[I’m going to keep putting this post at the top of the page until I actually make the move.]
Here is the URL of the soon-to-be-unveiled new home of my blog. It’s getting closer to being ready.
Lieberman: carrying that big stick
Senator Lieberman has had a strange year. His ostracism from the Democratic Party failed to stop his re-election, and has paradoxically put him in a stronger position than ever–although, for many reasons, I doubt he’ll ever hold national office, even were he to switch parties.
In such an evenly divided Senate he holds the threat of upsetting the balance between the parties were Joe–now an Independent (like me!)–to defect. Despite the fact that he votes with the Republicans on security issues, he’s still not officially tied to them, and thus the Democrats hold onto their slim majority and their power over all the committees. Lieberman’s rejection by his fellow-Democrats has bought him a certain amount of freedom–and potential power to gum up the works and rain on the Democratic parade, were he to make an outright switch to Republican, a possiblity he has wisely refused to rule out.
With that in mind, Lieberman has written an appeal to Congress. It appeared in today’s Opinion Journal, explaining exactly what’s at stake and why members of Congress needs to focus on reality instead of playing petty games. The tone strikes me as reasonable and measured, practical and realistic. But it’s backed up with an implicit threat of Lieberman’s power of defection, nowhere mentioned in the piece:
What is remarkable about this state of affairs in Washington is just how removed it is from what is actually happening in Iraq. There, the battle of Baghdad is now under way. A new commander, Gen. David Petraeus, has taken command, having been confirmed by the Senate, 81-0, just a few weeks ago. And a new strategy is being put into action, with thousands of additional American soldiers streaming into the Iraqi capital.
Congress thus faces a choice in the weeks and months ahead. Will we allow our actions to be driven by the changing conditions on the ground in Iraq–or by the unchanging political and ideological positions long ago staked out in Washington? What ultimately matters more to us: the real fight over there, or the political fight over here?
I fear if the truth be known that many in Congress would answer: the latter.
Lieberman then goes on to detail the differences between the new approach and the old. He agrees that there’s no way of guaranteeing the former’s success, but:
We are now in a stronger position to ensure basic security–and with that, we are in a stronger position to marginalize the extremists and strengthen the moderates; a stronger position to foster the economic activity that will drain the insurgency and militias of public support; and a stronger position to press the Iraqi government to make the tough decisions that everyone acknowledges are necessary for progress.
Unfortunately, for many congressional opponents of the war, none of this seems to matter. As the battle of Baghdad just gets underway, they have already made up their minds about America’s cause in Iraq, declaring their intention to put an end to the mission before we have had the time to see whether our new plan will work.
True, and very shortsighted, as well as cowardly. Lieberman points out their basic lack of bravery in refusing to do what they should do if they really believe what they say: cut the funding. Instead, they are proposing the death of a thousand cuts–the “slow bleed.”
Lieberman again:
Many of the worst errors in Iraq arose precisely because the Bush administration best-cased what would happen after Saddam was overthrown. Now many opponents of the war are making the very same best-case mistake–assuming we can pull back in the midst of a critical battle with impunity, even arguing that our retreat will reduce the terrorism and sectarian violence in Iraq.
Lieberman then appeals to his colleagues to give peace a chance–peace in Congress, that is. He asks for a moratorium on political squabbling till the end of summer, in order to give General Petraeus and the plan some time to begin to prove itself, or not.
My guess is that his pleas will fall on deaf ears. But don’t forget–Lieberman may be walking softly, but he’s carrying a big stick–the stick of his potential defection.
Words to the wise
I had Chinese food for lunch, and this was my fortune:
Wise men learn more from fools than fools learn from the wise.
Which may actually have been one of the deeper fortune cookies I’ve ever gotten.
Random Oscar notes
Okay, so I watched the Oscars. In addition to observing the usual self-congratulatory self-righteousness from the very rich and very famous, I observed what’s far more important, of course: the fashions.
Since I’ve seen none of the movies except “Dreamgirls,” I had no dogs in most of those races–nor have I really cared much about the Oscars even when I did go to the movies far more often. But fashion and hair–ah, that’s another story!
A small digression and small confession: when I was about eleven, I wanted to be a hairdresser (that was a few years after I’d given up my dream to become a roller derby star–but more about that, perhaps, another time). When I announced my hair salon aspirations to my mother she was a bit distressed, “Don’t you think that would be–ummm–wasting your mind?” I eventually abandoned the idea, but not after spending quite a bit of time in high school and college cutting friends’ hair and applying their makeup for proms and special occasions.
And so you’re reading the observations of a semipro here, although a very outdated one. And I’m happy to report that this year’s fashions (guys, are you still with me?–thought not) were better than in recent years that had featured the sloppy nightgown look. The gowns this year erred in the other direction: very tightly constructed, almost trussed (although what these skinny ladies need trussing for I’ll never know). But rather pretty and much more elegant.
Ann Althouse described Nicole Kidman’s dress as “all plastic-y and shiny. She’s wearing an impossibly tall, thin red dress.” True; she looked less like a human than like a walking larger-than-life Barbie. She’s a woman with an unusual body to begin with–very broad shoulders and narrow hips–and her dress emphasized the broadness of the former and the narrowness of the latter (no, it’s not just envy speaking and being critical–oh, well, maybe just a teeny tiny bit).
Diane Keaton looked oddly severe; but she’s always been a very eccentric dresser. Also, she looked rail thin, which I don’t remember before. In fact, “rail thin” was very much in evidence in general; did you take a good look at Kate Blanchett’s extra shoulder bones, the little ones that stick up when a person goes down to starvation weight? None of that for Jennifer Hudson, who seemed very revved up, but in a manner that seemed natural for an excited young newcomer.
Helen Mirren set a subdued and dignified tone for the Woman of Certain Age (after all, she played a queen). A bit monochrome for my tastes, though. Al Gore–well, he continues to look stuffy, but he actually did a funny bit when his “announcement” was drowned out by the “time to go” music.
As for Jack Nicholson–whom I think long ago became a parody of himself, a self that was already dangerously close to parody even at the outset–he looked bizarre. The camera kept going to him–why, I don’t know: celebrity? disbelief? awe? disgust? To me he looked like a cross between Daddy Warbucks and Lex Luther, but even that is being kind.
I don’t get Leonardo di Caprio. A good actor who absolutely doesn’t interest me, and he looks like an eternal boy. Peter O’Toole, a good actor who does interest me, looked so shockingly old and frail that I didn’t recognize him until he was identified. I’ve always liked Forrest Whitaker, and his speech seemed very genuine. I want to ask Martin Scorcese to take off the Groucho disguise, but I’m too polite to do so.
And I’d like some information on whatever it is that Catherine Deneuve’s been doing to keep herself looking forever young. Of course, it doesn’t hurt to start out gorgeous, but that’s no guarantee that you’ll stay that way, as she has.
Enough fluff, don’t you think?
Understanding (and misunderstanding) Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet
One of the most famous misunderstood lines in all of literature is Juliet’s balcony query: “Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”
As most of you probably know, the archaic “wherefore” means “why.” But the misconception that the word means “where” persists, even though the latter would make no sense in the context of the scene: Juliet is musing to herself and Romeo is eavesdropping, overhearing her words without her knowledge. She’s certainly not searching for him at that moment.
Shakespeare is difficult, and it’s not just because of his use of outdated words that require explanation in order to understand (well, we can hardly blame him; they weren’t outdated at the time). We’re simply not accustomed to hearing such sophisticated speech and being able to divine meaning from its poetry, its playful images and complex metaphors. Apparently in Shakespeare’s day people were more adept at that, but it’s since become a lost art.
Studying Shakespeare with a good teacher can bring the words and their meaning alive in a way that makes the plays the beloved masterpieces that they have been for centuries. I once had such a teacher; we’ll call him Mr. Jones.
Mr. Jones was an ex-actor with a vaguely British accent crossed with a hint of a Jamaican lilt. He was also a black man at a time when African American teachers weren’t all that common, back in my junior high school days. How he ended up at my school I don’t know, nor do I know much else about him except that he lived with his elderly mother.
Mr. Jones was very big on reading aloud. He had an old-fashioned over-the-top rhetorical style, a huge voice left over from his days treading the boards of un-miked stages, and a fearless disregard for giggle-prone eighth-graders. He would declaim in that commanding voice, and his presence would stifle any desire to laugh. The sounds would wash over us impressively, even if the meaning eluded us.
But he wanted us to understand the meaning, as well. And to this end we spent months studying Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet.” One would think that this work would be the best choice among all Shakespeare’s plays for a bunch of eighth-graders, and one would be right. After all, Juliet, at fourteen, could have been an eighth-grader herself.
But she wasn’t like any eighth-grader we’d ever known. And Romeo was no better. What were they talking about? It seemed an impenetrable thicket of verbiage.
Mr. Jones tackled the whole thing by making us read every single word aloud. He called on some students to act out each part for a few pages, then switched to other students, and on and on, right to the last line. It took months. No matter how embarrassed we were, or what poor actors we were, or how we stumbled and faltered, we had to read those words. And he was big on non-traditional casting, too; he’d sometimes call on the boys to read the female parts and vice-versa. Talk about embarrassment!
One boy, Carl Anderson, who had the platinum hair and fair skin of his Norwegian forebearers, blushed scarlet every time he was called on to read. Then he’d blush even more startlingly scarlet as embarrassing words were revealed (“Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!”). But read he did.
Some read in monotones, some gave it pizazz. And then, after every couple of lines, Mr. Jones would have them pause and try to explain the meaning. If they couldn’t guess, the class would tackle it. If all else failed, Mr. Jones would tell us. But, line by line, the wonderful and sorrowful story emerged, and we slowly got better at deciphering it.
As the characters came alive for us, line by line, Shakespeare (and Mr. Jones) managed that feat at which the writers of so many modern movies fail abysmally: making us care about the characters, and making us believe the lovers actually love each other, and showing us why. We loved Romeo and Juliet, too; and we could see that they were exceptionally well-suited to one another, each able to express emotions in ways no other teenagers ever have or ever will.
When Romeo and Juliet first meet at the ball, they have a conversation in which both show an equal adeptness at imagery and playfulness. The whole scene is an extended metaphor that compares the religious (the hands in prayer) with the sexual (the lips in a kiss).
Classier pickup lines were never heard, at least not in my life:
ROM: If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Juliet plays hard-to-get with an equally witty rejoinder:
JUL: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
Ah, but Romeo is not so easily put off from his goal:
ROM: Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
But again, Juliet is equal to the task of parrying him:
JUL: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray’r.
But Romeo is not to be dissuaded. He cleverly extends the image in an attempt to get what he’s looking for–a kiss (to understand what he’s getting at here, think of two hands clasped together in prayer):
ROM: O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!
They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Ah, who could resist? Certainly not Juliet, who clearly doesn’t even wish to hold him off, although she pays some final lip service (pun intended; after all, Shakespeare likes puns!) to restraint:
JUL: Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.
And Romeo sees his opportunity:
ROM: Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg’d. [Kisses her.]
Are they not well-matched? Precocious and intensely emotional, they exude the essence of heady young love, love that has as yet no experience of sorrow or betrayal (although they’ll know sorrow soon enough). These two love with all their hearts; they are made for each other, and the audience knows it immediately through their words.
A few years later when I saw the Zefferelli film version of “Romeo and Juliet,” I marveled at the scene as it was acted out with suitable hand gestures (oh, so that’s the way it works!) by the achingly-young Olivia Hussey and Leonard Whiting (I can’t locate a photo of that scene, but here’s a different one–and, by the way, Whiting was a ringer for my boyfriend at the time):
If you’ve never seen that film, please take a look. Yes, it was roundly criticized for leaving at least half the play on the cutting-room floor. And for including nakedness (as I recall, a rear shot of Romeo during the post-wedding rendezvous in Juliet’s bedroom). And for casting unknown actors who were so young they lacked the requisite Shakespearean gravitas.
But for me, the film made the play come alive. You believed they loved each other. You believed their desperation. And in the death scenes, you could not help but cry at the waste of these two beautiful young lives.
In the film, the meaning of all those Shakespearean lines was clear; a testament to the actors’ skill. But they wouldn’t have been anywhere near as clear to me–or as wonderful– without those efforts of Mr. Jones.
[ADDENDUM: I’m pleased to report that fellow blogger and Romeo-and-Juliet-aficionado[a?] Fausta has found a photo of the scene I described from the Zefferelli movie, where the lovers use “suitable hand gestures” in their prayer/kiss conversation. Here it is:
And here Fausta elaborates on her own relationship to R&J, as well as how a nun at her Catholic school inadvertantly drummed up business for the movie.]
Thoughts on Hillary and other female heads of state
The Clinton-Obama Democratic matchup is study in contrasts, so far.
We know Hillary only too well; one of her problems is that of too much exposure. Obama is the proverbial blank slate. They’re both trailblazers, demographically speaking, but of different types: she, a woman and ex-First Lady; he, an African-American with a multicultural past. Hillary possesses many interesting and useful traits, but charisma seems not to be one of them. Obama has almost nothing but charisma.
Commonalities are that they are both smart, and they both lean to the Left, as does the party itself these days. Who leans more heavily to the Left is anybody’s guess.
If I were forced to choose between the two–and “forced” it would have to be, because I have no interest in voting for either–I think I’d go (albeit very reluctantly) for Hillary’s toughness over the sketchy touchy-feely (but so far, empty) “inspiration” of Obama. This, of course, could change, if he fills in the blankness with something of substance.
I’ve never hated Hillary, and still don’t. And yes, I know, that’s not a very strong endorsement, nor is it meant to be. But I well understand the hatred for her. She emanates the same vibes that made people hate Leona Helmsley (remember her?), Martha Stewart, and any other woman who is perceived as both coldly ruthless and powerful.
We’ve had so few female heads of state that comparisons are hard to find. Actually, I amend that thought: there have been many female heads of state, but most of them aren’t widely known, and most ascended to power through a sort of inheritance–the death of a husband or father.
Even the very-well-known Indira Gandhi and Golda Meir were somewhat in this mold: Gandhi filled a power vacuum her father Nehru’s sudden death left open, and Meir ascended to the office of Prime Minister when chosen by her party after the sudden death of former PM Levi Eshkol. Both were political beings prior to those events, particularly Meir, but there’s little question that the openings left by the deaths of prominent men facilitated their rise in an atmosphere in which women leaders were by far the exception rather than the rule.
Interestingly enough, Hillary fits very well into that mold. Her career has been closely linked to that of her more conventionally electable husband. And now, although Bill is still very much alive, he’s “dead” in the political sense. Since he can no longer run for President, Hillary has taken on the mantle.
Margaret Thatcher is the one woman leader who seems to have climbed to the pinnacle without the help of a father or husband who was a political predecessor, or the sudden death of a political colleague creating an opportunity that otherwise would not have existed. Of course, she was elected not through a direct process of people voting for her, but voting instead for her party, (as is always the case in Parliamentary systems). But still, she was elected under her own steam.
Thatcher was certainly in the mold of a woman perceived as exceptionally strong and rather cold, and was hated by many in her time. But (at least to the best of my knowledge; and I don’t pretend to be an expert on Thatcher) she was not perceived as corrupt or amorally opportunistic, as is Hillary. Instead, Thatcher was hated for her policies, and for her no-nonsense firmness in implementing them. Thatcher was devoted to conservative ideas, and was unusually and rather firmly consistent about them for her entire life. Her iron qualities seemed to be less in service of self-aggrandizement than in service of her political cause. But iron she was.
Hillary’s iron has been shown more in the cause of getting first her husband and then herself elected, at least so far. And she’s tainted by the brush of her own possible corruption as well as Bill Clinton’s moral failings, and her own compromises in service of his career and the preservation of their marriage.
As far as the latter goes, I have some sympathy for the position in which Bill’s philandering placed her. Despite his lengthy history of infidelity–of which she no doubt knew–the Lewinsky affair during his Presidency must have violated some important pact between them. I’m not sure of the nature of that agreement (no, they haven’t taken me into their confidence), but it certainly must have included refraining from misbehaving in such a way as to get caught and jeopardize both of their political careers. And if she’d left him at the time, her calculation was probably that it would have jeopardized them still further. Call me naive, but I also believe she was wounded in the personal sense, as well.
The idea of Bill in the White House again, if only as a spouse, must fill many with dread–just as it fills many with glee. He’s a polarizing figure of great intensity. Perhaps that’s why many Democrats prefer the blank slate of Obama. He may seem to be a lightweight, but at least he carries no real baggage.
Venezuela update: is anyone surprised by this? Except Jimmy?
Chavez may have rigged the referendum of 2004, according to a statistical study by two Venezuelan scientists.
An isolated study or two wouldn’t mean much. But there’s a lot more evidence that this particular election was rigged.
And is there anyone who doubts Chavez capable of such a thing? In fact, is there anyone who thinks he would think twice about doing such a thing?
And is there anyone who believes that certification of the election results by Jimmy Carter has any meaning whatsoever, except as another example of why he’s the worst ex-President in history (and yes indeed, I voted for him–twice).
From the not-particularly disputed Wiki entry on the Venezuelan referendum 0f 2004:
European Union observers did not oversee the elections, saying too many restrictions were put on their participation by the Ché¡vez administration. The Carter Center “concluded the results were accurate.” However, a Penn, Schoen & Berland Associates (PSB) exit poll showed the opposite result, predicting that Ché¡vez would lose by 20%, whereas the election results showed him to have won by 20%. Schoen commented, “I think it was a massive fraud”. US News and World Report offered an analysis of the polls, indicating “very good reason to believe that the (Penn Schoen) exit poll had the result right, and that Ché¡vez’s election officials ”” and Carter and the American media ”” got it wrong”.
According to the Center for Security Policy (disclosure: many of those nefarious neoconservatives are affiliated with the group):
“The [Chavez] government did everything””including granting citizenship to half a million illegal aliens in a crude vote-buying scheme and “migrating” existing voters away from their local election office””to fix the results in its favor. The outcome was then affirmed and legitimated by ex-President Jimmy Carter’s near-unconditional support.” “Jimmy Carter ignored pleas from the opposition and publicly endorsed the results, despite the fact that the government reneged on its agreement to carry out an audit of the results. Carter’s actions not only gave the Venezuelan regime the legitimacy it craved, but also destroyed the public’s confidence in the voting process and in the effectiveness of international observers.”
Voting fraud allegations have become commonplace–almost required–lately. But in this case they seem only too correct. The evidence is strong, plus Chavez’s later acts leave little doubt in my mind that voter fraud is exactly what he would have done to hold onto his power and allow him to carry out his plans for becoming dictator of Venezuela. And Jimmy Carter was his willing enabler, either a pious dupe or a fraud himself.
Most ex-Presidents adhere to the Hippocratic oath when they are out of power: first, do no harm. Would that Carter would stick to it, as well.
These fickle and reversing politicos and press, then and now
I’m reading a fascinating book by Robert Kagan entitled Dangerous Nation: America’s place in the world from its earliest days to the dawn of the twentieth century. A mouthful, I know–and that’s only Part I, which goes up to the beginning of the Spanish-American war.
I haven’t finished it. But I wanted to point out the following passage about the build-up to that war:
Republican newspapers that had been excoriating [Democratic President] Cleveland for his inaction on Cuba right up until the last days of the Democrat’s term now reversed themselves [after the election of McKinley, a Republican] and backed McKinley’s inaction. The small group of Republican barons who directed affairs in the House and Senate were dead set against intervention in Cuba and war with Spain. When Cleveland had been in office, they had let party members loose to criticize the Democrats for betraying the cause of Cuban freedom. But once in power they preferred Cleveland’s course.
So, in terms of hypocrisy and self-serving political wheeling dealing, twas ever thus! When I’m tempted to think that there was a golden age when politics was more civil and profiles in courage were more common, all I have to do is read history to get a corrective lesson.
And don’t think we’re just talking about Republicans, here. A few sentences later we read this:
The Democrats, meanwhile, released from the burden of defending Cleveland’s inaction, now assailed McKinley for pursuing the same course.
So, what else is new?
I hope to write more about this book soon. It makes some fascinating points that indicate certain parallels between the Spanish-American War and the Iraq War–although they may not be the ones you think.
Podcast: the Squad takes on the Presidency
In honor of Presidents Day (or President’s Day, or perhaps Presidents’ Day), the Sanity Squad yaks it up about good Presidents and bad, and the office itself. We also discuss the recent terrorist train bombing in India. Please join me, Siggy, Shrink, and Dr. Sanity. And take a look at this, Siggy’s intro to the podcast, in which he outs some information about my secret past.
More reasons to visit the blogs of my esteeemd colleagues: Dr. Sanity proves she is a lyrical parodist extraordinaire in her “Rime of the Ancient Socialists,” while Shrink has a multi-parter on abortion (just go to his blog and scroll down; I may post something on the topic soon, as well). And Siggy has a personal story of his own to share, in addition to some general reflections on this most weighty and profoundly controversial subject.
Our Iraq allies and spin: past and present, British and otherwise
As Blair announces and Britain prepares a phased pull out from Iraq, I noticed this list of our allies who are still there.
It’s a somewhat varied and lengthy group, considering that basically this has been a US effort. And of course the numbers from most of the countries are small.
But I’m surprised that so many are still there at all, although I’m not surprised that that fact has been kept fairly quiet–perhaps, even, at the behest of those countries, who no doubt have a valid fear of retaliation by terrorist groups.
Critics will say the forces involved are mainly symbolic rather than meaningful. But any support has meaning and carries risk, and some of the countries involved are very small themselves. Note the strong participation of “new” Europe–the eastern, previously Russian satellite, part:
”¢ South Korea ”“ 2,300 troops in northern city of Irbil; plans to bring home 1,100 troops this spring and parliament has called for a complete withdrawal by the end of the year
”¢ Australia ”“ 1,400 troops; Prime Minister John Howard Wednesday called Britain’s move “good sense” but reject calls to follow suit
”¢ Poland ”“ 900 non-combat troops, mission extended to end of this year
”¢ Romania ”“ 865 troops, with most serving in the south under British command 460-member contingent from southern Iraq by August and transfer security responsibilities to Iraqi forces.
”¢ Denmark ”“ The country’s 460-member contingent will be pulled by August, with security responsibilities transferred to Iraqi forces. During the conflict, six Danish soldiers have been killed in Iraq
”¢ El Salvador ”“ 380 troops doing peacekeeping work in Hillah; no plans for withdrawal
”¢ Georgia ”“ 850 troops serving under U.S. command in Baqouba; no withdrawal plans
”¢ Azerbaijan ”“ 150 troops, mostly sentries on patrol near Hadid
”¢ Bulgaria ”“ 150 troops, including a large number of non-troops guarding a refugee camp north of Baghdad ”¢ Latvia ”“ about 136 troops serving under Polish command
”¢ Albania ”“ 126 troops, mostly doing non-combat duty near airport Mosul ”¢ Czech Republic ”“ 100 troops
”¢ Mongolia ”“ 100 troops, no withdrawal plans
”¢ Lithuania ”“ 50 troops as part of Danish battalion near Basra; a spokeswoman for the Baltic nation said Wednesday the country is “seriously considering” not replacing the troops with the mission ends this summer, marking the first time the staunch U.S. ally has indicated it would reduce its Iraq commitment
”¢ Armenia ”“ 46 troops, mission extended to the end of 2007
”¢ Bosnia and Herzegovina ”“ 37 troops
”¢ Estonia ”“ 34 troops serving under U.S. command near Baghdad
”¢ Macedonia ”“ 33 troops in Taji, north of Baghdad
”¢ Kazakhstan ”“ 29 troops, mostly military engineers
”¢ Moldova ”“ 11 bomb-defusing experts returned home in December; parliament has yet to decide on a new mission
”¢ Fiji ”“ The South Pacific nation contributed 150 troops, but the contingent was deployed as part of the UN Assistance Mission in Iraq
Of course, the US is the main act in Iraq. But Britain has been an ally right along–although the majority of the people there were always against British participation (as best I can recall); and, if not, they certainly are now.
So the British withdrawal is no mystery; it’s been an unpopular war there, and Blair is mindful of his party’s future. But the removal of these forces has been telegraphed for ages; no mystery there, as well. If you Google some phrase like “Blair forces leave Iraq” you’ll find articles going back to 2006 and even 2005 discussing Blair’s plans in that direction (this, for example).
The usual suspects claim the usual intrigue around the move, as described in this CNN article. Blair’s statement that the withdrawal represents success in Basra (the area in which the British were always concentrated), and Bush’s seconding of that motion, are questioned, especially since the surge is on. And everyone is using the move’s announcement to score predictable political points.
In one way the timing does seem odd; why leave now, when more troops are supposed to be needed? On the other hand it’s not so odd at all: the area is relatively calm at the moment, and Blair’s hand has been virtually forced, in the political sense–he’s been stalling on this move for years, and it’s hard to imagine how he can stall much longer and still preserve any vitality for his party in the next elections.
Australian Prime Minister Howard is singing a different song. He’s adamant about the fact the the Aussies are staying for now. Note, by the way, the subtly snarky tone of the linked article from the Sydney Morning Herald, a type of reporting that almost seamlessly merges editorializing with straight news in a way that’s become so familiar as to be the rule rather than the exception (thanks, Walter Cronkite!).
In the article, Howard’s announcement that Britain’s pullout represents success in Basra is immediately characterized as “play[ing] down the importance” of Blair’s announcement, and putting “a positive spin” on Blair’s move. And this sort of editorializing occurs in the first two sentences of the story, rather than later on in the article, or even (gasp!!) being saved for an opinion piece.
The Sydney Herald piece does indeed contain some straight reporting and useful information, including quotes from Howard and other Australian officials on their opinions of what’s involved. But this comes much later, in the second half of the piece (when most people have probably stopped reading, a fact of which the editors are no doubt fully aware). And it also comes after these opinions have been effectively discredited by the earlier parts of the article; whatever Howard and company may say, the Sydney’s editors know it’s mere spin–and they’re not the least bit shy or retiring about telling us so, right up front.
This, by the way, has nothing to do with whether those editors are correct or not. Whether they are or aren’t, I want my news straight, and any interpretation and opinion on another page–or at least in another article clearly labeled opinion, thank you very much. But you can’t always get what you want, can you?
Howard is quoted in the article as saying, “A reduction has been in the wind (a while), and the reason I understand Mr Blair will give is that conditions have stabilised in Basra.” That is certainly undisputed, as I pointed out.
Defence Minister Brendan Nelson adds that there’s no discrepancy between the British pullout and the surge plans by the US:
“People ought to remember that 60 per cent of the violence comes from Baghdad and al-Anbar province, where al-Qaeda is particularly active,” he told ABC Radio. “The rest of Iraq is quite different”.
Undoubtedly true. But, with the surge so clearly telegraphed, and many of the terrorists and insurgents fleeing, aren’t more troops needed in Basra, not less? So isn’t the timing of the pullout a problem?
To know whether it’s likely to be, it would help to know where those fleeing insurgents might have been going. Well, we know that al Sadr is likely to be whooping it up right now with his fun buddies in Iran.
But where are the others? To try to answer the question, I did a bit of research, and all I’ve come up with so far is this and a few other articles like it, which indicate that the fleeing insurgents seem to have gone to an area north of Baghdad and not all that far away from it. Certainly not to Basra.
Ah, here’s a bit of news on the subject, embedded as a few words in an AP article found in the Guardian:
Analysts say there is little point in boosting forces in largely Shiite southern Iraq, where most non-U.S. coalition troops are concentrated.
Okay; I assume that the nameless “analysts” aren’t of the Freudian type; they’re experts on the situation in Iraq, supposedly. I’d love to hear a bit more about that, and about who they might be, but we don’t. What we do hear is AP writer David Stringer immediately following it up with this speculation of his own (at least, apparently his own; there’s no attribution for the statement):
Yet as more countries draw down or pull out, it could create a security vacuum if radical Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr stirs up trouble.
Interestingly enough, in the very first article I linked in this post (here, from NPR), which features that same AP article, there was another paragraph directly following the above quote about a security vacuum (this extra paragraph was omitted in the Guardian version):
A British withdrawal is not likely to have much effect on the stepped-up U.S. operation in Baghdad or the war against the Sunni-led insurgency focusing on Anbar province west of the Iraqi capital.
So, which is it? Will the British pullout matter, or not? Is it naivete to actually take what Blair says at face value: that the mission is pretty much accomplished in Basra, and that this doesn’t represent a huge and terrible break with Washington and with Bush? Well, it’s hard to know; but experts seem to believe the British withdrawal and the surge are not contradictory at all.
Wouldn’t it be nice if all speculation by journalists would remain where it belongs, in a column or op-ed piece? Or, of course, they’re welcome to start their own blogs and spout off like me–but then they’d be letting their biases out into the clear light of day, which could only be a good thing. Ah well, you can say I’m a dreamer.
[NOTE: Apologies for all the song lyric links in this post; my only excuse is I’ve still got golden oldies on the brain.]
Caution on troll-feeding
It’s tedious work to prepare the new blog, and I don’t have a lot of spare time to devote to it. I believe it will be ready in a few days, however.
In the meantime, I would like to reiterate that all commenters here refrain from feeding the trolls. I deleted an entire string of comments yesterday that was just back and forth squabbling. The comments section here is something I really value, and I don’t want it to degenerate into childish namecalling on either side.
Peace/love: a golden oldie
I went out dancing the other night.
No, not ballet. My ballet days are over, I’m afraid.
And no, most assuredly not the tango. My tango days are over, I’m very happy to say.
This was dancing to the music of the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. Golden oldies, silver oldies, brass oldies, tin oldies. The music of that last decade, the 80s, is a bit unfamiliar to me. But the rest of the songs rang a bunch of pleasant although somewhat rusty bells.
A portion of those bells involved raucous fraternity dances with spilled beer and even cigarettes (yes, yes, I smoked! But never inhaled; I just enjoyed making the most well-formed and longlasting smoke rings on earth.) Other bells rang for even earlier memories—of dancing in somebody’s knotty-pine-paneled basement to an old record player with a stack of 45s that dropped, one by one, onto a turntable.
This dance the other night was held in a so-called ballroom, a large hall with one of those revolving globes with mirror fragments that cast moving points of light onto the wooden floor. It was a lot of fun; I think I’ll do it again some time (the next day I was only slightly, rather than terribly, sore). I discovered that one of the benefits of getting more–ahem, mature—is that I don’t have to worry quite so much about making a fool of myself on the dance floor. I just assume I’m doing so—at least a little bit—and, at this point, who really cares?
You might think, by the way, that being a former ballet dancer would make a person confident as a social dancer. Not so; the two genres are exceedingly different.
This was a Valentine’s dance. You could tell that because most of us women—and even some of the men—managed to wear something red. And there was chocolate all around.
And then, as the evening was coming to an end, the youngish DJ came over to me and handed me a gift. Or maybe it was a prize (although for what, I don’t know; maybe just for the courage to have gotten out there).
It was a tiny object sealed in a little plastic bag, sort of like something one might find in a crackerjack box. When I opened it, I found this pendant on a chain (those are sparkly blue rhinestones, by the way):
Maybe the DJ was trying to tell neo-neocon the chickenhawk warmonger something or other. Or maybe not; maybe his hawk eye just recognized an ex-semi-hippie-chick when he saw one.
But looking at that peace symbol brought back some other memories. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if peace–real peace, meaningful peace, peace because the need to make war had gone away—were possible? That’s the only kind of peace I can imagine, not a false peace that happens because we’re tired of defending ourselves, or because we’re lulled into a false sense of security by the lying words of an enemy.
I remember back when “All we are saying is give peace a chance” actually seemed like all one needed to say on the subject. Would that it had been so then; would that it were so now.