt what had happened in the sarin attack and that the inspectors’ remit did not allow them to establish blame, anyway.
The meeting descended into what the notes described as “bickering”. Alexander accused Cameron of wanting a UN security council meeting as a “moment of theatre not substance”.
Miliband followed up: “How can the Commons vote before weapons inspections? I need some time to reflect.”
Cameron tried to force the pace: “Time is tight. I’ve tried to get your signature, I’ve tried to meet your need with lots of clauses and a long motion. If it’s not likely to get your support, I need to know because then I’ll go for a shorter approach.”
Nick Clegg felt that a page in history would be turning if France intervened and Britain did not
Clegg followed up: “Look, this is a moment in history and we all have to choose. Do events require a response?”
Cameron finally gave way to his frustration: “This is all a bit of a game, because we know we won’t get the [security council resolution] because of the Russians.”
Iraq was a heavy burden for Labour. Miliband blurted out: “Process matters — it’s crucial for support and legitimacy. Our government got it wrong in 2003.”
The meeting broke up indecisively. Clegg warned: “If Labour play the UN card, I will lose the whole of the Liberal Democrat Party.”
Miliband phoned Downing Street at 5.25pm and duly wielded the card. “I won’t support the motion,” he said. “We would need another vote after the inspectors have reported.” The fact that this did not fit Obama’s tight timeline seemed of little consequence to him.
Cameron reassembled his team to brainstorm. The first idea was to go for a “take note motion” in parliament that did not explicitly ask MPs to support the government. Another was to try to incorporate Labour’s thoughts into the government motion, conceding that the vote would only agree to the principle of military action, not endorse it.
They believed they had travelled a very long way to accommodate Miliband. So when this was put to him and he found new ways to wriggle free of Cameron’s embrace, feelings became very raw. Miliband said straight up: “I’ve talked to the shadow cabinet. We’re going with our own motion. We are not going to support the government.”
Hague opined: “This won’t end well.”
The strong emotions tumbled out all over the media next morning — Thursday, the day of the debate. The Times quoted an anonymous government source saying: “No 10 and the Foreign Office think Ed Miliband is a f****** c*** and a copper-bottomed s***.”
The BBC political editor Nick Robinson merely stated the obvious when he said: “The government has lost control of events.”
The No 10 team met early. Oliver Letwin, the trusted Cabinet Office minister, posed a question on many of their minds: should they just consider pulling the parliamentary business. Cameron felt it would be too humiliating, having gone this far. “In that case,” suggested Letwin, “we need to talk about what happens if we lose.”
Cameron and Hague had no doubt. It would have to be followed by a vote of confidence. Everyone else’s eyes widened. After what seemed like a very long silence, Osborne responded: “We are in a wholly different kind of parliament now and that wasn’t necessarily the case.”
“This isn’t just any vote,” flashed back Hague. “Losing this would be 9 on the Richter scale.” He also told the room: “I am in 100% agreement with the PM on this.”
Cabinet met later in the morning for an emergency session. The prime minister swept into the room and took his seat at the last moment. Bringing the meeting to order, he outlined his argument that what was at stake was punishing the use of chemical weapons and not intervening in a civil war. He believed there was too much focus on the dangers of action and not enough on the dangers of inaction.
As he spoke, children could be seen and heard playing on climbing frames in the No 10 garden.
A procession of cabinet ministers spoke, all giving variations of Hague’s line: “It is unambiguously in the British national interest to uphold the prohibition on chemical weapons, the use of them is a war crime.”
Theresa Villiers, the Northern Ireland secretary, was wobbly, however: “This is not our fight and it is difficult for a government that is implementing austerity.”
MPs would be voting on a Labour motion before turning to the government’s. The chief whip read details of it from his iPhone: “It expresses revulsion ... moral outrage ... before making these points: (i) UN weapons inspectors must report, (ii) compelling evidence, (iii) clear legal basis, (iv) clarity on potential consequences, (v) PM makes a further report to the House.”
The obvious question was, could Cameron recommend voting for it as a bipartisan gesture? Everyone waited. He considered it for a second before saying: “No ... it says nothing about the case for military action.”
That Thursday afternoon at 2.38pm the prime minister rose to make his case to the Commons. His voice cracked when it came to talking about seeing the bodies of children stored on ice. He confronted head-on the legacy of Iraq and how it had “poisoned the well” of debate on foreign intervention.
If the world let this pass, he argued, other dictators would take succour and feel they could act with impunity.
Miliband’s response was sober — but by the end his position seemed confused, saying there was a need for a “sequential timetable” of events. Outside the chamber a meeting was hastily arranged in Osborne’s Commons office at 8.30pm. When the chief whip was asked “How deep underwater are we?” the response was “Very.” But he was not certain how many Labour MPs would turn up to vote as it was August.
Cameron came through from his office where he had been trying to persuade recalcitrant MPs, uttering ruefully: “Well, that’s another 20 minutes of my life I won’t get back.” Collapsing into an armchair he said: “I’ve persuaded a whole load of people to back us — but the numbers aren’t shifting.” It was explained that as the Tory support rose, the Lib Dem numbers fell.
Oliver and Dowden slipped out for some food in a canteen in the recesses of the Commons. The former Labour foreign secretary, Margaret Beckett, was in the queue in front of them. “The fact that she’s here,” said Dowden, “means Labour is here in numbers. It’s over.”
At 9.15pm Clegg sat in Cameron’s Commons office, reading through his speech to wind up the debate. He looked up and said: “They outfoxed us. One of the lessons I have learnt is that people do not travel at the same pace as you ... you think you have persuaded them and you haven’t ... You need time.”
Raising the spectre that Obama might turn to France as a more reliable partner in punishing Assad, he went on: “I feel a page is turning. We’ll be living in a different world if the French are involved and we are not.”
Cameron was deep in thought. Osborne sat at the end of the long table, his head tilted to the left, resting in his hand. He looked pale and distant.
Just before 10pm Clegg left the room. Cameron was focusing on what he should say if and when he lost. As ever, he was remarkably calm, but his team could see his deflation — and that he was kicking himself: “I’ll just have to stand up and say that I respect the decision of the House. It’ll be like a bear garden in there.”
“What then?” asked his deputy chief of staff, Kate Fall.
“I’ll get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I’ll be ready to hand you a big whisky,” she said sympathetically.
“I’ll hand you the revolver,” said Oliver with half a smile. “Too soon?”
“Don’t,” said Cameron, managing to laugh mirthlessly. “This is my fault. There are all sorts of ways we could have dodged the bullet.”
When Cameron left, his team gathered round an ancient television set that looked as if it could have been there since Thatcher’s day. Someone found some grim, warm, sweet white wine and they all took a glass.
A tortuous wait for the first vote on the Labour motion followed. When it finally came it was clear it had been well and truly beaten. Some felt there might still be hope.
The second vote — on the government motion — was equally slow. The result finally came at 10.30pm. The tellers stood before the Speaker, the old hands spotting it could only mean a Labour win. One MP was screaming as if he was watching a gladiator being beheaded at the Circus Maximus. The result was called: ayes 272, noes 285.
The noise was deafening. An obviously delighted Miliband at once demanded reassurances. Cameron responded: “I can give that assurance. Let me say, the House has not voted for either motion tonight. I strongly believe in the need for a tough response to the use of chemical weapons, but I also believe in respecting the will of this House of Commons.”
The time had come for the reckoning. Michael Gove was said to be on the floor of the Commons screaming at rebels. Cameron returned to his office and asked for a meeting with only politicians present. After giving time for them to chew it over, Oliver and Cameron’s chief of staff, Ed Llewellyn, entered the office.
Hague was “looking white”, according to a member of Cameron’s team, and feared he would have to resign but the prime minister was having none of it, telling him: “I’m sorry, William. I’ve got us into a real pickle this time.”
The inquest into how the government had lost a vote on a matter of war for the first time in more than 200 years was about to begin. They all knew what would be hurled at them. How could Cameron’s team have been so inept? And how did they get support in their party so wrong?
The long shadow of Iraq was the chief culprit on most tongues. When people had heard Cameron say “Trust me”, they had immediately thought of Tony Blair, Alastair Campbell and “dodgy dossiers”.
A bitter irony for Cameron’s team was that the BBC had film of an incendiary bomb attack on a school in Syria on Monday but did not broadcast it until the evening of the vote. Sickening images were played out at 10pm as MPs went into the voting lobbies. Perhaps, they wondered, things might have been different if they had seen the images before doing so.
The No 10 team felt particularly outraged when Miliband paraded around, talking about “impulsive and reckless leadership”. They said he had vacillated throughout the week, did not negotiate in good faith and took such a strong position only when it was clear he could not carry his party with him. At least Cameron, they said, had stuck to his guns.
The media speculated that Washington was about to dump all over Downing Street. But when they spoke next day, Obama commiserated with Cameron, joking: “Sometimes we’ve got to remind ourselves that we volunteer for these jobs.”
Obama assured Cameron: “OK, brother. All you need to do is hunker down for a while and you will be fine.”
He told the prime minister: “I know how morally and personally offended you are. You are not letting us down in any fashion. You have processes you have to abide by. The mood in the West is that they see Libya as still chaotic. Syria is a mess and they are war-weary.”
As he spoke, his secretary of state, John Kerry, was releasing new intelligence data and making the case for war. Next morning, however, Obama strolled out to the White House Rose Garden and delivered a statement that shocked No 10.
He had “decided that the United States should take military action against Syrian regime targets” but, noting the decision of the UK parliament — “our closest ally” — he would ask Congress for authorisation. As Congress was in recess, the prospect of military action was fading.
There was to be no military response from the West, not even the very limited airstrikes that had been conceived, despite everything that Obama himself had said about red lines and the expectations of a strong response his words aroused. Moscow and Damascus drew their own conclusions.
Many shattering events followed his announcement. Estimates suggest about half a million people have died in Syria, where the civil war continues to this day. Putin offered to help clean up the chemical weapons stock and thereafter Syria became an area of even greater Russian influence.
Russia walked into Ukraine and Crimea and threatened the Baltic states. Refugees from Syria continued to pour across Europe, where the political consensus was greatly unsettled by what became a migrant crisis.
Obama’s loss of international authority prepared the ground for a less measured successor to present himself as a can-do man of action. Cameron was never again the assured figure on the world stage he had been in 2010-13. EU leaders, including Angela Merkel, not least in the critical discussions before Britain’s referendum in 2016, were no longer as willing to do as he wanted.
All these events followed the failure of the West to respond decisively to Assad’s use of chemical weapons in August 2013. It is impossible to declare with certainty that what followed was caused by the events of these 10 days. It is possible that airstrikes in August 2013 might have caused more bloodshed in Syria and beyond, including in Lebanon.
But Cameron and Obama were clear that they had miscalculated: they had assumed they lived in a world where liberal intervention on clear moral grounds was a given and they learnt the hard way that it was no longer the case. Populist forces in both countries took note.
The West had this chance to exert strong ethical leadership. Democratic forces in London and Washington buckled under the pressure. The West did eventually stir itself, most recently in April 2018 when Donald Trump launched missile strikes after further chemical attacks in Syria. But the moment had arguably passed.
Clegg followed up: “Look, this is a moment in history and we all have to choose. Do events require a response?”
Cameron finally gave way to his frustration: “This is all a bit of a game, because we know we won’t get the [security council resolution] because of the Russians.”
Iraq was a heavy burden for Labour. Miliband blurted out: “Process matters — it’s crucial for support and legitimacy. Our government got it wrong in 2003.”
The meeting broke up indecisively. Clegg warned: “If Labour play the UN card, I will lose the whole of the Liberal Democrat Party.”
Miliband phoned Downing Street at 5.25pm and duly wielded the card. “I won’t support the motion,” he said. “We would need another vote after the inspectors have reported.” The fact that this did not fit Obama’s tight timeline seemed of little consequence to him.
Cameron reassembled his team to brainstorm. The first idea was to go for a “take note motion” in parliament that did not explicitly ask MPs to support the government. Another was to try to incorporate Labour’s thoughts into the government motion, conceding that the vote would only agree to the principle of military action, not endorse it.
They believed they had travelled a very long way to accommodate Miliband. So when this was put to him and he found new ways to wriggle free of Cameron’s embrace, feelings became very raw. Miliband said straight up: “I’ve talked to the shadow cabinet. We’re going with our own motion. We are not going to support the government.”
Hague opined: “This won’t end well.”
The strong emotions tumbled out all over the media next morning — Thursday, the day of the debate. The Times quoted an anonymous government source saying: “No 10 and the Foreign Office think Ed Miliband is a f****** c*** and a copper-bottomed s***.”
The BBC political editor Nick Robinson merely stated the obvious when he said: “The government has lost control of events.”
The No 10 team met early. Oliver Letwin, the trusted Cabinet Office minister, posed a question on many of their minds: should they just consider pulling the parliamentary business. Cameron felt it would be too humiliating, having gone this far. “In that case,” suggested Letwin, “we need to talk about what happens if we lose.”
Cameron and Hague had no doubt. It would have to be followed by a vote of confidence. Everyone else’s eyes widened. After what seemed like a very long silence, Osborne responded: “We are in a wholly different kind of parliament now and that wasn’t necessarily the case.”
“This isn’t just any vote,” flashed back Hague. “Losing this would be 9 on the Richter scale.” He also told the room: “I am in 100% agreement with the PM on this.”
Cabinet met later in the morning for an emergency session. The prime minister swept into the room and took his seat at the last moment. Bringing the meeting to order, he outlined his argument that what was at stake was punishing the use of chemical weapons and not intervening in a civil war. He believed there was too much focus on the dangers of action and not enough on the dangers of inaction.
As he spoke, children could be seen and heard playing on climbing frames in the No 10 garden.
A procession of cabinet ministers spoke, all giving variations of Hague’s line: “It is unambiguously in the British national interest to uphold the prohibition on chemical weapons, the use of them is a war crime.”
Theresa Villiers, the Northern Ireland secretary, was wobbly, however: “This is not our fight and it is difficult for a government that is implementing austerity.”
MPs would be voting on a Labour motion before turning to the government’s. The chief whip read details of it from his iPhone: “It expresses revulsion ... moral outrage ... before making these points: (i) UN weapons inspectors must report, (ii) compelling evidence, (iii) clear legal basis, (iv) clarity on potential consequences, (v) PM makes a further report to the House.”
The obvious question was, could Cameron recommend voting for it as a bipartisan gesture? Everyone waited. He considered it for a second before saying: “No ... it says nothing about the case for military action.”
That Thursday afternoon at 2.38pm the prime minister rose to make his case to the Commons. His voice cracked when it came to talking about seeing the bodies of children stored on ice. He confronted head-on the legacy of Iraq and how it had “poisoned the well” of debate on foreign intervention.
If the world let this pass, he argued, other dictators would take succour and feel they could act with impunity.
Miliband’s response was sober — but by the end his position seemed confused, saying there was a need for a “sequential timetable” of events. Outside the chamber a meeting was hastily arranged in Osborne’s Commons office at 8.30pm. When the chief whip was asked “How deep underwater are we?” the response was “Very.” But he was not certain how many Labour MPs would turn up to vote as it was August.
Cameron came through from his office where he had been trying to persuade recalcitrant MPs, uttering ruefully: “Well, that’s another 20 minutes of my life I won’t get back.” Collapsing into an armchair he said: “I’ve persuaded a whole load of people to back us — but the numbers aren’t shifting.” It was explained that as the Tory support rose, the Lib Dem numbers fell.
Oliver and Dowden slipped out for some food in a canteen in the recesses of the Commons. The former Labour foreign secretary, Margaret Beckett, was in the queue in front of them. “The fact that she’s here,” said Dowden, “means Labour is here in numbers. It’s over.”
At 9.15pm Clegg sat in Cameron’s Commons office, reading through his speech to wind up the debate. He looked up and said: “They outfoxed us. One of the lessons I have learnt is that people do not travel at the same pace as you ... you think you have persuaded them and you haven’t ... You need time.”
Raising the spectre that Obama might turn to France as a more reliable partner in punishing Assad, he went on: “I feel a page is turning. We’ll be living in a different world if the French are involved and we are not.”
Cameron was deep in thought. Osborne sat at the end of the long table, his head tilted to the left, resting in his hand. He looked pale and distant.
Just before 10pm Clegg left the room. Cameron was focusing on what he should say if and when he lost. As ever, he was remarkably calm, but his team could see his deflation — and that he was kicking himself: “I’ll just have to stand up and say that I respect the decision of the House. It’ll be like a bear garden in there.”
“What then?” asked his deputy chief of staff, Kate Fall.
“I’ll get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I’ll be ready to hand you a big whisky,” she said sympathetically.
“I’ll hand you the revolver,” said Oliver with half a smile. “Too soon?”
“Don’t,” said Cameron, managing to laugh mirthlessly. “This is my fault. There are all sorts of ways we could have dodged the bullet.”
When Cameron left, his team gathered round an ancient television set that looked as if it could have been there since Thatcher’s day. Someone found some grim, warm, sweet white wine and they all took a glass.
A tortuous wait for the first vote on the Labour motion followed. When it finally came it was clear it had been well and truly beaten. Some felt there might still be hope.
The second vote — on the government motion — was equally slow. The result finally came at 10.30pm. The tellers stood before the Speaker, the old hands spotting it could only mean a Labour win. One MP was screaming as if he was watching a gladiator being beheaded at the Circus Maximus. The result was called: ayes 272, noes 285.
The noise was deafening. An obviously delighted Miliband at once demanded reassurances. Cameron responded: “I can give that assurance. Let me say, the House has not voted for either motion tonight. I strongly believe in the need for a tough response to the use of chemical weapons, but I also believe in respecting the will of this House of Commons.”
The time had come for the reckoning. Michael Gove was said to be on the floor of the Commons screaming at rebels. Cameron returned to his office and asked for a meeting with only politicians present. After giving time for them to chew it over, Oliver and Cameron’s chief of staff, Ed Llewellyn, entered the office.
Hague was “looking white”, according to a member of Cameron’s team, and feared he would have to resign but the prime minister was having none of it, telling him: “I’m sorry, William. I’ve got us into a real pickle this time.”
The inquest into how the government had lost a vote on a matter of war for the first time in more than 200 years was about to begin. They all knew what would be hurled at them. How could Cameron’s team have been so inept? And how did they get support in their party so wrong?
The long shadow of Iraq was the chief culprit on most tongues. When people had heard Cameron say “Trust me”, they had immediately thought of Tony Blair, Alastair Campbell and “dodgy dossiers”.
A bitter irony for Cameron’s team was that the BBC had film of an incendiary bomb attack on a school in Syria on Monday but did not broadcast it until the evening of the vote. Sickening images were played out at 10pm as MPs went into the voting lobbies. Perhaps, they wondered, things might have been different if they had seen the images before doing so.
The No 10 team felt particularly outraged when Miliband paraded around, talking about “impulsive and reckless leadership”. They said he had vacillated throughout the week, did not negotiate in good faith and took such a strong position only when it was clear he could not carry his party with him. At least Cameron, they said, had stuck to his guns.
The media speculated that Washington was about to dump all over Downing Street. But when they spoke next day, Obama commiserated with Cameron, joking: “Sometimes we’ve got to remind ourselves that we volunteer for these jobs.”
Obama assured Cameron: “OK, brother. All you need to do is hunker down for a while and you will be fine.”
He told the prime minister: “I know how morally and personally offended you are. You are not letting us down in any fashion. You have processes you have to abide by. The mood in the West is that they see Libya as still chaotic. Syria is a mess and they are war-weary.”
As he spoke, his secretary of state, John Kerry, was releasing new intelligence data and making the case for war. Next morning, however, Obama strolled out to the White House Rose Garden and delivered a statement that shocked No 10.
He had “decided that the United States should take military action against Syrian regime targets” but, noting the decision of the UK parliament — “our closest ally” — he would ask Congress for authorisation. As Congress was in recess, the prospect of military action was fading.
There was to be no military response from the West, not even the very limited airstrikes that had been conceived, despite everything that Obama himself had said about red lines and the expectations of a strong response his words aroused. Moscow and Damascus drew their own conclusions.
Many shattering events followed his announcement. Estimates suggest about half a million people have died in Syria, where the civil war continues to this day. Putin offered to help clean up the chemical weapons stock and thereafter Syria became an area of even greater Russian influence.
Russia walked into Ukraine and Crimea and threatened the Baltic states. Refugees from Syria continued to pour across Europe, where the political consensus was greatly unsettled by what became a migrant crisis.
Obama’s loss of international authority prepared the ground for a less measured successor to present himself as a can-do man of action. Cameron was never again the assured figure on the world stage he had been in 2010-13. EU leaders, including Angela Merkel, not least in the critical discussions before Britain’s referendum in 2016, were no longer as willing to do as he wanted.
All these events followed the failure of the West to respond decisively to Assad’s use of chemical weapons in August 2013. It is impossible to declare with certainty that what followed was caused by the events of these 10 days. It is possible that airstrikes in August 2013 might have caused more bloodshed in Syria and beyond, including in Lebanon.
But Cameron and Obama were clear that they had miscalculated: they had assumed they lived in a world where liberal intervention on clear moral grounds was a given and they learnt the hard way that it was no longer the case. Populist forces in both countries took note.
The West had this chance to exert strong ethical leadership. Democratic forces in London and Washington buckled under the pressure. The West did eventually stir itself, most recently in April 2018 when Donald Trump launched missile strikes after further chemical attacks in Syria. But the moment had arguably passed.
Sir Anthony Seldon is vice-chancellor of Buckingham University. He is writing Ten Days in August, to be published next year
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