Build Trust through Communication

It is an ancient and timeless lesson: the path to friendship is found through understanding language and culture. It is a lesson the U.S. military cannot afford to ignore in Iraq.

At a primitive cement bunker on the southern tip of Iraq's desolate al Faw peninsula, I was reminded of an old and valuable lesson in communications: if you want people to open up and be honest, you first must give them a reason to trust you. Chatting with a group of poorly equipped Iraqi guards charged with protecting an important valve station in the country's oil network, I rediscovered the fact that familiarity—the ability to relate on a personal level-is a necessary ingredient of trust. The best way to do this is through unfiltered conversation. Language is not just a potential barrier to communicationit also can shape, and misshape, perceptions.

The path to my revelation began on 24 April 2004, when suspected terrorists in at least three boats attempted a series of suicide attacks on Iraq's two oil terminals in the northern Arabian Gulf. None of the attackers reached his target, but two sailors and a Coast Guardsmen sent to intercept the attack boats were killed. Several others were wounded. Shortly afterward, a team of Coast Guard and Navy officers (of which I was a member) was dispatched to Bahrain. Our mission was to identify and bring into theater "new technologies" to provide additional surveillance and defense capabilities on the platforms and to improve self-defense measures for maritime coalition boarding parties. In addition, we were to develop proposals for enhancing regional security. Because Iraq earns most of its oil revenues from shipments through the terminals in the Gulf, our mission had a special urgency, and we went at it with the seriousness and determination it warranted.

The question I asked myself as I approached this task was whether there were any larger lessons to be gathered from the experience that could be applied in both the war on terror and the war in Iraq. What I learned was obvious. As too often happens to the obvious, however, because it was not new, it was easily overlooked.

Having made significant progress toward strengthening the defenses of the oil platforms by improving surveillance in their immediate area and providing additional protection equipment, our attention shifted to the state of the equally important and potentially vulnerable infrastructure sites ashore that supplied oil to the terminals. These included not only the oil pipeline itself, but also a number of flow-metering stations and securing valves along the length of the al Faw peninsula. We had several concerns. What was their material condition? How were they defended? What could be done quickly to improve them? In May, I was included in a Naval Forces, U.S. Central Command, team sent from Bahrain to southern Coalition force headquarters at the al Basra International Airport to work with Coalition forces responsible for security on al Faw. We were to get answers and develop recommended courses of action to protect those important facilities.

It was during a second visit to the sites in June that I had a real opportunity to speak with Iraqis. I was struck by the tremendous importance of being able to communicate directly with people of different cultures in their own language. The Britons and Americans in my group understandably were interested in learning as much as possible about the tactical situations on each site. Among the guards we met, there always was at least one who spoke some English, and occasionally there was one who spoke it quite well. All conversations were affable; the guards were asked about local events and their concerns, and they gave us polite, if brief, answers. I believed, however, we actually exchanged little real information. The situation reminded me of a military inspection during which the senior inspector asks questions of the rank and file, but they, being uncertain what is expected of them, give guarded, albeit courteous, responses.

Perfunctory conversations continued until finally (and, to this day, I cannot explain my initial hesitancy) I began speaking in my rudimentary Arabic. What until that point had been simple courtesy turned to excited and open conversation. A whole new perspective was revealed. The change in attitude was immediate. As our comfort levels increased, the atmosphere became more relaxed, and words began pouring out of them faster than I could comprehend. They were eager to tell me the details of their lives. They spoke openly about their home regions, whether they were married (and, if so, how many wives they had), numbers and genders of children, and their previous military service under the former regime. They were just as keen to know the same details about me, and took a special delight in ribbing me for having only one wife.

Westerners who have spent time in the Middle East know Arabs place a premium on personal connections. This may be true of any culture, but it seems to matter even more with Arabs. Having established a personal connection, one can expect a surprising expression of hospitality. It is easy to forget, against a background of terror and violence, that friendship and generosity form an integral part of an Arab's heritage.

In my case, another factor might have contributed to the particularly warm response. It is a common Iraqi perception that, should the situation become too costly for the U.S., British, and other Coalition representatives, we simply will abandon the country and those locals who sided with us, just as many believe we did in Vietnam, Somalia, and even Iraq in 1991. The Iraqis lack the option to leave. They have no place to go, and our quick withdrawal would leave them vulnerable to retribution.

An American who has taken the time to learn their language has demonstrated an investment in their culture that implies a stronger, more permanent commitment-a person less inclined to "cut and run." Arabs truly appreciate the outsider who shows an interest in speaking with them in their native language. In my conversations with them, they always have been pleasantly shocked that an American has demonstrated an effort to learn Arabic.¹ Arabs also are very forgiving about bad pronunciation, poor grammar, and weak vocabulary.2 They are aware that speaking their language properly is difficult; they, themselves, find it so.

With our continuing involvement in Iraq, considerable effort is being made to supply mechanical translators to our forces in the Middle East. These clearly are worth having, but they must be used with an understanding of their essential limitations. They are and will remain useful accessories to a real linguistic capability, as anyone who has used a talking phrase book can attest. In the end, however, Arabs (and, truthfully, all people everywhere) respond best to the personal touch, and automated dictionaries do not supply that.

Regretfully, time did not permit me the opportunity to speak to the Iraqi guards at length. Also, I am not fluent in Arabic. 1 am able to converse at considerable length on a variety of topics, but my vocabulary of technical and military terminology is somewhat limited. Still, while I was there, the Iraqis with whom I spoke in Arabic openly expressed their thoughts about the situation in the region, their personal wants and needs, what they hoped the Americans and British would provide to their nation, and what they appreciated having received from the Coalition. There was no apparent hesitancy in our conversation, and no holding back on feelings.

Friendships between Arabs often have a harmless physical ingredient. Arab men, particularly those from more rural backgrounds, tend to sit close to their friends, to touch them, and even, after a while, to hold on to their hands. They are eager to share food, tea, coffee, or anything available with their guests. This is an ancient tradition whose roots can be found in the Bible, particularly the Old Testament, where serving food or other refreshments is essential to any special occasion.³ Unlike the United States, where food generally is more abundant, food in the Middle East has a special significance. Sharing a meal means far more than providing simple nourishment. It is a gesture of generosity and sometimes sacrifice (Arabs will feed a guest even if they themselves do not have much) and a signal of friendship. Some Americans may balk at the thought of eating and drinking in unsanitary conditions, like a fastidious tourist inclined to worry about the food and water in the local hotels. There always are some health risks in areas disrupted by war, but in my experience they often are exaggerated, and, given a few simple precautions, are well worth taking.

In the end, there only is so far a blonde-haired, blueeyed guy in U.S. military desert cammies can go with his self-taught Arabic, particularly when spoken with a U.S. Southern accent. I got pretty far, though. The Arab guards were persistent in inviting me to join them in the bunker they used as their lounge, and were equally insistent we all gather for a series of group photographs. I regret I never had the opportunity to return and present copies of those photographs to each guard in person. That type of extra touch is well received anywhere in the world.

The real lesson from my experiences is that, in the war on terror and the struggle for Iraq, there may be no single solution that will ensure success, but language and culture skills clearly are invaluable. This is not a great realization or original thought, but I repeatedly am amazed when reminded to what degree we still do not seem to grasp it. Technology has its limits when it comes to establishing personal relationships, particularly in a culture where family and clan affiliations continue to dominate. Our own societal biases run toward technological fixes and legal structures, both of which tend to minimize the need to rely on both trust and personal connections. For many in our culture, trust only is proved after a lengthy association. In many other cultures throughout the world, trust is a more personal matter, established at the start of a relationship and allowed to grow from there. Speaking the language is an obvious but neglected way to begin this process. As we can expect to be involved with fighting terrorism and rebuilding nations in the world's more remote regions for many years to come, this is a lesson we cannot afford to take too long to learn and apply.