Saturday, September 29, 2007

All Sane Conservatives are Now Liberals

Have you noticed? All sane conservatives are now liberals.

We see them all the time now. The ex-Reagan officials like Paul Craig Roberts who repudiate the administration's conduct of warrantless surveillance, among other things. The battalion of retired generals speaking out against our ill-conceived escapade in Iraq. Past and present officials of the justice department appalled at the politicization of law enforcement. Even Bill Buckley has registered his patrician displeasure.

Conservatism has retreated into a bunker so far to the right of reality, that these lifelong Republicans and defenders of the establishment find themselves on the right side of liberaldom, happily playing footsie with the likes of Keith Olbermann and Amy Goodman. Their core beliefs have not changed, but they sure are taking a fresh look at who is lucid enough to partner with in achieving their goals. It is as if they fell asleep of an evening safely in their suburban McMansions, and woke to find themselves deep behind enemy lines with Birkenstocks where their wingtips used to be.

Dazed they are. Glassy-eyed, filthy, malnourished, and too shell-shocked to speak. We find one unconscious, face down in the grass. We roll him over.

"My God, he's a rational conservative."

"Poor blighter."

"Let's get him back to the commune."

We feed him vegan organic miso broth to renew his strength and let him soak in patchouli scented baths.

Several days later, when he has recovered sufficiently, we come to speak with him. He knows now that he is in the hands of liberals. He is filled with trepidation. If even half of what Ann Coulter has said is true, what monstrous fate awaits him?

We meet in a light-filled solarium, the window curtains billowing in the morning breeze. An angelic child brings a fresh pot of herbal tea and scampers away.

So begins our attempt to recruit this once-mortal foe. We do not hope to convince him of the merits of socialized medicine, affirmative action, or legalized marijuana per se. We ask only that he join us in pledging commitment to reason-based policy-making. To set out our case, we first offer our perspective on why he has been cast out, why the American body conservative is convulsively expelling its rational elements in a desperate bid for self-preservation. It is a tale of an ancient pas-de-trois between conservatism, rationality, and established authority.

The instinct of conservatism is at least as old as human tribalism. It is a tendency towards prudence, risk aversion, and skepticism about change. Studies have shown that people who identify as conservatives are inclined see the world in black and white. This is likely to be genetic, and is not to be disparaged. When the cornered woolly mammoth turns to charge, natural selection does not favor the hunter who pauses to consider the nuances of enraged woolly mammoth behavior, but rather he who runs like hell.

Archetypal conservatism is joined at the hip with rationality for the simple reason that acting like an idiot is dangerous. It leads to broken bones, starvation, and uncomfortable venereal diseases. So conservatives have historically been deliberate, cautious, and above all, sensible. It does not make them very much fun at parties, but it keeps them out of trouble.

Conservatism's bond with established authority is less fundamental, but strong and ancient in its own right. Historically, as ever more complex civilizations proliferated, conservatism became practically synonymous with the interests of the establishment, both kingly and priestly. These were the forces that guaranteed the stability and safety that conservatism values. Did this attachment to the establishment strain the bonds of conservatism's marriage with rationality? No, because rationality was a tool of the ruling classes, employed for the creation of state infrastructures like legal codes, military organization, and systems of trade. So rationality served the needs of the establishment.

The rise of science as a formal discipline--as opposed to something that medieval barbers did on occasion by accident--only enhanced the utility of rationality to established authority. Nothing insures stability like prosperity. America's brief history is a perfect example. Science has given us mechanization, industrialization, and the ability to develop our natural resources. The result has been an unprecedented explosion of highly distributed wealth. Despite numerous unnerving social and economic upheavals engendered by the blistering pace of our growth, on the whole mouths have been filled, roofs erected, and physical safety insured to a degree that would once have been thought impossible. Thus conservatism, rationality, and the establishment have been skipping hand in hand (in hand) through the ages all the way to the bank and a little candy store called World Domination. It's been such a successful partnership that many conservatives consider affiliation with the establishment to be an inherent facet of their belief system.

But what if the establishment stopped behaving in ways that ensured long term security?

Consider the challenges facing America right now, and our reactions:

  • As the economy goes global, the lion's share of growth goes to nations that are behind the curve, like China and India. It is impossible for the U.S. to maintain its economic preeminence without borrowing beyond our current means, effectively mortgaging our future. Does America have the discipline and self-restraint necessary to soften the inevitable landing? If you're wondering whether discipline and restraint are something we can purchase with a credit card, I think you have your answer.

  • A huge proportion of our wealth has been derived from the easy availability of natural resources. Now supplies are tightening, yet industry is loathe to disembark the gravy train before it has come to a complete stop. It is difficult to think of a resource that isn't becoming scarce--water, oil, metals... Oh well, at least there's still plenty of coal. Wait, why does that ring a bell?...

  • Oh, right: coal is our death warrant. Science tells us that there's a global environmental crisis on our doorstep. If it isn't addressed, there will be massive dislocation. Thankfully, it appears the impact will be disproportionally borne by brown and black people--I use the term "people" loosely--who live in lands far from us. Still, it will be ugly. There will be flooding, starvation and masses of refugees. Refugees will be issued torches and pitchforks for effect. Thankfully, we Americans have recognized that we are the biggest single cause of this impending disaster, and we are responding to the challenge in a manner consistent with our historical role as a beacon of freedom and compassion: we are erecting electrified fences along our borders. That ought to deter the riff raff.

There is a common thread in all these examples. Our Republican leaders and prayer-obsessed middle America are desperately trying to preserve the status quo at the cost of longer term stability. It's not like it's in their nature to think long term in any case. The end of the world is never more that six years away for senators, and evangelical Christians expect to be raptured long before campaign season arrives. So rational conservatives must now regard the wide fanatical eyes of their once-staunch allies with profound uneasiness. If the Republican party and salt -of-the-earth America have thrown reason under the bus, where does security lie? Can America resist global pressures indefinitely? Or must we accede to change--gradual or not--to insure a secure future?

Don't take too long to think about it, for as the lords of the establishment discard the ballast of reason, they become drunk on the thrill of liberation. Their personal ideology is a far more permissive guide to decision making than the sour and unimaginative counselor we call reality. Perhaps they will awake to the danger they court, but more likely, hopelessly enamored of license, they will become increasingly untethered, and will pilot our ship of state gleefully over the falls.

So here you are. Your erstwhile friends may hold the reins of power, but they have deserted the field of reason, and it so plainly and completely belongs to the left that to be rational is to be liberal as well. I'm sure that's not an easy notion to swallow, but there it is.

And if the idea of being pitied by liberals causes you to recoil in revulsion--have no fear. For we need you as much as you need us. Surely you realize we are incapable of surviving on or own. Inevitably we will end up coddling terrorists. We will get so stoned that we'll forget to plant crops. We will cut ourselves when trying to use scissors. We need your cynicism, your common sense, and your facility for accounting.

You might as well join us. You're already here.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

America's Diary: the Osama bin Laden Entries

Editor's Note:
The following are selected entries from America's diary relating to Osama bin Laden, covering the period from 9/11/2001 to mid 2007. On September 12, 2007, Only Sayin' received an anonymous package containing America's diary. Entries date from early 2001 to mid 2007. The accompanying note indicated that the diary was obtained by a country that "used to be a friend," and was provided so that we might see the "real America." To support its veracity, the note indicates that the diary was located under a pile of sweatshirts on an upper shelf of America's closet, along with two bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade, birth control pills, and a box of never-sent love notes addressed to Australia.

The diary runs to several thousand pages in five volumes with hand-illustrated floral-themed covers. When the material came into our possesion, we naturally assumed that we had hit upon a treasure trove of enormous historical significance. However, review of the material quickly dispelled such idealistic notions. Our editorial staff was unanimous in the opinion that the America revealed in these volumes is so petty, so shallow, and so self-absorbed that to release the material publicly would be devastating to our national psyche. Thus, in light of the recent controversy regarding the degree of America's committment to the capture of Osama bin Laden, we are reprinting only a handful of entries relating to the Al Qaeda mastermind.

The rest we have burned.

------------------

September 11, 2001

Dear Diary,

OMG. This has been like the worst day of my life! Somebody just blew up the twin towers, the pentagon, and crashed another hijacked plane. The news keeps playing it over and over again. Why don't they show something to take everyone's minds off all these horrible things?

My life is ruined. I am seriously going to kill myself.

Russia and Germany called, but I just let it go to voicemail. I can't talk to anyone right now. Even that bitch France called.

Where in New York are the twin towers? Not where the shopping is, I don't think. Definitely not Broadway. At least the Hard Rock Cafe and the Disney store are OK.

------------------


September 12

Dear Diary,

Today I found out that it was Osama bin Laden that did it. He is totally gross in his picture. All those people are gross. Why can't they shave? They look like they never take a bath. They're crazy and they ruined everything. Mexico was supposed to have a party on friday, and now it's cancelled. Everybody is acting totally sad and depressed.

I am SO pissed off. I'm going to catch that dickhead and fly an airplane into him, and set him on fire and then put him out and do it all over again. We'll see how he likes it and all his stinky arab friends.

I'm swearing a pact right now. I will burn his ASS!

------------------

September 21,

Dear Diary,

There was big concert about 9/11 on television. It was kind of wierd--there were no commercials.

Dave Mathews is totally hot! I would do him in a second!

------------------

September 27, 2001

Dear Diary,

I am SO frustrated! I've been looking everywhere for OBL, but I can't find him! He is such a pussy! And now everyone's laughing at me cuz he kicked my ass and I can't do anything about it. When they see me they act all serious and sad, and they're all like they're my best friends and offering to help me. Even France put her arm around me today!!! How yucky is that?! GOD I HATE THAT BITCH!!!!

I am going to show all of them. I am going to explode like a super bitch, and they all better watch out.

P.S. I was totally in a horrible mood today. Only Britain sat with me at lunch. I know I keep saying I'm through with him. He is such a LITTLE BOY, but at least he has good taste in ME! Told him I'd go with him to the Group of Eight summit next week. You should have seen how happy he was. Pathetic.

Maybe I'll get a better offer.

------------------

October 7, 2001

Dear Diary,

I feel fantastic. I told you I was gonna kick some ass, and today I started. I rolled into Afghanistan like a bitch on wheels. You should have seen the look on the other countries' faces. They were totally freaked out. When I woke up in the morning, all I could think about was kicking OBL's nasty, sweaty ass, but from almost the second I starting whipping Afghanistan, I swear I completely forgot about that towelhead faggot. I mean, I was rolling over a whole country! There were bodies flying everywhere, stinky little Arabs screaming for their mommies and shitting themselves if I even looked at them.

What do I care about catching one gross little Arab when I can kill a whole country full of them?

P.S. Got pretty carried away by the excitement. Have a vague memory of sucking face with Spain during the artillery barrage. My imagination?

------------------

November 20, 2001

Dear Diary,

So now Afghanistan is like totally conquered. Fabu, right? Not! What a shithole! There's absolutely NOTHING to do there! It smells and the bathrooms are disgusting and the food is gross and they eat with their hands out of the same dish! Like I'm going to put anything in my mouth when those nasty hands have been there. Everybody acts all weird and refuses to speak English.

I'm totally boooooooooored. OBL is hiding in the mountains, and I'm bombing the shit out of him, but this place is so crappy that I swear you can't even tell which parts have been bombed and which parts haven't! And I don't even know if it's doing anything. Meanwhile, all the other countries are all like "We support you!" and "You go!" but I have a feeling they're actually happy that I'm off in the middle of nowhere just so they can do stuff without me behind my back.

If they think they can ignore me I will teach them a lesson they will never forget!

------------------

Decmber 2, 2001

Dear Diary,

I am so done with Afghanistan. I can't believe I even wasted my time on that. Not sure what's happened to OBL, but whatever. Loser.

I've been thinking about a way to really bring down the house. Stay tuned!

---------------------

July 9, 2002

Dear Diary,

I totally hate this year! Afghanistan was completely unsatisfying. I am ready to tear those Arabs a new one, and now all the sudden everyone's like "Hold on for a minute, let's talk about this..." LAME-O! Even my so-called friends are frustrating me. If they were really my friends, shouldn't they help me? Instead we all have to do this conflict resolution bullshit at the UN. What a crock. It's all run by loser countries like Egypt and Nigeria--of course THEY"RE all like--ooh, let's resolve this conflict. Let's TALK about it. PUSSIES.

Well they better duck. This girl is just getting started.

------------------

February 16, 2003

Dear Diary,

I told England today that I'm going to attack Iraq. I could tell he was peeing his pants. But I was wearing my new turquoise halter top with the spaghetti straps. I looked so HOT. I leaned over to give him an eyefull, and he was like, just say when...

As if! How about never, girlie boy? Does that work for you?

Some of the other countries don't want me to do it. God, I hate it when they try to control me. I made up some bullshit that Iraq and OBL were friends. Whatever. It'll shut them up.

I am so psyched! Iraq is going to rule! Told Israel about it. He didn't say much, but I could tell he was impressed.

Super-secret: Israel is totally hot!

Pros: Kicks ass almost as much as me, great hair.

Cons: Jewish

------------------

March 18, 2003

Dear Diary,

Game on! Guess all the other countries know who's boss now. The looks on their faces were priceless. My posse is totally kissing my ass. Like they could do anything without me. Everyone's shitting bricks. Even France was speechless for once, that pansy. She can suck my ass!

Who's your daddy now, OBL?

I am so happy!

------------------

September 13, 2007

Dear Diary,

BEING ME IS THE WORSE THING EVER! I HATE MY LIFE! Iraq is so sucky! They totally don't appreciate anything I've done for them. All the other cuntries have been ignoring me. Even England stopped calling me. Like I care what he does. And then Australia called to say that Osama was on tv. I was like, Hello? ANTM is on! You're lucky I have TiVo or I'd flip out on you!

Why does everyone hate me? I didn't start all this--OBL did. Am I supposed to just lay down and do nothing. NFW!

Well I. Do. Not. Care. What they think. I don't need their help, and I will NOT be ignored.

I think Iran's been talking about me behind my back...

Friday, September 07, 2007

Why Social Conservatives Can't Keep It in their Pants

These are tough, tough days to be a social conservative. The home town fans back in Iowa, Colorado, the Florida panhandle, and all the other medieval backwaters of this great country are hanging their heads in shame because their team is getting slaughtered out there. You can't swing a dead cat in a public lavatory without hitting a deeply conservative, self-righteous, holier-than-thou congressman, senator, or mega church pastor, leaving the true believers to wonder--why?


"Why, Oh why, Lord?" they beseech in prayer, "The perpetual aura of remonstrance that emanates from my curdled visage serves only to bring order and obedience to the narrow confines of this humble home. Thus I selected these my public servants, these Godly warriors, these paragons of probity, to serve as my proxies and enforce the same sour rectitude on my town, my state, and this whole nation. I empowered them so that they might bring low the mighty Babylon of Hollywood, so that they might purge the filthy halls of that Gomorrah on the Potomac, so that they might drive the accursed liberals from the reeking dens where they plot, fornicate, and watch masterpieces of Italian cinema on DVD. I charged them to raise high the torch of decency, restore the fear of god, and enshrine your holy will in law."


"So why do they keep getting caught in public restrooms with their peckers out?! I mean, forgive me Lord... but son of a bitch, I'm having a hard time seeing the bigger plan here."


These and other questions I will soon answer. But first a warning, a second warning, a lament, an apology, and finally a profane sentence fragment.


To our young readers of the Only Sayin Scouts Club, I must ask you to leave now. Things here are going to get ugly fast. Go to some wholesome site that society deems more appropriate for those of tender years. Like this. Or this. Or how about this?


Are they gone? OK. Much of what follows will deal with the difficult subject of SEX. Like all writers, I want to be read and appreciated by as large an audience as possible, and I realize that by selecting SEX for my subject matter, mass appeal will be out of the question. But the issues at hand are of profound importance to the public weal. It will be dry reading and a hard slog. This is medicine I serve, not candy. But I know in my heart that what I say will serve to better inform the citizenry on these critical matters, and an informed populace is the foundation of good government.


So SEX it must be. Sometimes just good old fashioned boy-on-girl action, conducted in such physical manner as to allow--nay, compel--continuous eye contact between partners. Sometimes it will be boy-on-boy, or girl-on-girl, or girl-girl-boy. Or with people who are not quite boys or girls. Or with toys, outfits, leather and/or latex, in locations not limited to the home, public and non-public areas of hotels, office buildings, or mass transportation systems. It may also be necessary to say "pecker" again. I really can't tell yet.


For all of this I am very, very sorry. But what the hell.


Let us return now to several of the "why's?" that events like Larry Craig's arrest bring to mind.


First, a pedestrian topic too central to be ignored: Why a public restroom in an airport? This question has been explored from many angles in the news and on talk shows. Some explanations focus on the psychological dimension, emphasizing the anonymity provided by that locale and the sense that it is a welcoming setting for furtive acts. Others prioritize the logistical advantages of using a transportation hub as a meeting venue. Analysts more inclined to accentuate the mechanical and practical dimensions in these matters highlight the element of physical convenience. A bathroom is after all a forum in which all the relevant anatomical appendages and orifices (query copy editor: orifi?) are exposed and accessible. Amidst all the rationalizing, some shrewd commentators argue that an airport bathroom is a terrible choice of location for a sexual tryst. They note that it would seem, given the well-documented symbiosis between terrorists and civil aviation, that only the naive would consider airport bathroom stalls to be a suitable location for secretive acts. I mean, isn't that the first place you would expect a terrorist to go to give the bomb a final check? That major public figures would expect to be discreetly blown in such a place may be testament to the compulsive allure of risk. I hope that's the explanation. Because what are we to think about the competence of those charged with providing for our security if a Senator privy to the innermost operational secrets of the Homeland Security Department is confident that he can have illicit anonymous sex in an airport toilet?


All of this is valid insight, and we are indebted to our beloved media punditry for the enlightenment they bestow. Yet, mind-bogglingly, they have ignored the elephant in our living room. Which is this: Who seeks sex in public restrooms!? Public restrooms are revolting. I'm not even comfortable knowing that the soles of my shoes are touching the floor in a public bathroom. I function as if I have lost both arms in a combine accident, manipulating all handles and controls with my elbows. I tentatively open each stall door with nauseous trepidation and the expectation that what I am about to see will be paramount to a fresh tableau of ritual murder, and in this I am seldom disappointed. And, if all I am told is true, these bathroom hookups result in such varied and energetic skin-to-surface contacts that, as far as I'm concerned, these people might as well be licking the floor and bathing in the toilets. I find this image shattering. Never, in contrast, has a semen-stained hotel bedspread seemed more innocuous, even appealing. From this perspective, what we're dealing with here is not lewd conduct, but the same kind of mental illness exhibited by those that play with their own feces.


But there is a much more important question. Why is it that there seems to be a disproportionately large number of social conservatives amongst the religious and elected leaders whose mugshots festoon our nation's news dailies? Is it coincidence? Perhaps it's just a false perception, stemming from the fact that those who run for office on a platform of incorruptibility naturally garner the most attention when they fall off the wagon. I suspect that the voters of Massachusetts have a pretty good idea what Barney Frank does of an evening at his condo in South Beach, though they may opt not to meditate upon the visual.


As we ponder this question, let us expand our sphere of inquiry to include moral failings beyond the licentious behavior of men who do not know each other meeting in washrooms strewn with human waste. For such examples of promiscuity are mere peccadilloes elevated to the level of the reprehensible only by the hypocrisy they reveal. Though conservative radio doesn't give a lot of airtime to rants against avarice or the neglect of the poor, mainstream social conservatism does proscribe activities beyond homosexual conduct. Indeed, the hands of right wing leaders keep showing up in all kind of places that those hands were certainly not elected to be. Yes, primarily on other mens' asses. But also on the asses of teenagers and children, and on the asses of other mens' wives, and on the asses of women that are not their own wives. And if you see an ass without a hand on it, you can bet the absent hand is somewhere else that is wasn't elected to be. Like in the till. Or on the take.


An aside: Notably absent from this list is abortion. I'm sure if Larry Craig could have an abortion, he certainly would have had one when he saw that badge underneath the stall divider. But he, like most right-wing social conservatives, is a guy, which may be a factor in the low incidence of abortion scandals among socially conservative public figures. We were keeping a close eye on Ann Coulter in this regard, but it turns out that she is a guy as well.


With this oh-so-modestly broader view of what constitutes bad behavior, it is astonishing to consider how many prominent public figures have been violating the traditional values they profess to treasure. For every name you recognize--Larry Craig, David Vitter, Ted Haggard, Ralph Reed, Jack Abramoff, Tom Foley, Tom DeLay, Randy Cunningham, John Doolittle--there are hundreds at the state and local level whose hypocritical transgressions never show up on CNN. And let's not leave all those pedophilic Catholic priests out of the mix. They count too.


So--is it coincidence? Is it a misleading perception?


It isn't. In fact there is incredibly simple, obvious, and intuitive reason that those who align themselves with social conservatism are far more likely to engage in inappropriate behavior than those who call themselves liberals. It is not rocket science.


You see, we all have urges. Our urges may be violent. (I have an almost irresistable urge to bitch slap John McCain.) Or our urges may be covetous (Sure, I'm the parking attendant. Just give me the key.) They may be benignly sexual (Julie Andrews, if you're reading this, call me at 555-5153.) Or perversely so. (Bring the nun's habit and a single, live she-goat.) Some people process these urges in successful, healthy ways. Generally, that means shining as much conscious light on them as we can, asking ourselves why we feel the way we feel, and determining whether it would be appropriate to act upon them, or whether there are channels for our urges that would allow us acceptable modes of fulfillment.


This is why so many of my lovely and accommodating girlfriends have worn the nun outfit.


But there are many people who have never been able to bring their urges out into the light. Why do they lack the skills of introspection? They may be the product of a household where feelings were hidden. They may never have learned the value of critical thinking. Or perhaps they were never exposed to the arts and literature, where we can connect with and learn from the internal struggles of others. And the repercussions of their stunted emotional state are likely to be exacerbated because the same factors that make self-examination impossible--loveless parenting, for example--also tend to amplify their less-savory natural urges.


And so we grow up, until one day we are ready to take our place as citizens. Timidly we peek out around the frayed, gauzy edges of our newly rent chrysalis. We are innocent, our minds unmade. We understand so little of what government is and how it works. We know only that it exists to constrain us so that some will not bring harm to the rest, and that we want it to constrain us no more than is required to achieve this end. We watch people streaming by on the street, their faces like ciphers, unreadable. What would they do if allowed to give free reign to their inner desires, we wonder? Would they try to molest us in the mens' room? Might they molest our children? Would they steal from us, and cheat us? How can we know? How can we judge?


And then the solution comes to us. What, we ask ourselves, would I do if I could give free rein to my inner urges?


That is how it happens. That is why social liberals want to expand civil liberties, to enlarge freedom of action and thought. Because they can only assume that the balance of humanity would use that freedom to do good, just as they would. This is how many conservatives of the libertarian stripe have found their comfort zone as well. It takes great confidence in the essential benevolence of man to advocate for the abolishment government controls.


And that is how so many social conservatives, doubtful of their ability to control their own base desires, projecting their own weakness and confusion on the rest of humanity, come to be what they are. That is why they rail for strictness in the home and to have morality encodified in law. They perceive an imminent threat from which we must be protected, but cannot grasp that the source of the danger lies within themselves.


Does this mean that the mass of those who appear to be values-obsessed Republicans are in fact pedophiles-in-waiting, repressed homosexuals, thieves but for the opportunity? Far from it. They are, like all people everywhere, generally decent, doing their best to get by and willing to live and let live. But it does mean that there is something in their experience with their family or with their community that leads them to believe that people are not to be relied upon to contain their malign urges.


No, it is not hard to identify those who pose the greatest danger to us. Like all who are incapable of self-examination, they are oblivious to their own transparency. They are the ones that shout the loudest, that spew warnings of moral decay and transgression, that seek to harness the fear they engender to advance their own power and influence, that seek to raise an army of the self-righteous to march on the seat of wickedness and hypocrisy.


Imagine their shock when they realize that the seat of wickedness and hypocrisy is made of porcelain. That they themselves are the one besieged and the army they raised waits for them. Right outside the stall door.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

What is the Sound of One IED Exploding?

How could the surge be "working" when we don't know what it's supposed to do? Is a tactic a tactic if there's no strategy?


It is a koan worth meditating upon as we follow the ebb and flow of day to day events in Iraq. Much as someone afflicted with Parkinson's disease has the sense that their personality is being replaced by an assortment of tics and spasms, so our military regards its own limbs as they flail involuntarily amidst the rubble and deserts of Mesopotamia, obedient to a central nervous system that fires with all the purpose and predictability of the hiccups. Those within the military may not perceive this as failure. They see orders transmitted, reconnaissance performed, soldiers deployed, insurgents killed (they sure looked like insurgents...), soldiers safely back to base--for the men in uniform, this is a good day at the office. But keep in mind, even an epileptic seizure is a marvel of anatomical engineering. But perhaps one might be forgiven for looking at the thrashing victim and wondering, what exactly is the plan?


To all who take a passing interest in the Iraqi mess, and particularly to the families of the soldiers who want to see their sons and siblings properly used and returned with the correct number of fingers and toes, accept my apologies; the picture I paint is not edifying. It offers no moral clarity, none of the honor due to those who fall short against overwhelming odds, not even the lukewarm satisfaction that comes from the good try. It is a picture of pointlessness, of a chicken with its head cut off dashing around the farmyard.


That we have no strategy in Iraq follows naturally from the fact that even the half dozen architects of this stupidity never agreed on the goal. Some wanted to secure Iraq's oil. Some had rosy delusions of remaking the geopolitical face of the middle east. Some wanted to scare the hell out of would-be terrorists. Some saw the potential to endlessly harvest political hay. And some were driven by vendetta. All that these disparate goals have in common is their unattainability. Yet each interested party felt their goals could be served by invading Iraq. It was a profoundly unlucky confluence of personalities, authority, and agendas, catalyzed by the fear-induced malleability of the public in the wake of 9-11.


So we went to war for a host of sometimes-conflicting reasons, all of which were either fantastical or could never be used to prop up political support for the effort. The fact that the administration repeatedly offers a stay-the-course rationale as lame and discredited as fighting terrorism says a lot about the political marketability of the other justifications for this war. The Iraqi occupation is a teetering skyscraper built on a flawed foundation, and the only realistic, sensible goal is to somehow disassemble the structure and try to restore the critical elements of the status quo ante--balance of power most importantly.


But virtually no one in politics or the media--with the possible exception of Joe Biden, bless his gaffe-prone heart--is prepared to publicly acknowledge how difficult the road ahead will be. There is a lot of self-righteous energy coming from the left, demanding immediate withdrawal of the troops. Indeed, it is clear that the Democrats owe their control of congress to the public enthusiasm for ending this war. But withdrawal is not a strategy anymore than a surge is a strategy, and please pardon me if I am hesitant to allow the American electorate to directly manage the details of our foreign policy. Who among the common clay will be available to guide our ship of state if there's an international incident during the season finale of Dancing with the Stars?


It is difficult to blame our public servants for being reluctant to accept this barrel of political toxic waste that the President is so eager to pawn off. It would be political suicide. And George Bush, who has already slit his own wrists on this issue and has nothing to lose, cannot rise above the pitiful needs of his own ego and alter course. What is he trying to accomplish, I often wonder? Is he single-mindedly, brilliantly pursuing some goal that I am too blind to see?


Let's not be overly generous. There is in fact less going on inside the man than meets the eye. That he is missing that humanizing element that would allow him to empathize with those outside his immediate family is obvious for all to see by now. When we think of wartime Presidents like Lincoln, Roosevelt, Wilson, Eisenhower and Johnson, and the agonies they endured as they weighed the deaths of soldiers and civilians against the goals they hoped to achieve, we don't envision George Bush in that mix. He operates in a more remote manner, watching our forces careen around Iraq, seeking a personal fulfillment in military action that he could never get from diplomacy, and waiting for a moment when, for some reason, he believes honor has been satisfied, and we can say we are proud and strong. He believes that when he feels that, somehow America will feel it too. That is the goal: to feel good about ourselves.


Thousand of U.S. soldiers killed and maimed. Tens of thousands of Iraqis killed, hundreds of thousands displaced. Countless billions of dollars wasted. Our army broken. American moral stature decimated. If we're not feeling good about ourselves yet, I'm not sure what it's gonna take...

Sunday, September 02, 2007

A Futile and Hysterical Rant on Behalf of Reason

Big excitement: I have discovered why it is that I find the anti-rational stance of religious fundamentalists so irritating. This discovery is not of the scientific variety, but if it were, would that not be a most delicious irony? So I will pretend.

I have scientifically proven that the fundamentalists are irritating.

This is a major breakthrough for me. It comes after many fruitless years of plotting philosophical battle against my prayer-blind foe. How I labored to craft some few pithy words so irresistibly persuasive that the scales would fall from the eyes of even the most fervent evangelicals, words to convey that the earth is not 8,000 years old, that yes, we are monkeys, and that while the end of the world is indeed nigh, it will be a lot less like a sound-stage Hollywood musical than the rapture they envision. Like de Soto, Ponce de León, or Faust, my quest for the withering repartee that would end all debate became an obsession. And like those tragic heroes, I drank the bitter dregs of futility.

For the conflict between religion and reason must ever defy resolution. They do not even share the common language in which to attempt reconciliation. If one side is speaking German, the other is echolocating like bats. But just as bats and Germans will bump into each other sometimes, religion and reason may now and again collide. Or perhaps we should think of reason and religion as separate armies that should be disinclined to battle, but cannot refrain from probing each other to establish position. And inevitably, where there is contact blood will be shed. It would be shame to lug all those guns around for nothing.

I have always been devoted secular humanist. In college I had a velvet-embossed black-light poster of John Locke on my wall, and valued it nearly as much as my bong. My personal loyalty to reason is unwavering. But reliance on rational debate proves to be secular humanism's Achilles heel when its opponents refuse to acknowledge the supremacy of reason. Surely, I might say to my evangelical counterpart, reason has to be the lingua franca of a multi-faith society? No, he could respond, when a conflict arises, my faith trumps reason. Certainly, I retort, we can all agree that reason is the more practical tool? What is practical for me, answers the person of faith, is to sustain this rape-induced pregnancy, so that I may enter heaven some day. I might make a tactical retrenchment: OK, I will allow you your conveniently white, male, 60-something god, but surely you won't advocate a literal interpretation of the Bible's more implausible passages?

Wanna bet?, replies the fundamentalist.

I can pound away for all eternity, but in the faithful there is no stud into which to drive the nail of reason. Stalemate is the only possible result.

I should point out that despite my apostasy, I am a big fan of spirituality. If the fundamentalists are so appalled at the notion that we are mere Baboons that have mastered the craft of indoor plumbing, they should spend less time acting like animals by wishing death on Muslims and burning school books, and more time practicing love, compassion and tolerance. These are the values that let us transcend everything that is unavoidably crummy about this life, like venereal disease and the Department of Motor vehicles. It is worth noting that Jesus--who was a bit of a doormat but a hard guy to dislike--was obsessed with this love and compassion stuff. I'm not sure when the fundies made that a members-only benefit. Or how they gloss over the fact that he was a socialist hippie.

So my concept of spirituality and Christianity's rest on very similar foundations. Perhaps organized religion is an example of a perfectly respectable product ruined in the rollout. The instruction manual--this arrogantly named "bible"--is an absolute mess. I don't know whether the problem was the writers they hired or the translation, but things were bad enough when Christianity came factory-assembled by certified catholic priests; whose brilliant idea was it to let people do the assembly at home? (Martin Luther, please report to the principal's office...) If we were just trying to put together a ping pong table we could acknowledge that we're missing a package of screws, call customer service and move on. But this bible is supposed to be infallible. You've got people reading it all day--on the train, at lunch, before bed--trying to figure out how to fold flap A of first Corinthians into slot B of the book of Joshua... People! It will never work! The thing's like 5,000 pages long and translated from the Aramaic. I hope you all kept your receipts and the original packaging.

In reality, the bible never had the smallest chance of successfully reflecting the essence of the religion it purports to represent, for at the center of religious thought lies the unknowable. Some call it god, some call it Buddha. (On three or four occasions of inebriation my friend Gordon believed he was the one holding the marionette strings of the universe. Only the sound of the jail cell door closing prompted him to reconsider.) But regardless of how we name the central mystery, all morality flows from the humility, weakness and vulnerability we feel when our lives are subject to forces we cannot control or understand. Forces that seem intent on subjecting us to every imaginable cruelty and mockery, holding out some secret, shiny gift and jerking it away each time we reach for it, until fortune finally relents and lets us open the box to reveal the coronary embolism that is the just recompense for our patience and suffering.

It's a funny thing about the unknowable: you can't really know much about it. The big mistake made by the tag-team of biblical authors was that, in their attempt to annotate and illuminate, they created the false impression that the great mystery might in fact have a solution, thus opening the door to all the religious tyrants and bullies who have claimed special knowledge. So much for humility.

Ironically, the one thing that could equip today's intellectually stunted mall walkers to grapple with real spirituality is the one thing they most revile: science. The experiences of science are the mental calisthenics that prepare us to assimilate challenging esoteric concepts. Consider an example: If we have confidence in atomic theory, it comes from our ability to extend our immediate senses into ever higher levels of abstraction. We believe what we see with our eyes. We extend that to what we see through a microscope, and from there to what we "see" with an electron microscope, and so on until we are watching particles in quantum space with the same comfort and confidence as we might watch a baseball game. This ability to connect the abstract and the concrete without conflating the two could go a long way towards preserving the peace outside of abortion clinics. Because once you get comfortable with the notion that you don't know anything and that you never will know anything, you become a lot more reticent about telling other people what to do.

It is more than a trivial tautology to note that because science is based on what we detect with our senses--whether directly with our ears or via interstellar listening devices--it is great at bringing us products that address the needs of our senses. Researchers study pain therapies and develop drugs that really do reduce pain. We study coolants and build refrigerators that provide us with undeniably frosty beers. We synthesize plastics that keep our hoagies fresh and which keep the rain off of our heads.

And this brings me to the indisputable validation of my rightful disgust with the fundamentalists. You see, I don't want any of the benefits of membership in their club. I don't want to be saved. I don't want to be forgiven. And I will not cherry pick their faith for whatever elements may be to my advantage and try to leave the rest on the table. But they want to have it both ways. They want the air conditioners that my science invented to cool their obscenely spacious Texas homes. They want my computers to furtively surf gay porn. They want my televisions to watch the puerile Hollywood tripe that tomorrow they will condemn as immoral. They want my snack food preservatives and then they want my tummy tuck surgeries because those snack food preservatives worked so damn well. They want my Oxycontin, my fuel injection systems, and my electric air fresheners.

But they do not want my evolution. They do not want my geology that proves the earth is about 5 billion years old. They do not want my climate studies that suggest there's a problem with the aforementioned fuel injection systems. They will not confess that all these things--the ones they love and cling to and the ones they reject--are all of a kind and can not be sold separately.

They keep breaking into the bubble wrap and taking just the parts they like. And it is irritating.

Though it gives me some satisfaction to put my finger on the source of my long-standing exasperation, I realize no ground is thus gained in the battle between reason and faith. There still remains the core, unsolvable conflict of belief, a difference of of opinion, where there can be no right or wrong.

Except for this small point: I am right. And these pie-eyed, pamphlet wielding, shallow-thinking, holier-than-thou, sickeningly-wholesome-yet-closeted-homosexual, re-virginized born-agains who reconstructed their own hymens through the power of prayer are wrong.

I sure hope they do not hold with equal certainty that the reverse is true. Because if that's the case, this trouble will be with us for a long time.

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Nuclear Holocaust was Better Than Global Warming

Let's put on our Speedos and chat for a moment about global warming, shall we?

Call it what you will--global warming, climate change, the big melt, death by infinitesimal asphyxiation--it sounds bad, and in fact now holds the world's record for scariest thing that anyone can think of that isn't obviously bullshit. On which grounds--forgive me evangelicals--we must disqualify the uncomfortable burning sensation that might accompany fulfilled apocalyptic biblical prophesy.

The previous record holder was global nuclear war and its inevitable follow-up, the Mad Max scenario: a world without personal hygiene. That was some scary stuff too, and millions of school children were instructed to practice cowering and shitting themselves under their desks, ignorant of the fact that the unabridged emergency manual recommended school desks be hermetically sealed spaces of at least 500 square feet, have lead and concrete lined walls, water and air purification systems, and a tremendous supply of canned vegetables.

Atomic catastrophe may have been an Ultimate Horror, but it was easy to wrap your arms around. Its likely perpetrators were a small handful of megalomaniacs, wheelchair-bound mad scientists with prosthetic arms, and Texans. It was not entirely unrealistic to think that if they ever reached for the button, the rest of us could rush them, wrestle them to the ground, and knee them repeatedly in the groin. Secondly, we knew the threat was genuine. It was manifest in the cool lathed cylinders that slumbered in burrows bespeckling the forsaken wastelands of Siberia and Nevada. You could have touched their points and said "Ouch!" You could have seen them on top secret satellite photos, right there. (And--unfortunately--also there, and there, and there, and there...) You could even have rapped on their unreverberant shells with your knuckles, in response to which the missile would impishly whisper: "ker-BOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Missiles love the look on our faces when they do this.

The undeniability of the threat was a good thing. It clarified the mind. It let us know that we could cower and soil ourselves unashamedly. And we could take steps to forestall impending disaster, like holding bake sales and building fallout shelters out of plywood.

With what wistful affection we now recall those innocent days, the fecund vines of our imaginings laden with visions of melting flesh and burgeoning tumors.

Our new boogie man is a poor substitute for the old. No longer are we permitted the comforting illusion that when push comes to shove we can simply round up a posse and put things to right. The source of the climate change problem is 100 gazillion asians and indonesians who have gotten the absurd notion into their heads that they have just as much right to air conditioning and SUVs as white people. We cannot wrestle them to ground, for they are oriental, and thus all know karate.

Another point in nuclear holocaust's favor: it was an invitation to party. Even the biggest loser can get laid when the world's about to end. Global warming, in contrast, is a total buzz kill. It wants to take away the keys to our convertible. It wants us to shiver in winter and sweat in summer. It wants us to live like sardines in cramped apartments. To sum up, it does not want us to have any fun.

Damn you, global warming!

As a vehicle of impending doom, global warming offers little into which we can sink our incisors. We like threats that are obvious, acute, and preferably Newtonian. All we know of self-preservation we gleaned from Roadrunner cartoons, and so can recognize and avoid falling anvils. But our national love affair with complexity and nuance notwithstanding (I see in the news where the members of Elks Lodge post 219 in Murfreesboro, TN confirmed that thorny Poincaré conjecture last week--that's a relief!), climate change is too abstract for our taste. In fact, it is so mind-blowingly complicated that you could fit all the people that truly understand it into a phone booth. The rest of us may profess an opinion and wear glasses that make us look smart, but really we're just trying to align ourselves with whichever side we think is more likely to keep us alive. Hopefully, we'll be permitted to keep our snowmobile.

And we are haunted by uncertainty. Do we need to sell the beach house or not? Either we're about to die--in which case I'm sure we'd all make a special entry in our daily minders: "Rebalance composition of earth's atmosphere (IMPORTANT!)"--or we're not about to die, so can we please return our undivided attention to America's Next Top Model? But the doubt--the doubt is the fuel of nightmares, and our mommy can tell us that there is no such thing as magic chickens that want to remove our eyeballs and hardboil them, but we know mommy is naive or in league with the chickens and the only rational course of action is to stare unblinking at the latticed shadows of the venetian blinds for the next seven hours until we swoon unconscious into the clammy folds of our own sweatsoaked pajamas at first light of the morning.

Friends, I cannot offer you a quick fix for climate change, nor will I dress it in a clown suit and say it is not a downer. But I can offer a thought or two to cut through the noise of the debate.

First, how is it that the overwhelming majority of scientists have come to believe that man made global warming is a reality?

Let us dismiss the obvious: it is not because of the weather. Let it snow in July or broil in December, we can never reliably attribute any individual weather event to global warming. Even an anomalous season, or ten such seasons in a row is of dubious import. This is perhaps the only thing that climate change skeptics and believers agree upon. If the public does not display the same sangfroid towards hurricanes in June, the experts must bear some blame. They pay lip service to the statistical insignificance of singular examples. But like recovering alcoholics on a booze cruise, they cannot resist the opportunity when nature sends the drink tray around again, delivering the warmth, the cool, the rain, whatever supports their cause. Their hands shake and beads of sweat bud upon their brows. Maddened, they pounce, appearing on CNN to score their points with the public. How they loathe themselves in the morning.

The fact is we really don't understand the weather, and even less the cycles within cycles within cycles, oceanographic, geologic, and atmospheric over centuries and eons, that impact the weather. Weather is hopelessly complicated and infinitely sensitive, the penultimate poster child of nonlinearity. It may be that every weather phenomenon we're experiencing, however odd, is just the product of natural cycles that haven't been recognized. Even if we are barreling towards a climate catastrophe, it may have nothing to do with car exhaust or ovine flatulence. It may be that god is sick of us and has decided to call it a day.

Who could blame him?

And yet the scientists are as sure as sure can be that the climate is changing and people are a major cause. I don't know why they won't explain how they know, but I will spill the beans for them. The secret is statistics. Scientists all over the world are conducting studies, building computer climate models, sampling the atmosphere, examining ice cores from the polar caps and and analyzing the past and present state of our environment in countless ingenious ways. And while there is a significant chance that the conclusions of any one study or approach are flawed or misleading, scientists have learned how to estimate the likelihood and degree of inaccuracy in individual experiments. They can then throw all the conclusions of those studies into a bowl, weight each for the likelihood of accuracy, shake well, dip the whole thing in a tangy statistical sauce, and voila, you can suddenly draw some very reliable conclusions.

Do you remember sitting is statistics class, watching the hands of the clock proceed at the same bright clip with which rocks grow older and praying that merciful death would find you and end your pain? Well, the scientists were there too, and they were paying attention. And that is why they can tell you that the chance we're not frying the planet is essentially zero.

Here's another perspective that may drive home the urgency of climate change. We tend to think of our world as an enormous expanse of emptiness that has been growing fuller with life and its pungent byproducts over the eons. So we ask: Are we full yet? Is there still more space to put the carbon dioxide from this breath I am breathing now? How about this one? It is a model that envisions not just landfills as a place to hide our candy wrappers for eternity, but waterfills and airfills as well.

But this model is wrong. For in fact, the world is full already, and has been full since microbes first conquered the planet in its infancy. You may remember from your high school biology classes that there are microorganisms that are anaerobic--that don't use oxygen. These types of organisms ruled the world early in the planet's history, because the atmosphere was dominated by compounds like methane, while free oxygen was in short supply. It was a great time to be anaerobic. Geriatric anaerobic microorganisms still sit on their front porches in their rockers reminiscing about how those days kicked ass and now everything's gone to hell.

So where did all the oxygen come from? From the anaerobic organisms. It was their waste product. They "breathed" in compounds we would consider poisonous, and breathed out oxygen (which I must tell you, actually is poisonous. It is the chlamydia-ridden nymphomaniac of the periodic table, reacting with with every thing it meets and destroying it). Pretty soon the world was filled with oxygen and the anaerobic organisms asphyxiated in their own halitosis. But then, along came a new generation of microbes that could actually breath this poisonous, corrosive oxygen and emit carbon dioxide. Meanwhile, plants that use the carbon dioxide and emit oxygen proliferated. And thus was established the balance that supports us in such fine style today.

There is a miraculous and aesthetically pleasing symmetry to the relationship between the oxygen breathers and the carbon dioxide breathers. They share common microbial ancestors, and are more alike than different. They share the same cell structure, they need water to survive, and they evolve at a similar pace, minimizing the likelihood that one type of organism will suddenly start behaving in a way that destabilizes the system as a whole. This is nature's elegant economy, purring along in homeostatic bliss. Secure, because all currencies are of a quantity and quality of her own design.

Or so it was until the first self-conscious thought blossomed in the mind of an ancient hominid, and all of creation whispered "Uh-oh." For what we justly celebrate as an independence day will prove nature's Waterloo. Our cognitive facility, the font of industry and mechanization, of refining and synthesizing, strikes a note not found in nature's scale. When a new kind of plant evolves, there is every reason to believe that it will not disrupt our climatic balance. But have you ever sat in your car in rush hour gridlock with the air-conditioning roaring, an ocean of running automobiles stretching out to the horizon in all directions, the heat waves and fumes radiating upwards into the haze, and felt a thrill of panic? Well, you should have, because there is absolutely no reason to believe that nature can absorb that punishment, and every reason to believe she can't.

And so the question to ask is not whether the undeniable change we are inflicting on the environment is having a particular effect, but rather, why would we mess with it at all, hitting the hornet's nest with a stick as it were?

If you want to know how it will end, ask an anaerobic organism. If you can find one.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

A Pleasant Post in Which I Betray My Nation

What do we know of the so-called Terrorist Surveillance Program?

Though it is much in the news of late, what we read and hear generates much noise, but sheds little light. We glean that it is so secret and vital to our minute-to-minute survival that everyone with knowledge of its details has already been killed. We know it gives Dick Cheney a woody. (Can that be good?) We know that it is favored by the clear-eyed and crew cut patriots at Denny's restaurants across the country, for unlike those effete eastern homosexuals and dope smokers, they have nothing to hide. And we know that the democrats, in a display of the infinite cowardice for which they are justly renowned, have just pumped it full of amphetamines, soaked it in gasoline, and given it the keys to the hummer, much liked a stunned football player staggering triumphantly towards his own end zone, elated by the roar of the crowd, unable to hear the words they scream:

"You're running the wrong way!"

We know these things, but none of them is one of the two things that are the only two things you need to know about this program.

In a moment, I will reveal these two things to you. But first, I am going to tell you exactly what this top secret program does. The personal consequences of this treasonous disclosure will be dire. In the aftermath, I will be granted the highest level of security clearance so that I may then be ceremoniously stripped of it. I will be extraordinarily rendered; I have already charged my iPod and packed my comfy neck pillow for the flight. And I will be tortured: I will have to watch Karl Rove dance, to read the complete works of Bill Kristol, to follow the briar-choked, corpse-strewn track of Tony Snow's logic.

National security, you best put on something sheer and lacy, 'cause you're about to get compromised.

The surveillance program in question involves intercepting and recording telephone conversations, and likely email as well. Supposedly, only communications in which one participant is outside the United States will be targeted. But the physical telecommunications infrastructure doesn't always support such a surgical partitioning of the internal and the external, so it would be naive to think that no purely domestic communications will get swept up in the mix. The collected information will then be subjected to analysis by an array of automated processes that will look for suspicious key words and patterns, in hopes that a few potential needles can be extracted from this astronomically big haystack and brought to the attention of the finest analytical tool at our nation's disposal.

Which is a guy named Alan who drinks 17 cups of coffee a day, has an enlarged prostate gland, and has been sitting at the same desk in Langley, VA for the last 20 years.

Alan will then decide whether the potential suspects identified by the system warrant further investigation.

If this sounds a little bit backwards to you--to first record phone calls and then decide whether the people on the phone deserve to be targeted--you're right. And thus all the whining from those fixated on quaint notions like "liberty" and "the law."

Historically, agents of law enforcement have to first establish that there is reason to suspect that person X is a criminal, and then they can get a warrant to spy. Whether the changes to technology and to the security threats we face over the last few decades justify this new approach is a legitimate subject for debate. But there can be no doubt that it is a sea change.

Shall we now examine the issues manifest in our technological advances? Shall we take measure of our altered security outlook and probe the myriad scenarios of dirty bombs and poisoned water supplies? Let's not. For that would be dull for you, dear reader. Far worse, it would be taxing for me, and that is something to be avoided at all costs.

Thankfully, such exertions are unnecessary. For as I said earlier, there are only two things you need to know about our new, steroid-enhanced government surveillance program.

First, when you balance the effectiveness of the program against the costs both monetary and inherent in the erosion of our privacy, it turns out that it isn't very effective. Most experts concede, and past experience has shown, that if we took the bazillions of dollars that are spent to collect and analyze all this data and spent it instead on agents like Alan so they can infiltrate extremist networks, establish informants, and do the kind of targeted, legal (warrants and everything!) surveillance that has borne so much fruit in the past, we'd catch far more bad guys.

Alan would probably appreciate the opportunity to get out of the office. Certainly, he could use the exercise.

In other words, this isn't a choice between security and privacy, it's a plan to make sure we get neither. File it under "S" for "Sucky Plans We Shouldn't Do."

On to the second thing you must know about the surveillance program: it is overseen by the people in charge of executing it. Will the ability to invade our privacy therefore be abused for political ends?

Oh, that the lord would send me an all-powerful font face of fire in which to type these words...

Yes. It will.

It is the most mortal of locks.

Tell me, what is the central foundation of our system of government? No, not life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. No, not the right to get filthy rich and then consider yourself better than everyone else. (But good answer. Half credit awarded.) No, the central truth which has made this nation successful is this: People are awful, and you should never, ever, ever trust them. Tyranny follows unchecked power as surely as the drain clogs when you give yourself a haircut over the sink.

I heard an analyst argue that this program does not represent a threat, because the decent, dedicated career civil servants at our intelligence agencies would never use it in an untoward manner.

Please. No argument could be better contrived to make the founding fathers howl with laughter.

I'm not saying that the power now granted will be used to determine what toppings Barack Obama likes on his pizza or to capture and later capitalize upon the involuntary exclamations of Hillary Clinton in the throes of passion--though, given our present administration's dubious track record, you could perhaps be forgiven for acknowledging that possibility. I'm not even suggesting that an all-hands conference call between Osama Bin Laden and the heads of his international network might be overlooked because the last bits of computer disc space were filled with an account of the late night goings-on at the U. of Iowa girls' dorm. But will the government claim successes that can never be confirmed as a basis for further expanding this program and others like it, until all of your daily communications and utterances become tools to be used on a whim by the public servants-cum-gangsters in the white house, and by the public servants that will follow but become gangsters themselves via the influence of that same corrupting power? A temptation even more compelling than cookies?

I say again, in a mighty font: You betcha.

So do not be confused, dear friends. Do not let debaters on all sides of this issue cloud your thinking by dragging you down into the details of implementation, or with scholarly disquisitions on the niceties of interpreted law regarding privacy rights. Even the most familiar objects of daily life are unrecognizable when examined under a microscope, and once manipulated into debating the fine points of a topic we'll wake to find that we implicitly conceded the proposition as a whole.

Ask yourself, should you be heeding those distant but urgent alarm bells ringing faintly in your head?

Yes.

I'm only saying.

Monday, August 06, 2007

Why the Iraq Fiasco is a Big Relief

I have been reading The Prince of the Marshes, Rory Stewart's incisive and revealing memoir of his year in Iraq as a provincial governor under the auspices of the Coalition Provisional Authority.

It is a masterpiece of storytelling. Each chapter is only a couple of pages long, a literary technique that mirrors the infinitely fragmented nature of reality in Iraq, and the surprises and reversals come not only at chapter's end, but within each paragraph and sentence. Forget the longed-for, comprehensible dichotomy of Sunni and Shiite; Mr. Stewart tells of grappling with an unending array of tribal allegiances, religious divisions within divisions, degrees of affiliation with Iran, modernists vs. traditionalists, the educated vs. the illiterate, and militias run by black marketeers vs. mobs of unemployed youths. Amidst these conflicting agendas, the local actors lie, posture, make and break alliances, and assassinate each other, while the eminently capable and well-intentioned Mr. Stewart and his fellows retile the roof of the local schoolhouse and hope that no one blows it up.

It is the mother of all messes.

And my reaction? Page by page, I find myself breathing a sigh of relief.

Why relief? Certainly not because there can be any satisfaction derived from America's calamitous, drunken misstep into this quagmire. The suffering and death we have brought upon innocent Iraqis--the aged, the children, the families--utterly outweighs whatever price we have paid in lives and treasure. This invasion without provocation or purpose amounts to little more than an arrogant patriotic display, a parade atop the livelihoods and persons of the populace, an independence day celebration in which the fireworks are packed with shrapnel and aimed at civilians, while mainstreet America gawks up at the pretty lights with Oohs! and Ahs!

If we were to look down at the damage we've caused, we'd have no choice but to acknowledge that we have acted monstrously. So we're careful not to look.

No, the relief I feel comes from a different place. It is the relief that comes when our most basic intuitions, assailed by those we are reared to respect, are nonetheless confirmed. Up is not down. Black is not white. And you cannot go to a country in one of the most volatile regions of the world, the justly proud home of the planet's most ancient civilization; a country that has never had a political or ethnic basis for cohesion, and whose modern borders were instead blithely marked by far-off powers as an afterthought of a World War in which Iraqis played no role; a country that has never been stable except under the iron weight of dictatorship... You cannot go into this country, vaporize their physical infrastructure in 15 years of sanctions and war, dismantle every element of the civil administration and security forces, and then send in a handful of soldiers and project managers and fix it in a few years time.

It. Can't. Be. Done.

Did you have a similar thought back in 2003, when this started? Guess what? YOU WERE RIGHT!

As I am so fond of noting in these pages, frequently, we learn more by consulting our own common sense then by listening to the noise around us. Up is not down.

And if this occurred to me, certainly such doubts might have cast a fleeting shadow in the uncluttered minds of luminaries like Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, et al.? After all, they're getting the big bucks to be on top of this. And yet, as recently as August 2, 2007, we hear Defense Secretary Robert Gates spew this disingenuous bullshit:

I think the developments on the political side are somewhat discouraging at the
national level.

I believe Secretary Gates is an intelligent man. Probably even brilliant in his way. So he should know that the word "discouraging" implies that a rational person might have expected a different result. It is inconceivable to me that he doesn't know better.

If there is any shred of solace in this--and a shred is a small thing--it is that America's failure to comprehend and control Iraq's thundering cataract of newly-unleashed human ambition is not in itself the result of a lapse of planning or a lack of expertise. The chaos cannot be mastered because it cannot be understood; not by the world's most experienced diplomats, not even by the Iraqis themselves. It doesn't stand still long enough to be measured or categorized. It is a Chernobyl, and it will have to come to whatever stasis lies ahead in its own time. And if you think the meltdown analogy extreme, consider: the Russians mitigated that disaster by dumping oceans of sand and concrete on the reactor. Isn't that pretty much what Saddam did to keep his people in check? Are we prepared to use the same method?

So what reasonable assumptions can we make regarding the social and political disposition of Iraq? I think we can be sure that what we are witnessing is a great jockeying for position. America's shot clanged off the basket's rim, and every individual or group with pretensions to power is boxing out underneath the backboard and waiting for the rebound. The only factions that have an interest in quick political reconciliation are those that have no power. So in political terms, it doesn't matter what they want anyway. Meanwhile, the other players are in it to win. They have no choice. Every ounce of authority in the country is or will soon be up for grabs.

There are constant, academic-sounding references in the media to the idea of security as the basis for political progress. As if a democratic Iraq will magically blossom if the shooting stops. But willfully or not, the MSM is failing to convey the essence of the matter. The reason we're not seeing political progress right now is not because of the level of violence, and it is not because the elected officials are finding the challenges too great.

The reason there can be no significant political progress in Iraq right now is because America is there, and none of the real powers in Iraq will accept the kind of government the U.S. demands. They are not just being contrary. Rather, they find the idea that Iraq could be effectively ruled by a non-authoritarian government to be absurd. And they are right. Even those elements that might believe that democracy is a noble goal aren't stupid enough to think it will work in Iraq anytime soon.

There are several examples in The Prince of the Marshes where the CPA appoints provincial counsels that represent all the relevant interest groups. The counsel then elects a governor. Inevitably, the governor's first decision is to purge his opponents from the counsel and create a secret police force loyal to his faction alone. The CPA, predictably, vetoes the idea. What is striking and instructive about these episodes, is how confused and stunned the Iraqis are by the CPA's stance. How are they supposed to deliver security with so many constraints upon their power? Even those factions on the losing side don't understand it.

The only reason that the real political powers in Iraq are participating--halfheartedly--in the current charade of national government, is that they thought that if they pantomimed forward political motion, the U.S. might leave. Wouldn't we want to avail ourselves of that welcome political cover? But we're still there, and the national unity government isn't even making an effort to pretend anymore.

So the U.S. has the tiger by the tail, and we don't know how to walk away. Because as politically attractive as troop withdrawal is, we have critical national interests in the political, military and economic stability of the region. The best we can realistically hope for now is to preserve the status quo ante, where Iraq exists as a political entity with it's borders unchanged, serving as a balance and bulwark against the conflicting aims of it's neighbors, and playing its role in the world's fragile oil market. If we stay, we cannot force the outcome we desire. If we leave, who knows what the outcome will be?

And in the meantime it isn't possible to chart a course to reconciliation, because there's no town by that name on the map.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

What the Hell are You Doing in the Bathroom All This Time?

Good afternoon, Mr. Wochysky. I believe your acquaintances call you Timmy, yes?

I'm sure it is startling to hear an unfamiliar voice at this particular time and place Timmy, but it is critical that you pay close attention to what I'm about to say. Pursuant to certain classified executive orders, we are tasked with gathering information that may be relevant for the identification, pursuit and capture of terrorists, elements of their logistical or financial support networks, or people who have or potentially could someday find themselves in physical proximity to terrorists. Or people that look like terrorists. Or think about terrorism.

Or other people.

Our investigative purview is unlimited where we believe there may be a national security interest. We may, by our own prerogative, require access to financial records, credit histories, foreign and domestic travel itineraries, information about family, friends and business associates, religious and political affiliations, telephone records, email and Web browsing histories, etc. etc.

But what we need to know right now is what in the hell are you doing in the bathroom all this time?

You did the same thing yesterday at about this time, yet afterwards the soap and the sink basin were both dry. The toilet seat emitted no residual warmth. And yet there were 37 fewer sheets of toilet paper on the roll than were there when you entered the bathroom. It just doesn't make sense.

Unless...

Are you aware that toilet paper, given its propensity to dissolve quickly in water, can be an ideal medium for carrying coded messages? Or that is can be an important ingredient in explosives? No? Well... OK. Just checking. If you do ever become aware of anything like that, we expect you to alert us immediately.

There's no need shout. Speak towards the shampoo dispenser and we can hear you quite clearly.

I'll cut to the chase, Timmy--if that really is your name--we've been observing you since your 14th birthday, almost a year ago. And you, young man, are up to something. On that point our team of analysts is unanimous. We know secretive, conspiratorial behavior when we see it. We see the nervousness, the furtive glances, how withdrawn you've become.

For example, what is in that social studies book that you walk around at school holding in front of you all the time? You might as well tell us, because our cryptologists will figure it soon enough. Why not come clean and make this easy on yourself?

OK, Timmy, if that's the way you want to play it. Let's talk about something else. You sure did spend a lot of time trying to crack the password on the Internet filter that your dad installed, didn't you? I guess "golf" seemed pretty obvious once you got it. Almost as if your father wanted you to be able get past the firewall. Believe me, it's something we're looking into. Incidentally, your dad might not make it home in time to drive you to soccer practice today.

Just a gut feeling.

Let's just stop playing these games Timmy, we know exactly what you did and why you did it. You think we're not aware of the vast network of apparently ordinary Americans who are sending and receiving coded messages via the Web sites you've been visiting? I won't say how far we've gotten in gleaning the plans contained in those squeals, moans and screams. But that "Oh, god! Oh god!" stuff is pretty obvious. No translation required. "Allahu Akhbar," eh Timmy?

You can bet we've already adapted our physical profiling guidelines. And our body search protocols.

You must be pretty mortified right about now, right? Humiliated? To have your sick thought exposed to the world? But we've been watching you. Surely it occurred to you that you were being watched? You suspected your father's new wife was the mole, didn't you? It must have seemed a little suspicious, she being so much younger than your father. We've seen how you watch her when her back is turned, or when she's bending over to get something from the kitchen cabinets. We know you've rifled her underwear drawers when she's not home, looking for evidence of her real identity. But you didn't find anything, did you? And you never will.

Christ, what the hell is going on in there?! It's been like 20 minutes!

What's that?! Did you just ask whether we have a search warrant? Do you realize what we could do to you just for asking that question?! Do you?!

Of course you don't. Frankly, neither do I. The executive order under which we operate is so secret that even we aren't privy to its provisions. Our superiors, whoever they may or may not be, have instituted an iron-clad hot-warm-cold policy to alert us if and when we may be conducting our work in a manner close to the limits of our authority. Or, at least that's our understanding, though we have to date never received any temperature-based feedback regarding our operations.

But so you know, we may or may not be authorized to hold you indefinitely without the right of habeus corpus, to deny you contact with your relatives, to subject you to stress positions, sleep deprivation, or to threaten you with angry dogs, ferrets, or hamsters. We could yank you out of that bathroom and set you up in a 10x10 cinderblock cell at hotel Uzbekistan.

Or not. But if we can, we will certainly insist you wash your hands before we go anywhere.

You'd be surprised at what a hamster can do when it's really irritated.

Against the law?! What an outrageous suggestion! Rest assured, whatever it is we are authorized to do, it is absolutely legal. How can you be sure? Well, we totally swear it is.

What is that?! Are you flushing?! Nice try, Timmy, but I think you've fallen right into our trap. Perhaps you've heard of the TSA program? It stands for Total Sewage Awareness, Timmy. You think you've just destroyed the evidence, but 10 minutes from now we'll be going over that evidence with a fine tooth comb.

What's that? Now you're wising up Timmy. That's right. Just slip it out under the door, and no sudden moves. You're not imagining the sounds of those helicopters. We could turn this bathroom into a crater in the blink of an eye.

What's this!? This is just a girlie magazine! You think this is going to throw us off your track? Do you think we're idiots?! Do you?!

Don't even bother to answer that. It's classified.

Editor's note to the author: We had intended to use this space to congratulate you on your first post in this space, but regrettably we find ourselves apologizing to our readers for the prurient content of the work. For future reference, this is not the kind of thing we are looking for.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

We are Such a Disappointment to Me

You know how when you were a kid you mixed all the colors of your paint kit together, thinking that you would thereby create a new super-color? A color so blinding and powerful that to view it would cause your eyeballs to burst?

We all know what happened. It turned out to be the color of poop.

This is instructive, for Americans are a wildly varied bunch as well, and our government is now, as it almost always is, an accurate reflection of our totality. So what happens when many-hued America looks in the mirror and sees our government looking back at us?

We discover that we look like shit.

Sure, the feedback loop between electorate and elected runs both ways, and the government has great power to mold and manipulate public opinion. But the people are the gale that drives all political vessels, and though politicians may tack into the wind in pursuit of their own specific agenda, you may be sure that they keep their sails full nonetheless.

The thought that our government will always be an honest reflection of our populace does not make me optimistic, for if there is one thing I can't stand, it is people. We are, after all, just critters, crouching in our burrows, defending our territory, redolent of our own effluvia. How could any student of our behavior doubt our purely animal ancestry? When we feel fear, we blindly flail our claws. When told that our consumerist ways are unsustainable, we react by buying even more useless crap and then hording it so that while starving refugees wander the barren post-apocalyptic moonscape of the future planet earth, those with foresight and a portable generator may still watch their giant-screen outdoor television. And when we can obtain an unlimited supply of salty snacks, we turn on E!, tear open the bags and surrender ourselves to obesity with the same sense of relief and euphoria with which one welcomes the onset of hypothermia.

In other animals, wired only for involuntary compliance with the siren call of their instinctual compulsions, this behavior would not be notable. However, despite all evidence to the contrary, it is in fact possible for people to conduct themselves in a manner neither brutish nor dull. Recently, a team of brilliant imaginary researchers examined tens of thousands of cases in which people exhibited apparent integrity or altruism. After eliminating those cases that turned out to be marketing ploys, there remained nearly half a dozen that could only be explained as the product of intelligence catalyzed by niceness. With the results of this study in hand, these same make-believe researchers dressed like scientists and determined that American citizens are even theoretically--theoretically--capable of recognizing the deceptions of our government and corporate-controlled press, throwing the evil warlords out of office, and heralding a new era of wisdom and compassion.

With rainbows and flowers.

Keep in mind though that Einstein also had a theory, a theory that gravity could bend space/time--which turns out to be true--but you and your children and your children's children will be born and die and never once see anything like that happen.

So if it's simply too much to ask for people to behave, how can we proceed? Well, the founding fathers, who was some pretty smart cookies, had thoughts on that subject. The founders hated people almost as much as I do. Out of their great wisdom and incandescent loathing for mankind was born a form of government designed to prevent the inevitably stupid and destructive notions of its citizens from ever being put into action. Its particular genius is the way it evolves over time in apparent response to the changing sensibilities of the electorate, ostensibly allowing each new generation the opportunity to implement favored policies. But this is mere pablum for the naive. In fact, the elegant organism of our government mutates through the decades into forms best adapted to obstruct the hateful, self-injurious instincts of each new crop of greedy rotten degenerates that spring from America's rancid womb.

It's freaking brilliant and it's served us admirably for 200+ years. That's a damn good run for any democracy. Look it up. We are the Babe Ruth of republics.

The truth of what I'm saying is in evidence now, when a President has come along who has managed to circumvent the systemic barriers that ensure we can't get what we think we want. And we got it alright. In spades. With chocolate sauce on top. And we're finding that what we thought we wanted is, in academic terms, "not so good."

Don't tell me that this administration is in fact operated contrary to public opinion. Don't tell me about the President's tailspinning approval ratings, or how 70% of voters think the Iraq war was wrong. Sure, America has peeled her drool-slick face off the bar top, rubbed her bloodshot eyes and is looking around for somebody of whom she can inquire, what exactly happened last night? But the damage is done. We all know the ending to morality tales about a boy who was granted everlasting life, or infinite riches. Once the curse part of experience sets in, you don't get any points for acknowledging your mistake. It's too late. And guess what? It really is our own fault. Even more pathetic, we don't even learn anything from it. We'll get drunk again tonight, pass out, and tomorrow we'll ask the first genie we see to make all that we touch turn to gold.

And it's too damn bad, because we could be more than just critters. And this is why we are such a disappointment to me.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Your Brain: Use It or Lose It

I recently called up a good friend of mine who's an ad executive to tell him how stunned I was to unexpectedly experience an "in-tunnel" subway advertisement, an illuminated animation projected on the windows of my speeding coach.

"That's nothing," he replied. "Soon we're going to wire the seats so that the ad plays in your head."

"Kill me now," said I.

"I," he countered, acknowledging the cost of admission in his chosen profession, "am already dead."

But setting aside the prospect of such a consummation of the Orwellian descent already well begun, the exchange got me thinking... about thinking.

The curdled pudding between our ears is perhaps that last virginal territory not directly accessible to marketers and gub'mint spooks. Yes, we are highly subject to the power of suggestion, and we can as a trivial matter be made to cluck like chickens, buy prescription medications for a host of non-existent maladies (chronic dry-eye syndrome, anyone?), or believe that terrorists hate us for our freedoms.

But we still have the option--rarely though we avail ourselves--of actually thinking our own thoughts, and coming to conclusions scandalously inconsistent with what CNN is saying, ingracious to the dear leader who is working so hard to protect us, and which have nothing to offer in their favor but the small fact that they are true.

So let us think. How is it that the debate about the progress of the "surge" has been framed as a mere measure of violence in Iraq? More killing this week--surge failing! Less killing. Surge working! Now, all of us that would see this sorry debacle brought to an expeditious close can be most pleased by the fact that killings of every variety show no sign of abating. Each time a new batch of swarthy, mustachioed caricatures of actual individual humans are blasted into a collection of unattached limbs and torsos, we can relish the satisfaction that we are just that much closer to consensus on withdrawal. And of course, it also means we are Right. Oh, how well we'll sleep tonight!

The MSM tracks the rising chaos in the cradle of civilization while Tony Snow plays hopscotch with smiling children in the one neighborhood of Bahgdad that is not in flames. But think--the visible violence is only an indirect and superficial measure of the state of affairs. Common sense and a little bit of background info--the un-spun facts that the media and the administration let on because it is quite inconceivable to them that you would ever use them to think for yourself--will tell you all you need to know:

1. Every Iraqi knows that we don't have the resources to police their country for much longer.

2. The old power structure is gone. There's a great big pie to be divvied up. Yes it's made with dates and it's got sand in it, but it's a pie all the same. And everybody likes pie.

3. In modern history, Iraq has only been at peace when beneath the suffocating weight of dictatorship.

4. Everyone over the age of nine has a gun.

So even if Bahgdad echoed with the chirping of songbirds and the gleeful shouts of children at play, it wouldn't mean squat without sustainable, enforcable political agreement. That means agreement that meets the needs of at least the three or four most important interest groups in a substantial way.

And friends, we are a long ways away from anything like that.

I'm not trying to be really negative. I'm only sayin'