The theory was eloquently set out by Jack Straw. Addressing the Labour conference, the Foreign Secretary declared: "Sovereign states and the nations of the world . . . have a collective responsibility to protect all citizens from genocide, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity." The idea that military force should be used to defend human rights came to underpin the foreign policy of the early Blair years, notably in Sierra Leone and Kosovo. The motives were laudable. After Bosnia and Rwanda, never again would the international community walk by on the other side. Amen to that. Except that the Iraq debacle, which Straw warned against on the eve of the invasion and now disingenuously defends, has all but destroyed the cause of liberal interventionism.

After watching the American mishandling of most of the country, and convincing ourselves that our boys - the ones in the soft caps who did not fear to walk the streets - were a cut above, the British now see the scale of their own disaster in southern Iraq. The events of 19 September in Basra, when two British soldiers acting mysteriously were seized by Iraqi militia, demonstrate the present dangers. As Stephen Grey explains on page 12, UK forces are so outnumbered by the armed local groups that they are forced to turn a blind eye to torture and summary executions. The dangers for the future are graver still. The question is no longer confined to: can civil war be staved off? There is a similar prospect of anarchy or of a regional conflict the likes of which the Middle East has yet to suffer. Anton La Guardia (page 15), reports how the US and UK have unwittingly ensured that the biggest beneficiary of the mayhem in Iraq is Iran. It is a situation the Saudis and other outlying powers are watching with growing alarm.

Although the British presence in Iraq pales into insignificance compared to the Americans', the importance of the area under British command is disproportionately great. Some 70 per cent of Iraq's oil reserves are located in the south, a crucial fact given that 98 per cent of Iraq's budget relies on oil exports. The economic power of an Iranian-backed Shia fiefdom in the south would further impoverish the rest of Iraq and destabilise countries far beyond. For all the concerns about Iran's growing might - particularly its embryonic nuclear arsenal - there is nothing, short of war, that the US or UK governments can do to turn back the clock. And after Iraq and Katrina there is little appetite in the White House for a further debilitating military adventure. Tehran's rulers can spot the difference between threat and bluster.

So an inglorious war and an inglorious occupation culminate in an inglorious exit. The only issues that remain unresolved are the when and the how. At this point the sharp dividing line between the many opponents of the war and the (now precious few) defenders of it becomes blurred. Given the New Statesman's consistent critique of the Blair-Bush misadventure, it comes as little surprise that 80 per cent of respondents to last week's online poll believe that troops should begin to withdraw by the end of the year. Both sides of the argument are relying on hypothesis and the law of probabilities. The calculation can be reduced to: is the presence of our forces inflaming or restricting violence? Or, put another way, would the security situation improve or deteriorate if Iraq were left to fend for itself? There are compelling arguments on either side. What seems incontrovertible is that the present troop numbers and morale are so low that, in purely military terms, they are achieving little. They hunker down in their fortified bases, and venture out on heavily armed missions.

In an illuminating analysis in the journal Foreign Affairs, the US academic Andrew Krepinevich points out that "staying the course" is not an option; he argues that either the occupiers change tack, and become more involved in developing Iraq's infrastructure and civil society (which would require more security, therefore more troops), or they get out.

Political developments will play a role. Both George Bush and Tony Blair are hoping against hope that next month's referendum in Iraq on the national constitution will provide a respite, as will the elections that ensue. Even the Prime Minister, prone to wishful thinking and hubris, is counselling caution. The troop withdrawal question must be resolved urgently. A clear and measured timetable must be set out. Blair knows, and the people around him readily admit, that he is a prisoner of his own calamitous mistake. It was shameful but predictable that he glossed over it during his conference speech. It was shameful, and equally predictable, that party delegates took it like sheep.

Friends in high places

The good, the grumpy and the gruesome were on display at the conference in Brighton. This is not a reference to the Blair-Brown power struggle, but to a far more burning issue - the government's relations with the New Statesman. Step forward three cabinet ministers, Blairites to a fault, and a dangerous split emerges.

Welcoming guests to the NS's annual party, perhaps its biggest and brightest yet, Charlie Falconer, the Lord Chancellor, put paid to one of those dubious pieces of spin for which new Labour is renowned. "We might not agree with everything you print, but I can tell you that each and every one of us reads it avidly." Standing in a corner, Charles Clarke, the Home Secretary, mustered some compliments, only to complain that the magazine is "obsessed with Iraq". The next evening, John Reid, the Defence Secretary in search of a charm school, declared (expletives deleted): "Get lost."

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