The return of the eternal return of the…

The New Neo Posted on by

In yesterday’s post about “The Road Not Taken,” the first commenter, “anonymous,” related the poem to the second-guessing of political and military decisions.

Anonymous writes:

Frost’s poem reminds me once again why I get so annoyed with those who demand that President Bush acknowledge and apologize for mistakes made in Iraq. How can he or we know if more troops would have made a difference, or perhaps fewer troops. How can we know if different plans would be better or worse.

I keep imagining Bush critics, when facing a major decision, running first down one road one hundred yards and then running back to go three hundred yards down the other. Finally, exhausted, they collapse at the Y with nothing accomplished.

World leaders have to make decisions; the image of being stuck at the fork in the road and collapsing, exhausted, doesn’t inspire confidence. And yet, once decisions are made, we have to at least try to evaluate them in order to learn from them. But the task is complicated, not just by political partisanship (on both sides), but by the difficulty of ever knowing what the proposed alternative actions might have led to instead.

Interestingly enough, in the Kundera novel I quoted in that Frost post–The Unbearable Lightness of Being–Kundera himself relates the idea of the non-repeatability of human life to the process of political and national decision-making. He writes:

Several days later, [Tomas] was struck by another thought, which I record here as an addendum to the preceding chapter: Somewhere out in space there was a planet where all people would be born again. They would be fully aware of the the life they had spent on earth and of all the experience they had amassed here.

And perhaps there was still another planet, where we would all be born a third time with the experience of our first two lives,

And perhaps there were yet more and more planets, where mankind would be born one degree (one life) more mature.

That was Tomas’s version of eternal return.

Of course we are here on earth (planet number one, the planet of inexperience) can only fabricate vague fantasies of what will happen to man on those other planets. Will he be wiser? Is maturity within man’s power? Can he attain it through repitition?

Only from the perspective of such a utopia is it possible to use the concepts of pessimism and optimism with full justification: an optimist is someone who thinks that on planet number five the history of mankind will be less bloody. A pessimist is one who thinks otherwise.

Or, to look at it from the perspective of a moviegoer: the optimist enjoys “Groundhog Day” (preferably, over and over); the pessimist prefers “Peggy Sue Got Married.”

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (made into a movie that I, for one, considered unbearable, especially compared to the book that inspired it) was written in 1984, when Kundera’s native Czechslovakia was still under Soviet domination. Kundera could not see past the curve in the road to a future that was not even so very distant; he did not imagine that a Communist collapse was imminent (of course, in that lack of foresight, he had plenty of company).

Concerning decision-making in Czech history, Kundera wrote:

There is only one history of the Czechs. One day it will come to an end, as surely as Tomas’s life, never to be repeated.

In 1618, the Czech estates took courage and vented their ire on the emperor reigning in Vienna by pitching two of his high officials out of a window in the Prague Castle. Their defiance led to the Thirty Years War, which in turn led to the almost complete destruction of the Czech nation. Should the Czechs have shown more caution than courage? The answer may seem simple; it is not.

Three hundred and twenty years later, after the Munich Conference of 1938, the entire world decided to sacrifice the Czech’s country to Hitler. Should the Czechs have tried to stand up to a power eight times their size? In countrast to 1618, they opted for caution. Their capitulation led to the Second World War, which in turn led to the forfeit of their nation’s freedom for many decades or even centuries. What should they have done?

If Czech history could be repeated, we should of course find it desirable to check the other possibility each time and compare the results. Without such an experiment, all considerations of this kind remain a game of hypotheses…

The history of the Czechs will not be repeated, nor will the history of all of Europe. The history of the Czechs and of Europe are a pair of sketches from the pen of mankind’s fateful inexperience.

We remain trapped in “mankind’s fateful inexperience,” I’m afraid. Human life and history contain too much complexity, too many unpredictabilities and uncertainties, for us to ever really know whether the best decision was made. We can only try to apply the lessons of the past, knowing full well that we can never learn them quite well enough.

The other Robert Frost: “The Road Not Taken”

The New Neo Posted on by

What’s happening in this photo? Actually, it’s a photo of me, walking in the woods on a chilly day in early spring—that’s why I’m wearing a fairly bulky jacket.

The place? The grounds of the Robert Frost Farm in Derry, NH, on a visit there about two years ago.

What am I doing? Well, I’m caught in the act of unconsciously illustrating his famous poem “The Road Not Taken.”

When I came upon these two paths diverging in the Frost woods (not “a yellow wood,” but hey, that’s poetic license) I don’t recall which one I took. But I’m pretty certain it didn’t make a particle of difference.

You probably all know the poem. Maybe you studied it in college, as I did. Maybe you first encountered it even earlier, as I had (in junior high; my brother read it to me), and loved it even at that young age. Maybe you think you know what it’s about, as I did then.

Robert Frost is one of the most popular American poets, one of the few whose poems are known to more than just a handful of poetry aficionados. He carefully cultivated his public image as the crusty old New Englander, he of the simple declarative words and the keen nature observations. He even looked like the grandfatherly type:

Those of you who read this blog regularly may know that I’m a fan of Robert Frost. A big fan, actually. I consider him a poet of surface simplicity and great underlying complexity, a complexity I neither saw nor understood when young. But perhaps I felt it and sensed it.

I think Frost can be appreciated on both levels, actually. But it’s the second I’m interested in writing about today.

Here’s the poem, “The Road Not Taken,” to refresh your memory:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Like much of Frost, it seems to say one thing—it even does say that one thing—and yet on further study it also is saying something else, something more difficult to discern. It’s that second “something,” combined with the first, that gives the poem its great resonance and power.

On the surface, of course, it’s a lovely poetic expression of an obvious and perhaps even cliched thought: we come to a crossroads in life, make a decision, and that decision affects our entire future.

Or does it?

The poem is also about the speaker, an older person looking back and telling a tale—“constructing a reality” as it were—in reminiscence. The poem contains a set of lines that the casual reader can ignore or think unimportant, but good poets such as Frost rarely waste words.

Why does he initially describe the road he takes as less traveled (“it was grassy and wanted wear”) and then immediately contradict himself (“Though as for that the passing there/Had worn them really about the same”)? Earlier, too, he has said the other road was “just as fair”—another sign of equality. And then, just to make sure we haven’t missed it, he adds “And both that morning equally lay/In leaves no step had trodden black.” Different, or equal? What gives here?

Well, as Frost himself said, “It’s a trick poem—very tricky.” But it’s more than tricky, and more than a joke or a puzzle, because it contains both thoughts at once, and the juxtaposition makes it even more profound. How can we ever know the result of the decisions we make? We can’t, because the road not taken—the one we don’t choose—has consequences we can’t see. We can only guess at any of this, and then later sit back and reflect and tell tales that sound like an explanation. And perhaps the explanation is even true—who knows?

I’m reminded—as I so often am—of one of my very favorite authors, Milan Kundera. He begins The Unbearable Lightness of Being with a reflection on Nietzsche’s strange notion of eternal return—that in some dimension, our lives repeat again and again:

The idea of eternal return is a mysterious one, and Nietzsche has often perplexed other philosophers with it: to think that everything recurs as we once experienced it, and that this recurrence itself recurs ad infinitum? What does this mad myth signify?…

If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives stand out against it in all their splendid lightness.

Kundera describes his vacillating hero, Tomas, in the throes of making a decision about whether or not he is in love with a certain woman:

He remained annoyed with himself [for not knowing what he should do] until he realized that not knowing what he wanted was actually quite natural.

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come…There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live our lives without warning, like an actor going on cold.

We come to that proverbial fork in the road and a decision must be made. We make it, sometimes after a great deal of vacillation. And then we tell ourselves—with either satisfaction, regret, or ambivalence—that our decision, the road we took, “has made all the difference.”

And perhaps, indeed, it has. Or perhaps we’re just fooling ourselves if we think so. The poet doesn’t have the answer. But he’s awfully good at stating the question, and presenting the paradox in words and images that speak to the heart as well as the mind.

[NOTE: Comments to this post didn’t transfer properly from my old blog. If you wish to see them, click here.]

New Years Day

The New Neo Posted on by

I’m taking the day off, just relaxing. At the moment I’m enjoying my new computer, which is finally connected and running.

Once again, Happy New Year to you all–and see you tomorrow!

And a Happy New Year to you all!

The New Neo Posted on by

Don’t get me wrong; I do indeed enjoy a party, and hardly ever turn down an opportunity to go to one.

But I’ve always seen New Year’s Eve more as a time for reflection and nostalgia than wild celebration, kind of bittersweet: out with the old, in with the new, transitions, changes, auld lang syne, all that jazz. As a teenager, I did my raucous bit in going to Times Square, but nowadays it’s more likely to be a get-together with old friends, as it is tonight (with a stop-off at my mother’s place; they party rather early there).

I want to wish all of you a wonderful New Year’s Eve, partying or no, wild or staid, late or early–and, more importantly, a wonderful New Year.

Let me have just a few words with you…

The New Neo Posted on by

Since I’ve been blogging, every now and then I’ve heard from readers complaining to me that—well, there’s just no good way to put this—my posts are much too long.

Recently I received an e-mail on the subject from reader David Foster, which was a model of succinctness:

Your blog is great, but I have only one objection…your posts are waaaay too long. Can’t you condense your thoughts a little?

Therein lies a tale. Allow me to explain. Got a moment? (Or an hour?)

It’s not as though I don’t understand exactly what all these readers are saying. In fact, I would dearly love to be able to condense my thoughts—not just a little, but a lot. It would be a great thing all around.

I’ve noticed that many of the popular bloggers write quick and punchy. They say something in quick little jabs, and then move on. I like to read them, too—easy on the eyes, easy on the time. I think it’s clear that more people are going to want to read something that doesn’t take so much effort to plow through, rather than something so long and—yes, some would even say, so boring.

I’ve tried to shorten my posts, believe me. And every now and then I do write a short post.

But I have to admit that the majority of my posts range from somewhat long to superlong. They take work, and often a lot of that work is research.

So, why do I do it that way? I’ve asked myself that question many times. Am I a glutton for punishment–for both dishing it out, and for taking it?

The answer is as that I just can’t write short and punchy, even if I set out to do so—at least, not very often. I think the reason is that the topics and the questions that most interest me seem complex; and the answers, likewise, complex. I want to explain, I want to explore many sides of a question, and in the process I want to make myself as clear as possible. I want to present the details that so fascinate me and give color and richness. I want to build a case.

Sometimes the details are the very things that drove me to do the research in the first place, and I want to flesh them out. Sometimes it’s the most complete possible understanding I’m striving for (such as with my “change” series). Sometimes it’s the story of an entire life—such as Paul Robeson. How can such a thing be told quickly? The evidence has to be amassed, just as the life has to be lived—slowly.

I think each blogger, each writer, has a niche and a specialty. Sometimes we don’t choose them, exactly; they seem to choose us. And I seem to have chosen this one, or vice versa.

I hope that those of you who stick with me enjoy the journey, and I thank you for your patience and for your fascinating (and sometimes quite thorough!) comments.

There, now–that didn’t take too long, did it?

[ADDENDUM: After reading many of the comments, I want to add two things. The first is that the original message from Mr. Foster seemed to me to be a basically friendly one (and one I even share, in a way). I never thought he was suggesting I turn the blog into a series of pithy sound bites, just some judicious condensation.

The second is to offer a hearty thanks to everyone who expressed appreciation for my posts—whether they read them all or not. If I do meander, I always try to do so with a purpose.]

To speak or not to speak: coming out as a neocon

The New Neo Posted on by

This essay, which appeared at the American Thinker, is by blogger and sometime visitor Bookworm, of Bookwormroom.

It’s entitled, “Confession of a Crypto-Conservative Woman,” and it’s on a topic dear to my heart: being a closet neocon (a neo-neocon, at that) in a true blue town.

Bookworm writes:

I was at a party last year when a woman I know suddenly burst out, “I hate Bush. He’s evil. I wish he’d just drop dead” ”“ and everyone around her verbally applauded that statement.

At a lunch with some very dear friends, the subject of the Iraq war came up and one of my friends, a brilliant, well-read, well-educated man, in arguing against the War, announced as his clinching argument the “fact” that “Bush is an idiot.”…

This is me: I grew up in this same liberal environment and was a life-long Democrat. ..And then things changed: Although I realize that my journey to the right began before 9/11, there is no doubt that 9/11 was my moment to cross the Rubicon…I suddenly had to confront the fact that I was a neocon living in one of the bluest of Blue corners in America.

How did I react to my change? With silence. You see, having lived a lifetime on the Left myself, I instantly realized that my new outlook would not be greeted as an intellectual curiosity, to be questioned politely and challenged through reasoned argument.

Instead, I would be deemed to have gone to the dark side. After all, if Bush is evil, his followers must be evil too. …I also knew from my years on the Left that the debate wouldn’t revolve around facts and the conclusions to be drawn from those facts…it’s the futility of argument and the personal animus behind political argument in Liberal communities that results in something I call closet- or crypto-conservatism. I further believe that this is a syndrome especially prevalent amongst women…

In a woman’s world, you don’t earn any social points for staking out an extreme position and defending it against all comers. Men might garner respect for doing so, and experience the exhilaration of battle along the way; women are more likely find themselves on the receiving end of some serious social isolation, and to find the road to this isolation stressful and frightening.

Did I mention how nice my community is? And how child oriented? I enjoy being well-integrated into this community, as do my children, and neither the kids nor I would function well in light of the inevitable social repercussions that would occur if I were to admit that, well, I kinda, sorta, well, yeah, I voted for “that man ”“ that evil man.” …I’ve also managed to confirm through talking to a few other conservative women I know who also live in liberal communities that they too keep their mouths shut about their politics…

The question I struggle with is whether I ought to elevate my political principles over my day-to-day needs. Currently, I don’t believe there is any benefit, large or small, moral or practical, to such a step…

I’ve quoted liberally (pun intended) from Bookworm’s essay because I want to convey the full flavor of the dilemma she faces. It’s one I understand only too well, and one with which I sympathize. I’ve written about it before, here (note, especially, the comments section). I know the ostracism of which she speaks, and I know how important social connection are, and what it’s like to be looked at by supposed friends whose eyes are forever changed and distanced.

But, despite all that empathy for Bookworm, I have to say that I part company with her conclusion. Oh, it’s not that I speak up all the time (if you look at that post of mine I previously linked to, you’ll see that in fact I don’t). I weigh each situation to decide whether it seems like a good idea or whether it seems like an exceptionally futile exercise, and try to act accordingly.

At social gatherings where I’m among strangers, people I’m not likely to meet again, I often don’t bother. But with anyone who is a friend—close, or even not-so-close—sooner or later I feel the need to “come out” and declare myself.

Why? After all, I’m not that keen on combat, or on spinning my wheels in useless arguments. I like to have my friends and keep them, too; I’m not interested in attaining pariah status for the sake of being able to pat myself on the back for bravery.

But over the past couple of years I’ve spoken out to virtually every friend I have, and gotten quite a variety of responses. A few have stopped speaking to me, and that makes me both sad and angry. Many look at me ever after with “that look” in their eyes—at least, I perceive that look, and I don’t think I’m imagining things. It appears that my relationship with them has changed in some subtle way, and not for the better; they now see me as strange and somehow not quite trustworthy or kindly.

Some tease me, as though they can’t quite believe it’s true and are trying to test things out in a light way. A few had extremely angry and rejecting outbursts at first, but then got over it—outwardly, at least. A couple of people have decided never to speak politics to me again, in order to preserve our friendship. Still others, to my delight, can have lucid and calm discussions with me on the topic.

There are really two reasons I’ve decided to speak out to friends. The first is personal—and perhaps self-indulgent, in a way. I’ll call it, for want of a better name, integrity. Or perhaps that old liberal notion: authenticity. Or maybe honesty.

Call it what you will. The idea is that I can’t keep as a deep dark secret something so important and basic to my way of thinking from people I consider my friends. Painful though it may be, if the friendship can’t handle it, I’m willing to kiss the friendship goodbye. Because what sort of a friendship is it, if it’s based on something so very fragile?

The second reason I tell friends is actually more important, because it’s not about me. It’s this: if I don’t speak up, and if people like me (and Bookworm, and her other crypto-con friends) don’t speak up and “out” ourselves, then it simply perpetuates the myths of those who consider The Other Side to be monstrous.

Yes, some will consider you an awful person if you tell the truth about your current beliefs. But your speaking up may make others wonder about their preconceptions. If Republicans and neocons and even liberal hawks are considered the absolute Other, they can continue to be demonized and typecast. If it’s you, on the other hand, who’s the neocon—and not some stranger—you, that nice mother down the street who bakes the brownies; you, the one with the jokes and the helping hand; you, who’s always been so smart and so kind–then how can all of Bush’s supporters be cruel and stupid?

It’s easy to move through life in a liberal bubble if everyone around who disagrees is silent and invisible. The only way to change that is to challenge it by standing up, speaking out, and bursting the bubble. It’s very difficult; but you may find, as I did, that most of your worthwhile relationships survive the blow, although many are never quite the same again.

What hath monotheism wrought?

The New Neo Posted on by

This will be a short riff–a mere sketch, really–sparked by a comment that was part of an interview in the NY Times Magazine, drawn to my attention by this post of Gerard Van der Leun’s at American Digest.

A historian named Peter Watson, author of the recent Ideas: A History of Thought and Invention, From Fire to Freud, is being interviewed by the Times:

Q: What do you think is the single worst idea in history?

WATSON: Without question, ethical monotheism. The idea of one true god. The idea that our life and ethical conduct on earth determines how we will go in the next world. This has been responsible for most of the wars and bigotry in history.

Q: But religion has also been responsible for investing countless lives with meaning and inner richness.

WATSON: I lead a perfectly healthy, satisfactory life without being religious. And I think more people should try it.

I suggest you read Van der Leun’s post, which skewers Watson so effectively and thoroughly that there’s no need for me to even attempt to add anything to that endeavor (although Watson proves himself to be an enticing target by managing to be exceptionally condescending to both taxi drivers and the institution of the novel, which he says offers truths that “don’t stay with you very long or help you do much”–speak for yourself, Watson!)

Although Watson is billed as a historian, his background is not as a historian per se, it’s as a journalist and, of all things, a psychiatrist (he left the field way back in the 60s).

As Van der Leun points out, Watson is somehow ignoring the vast good that ethical monotheism has done in setting up our entire “inner-directed system of morals.” It is indeed extraordinary that Watson can call it “the single worst idea in history,” whatever suffering has been inflicted, at times, in its name.

What is going on here, besides the fact that Watson considers himself to be both an atheist and a fine fellow, and conveniently ignores the underpinnings of the society of which he is a member, and the fruits of which he enjoys? Well, although Watson shows himself in the short but decidedly unsweet Times interview to be both elitist and arrogant, my guess is that he’s not quite as dumb as he sounds.

What I believe is actually lurking somewhere in the background of Watson’s murky thoughts is a different but tangentially related idea, once that is worth discussing. That thought is the following: religions which teach that (1) they are not just the answer, but the only answer, and (2) this answer is the only one for everyone on earth, and (3) this answer must be spread not just by proselytizing but also by violence, if necessary, and (4) great rewards in the afterlife will be bestowed on those who spread that religion through violence–such religions are indeed responsible for a great deal of suffering on earth, past and present.

Right now, however, the list of religions that fit that description is rather short. In fact, the only one I know of happens to be Islam–in fact, only certain subgroups of Islam. But ’tis enough, ’twill serve.

Ten Worst Americans

The New Neo Posted on by

It seems to be the time of year for Lists of Ten. The beautiful Alexandra of the beautiful blog All Things Beautiful has challenged bloggers to name the Ten Worst Americans of the past 230 years.

I might be able to come up with some better candidates than the following if I were to do a couple of hours’ research on this. But right off the top of my head, these are my choices, take ’em or leave ’em (offered in no particular order):

(1) Benedict Arnold can’t possibly be left off such a list. His name has become synonymous with “traitor,” and his aim appears to have been money and self-aggrandizement, rather than any higher priniciple.

In this, Arnold seems to have something in common with…

(2) Aldrich Ames. Betrayal after betrayal, cold as ice. And the motive? Filthy lucre, and perhaps just the sheer thrill and gamesmanship of it all.

Very much like…

(3) Robert Hanssen, another long-time spy who seemed to thrive on the idea of spying and betraying.

And now we jump to…

(4) Father Coughlin, radio broadcaster and Fascist-admiring anti-Semitic bigot of the 30s. He’d fit right in today, I think, by the looks of this quote:

Stalin’s idea to create world revolution and Hitler’s so-called threat to seek world domination are not half as dangerous combined as is the proposal of the current British and American administrations to seize all raw materials in the world. Many people are beginning to wonder who they should fear most–the Roosevelt-Churchill combination or the Hitler-Mussolini combination.

But far worse were…

(5) lynch mobs. Murder, bigotry, and disrespect for the rule of law.

Speaking of murder, we have…

(6) Timothy McVeigh. Mass murderer, American terrorist.

And then there’s our own American Brutus….

(7) John Wilkes Booth, who thought he’d be applauded for bringing down the tyrant Lincoln.

Someone who might have helped bring down a real tyrant, but didn’t, was…

(8) Walter Duranty, Pulitzer-prizewinning liar, whose mendacity helped millions die under Stalin when the truth might have alerted the world to what was going on.

Speaking of mendacity (although of a much less consequential level than Duranty’s in terms of lives lost) we have a personal unfavorite of mine….

(9) Michael Moore, another propagandist with a marked lack of devotion to the truth.

And, in the category of charismatic and destructive charlatans, there is…

(10) Jim Jones. His descent into madness and true evil cost the lives of close to one thousand people. If you want to learn how he managed to exert that sort of control over so many, read this extraordinary account of how it happened.

Top 10 things New Yorkers can do to stay sane in ’06

The New Neo Posted on by

I’ve been asked by Shrinkwrapped to come up with my suggestions for the “Top Ten Things New Yorkers Can Do to Stay Sane in ’06.”

I’m not ordinarily one for giving advice (I don’t think people usually take it), nor am I a New Yorker any more.
But hey, I’ve been asked, so I’ll give it a shot.

Some of the following are specific to New Yorkers. But most are for anyone (including the author: physician, heal thyself!):

(1) Don’t believe everything you read in the NY Times. I was going to say “don’t believe anything you read in the NY Times,” but that would lead to insanity of a different–and more serious–variety.

(2) Walk more. Manhattan’s a small place, actually. And when you take the subway, look around and take satisfaction in the amazing diversity that is America.

(3) If watching Bush makes your stomach churn with rage, turn off the TV. I used to do it back when I was a liberal, first with Nixon and then with Reagan. It got me through some hard times.

(4) Forget about trying to eat merely to fuel your body. Food isn’t only sustenance. It is pleasure, entertainment, solace, etc., and trying to take that away from the equation will just lead to misery. Ask the Puritans.

(5) Don’t try to protect your children from all hurt. It won’t help them, and it’s impossible, anyway. But don’t you be the one to dole out the hurt unnecessarily. There’s plenty that will come naturally; your task is to help them get through it.

(6) If you’ve sustained a loss, remember that grieving doesn’t have a time frame. In fact, it can take many years, or even a lifetime. Loss changes you, and there’s no going back, so don’t expect to.

(7) Visit flyover country at least once. Maybe Kansas City, for some BBQ?

(8) Remember the words of Winston Churchill–almost any words of Churchill will do–but how about these, for starters: “Success is going from failure to failure without a loss of enthusiasm.”

(9) When on vacation, turn off your cellphone and stay away from the computer.

(10) Do as I say, not as I do.

[NOTE: Here’s the link to Shrinkwrapped’s compendium of the psychobloggers’ lists.]

A story that’s got everything: FBI monitors Moslem sites for radiation leaks

The New Neo Posted on by

Why do I say this story’s got everything? Well, let’s see: (1) anonymous and totally unidentified sources as the conduit for all the information, check; (2) accusations of religious profiling, check; (3) vociferous Council on American-Islamic Relations protests, check; (4) spilling of the beans (by those anonymous sources) on a classified program designed to protect us from terrorists, check.

The story about radiation monitoring by the FBI originated in the US News and World Report of December 22. Let’s look at the first paragraph of the original article:

In search of a terrorist nuclear bomb, the federal government since 9/11 has run a far-reaching, top secret program to monitor radiation levels at over a hundred Muslim sites in the Washington, D.C., area, including mosques, homes, businesses, and warehouses, plus similar sites in at least five other cities, U.S. News has learned. In numerous cases, the monitoring required investigators to go on to the property under surveillance, although no search warrants or court orders were ever obtained, according to those with knowledge of the program. Some participants were threatened with loss of their jobs when they questioned the legality of the operation, according to these accounts.

As you can see, the sources–which are never identified any further–are referred to as “those with knowledge of the program,” but are not characterized in any other way: not just their names are absent, but also exactly how many of them there actually are (the article seems to be saying two, as best I can tell), or what positions they hold. Likewise, the people allegedly threatened with the loss of their jobs are never identified (are they, perhaps, the same people as those informants?). This story is only the latest, of course, in a long line of security leaks that seem motivated in good part by the desire to embarrass the Bush administration.

Does anyone honestly think a story like this–which, in its present form, hardly rises above the level of a gossip column, and yet has the promise of playing fast and loose with our lives–is actually needed by the American public? That the leak and the printing thereof does us all some sort of service? Does anyone (other than the ever-victimized CAIR) really think this information, if true, represents a terrible intrusion into citizens’ lives, Moslem or otherwise? Does anyone think it’s really unreasonable? Does anyone think that the right of someone to not have a radiation monitor on their property (note, the article doesn’t even say the devices were placed within buildings, it says “parking lots and driveways”) trumps the public’s right to protect itself from possible nuclear weaponry in terrorist hands?

The only even remotely disturbing part of the story (if true), IMHO, is the allegations of threats to people’s jobs for refusing to cooperate because they think it might be illegal to do so. But it turns out the information about job threats seems to come from one unnamed source somewhere within the program:

One source close to the program said that participants “were tasked on a daily and nightly basis,” and that FBI and Energy Department officials held regular meetings to update the monitoring list. “The targets were almost all U.S. citizens,” says the source. “A lot of us thought it was questionable, but people who complained nearly lost their jobs. We were told it was perfectly legal.”

So, one disgruntled employee is saying this. There’s no mention of independent corroboration. And, plenty of people think it’s perfectly legal to do this (see the comments section of the link, in particular), whereas the article only quotes one legal scholar who says it’s illegal.

So, let’s see: according to a single informant, people were asked to do something that is probably legal, and some (not all, mind you, but some) who complained nearly lost their jobs.

Nearly?? What does that mean? Does it mean somebody yelled at them? So not a single person (not to mention one named person, willing to go on the record) actually lost a job as a result of this?

And who were these people asked to do the monitoring? Were they FBI agents? And is this activity on their part something new? Well, tune into the last paragraph of the article–although I wonder how many people actually got that far:

Most staff for the monitoring came from NEST, which draws from nearly 1,000 nuclear scientists and technicians based largely at the country’s national laboratories. For 30 years, NEST undercover teams have combed suspected sites looking for radioactive material, using high-tech detection gear fitted onto various aircraft, vehicles, and even backpacks and attaché cases. No dirty bombs or nuclear devices have ever been found – and that includes the post-9/11 program. “There were a lot of false positives, and one or two were alarming,” says one source. “But in the end we found nothing.”

Okay–so they were employees of NEST, an acronym for the Department of Energy’s Nuclear Emergency Support Team. Interestingly enough, the quote reveals that this group has been looking for such radioactive material for thirty years. And yet somehow we’ve survived this egregious assault on our civil rights by successive administrations, both Republican and Democrat. After all, Geiger counters (or whatever high-tech machine they use nowadays) are so very self-incriminating and invasive, aren’t they?

So, now that we know that this has been going on for thirty years, where’s the beef? In the present case, is the terrible crime of the Bush administration the fact that Moslem buildings such as mosques were being monitored, post-9/11? Quelle horror!

What would critics have the NEST team and the administration do? Not monitor anyone, and let the nuclear chips fall where they may (and then, if and when they do fall, criticize and investigate Bush for not protecting us? )

Or should they monitor everyone instead, in order to be perfectly PC? And ignore the fact that modern-day post-9/11 terrorists tend to be overwhelmingly Moslem, and that it’s cost-effective and reasonable to monitor them more closely?

This is serious stuff, monitoring for nuclear weapons; not a game. Should it be sacrificed on the altar of refusal to do profiling, even if it’s warranted? Do we need to avoid racial profiling at all costs? I certainly don’t think so.

But–does this case even actually involve profiling? Just because some mosques were monitored, does this mean mosques were profiled? Officials deny it:

Officials also reject any notion that the program specifically has targeted Muslims. “We categorically do not target places of worship or entities solely based on ethnicity or religious affiliation,” says one. “Our investigations are intelligence driven and based on a criminal predicate.”

So according to “officials” (and surely, we shouldn’t believe them; best to believe the anonymous tipster or tipsters), every mosque monitored (and I have no doubt that some were) was targeted because of specific intelligence about that site.

So, what are we to do if there’s a tip that there’s a dirty bomb or some other type of nuclear material hidden in a mosque? Not put some radioactive-detecting information on the street or driveway near it, for fear of the taint of profiling?

I don’t know about you, but sometimes, lately, I feel I’ve fallen through the looking glass into bizarro world. Or maybe the MSM has.

[NOTE: Fausta has some thoughts on the subject, and a roundup of discussions around the blogosphere on the general topic of recent security leaks that affect the WOT. Likewise Michelle Malkin (scroll down for the portion of her post about the radiation monitoring story). And Shrinkwrapped has some reflections on the possible role of a self-destructive impulse in the leakers and their supporters.]

Post-election jaw-jaw in Iraq

The New Neo Posted on by

So far, at least, the aftermath of the recent Iraqi elections seems to be–as Austin Bay writes–more jaw-jaw than war-war.

If even Reuters says so, it’s good enough for me.

There’s a lot of post-election sturm and drang, to be sure. And, as I’ve said before, the rebuilding of Iraq is a process inherently fraught with danger, and only time will tell how it works out.

But here are some interesting facts from the Reuters article:

While both Sunnis and Shi’ites have talked tough since the partial results came out, they have also been negotiating behind the scenes, and analysts say the main parties and coalitions are largely staking their claims for power rather than threatening to disrupt the process of forming a government.

President Jalal Talabani met secular and Sunni politicians in a bid to find consensus, and asked them to refrain from describing their opponents in inflammatory sectarian terms.

And in Najaf, Rubaie met the one man who has arguably more influence over Iraqis than any politician — the country’s most powerful cleric Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, whose word is law to many in the 60-percent Shi’ite majority.

Rubaie said: “Sistani demanded that all parties should stay calm, should not resort to violence and should focus efforts on construction, economic development and securing services.”

I wouldn’t quite call that civil war–it actually seems relatively civil to me.

The article also states something that sounds pretty ominous:

There has already been an increase in shootings and bombings after the lull of the election period.

Now we’d all very much like to see the violence in Iraq end; I know I would. But, on reflection, this post-election “increase” appears to amount (so far) only to a resumption of the smaller types of violence that have been commonplace in the country, rather than the very large-scale bombs that seemed to be an almost daily occurrence for a while.

I don’t think anyone expected the election truce from the “insurgents” to last indefinitely, unless the Sunnis had won some sort of lopsided victory (which would have been very strange and suspicious, considering they are a definite minority, and might have provoked violence from other sources). So far there have been no post-election bombings of the kind that wreak havoc on scores of people. Of course, we could see those resume any day now. But at this point the situation does not even begin to resemble an actual civil war.

Yes, there’s plenty of violence and anger, as this more recent Reuters article details. And the article seems only too eager to tie all the violence into anger about the election, although only a small part of it seems to be, by my reading of it. But notice the following tidbit, nestled almost imperceptibly into all the rest:

But despite militant rhetoric, seemingly aimed at increasing their leverage, Sunnis are negotiating with others to build a governing coalition on the basis of the existing poll results.

So, is the “militant rhetoric” mostly strategic? Will the coalition actually be built, and will it hold?

At the risk of being redundant, I’ll repeat: wait and see.

Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah

The New Neo Posted on by

No, I’m not just being PC. Today is that rarest of days–both Christmas Day and Chanukah at the same time. So I get the opportunity to wish everyone a happy holiday at once.

I’m giving myself the gift of light blogging today–but not light eating. And the gift of various festivals of lights, of course. But I wanted to give a gift to all of you, and so I decided to share an old family recipe.

It was brought over from Germany sometime in the mid-1800s, and was my favorite of all the wonderful treats cooked by my great-aunt Flora, a baker of rare gifts. She and my great-uncle were not only exceptionally wonderful people, but to my childish and wondering eyes they looked very much like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus.

The name of the treat is lebkuchen, but it’s quite a different one from the traditional recipe, which I don’t much care for. This is sweet and dense, can be made ahead, and keeps very well when stored in tins.

Flora’s Lebkuchen:

(preheat the oven to 375 degrees)

1 pound dark brown sugar
4 eggs
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
4 oz. chopped dates
1 cup raisins
1 tsp. orange juice
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. almond extract
1 tsp. lemon juice

Sift the dry ingredients together (flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon).

Beat the eggs and brown sugar together with a rotary beater till the mixture forms the ribbon. Add the orange juice, lemon juice, and extracts to it.

Add the dry mixture to it, a little at a time, stirring.

Add the raisins, dates, and walnuts.

Grease and flour two 9X9 cake pans. Put batter in pans and bake for about 25 minutes (or a little less; test the cake with a cake tester to see if it’s done). You don’t want it to get too dark and dry on the edges, but the middle can’t still be wet when tested.

Meanwhile, make the frosting.

Melt about 6 Tbs. of unsalted butter and add 2 Tbs. hot milk, and 1 Tbs. almond extract. Add enough confectioner’s sugar to make a frosting of spreading consistency (the recipe says “2 cups,” but I’ve always noticed that’s not exactly correct). You can make even more frosting if you like a lot of frosting.

Let cake cool to at least lukewarm, and spread generously with the frosting. Then cut into small pieces and store (or eat!).