Bowen: Trump has called for an Iran uprising but the lessons from Iraq in 1991 loom large
Bowen: Trump has called for an Iran uprising but the lessons from Iraq in 1991 loom large
Three decades ago, a speech by the first President George Bush set off a chain of events that would haunt the region for years. Delivered in a Massachusetts factory on 15 February 1991, it was meant to bolster public morale during the Gulf War. Yet, the words he uttered had far-reaching consequences, a lesson that resonates today as Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu urge Iranians to rise against their government. The parallels are striking, though the outcomes have proven far more complex than anticipated.
Bush’s address at the Patriot missile plant highlighted the weapon system’s role in the conflict, which was then in its final stages. The US, UK, and their allies had already launched a sustained aerial assault on Iraqi forces, while ground troops prepared to advance into Kuwait. At the time, the author was stationed in Baghdad, documenting the war’s toll. Just days prior, an airstrike in Amiriyah had claimed over 400 civilian lives, with the coalition insisting it targeted a command center. The author, however, had seen the aftermath—a shelter reduced to smoldering ruins, and bodies of children, women, and the elderly, leaving no doubt about the attack’s true purpose.
“There’s another way for the bloodshed to stop…and that is for the Iraqi military and the Iraqi people to take matters into their own hands and force Saddam Hussein, the dictator, to step aside…”
Though Bush’s speech was meant to inspire, it inadvertently sowed seeds of uncertainty. The president praised the workers behind the Patriot system, a symbol of American technological prowess, but his call for Iraqi self-action was vague. Some Iraqis interpreted it as a signal for rebellion. When Saddam Hussein’s regime was expelled from Kuwait, a ceasefire allowed him to retain control. The Shia south and Kurdish north then erupted in armed uprisings, only to be crushed by Hussein’s forces, who had access to helicopters and used them to launch a brutal counteroffensive.
By the time the author reached the Kurdish north, the region was already in turmoil. Snow-covered mountains had become a refuge for tens of thousands fleeing massacre, with fathers carrying the remains of their children—small bundles wrapped in blankets—through the cold. The coalition’s initial inaction left the Kurds vulnerable until they were eventually compelled to launch a humanitarian mission. Meanwhile, the Shia rebels in the south faced a harsher fate, their movement extinguished without American support.
The fallout from the first Gulf War lingered, shaping future conflicts. A commitment to enforce no-fly zones, permanent bases in Saudi Arabia, and the presence of foreign troops in holy sites fueled Osama Bin Laden’s anger. This catalyzed the formation of Al Qaeda, a consequence that echoes through the decades. In 2003, the second Bush administration capitalized on this legacy, ousting Saddam Hussein and cementing Iran’s influence in the region. Today, the third Gulf War seeks to reverse that trend, targeting Iran’s military and nuclear ambitions. Israel, in particular, views these goals as existential threats. Trump’s current strategy, involving direct collaboration with allies, aims to replicate the 1991 approach—encouraging revolt while withholding decisive backing.
Each war, the author reflects, has sown the seeds for the next. The 1991 speech, once a moment of optimism, became a precursor to years of instability. Now, as the same pattern unfolds in Iran, the question remains: will the lessons of the past be heeded, or will history repeat itself with dire consequences?