Post Up

A couple of neat op/eds at the Washington Post this morning:

Robert Samuelson tries to break down the problems with French labor laws:

The dilemma of advanced democracies, including the United States, is that they’ve made more promises than they can keep. Their political commitments outstrip the economy’s capacity to deliver. Sometimes the commitments were made dishonestly. Sometimes they were made sincerely based on foolish assumptions. Sometimes they’ve been overtaken by new circumstances. No matter. The dilemma is the same. To disavow past promises incites public furor; not to disavow them worsens the country’s future problems.

Richard Cohen weighs in on the silence of the Muslim countries over the Abdul Rahman apostasy case:

[Y]ou can say that these horrors are usually being inflicted by a minority. You say it is a few crazed terrorists of Iraq who are doing the killing. It is not most Iraqis. You can say the same about suicide bombers and torturers and rogue governments, like the one Saddam Hussein once headed. You can take solace in numbers. Most people are like us.

Then comes the Rahman case and it is not a solitary crazy prosecutor who brings the charge of apostasy but an entire society. It is not a single judge who would condemn the man but a culture. The Taliban are gone at gunpoint, their atrocities supposedly a thing of the past. In our boundless optimism, we consign them to the “too hard” file of horrors we cannot figure out: the Khmer Rouge, the Nazis, the communists of the Stalin period. Now, though, this awful thing returns and it is not just a single country that would kill a man for his beliefs but a huge swath of the world that would not protest. There can be only one conclusion: They were in agreement.

And then Charles Krauthammer went after Francis Fukuyama with a two-by-four.

Delusions

Back to semi-real-world stuff. I just read an article in Foreign Affairs, about how absolutely misguided and deluded Hussein’s regime was before the invasion. It’s long (12 pages), but you oughtta give it a read, if only to get a greater understanding of what may have been going on at the upper levels of the government.

It made me wonder what we’ll find out when North Korea collapses. I think we’ll discover that there were some absolutely insane management choices, similar to some of the appointments made in Iraq, but I really wonder what we’ll find out about the “limits of dissension” in the military and inner circle. Will it turn out to have been even more restrictive than Iraq under Saddam?

I also wonder about Iran’s “management”, but at least there we know that there’s dissension (and its quashing). I don’t know if there’s a North Korean analog to, say, my buddy the Brooding Persian. Can anyone clue me in on such a blogger? And if one doesn’t exist, is that a sign of North Korea’s ruthless control over external displays of dissension (even anonymous ones), or is it even worse: a level of repression that bans even the thought of dissension?

Just wondering. I promise to get back to posting wedding pictures soon.

Left out

Jane Galt has a nice post on the “message-vacuum” of the Democratic party. Here’s a piece:

Democrats have been blaming the candidates: the wooden Gore, the hapless Kerry. But it seems to me that the problem is that the fissures on the left are so deep that it takes a political genius like Clinton, who zeroed in on symbolic wedge issues with the daring precision of a World War II ace, to cover over them long enough to get elected. Neither Gore nor Kerry were particularly good candidates, to be sure, but it’s not like George Bush is a stunning rhetorician or a dazzling political strategist. His main skills (and weaknesses) lie in dogged determination and keen administrative abilities. Yet he defeated Al Gore, who should have walked all over Bush, given that he was running as the incumbent’s successor in the sunset year of America’s longest postwar economic expansion. Kerry couldn’t beat Bush even though the guy had been caught in bed with a naked economic recession, suffered through a subsequent jobless recovery, and got the country into an enormously expensive, and prolonged, conflict in Iraq. Is that really a problem of the candidates, or the party?

Read all about it.

Jacobean Mires

This week’s book is Gin: The Much Lamented Death of Madam Geneva, by Patrick Dillon. It’s about the British prohibition of gin in the 1730s, and has all sorts of parallels with the crack and crank “epidemics” of our time.

I came across a neat passage yesterday about the supporters of the deposed King James. Dillon discusses how, over the years, being a Jacobite is less about restoring James’ line to the throne and more about dissing the establishment (notwithstanding a minor bombing by Nixon & Killingbeck). As he writes:

Jacobitism was the fly in the ointment of Hanoverian stability; it was Britain’s loose cannon, its unfinished business. Nearly half a century after the Glorious Revolution, the Old Pretender still waited in Paris with his ridiculous court and his bogus ceremonial; whenever a French king wanted to annoy the English, he still had only to start talking about invasions and restorations. Back in England, the wounds of the Glorious Revolution had still not healed over.

All the same, Jacobitism had changed in the past few decades. The passage of half a century was bound to change something. Even in 1715, restoration had been a real possibility. There had been a real Stuart army in Britain, with real support from Jacobite aristocrats, and from at least part of the people. The replacement of the unknown fifty-five-year-old German who sat on the throne with the late Queen’s half-brother seemed perfectly plausible.

By 1736, it didn’t seem so anymore, or only to people like Robert Nixon and Samuel Killingbeck. After twenty years of Hanoverian stability, the Stuarts had receded several steps into the realm of myth. A French-speaking king didn’t seem any more desirable than a German-speaking one. And although he had ditched much of the baggage of absolutism, James Stuart had stubbornly refused to turn away from Rome. The world had moved on. The opposition had found some other ground on which to fight its battles.

Jacobitism had become something more diffuse; the king across the water was wreathed in mist. The mist was partly made up of romantic memories and partly of dreams for a better future. Nine years later, in 1745, when the mist briefly evaporated and a real Jacobite army was marching through England behind a real Stuart prince, the main emotion among English Jacobites was one of alarm. The Pretender didn’t realize it himself, but after twenty-one years Jacobitism in England had turned into something quite different from a campaign to restore him.

Instead, it had become a general form of protest against those in power. As long as there was Jacobitism, there was an alternative to the Hanoverians. Jacobitism became a way of withholding support. That way, the King of England and his ministers, like everyone else, had to live with uncertainty. It had metamorphosed into a general spirit of subversion. Disgruntled Tory squires toasted the ‘King over the Water’ to express their disenchantment with London, the times and Walpole’s ministry. Jacobite songs like ‘The King Shall Enjoy His Own Again’ became a way to cheek anyone in authority.

This has led me to think about the knee-jerk “oppositionism” that characterizes a lot of debate in the U.S. for past decade-plus. It also, as ever, puts me in mind of Orwell. From England, Your England (1941):

One rapid but fairly sure guide to the social atmosphere of a country is the parade-step of its army. A military parade is really a kind of ritual dance, something like a ballet, expressing a certain philosophy of life. The goose-step, for instance, is one of the most horrible sights in the world, far more terrifying than a dive-bomber. It is simply an affirmation of naked power; contained in it, quite consciously and intentionally, is the vision of a boot crashing down on a face. Its ugliness is part of its essence, for what it is saying is, ‘Yes, I am ugly, and you daren’t laugh at me,’ like the bully who makes faces at his victim. Why is the goose-step not used in England? There are, heaven knows, plenty of army officers who would be only too glad to introduce some such thing.

It is not used because the people in the street would laugh. Beyond a certain point, military display is only possible in countries where the common people dare not laugh at the army. The Italians adopted the goose-step at about the time when Italy passed definitely under German control, and, as one would expect, they do it less well than the Germans. The Vichy government, if it survives, is bound to introduce a stiffer parade-ground discipline into what is left of the French army. In the British army the drill is rigid and complicated, full of memories of the eighteenth century, but without definite swagger; the march is merely a formalized walk. It belongs to a society which is ruled by the sword, no doubt, but a sword which must never be taken out of the scabbard.

Go, Cabal!

According to this WashPost piece by Sebastian Mallaby, Paul Wolfowitz is doing a good job at revamping the World Bank’s policies regarding lending money to despotic regimes and graft-ridden contracts:

The new boss is going to be tough on corruption, and he’s going to push this campaign beyond the confines of the World Bank; on Saturday he persuaded the heads of several regional development banks to join his anti-corruption effort. It’s amusing to see the Wolfensohn-Stiglitz left-liberal critique of narrowly economic development policy being championed by this neoconservative icon; and it’s encouraging as well.

Grouse!

Because I wasn’t the guy who got shot, I think the Cheney hunting accident is pretty funny. Maybe not as funny as Bobby Knight plugging a buddy while grouse hunting in 1999, nor beating up his son on another hunting trip (broken nose, dislocated shoulder), but still pretty good.

What I like is that it brings us to a bygone era, when the post of vice president was treated as a national joke. Chevy Chase built a career on stumbling over stuff as Gerald Ford. Bush Sr. was regarded as an imbecile (until he turned out to be a lot craftier than anyone expected from a former head of the CIA). And Dan Quayle . . . well, I’m not even going to venture there.

What I’m saying is, since I was a kid, the vice president was either a joke or an afterthought. It was only with Clinton-Gore that we got the “Team USA” treatment from the Pres/VP tandem. With the 2000 election, that morphed into the “America, Inc.” campaign, where Bush’s strength was supposed to be in his ability to assemble a great “upper management” for the country. Of course, when his HR director named himself as the best guy to be chief operating officer, a light-bulb should’ve turned on.

Still, after all the mistakes, I hope this accident is a sign that the role of VP is heading back to irrelevance. After all, it’s not like it helped Gore in 2000.

In a barrel

Nice post by Andrew Sullivan, ripping up Stanley Fish for “post-modern claptrap”:

Yes, Fish has read Nietzsche, hence his homage in the sentence: “The first tenet of the liberal religion is that everything (at least in the realm of expression and ideas) is to be permitted, but nothing is to be taken seriously.” But this is a distortion of liberalism, as Nietzsche’s was. The defense of free speech is not a frivolous exercise, as Fish argues. In the context of a continent where artists and writers have been threatened with death and murdered for their freedoms, it is a deadly serious task. And maintaining support for the difficult restraint that liberalism asks of us — to maintain faith if you want, but to curtail its intolerant and extreme influence in the public square — is, pace Fish, not an easy or platitudinous path. It is the difficult restraint liberty requires in modernity. Fish, however, like many postmoderns, is skeptical of such ideas of liberty and, in a pinch, seems to prefer the Taliban’s authenticity to societies where writers dare to challenge religious taboos.

This cultural jiu-jitsu put me in mind of a passage from George Orwell’s great essay, Inside the Whale. I don’t think I’ve written about this passage before. Orwell has been discussing political trends among British writers: the modernists of the 1920s — whom he characterizes largely as fascists — and the Comintern-supporting writers of the 1930s. Since I can’t write anywhere near as well as Orwell, let’s just go with an extended passage:

[W]hy did these young men turn towards anything so alien as Russian Communism? Why should writers be attracted by a form of socialism that makes mental honesty impossible? The explanation really lies in something that had already made itself felt before the slump and before Hitler: middle-class unemployment.

Unemployment is not merely a matter of not having a job. Most people can get a job of sorts, even at the worst of times. The trouble was that by about 1930 there was no activity, except perhaps scientific research, the arts, and left-wing politics, that a thinking person could believe in. The debunking of Western civilization had reached its Climax and “disillusionment” was immensely widespread. Who now could take it for granted to go through life in the ordinary middle-class way, as a soldier, a clergyman, a stockbroker, an Indian Civil Servant, or what-not? And how many of the values by which our grandfathers lived could not be taken seriously? Patriotism, religion, the Empire, the family, the sanctity of marriage, the Old School Tie, birth, breeding, honour, discipline — anyone of ordinary education could turn the whole lot of them inside out in three minutes. But what do you achieve, after all, by getting rid of such primal things as patriotism and religion? You have not necessarily got rid of the need for something to believe in. There had been a sort of false dawn a few years earlier when numbers of young intellectuals, including several quite gifted writers (Evelyn Waugh, Christopher Hollis, and others), had fled into the Catholic Church. It is significant that these people went almost invariably to the Roman Church and not, for instance, to the C. of E., the Greek Church, or the Protestants sects. They went, that is, to the Church with a world-wide organization, the one with a rigid discipline, the one with power and prestige behind it. Perhaps it is even worth noticing that the only latter-day convert of really first-rate gifts, Eliot, has embraced not Romanism but Anglo-Catholicism, the ecclesiastical equivalent of Trotskyism. But I do not think one need look farther than this for the reason why the young writers of the thirties flocked into or towards the Communist Party. If was simply something to believe in. Here was a Church, an army, an orthodoxy, a discipline. Here was a Fatherland and — at any rate since 1935 or thereabouts — a Fuehrer. All the loyalties and superstitions that the intellect had seemingly banished could come rushing back under the thinnest of disguises. Patriotism, religion, empire, military glory — all in one word, Russia. Father, king, leader, hero, saviour — all in one word, Stalin. God — Stalin. The devil — Hitler. Heaven — Moscow. Hell — Berlin. All the gaps were filled up. So, after all, the “Communism” of the English intellectual is something explicable enough. It is the patriotism of the deracinated.

But there is one other thing that undoubtedly contributed to the cult of Russia among the English intelligentsia during these years, and that is the softness and security of life in England itself. With all its injustices, England is still the land of habeas corpus, and the over-whelming majority of English people have no experience of violence or illegality. If you have grown up in that sort of atmosphere it is not at all easy to imagine what a despotic régime is like. Nearly all the dominant writers of the thirties belonged to the soft-boiled emancipated middle class and were too young to have effective memories of the Great War. To people of that kind such things as purges, secret police, summary executions, imprisonment without trial etc., etc., are too remote to be terrifying. They can swallow totalitarianism because they have no experience of anything except liberalism.

Update: I zapped this post to Andrew Sullivan, who liked it enough to riff on it as his second Quote of the Day, and extend me a hat-tip! Much appreciated! New visitors: Enjoy the site!

Out of Toon

Comicsreporter reporter (and occasional VM contributor) Tom Spurgeon has a good roundup of posts about the Danish cartoons that goof on Muhammad.

I have a couple of archive posts that get at the subject of intolerance-through-art. In Weighing In, I touch on the subject of how, when people of other faiths are “offended,” they protest or call for boycotts. I cited The Last Temptation of Christ in that one, but you could say the same about Spike Lee’s caricature Jews in Jungle Fever. You didn’t see Jews calling for Lee to be killed. They just shut off the flow of money to his accounts and made sure none of the major networks covered his new movies.

In Who’s Smarter? I explain that Salman Rushdie doesn’t stack up to Madonna.

I’m happy that the managing editor of France Soir took a stand, in solidarity with the press’ right to goof on just about anyone, and bummed that the French Egyptian owner of the paper fired his ass, in solidarity with the culture of resentment.

More on Hamas

Richard Posner’s take jibes with mine (but is much more informed).

Christopher Hitchens’ take does not jibe with mine (but is much more informed).

Meanwhile, the best thing about this Washington Post opinion piece by Mousa Abu Marzook is the author’s byline:

The writer is deputy political bureau chief of the Islamic Resistance Movement (Hamas). He has a U.S. doctorate in engineering and was indicted in the United States in 2004 as a co-conspirator on racketeering and money-laundering charges in connection with activities on behalf of Hamas dating to the early 1990s, before the organization was placed on the list of terrorist groups. He was deported to Jordan in 1997.

My aforementioned take is over here.

Hello Hamas, Goodbye Fatah, Here I am in Camp Grenade(a)

Yesterday, the Palestinian populace had parliamentary elections, and the Hamas party won a ton of seats. The NYPost cover today screams, “HAMASTAN,” and predicts a Taliban-like state of religious oppression will take over the Palestinian territories.

I don’t think that’s going to happen, mainly because I don’t think the vote was an overwhelming endorsement of Hamas so much as it was an overwhelming condemnation of Fatah. In addition, I think Hamas will have its hands full trying to actually administer the government. If branches of it actively try to launch attacks on Israel, reprisals can be much fiercer, now that its leaders have to be politically accountable.

There’s a good post at the Volokh Conspiracy that mirrors some of my sentiments about the vote. It reminds me of the post I wrote a while ago about Hezbollah condemning the first video’d-beheading in Iraq; Hezbollah’s still a terrorist organization, but it’s also tied into the social structure of Lebanon in a way that demands it do respectable things. The party got a good number of votes in the Lebanese elections, but that also means that it can be voted out (provided the government doesn’t suspend elections and revert to strong-arm tactics).

Now, one of my simplistic takes on Arafat was that he benefited from not having peace, because it’s a lot easier to be a warrior-hero than it is to administer a state. It’s like hot-button topics in politics (think abortion): if the issues were reconciled, then fundraisers wouldn’t be able to scare up contributions.

Similarly, now that Hamas has to take responsibility for running things, they’re going to have to deal with issues of unemployment and infrastructure without making a first resort of suicide bombing (admittedly, that would cut down unemployment numbers. . .)