One Bad Apple.

Alas, our recent Columbia teach-in on the war, which included some of the university’s leading luminaries in all departments, was singlehandedly derailed by the asinine comments of one anthro prof, Nicholas De Genova. Said De Genova, “The only true heroes are those who find ways that help defeat the U.S. military…I personally would like to see a million Mogadishus.” He also argued that all self-proclaimed patriots are in fact white supremacists. Sigh…it’s freak show guys like this who give the entire anti-war movement a bad name. As you can see, Eric Foner calls the guy idiotic in the article, and Alan Brinkley has also declared his comments “abhorrent” and “immoral.” (In fact, even Columbia’s President has now distanced himself from De Genova.) The point is, this joker in no way speaks for the majority of Americans against the war, although he’s already getting a lot of run in the warblogger nation regardless. And, while I don’t want to disparage an entire department, I’m not entirely surprised he emerged from anthropology – I’ve heard similar rants from other radical post-structuralist and post-colonialist-enamored students over in Schermerhorn.

Dollar Diplomacy.

This is old news at this point, but I missed it back in the day. 2000 Presidential candidate Bill Bradley comes out against the Iraq war after hearing Dubya’s State of the Union address. Particularly with Moynihan now gone, we could use Dem statesmen like Bradley to cultivate a higher profile. The questions facing America today aren’t going to get any easier, even if we took out Saddam tomorrow.

War Games.

Who’s running this war, anyway? As the American offense tentatively bogs down, more information surfaces that the Bush Hawks ignored the Pentagon and downplayed possible guerrilla resistance by the fedayeen in order to sell their war to the American people. I never thought I’d agree with Barry McCaffrey, but there you have it. Why would you ever put American lives at risk without preparing for the worst possible consequences? God willing, the Bushies bet correctly and our forces will be able to break the back of Saddam’s regime regardless. But, if our men and women start dying because of Rummy’s unbridled optimism, there’ll be hell to pay. Update: The wartime hubris of Rumsfeld is further explored in this week’s New Yorker.

Advise and Dissent.

As the protests heat up in NYC, Slate‘s David Greenberg evaluates the many contributions of American antiwar efforts over the centuries, and reminds us anew that anti-war advocates are also more often than not pro-troop. Something for the Right to consider before they break out the paintball guns.

Fleeing from History.

Speaking of silence and smokescreens, Dubya chose the biggest night of fighting yet to rewrite the disclosure rules for government documents, gutting Clinton administration policies that facilitated the declassification of papers. One could argue that Dubya is merely trying to keep WMD knowledge out of the hands of America’s enemies, but given his track record on the Reagan papers, the President doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on. There’s a lot of information out there that might “impair relations between the United States and a foreign government,” and most of it has very little to do with WMDs. And, sadly, this looks to be only the first of many such wartime night massacres.

Taxing Times.

Despite the administration’s attempt to use the war to promote tax cuts, the Senate does the right thing and slashes Dubya’s tax giveaway in half. As I said last week, it’s almost obscene to even consider this type of deficit-busting sop for the rich when America’s fighting men and women are laying their lives on the line. In times of war, even (gasp!) the affluent must bear their share of sacrifice.

Stick ‘n’ Move.

On Thursday morning, 3/4ths of the way to Las Vegas, I was ambling across LAX to catch my last connecting flight, and everywhere I looked the war was on. Airport lounges, fast-food places, and even the sports bars had foregone the beginning of March Madness so that travelers could keep abreast of the then-unchanging greenscreen views of Baghdad. An hour later, I stepped off the plane into Las Vegas and the war had disappeared. TV’s everywhere were tuned into the basketball games and – should a station break in with some news on the events in Iraq – all the televisions switched immediately to another feed. By the time I entered the taxi-line at the McCarran Airport, which looked and moved exactly like the line for Pirates of the Caribbean, my suspicions were clinched – On the Strip, there is no war, nor much of an outside world, for that matter. Vegas will be Fantasyland, whether you like it or not.

It’s probably unfair to the people of Vegas to contrast the environment with what was going on in Iraq, particularly as I never got off the Strip and saw the local scene. Nevertheless, it was that discrepancy between war on the Strip and war everywhere else that weighed on my mind most of the trip. As I was exploring all the various casinos one morning (to be honest, once you get past the lobby, they’re basically the same – low lighting, ugly carpets, intentionally confusing layout, and depressed-looking, bleary-eyed people glued to their Skinner box of choice), I took in the Fountains of Bellagio, wherein a number of impressive water jets danced in unison to the strains of Lee Greenwood‘s “Proud to Be an American.” To be fair, this was as close to a concession that a war was going on that I saw all weekend – nevertheless, something about the faux-opulence at that moment just turned my stomach.

Even putting the war aside, though, I think I’d be a bit down on Vegas. For one, there was something inherently unrelaxing about the beeps, blips, and whistles resounding from every corner – as the weekend went on, I found myself spending more and more time outside just to take in the breathtaking landscape and find sweet respite from the flashing lights of the casinos. For another – and I know this is hypocritical – after a few days all the vacationers were getting to me. Everywhere I looked, there were gangs of drunk guys constantly hooting, hollering, and acting like they owned the place. True, I was with a group of male college friends, and while we weren’t raging drunkards, we too were comping free drinks like they were going out of style. Nevertheless, I often got the sense I was stuck at the world’s largest neverending frat party, and as the weekend wore on we all spent more and more time staying in our room, where we could watch the games and keep up on the war without being surrounded by rampaging hordes of Men Behaving Badly and vacationers blowing off steam. Most of the locals working on the Strip must have a really depressing view of the human condition, a suspicion confirmed by what conversations I managed to strike up with bartenders, dealers, etc.

So, to sum up, I had a good time, I suppose. But the carefree veneer of Vegas glitz barely concealed the sick undercurrent of desperation that seemed to permeate the Strip, and should I visit again, I’d rather (a) leave the vacationer spots and get a sense of local culture and/or (b) head out into the desert and see a bit more of nature. It was great to see all my friends, of course, but by 48 hours into the trip we were already making plans to meet up next time here in NYC rather than at NY, NY (a mid-range and kinda tacky casino – we spent most of our gambling time elsewhere.)

Speaking of gambling time, a quick note on how I made out. I had allotted a small amount of cash to be used as losses for the weekend, and it barely lasted the first day and a half of blackjack. But as I was leaving for the airport, I threw in one last twenty into a Deuces Wild Video Poker machine, a game which my friend Danny had been telling me all weekend was the best bet in Vegas. On the last hand, I improbably hit the jackpot, and flew out of Vice City $2000 richer than when I entered (That money has since been transferred to my good friends at Mastercard.) Clearly, the city wants another chance.

Unfortunate Sons and daughters..

The party of sacrifice? Get your priorities straight. As Ari Fleischer warns America to expect American casualties in the coming conflict, the Republican Congress promises the Iraq war will have no bearing on tax cuts. As CCR put it, Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Well, they help themselves, yeah.
Then as now, the poor may lose their sons and daughters, but the rich will get their rebates.


Regarding another recent facet of GOP hysteria, I know it’s fun to pick on the French, what with the Maginot Line and the Rainbow Warrior and all that. But next time you hear some idiot like Tom DeLay say the French are good-for-nothing, remember Lafayette. The fact of the matter is, we would never have gained our freedom (or our freedom fries) without the aid of the French during our Revolution. Something to consider before our former Gallic friends are written out of the history books in a fit of revisionist patriotism.

Nothing Succeeds like Failure.

Daschle catches flak from Dubya’s yes-men for stating the patently obvious – that this administration’s amateurish diplomacy has embarrassed us before the world and led us to the brink of a globally unpopular, non-UN-sanctioned war. (And as David Chess pointed out by way of Medley, “the idea that the U.S. must defy the U.N. in order to punish Iraq for defying the U.N. is simply absurd.“) Of course, Daschle’s comments notwithstanding, there’s also a convincing case to be made (as Maureen Dowd does here) that the Bushies wanted diplomacy to fail from the very beginning, so as to further weaken the UN’s international standing. Inept or corrupt…take your pick. Update: Kerry gets involved as well, although, in what’s becoming a troubling pattern, he’s hedged his bets a bit.

How did it come to this?

Well, that’s that, then. Thanks to the not-insubstantial blunders of Dubya’s crack diplomatic team, it looks like we’ll be going to war WITHOUT UN approval. True, I’ve always approached this venture in Iraq with a good deal of skepticism, particularly after its success in sucking all the news out of the room during the summer of Enron. And I was disgusted by the capitulation of Congress last fall in washing their hands of the matter and ceding their constitutionally-mandated authority to declare war over to Dubya. But I still think I could have been sold on the necessity of this conflict if a clear case had ever been made by the Bushies. And, frankly, that case has not been made. Instead we’ve gotten a series of half-truths and rhetorical flourishes attempting to conflate Iraq and Al Qaeda in the American mind, despite the fact that the two despise each other (Saddam is a secular despot while Bin Laden is a fundamentalist freakshow.) And whatsmore, Dubya has now managed in two short years to squander virtually all of America’s once-considerable reservoir of international goodwill in order to prosecute a war for which the rationale still remains blurry.

The Pentagon tells us that we will win a war against Iraq with minimal difficulty, and I think they’re probably right (although obviously there are a number of Saddam-unleashing-WMD-upon-troops and/or Israel scenarios that are almost too horrifying to contemplate.) But I hold very little optimism for our handling of the post-war world — when much of the international community considers us a rogue nation and the Middle East suspects us of imperialistic intentions — given that our actions up to this point only prove that it’s currently Amateur Hour in the White House and State Department.