Q&A with Ronald Suskind

Scores of books have been written recently about Iraq, Iran, and the war on terror. What makes your approach in The Way of the World unique?

RS: I call that the crisis library, nightmare books—and I know, I've written a few of them. This book, though it's filled with historic disclosures, is, I hope, a next step from what's come before—it's really about the role of America—and Americans -- in the world. In a way, I think it's easy to miss the fact that all these various conflicts are connected, all part of how we are seen and what America represents in the world. I think Americans have spent the past few years saying, wait, the world seems to have forgotten who we've been and who we really are. This book shows Americans using the nation's diminished status in the world as a starting point, and trying—often with surprising success—to show that American values, at their best, are really human values. People in this book are saying, I can't count on government. I'm ready to step up and that the solutions—the human solution—will be people to people contact.

What is the larger lesson you hope readers will draw from the book's revelations about the path to war in Iraq?

RS: It's that secrecy is a kind of power and that the vast, institutionalized secrecy which has defined this period has profoundly misshapen our system of self-governance. Iraq was a war of choice. But, what's now finally clear, is that the American people—those actually making the sacrifice—were knowingly given a false choice. And it was not some kind of accident. It was about deception—before the war and after, when we paid $5 million in hush money to our secret source, the Iraq intelligence chief. Imagine if the President had stepped up at the State of the Union address in 2003 and said, "I've recently learned there may be no WMD in Iraq." What happens next? A real discussion in a democracy about whether this is a war really worth fighting. If there was such a discussion, I don't think we would have been there for the past five years. There's no more important issue for a nation than the act of war. Young people will be dying. The world thrown into disarray, treasuries emptied. And, here, five years after Iraq war, this book finally shows how the American public was knowingly misled. The larger lesson? It's proof of how transparency and accountability are truly the life-blood of a democracy—and how secrecy is its enemy.

One of the major themes in The Way of the World is how America has lost the moral authority it now needs, especially in facing the challenge of nuclear terrorism. What will Barack Obama or John McCain have to do to address this?

RS: They need to act dramatically, both in the campaign and in their first days in office. It can't be business as usual. This won't be easy, when there's this much power being sought and eventually exercised. To control power's tactical, self-protective urges takes real vision, and consistency. Moral authority tends to flow from a kind of openness and humility, an ability to admit error, and a wisdom about the interests, and desires, all people share; it's about being true to your stated principles—to your oath—all the time, not just when it's convenient, and then acting accordingly. This posture is, of course, the ideal match—maybe the only acceptable complement—to having vast military might. But nuclear terrorism is the modern age's nightmarish answer to traditional military power. A small group of people, in this era of destructive capability and messianic purpose, can take out a city. No army needed. No nation of origin. You may never even catch them. They can't, of course, do it without the fissile material—and that's a problem that can be managed. But it will take bold leadership. The world, deep down, wants us to lead this charge. The question—the question for both candidates—are we up to it? It will take the restoration—at home and abroad—of America's moral authority.

While America has been focused on the problems in Iraq, the book shows how the most volatile and potentially dangerous country in the world right now is Pakistan. Is the situation there getting better or worse, and how might we have approached it differently?

RS: The lesson of 9/11 was that the rise of violent Islamic radicalism, especially when armed with increasingly destructive weaponry, is the period's great challenge. And its home is Pakistan, Afghanistan, and what's essentially a third country—these vast tribal regions, home of bin Laden, Zawahiri and rest—inside Pakistan's borders. Pakistan is the second largest Muslim nation, with a population greater than Russia, 55 nuclear weapons, loose fissile material, and Islamic radicals in key roles inside the military and intelligence services. This was all clear on 9/11. And it's clear today, as Americans, and the U.S. military, shift their attention back to this region and wonder why we've spent the last five years fighting in Iraq. This situation in Pakistan has dramatically worsened in the past three years. The U.S. and its NATO partners need a patient, long-term regional strategy to deal, in fact, with these three interconnected countries. The way the U.S. sided with Musharraf and abandoned Bhutto will, tragically, have lasting effect. Her husband and her party are now in charge of the country. You can see why they're tired of backroom deals by the U.S. Again, it's all about moral authority, consistency, clarity—not about a blind faith in force. The people in Pakistan are profoundly poor, half are illiterate, but the country was founded on ideals—espoused their founder, Jinnah—that fit quite well with Western traditions. The key is figuring out a way to support those ideals to help lift those people, and they'll then find ways to solve problems in their region, and inside of Islam.

Alongside the political drama in The Way of the World is a narrative that follows a broad ensemble of characters at home and abroad who are caught between hope and fear. In a way, it's reminiscent of your first book, A Hope in the Unseen. What do these people tell us about the direction America is heading in?

RS: "Hope" was an American hearts and minds drama—a journey of the heart—and this is something of a global version. The themes are similar and there are characters in The Way of the World very much like those in A Hope in the Unseen. Their stories, of reaching across divides and making improbable sacrifices, are restorative—they stand as an example and an inspiration. And, just like in "Hope," some readers will be overcome with emotions when they read parts of this book. I was as I wrote it. The stories, especially, of Usman from Pakistan and Ibrahim from Afghanistan, rise and fall between elation and despair and, slowly, yield self-knowledge. The shared human narrative? The Unseen? It runs like a river through this book, and it allows readers to know the hard truths and also to know that the American experiment in this era is about much more than the harrowing disclosures. It's about the wider human journey, and it's improbably hopeful.