Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Political satire
By Diana West
Published December 19, 2003
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Iraq's interim foreign minister, Hoshyar Zebari, had a thing or two to tell the U.N. Security Council: "One year ago the Security Council was divided between those who wanted to appease Saddam Hussein and those who wanted to hold him accountable," the Kurdish mountain-guerrilla-turned-diplomat said, his words chilling the diplomatic double-talk of the Security Council hothouse. The United Nations "failed to help rescue the Iraqi people from a murderous tyranny," he said, "and today we are unearthing thousands of victims in horrifying testament to that failure."
There was more: "Settling scores with the United States should not be at the cost of helping to bring stability to the Iraqi people," Mr. Zebari warned. "The U.N. must not fail the Iraqi people again."
Such frankness reveals that not only does the emperor have no clothes, but neither does the secretary-general, who appeared shocked by Mr. Zebari's indictment. "This is not the time to pin blame and point fingers when everybody is trying to figure out how creatively we can organize ourselves to help Iraqis," the politically exposed Kofi Annan said by way of response, streaking down the high road in a moral blur. Jean-Marc de la Sabliere, French ambassador to the United Nations, made no such defensive bones about it: "I don't want to comment on the past."
It is a strange state of affairs when U.N. diplomats, displaying an imperious non-accountability that pretty much went out of style with the divine right of Bourbons, are to be congratulated, sort of, just for acknowledging the existence of facts that need accounting for. That is, in refusing to pin blame, point fingers or comment on the past, they have in fact admitted there is something in the past upon which to pin blame, point fingers and comment. Even this implicit admission, it turns out, is something. Or so it seems after absorbing some of the weirder, practically extraterrestrial exercises in denial of another, even more palpable fact -- the capture of Saddam Hussein.
"Last night Saddam Hussein was in Fallujah," the New York Times reported an Iraqi man as saying, two days after the dictator was taken into U.S. military custody. "I didn't see him. But some people swore on the Koran at the mosques they saw him. What was on television was untrue." Another man pointed out that it would have taken "five years at least" to grow a beard like the one "Saddam Hussein" wore in the rat hole, proof enough, he said, that the deposed dictator remains a free man.
Such reality-deprived reactions are not atypical. The captive "is someone wearing a Saddam mask," an Iraqi man explained to the Associated Press, adding: "It is a trick to help get President Bush elected." This last remark lifts (lowers) the blind-faith denial fantasy into genuine lunatic conspiracy theory. Similar theories abound in the Middle East -- the Americans and the Israelis committed the September 11 atrocities to elicit sympathy for themselves is a popular one -- where a government-run daily like Saudi Arabia's Al-Riyadh can editorialize that Saddam Hussein's capture was "a show" produced to "give new momentum to the American president just when he needs it." More disturbing still is the exploding popularity of such utterly crackpot theories here at home, in the heart of the Democratic Party.
Maybe it started with Democratic presidential candidate Howard Dean, the Al-Gore-anointed, opinion-poll-tested front-runner, who has publicly floated the notion that President Bush had prior knowledge of September 11 and did nothing. This theory, cooked up out of the most toxic chaff of the Internet rumor mill, doesn't even qualify as half-baked. Which says as much about Dr. Dean as it does about the theory.
The day after American forces seized Saddam Hussein, Rep. Jim McDermott, Washington Democrat, the congressman who declared in Baghdad last year that Mr. Bush would lie to get the United States into a war on Iraq, told an interviewer that Saddam Hussein's capture was a political stunt timed to help Mr. Bush politically. American forces could have captured him "a long time ago if they wanted," he said.
Now, former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright has joined what you might call the Oliver Stone Democrats. Fox News Channel's Morton Kondracke reports that Madame Secretary told him President Bush may already know where Osama bin Laden is, but he is waiting for that perfect political moment to bust him. Question: Does this despicable theory reflect the depths to which Democrats believe Mr. Bush is capable of sinking -- Mr. Kondracke's belief -- or, rather, the depths to which Democrats would themselves sink in his place?
Either answer is ugly enough to put on a Saddam mask and look good.
By Diana West
Published December 19, 2003
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Iraq's interim foreign minister, Hoshyar Zebari, had a thing or two to tell the U.N. Security Council: "One year ago the Security Council was divided between those who wanted to appease Saddam Hussein and those who wanted to hold him accountable," the Kurdish mountain-guerrilla-turned-diplomat said, his words chilling the diplomatic double-talk of the Security Council hothouse. The United Nations "failed to help rescue the Iraqi people from a murderous tyranny," he said, "and today we are unearthing thousands of victims in horrifying testament to that failure."
There was more: "Settling scores with the United States should not be at the cost of helping to bring stability to the Iraqi people," Mr. Zebari warned. "The U.N. must not fail the Iraqi people again."
Such frankness reveals that not only does the emperor have no clothes, but neither does the secretary-general, who appeared shocked by Mr. Zebari's indictment. "This is not the time to pin blame and point fingers when everybody is trying to figure out how creatively we can organize ourselves to help Iraqis," the politically exposed Kofi Annan said by way of response, streaking down the high road in a moral blur. Jean-Marc de la Sabliere, French ambassador to the United Nations, made no such defensive bones about it: "I don't want to comment on the past."
It is a strange state of affairs when U.N. diplomats, displaying an imperious non-accountability that pretty much went out of style with the divine right of Bourbons, are to be congratulated, sort of, just for acknowledging the existence of facts that need accounting for. That is, in refusing to pin blame, point fingers or comment on the past, they have in fact admitted there is something in the past upon which to pin blame, point fingers and comment. Even this implicit admission, it turns out, is something. Or so it seems after absorbing some of the weirder, practically extraterrestrial exercises in denial of another, even more palpable fact -- the capture of Saddam Hussein.
"Last night Saddam Hussein was in Fallujah," the New York Times reported an Iraqi man as saying, two days after the dictator was taken into U.S. military custody. "I didn't see him. But some people swore on the Koran at the mosques they saw him. What was on television was untrue." Another man pointed out that it would have taken "five years at least" to grow a beard like the one "Saddam Hussein" wore in the rat hole, proof enough, he said, that the deposed dictator remains a free man.
Such reality-deprived reactions are not atypical. The captive "is someone wearing a Saddam mask," an Iraqi man explained to the Associated Press, adding: "It is a trick to help get President Bush elected." This last remark lifts (lowers) the blind-faith denial fantasy into genuine lunatic conspiracy theory. Similar theories abound in the Middle East -- the Americans and the Israelis committed the September 11 atrocities to elicit sympathy for themselves is a popular one -- where a government-run daily like Saudi Arabia's Al-Riyadh can editorialize that Saddam Hussein's capture was "a show" produced to "give new momentum to the American president just when he needs it." More disturbing still is the exploding popularity of such utterly crackpot theories here at home, in the heart of the Democratic Party.
Maybe it started with Democratic presidential candidate Howard Dean, the Al-Gore-anointed, opinion-poll-tested front-runner, who has publicly floated the notion that President Bush had prior knowledge of September 11 and did nothing. This theory, cooked up out of the most toxic chaff of the Internet rumor mill, doesn't even qualify as half-baked. Which says as much about Dr. Dean as it does about the theory.
The day after American forces seized Saddam Hussein, Rep. Jim McDermott, Washington Democrat, the congressman who declared in Baghdad last year that Mr. Bush would lie to get the United States into a war on Iraq, told an interviewer that Saddam Hussein's capture was a political stunt timed to help Mr. Bush politically. American forces could have captured him "a long time ago if they wanted," he said.
Now, former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright has joined what you might call the Oliver Stone Democrats. Fox News Channel's Morton Kondracke reports that Madame Secretary told him President Bush may already know where Osama bin Laden is, but he is waiting for that perfect political moment to bust him. Question: Does this despicable theory reflect the depths to which Democrats believe Mr. Bush is capable of sinking -- Mr. Kondracke's belief -- or, rather, the depths to which Democrats would themselves sink in his place?
Either answer is ugly enough to put on a Saddam mask and look good.
The Great Surrender
By DAVID BROOKS
In 2000, John McCain led an insurgent campaign against the Republican establishment. Say what you will about G.O.P. elites, they do not lack self-confidence. When McCain hit them, they hit back, viciously. In South Carolina, they insulted McCain's honor, caused him to lose his equilibrium and left him battered and defeated.
An election later, the Democratic establishment faces its own insurgency campaign. Howard Dean has launched a comprehensive assault on his party's leaders. First, he attacked their character, charging that they didn't have the guts to stand up to George Bush. Then, he attacked their power base, building an alternative fund-raising and voter mobilization structure. Now he is attacking their ideas, dismissing the Clinton era as a period of mere damage control.
So how are the Democratic leaders defending themselves? They are responding as any establishment responds when it has lost confidence in itself, when it has lost faith in its ideas, when it has lost the will to fight.
The first crucial moment in this campaign came in early August. Dean was beginning his surge. He was on the covers of the newsweeklies. Instead of trying to confront him when he was still beatable, the rival Democratic candidates suffered what can only be described as a fit of moral panic. Some of those who supported the war in Iraq pretended they opposed it. Months went by and nobody offered more than passing jabs at Dean's integrity and ideas.
Today, the Dean campaign is immeasurably stronger, but faces its second test. Bush's recent successes have halted Dean's momentum. Nearly 60 percent of Americans now approve of the president's performance, while roughly a fifth of voters say they hate or strongly dislike him — calling into question a campaign built almost entirely on mobilizing the Democratic base. If there is a moment to rethink Dean's campaign, this is it.
And yet the mood within the Democratic establishment is dour and fatalistic. While most Washington Democrats expect that Dean will get trounced in the fall, they are not trying to head off the catastrophe. Some fear a party feud more than a defeat. Some don't want to get on the bad side of the likely Democratic nominee. Some privately love what Dean says even as they fear he will lead to disaster. Most important, the Democratic establishment lacks the will to stand up for its beliefs.
The closest thing to a Dean resistance movement is emerging inside the Lieberman campaign. Joe Lieberman is trying to rally the forces of Clintonism. The Clinton Democrats won, Lieberman argues, because they supported free trade and middle-class tax cuts. They were vocal on values, strong on defense. They were hopeful, not angry, and transcended partisanship rather than reinforced it. Dean has veered from all of this, Lieberman concludes.
And yet while Lieberman and his staff are energized, there is little evidence that the rest of the Democratic establishment is. Gephardt, Clark and Edwards refuse to criticize Dean in any comprehensive way. And in truth, even Lieberman is unwilling to go for the jugular.
His anti-Dean speech last week was read by wonks and journalists, but he also unveiled a TV commercial that will be seen by actual voters in New Hampshire. It doesn't even mention Dean.
Last Friday, I followed Lieberman to three campaign events in Delaware. "I'm fighting for the heart and soul of my party," he declared. But he showed no rage, little sense of urgency. On the stump he seems too decent and admirable a guy to take on Howard Dean, the Huey Long of the iPod set.
Last week, I asked Lieberman if he would pick a fight with Dean on values. I asked him if he had formed any conclusions about Dean's temperament. I asked him if he would run commercials pointing out that if Dean had his way, Saddam would still be in power, filling mass graves. No, no, no.
Presidential campaigns climb a hill of righteous indignation. By the time they squared off in South Carolina in 2000, the Bush and McCain campaigns loathed each other. But in the Democratic race, the Dean campaign has all the loathing and the passion.
It is a loathing not only for Bush but also for the Democratic establishment, and contempt for its weakness. Nothing has so vindicated the Dean campaign as the Democratic establishment's pallid response to it.
By DAVID BROOKS
In 2000, John McCain led an insurgent campaign against the Republican establishment. Say what you will about G.O.P. elites, they do not lack self-confidence. When McCain hit them, they hit back, viciously. In South Carolina, they insulted McCain's honor, caused him to lose his equilibrium and left him battered and defeated.
An election later, the Democratic establishment faces its own insurgency campaign. Howard Dean has launched a comprehensive assault on his party's leaders. First, he attacked their character, charging that they didn't have the guts to stand up to George Bush. Then, he attacked their power base, building an alternative fund-raising and voter mobilization structure. Now he is attacking their ideas, dismissing the Clinton era as a period of mere damage control.
So how are the Democratic leaders defending themselves? They are responding as any establishment responds when it has lost confidence in itself, when it has lost faith in its ideas, when it has lost the will to fight.
The first crucial moment in this campaign came in early August. Dean was beginning his surge. He was on the covers of the newsweeklies. Instead of trying to confront him when he was still beatable, the rival Democratic candidates suffered what can only be described as a fit of moral panic. Some of those who supported the war in Iraq pretended they opposed it. Months went by and nobody offered more than passing jabs at Dean's integrity and ideas.
Today, the Dean campaign is immeasurably stronger, but faces its second test. Bush's recent successes have halted Dean's momentum. Nearly 60 percent of Americans now approve of the president's performance, while roughly a fifth of voters say they hate or strongly dislike him — calling into question a campaign built almost entirely on mobilizing the Democratic base. If there is a moment to rethink Dean's campaign, this is it.
And yet the mood within the Democratic establishment is dour and fatalistic. While most Washington Democrats expect that Dean will get trounced in the fall, they are not trying to head off the catastrophe. Some fear a party feud more than a defeat. Some don't want to get on the bad side of the likely Democratic nominee. Some privately love what Dean says even as they fear he will lead to disaster. Most important, the Democratic establishment lacks the will to stand up for its beliefs.
The closest thing to a Dean resistance movement is emerging inside the Lieberman campaign. Joe Lieberman is trying to rally the forces of Clintonism. The Clinton Democrats won, Lieberman argues, because they supported free trade and middle-class tax cuts. They were vocal on values, strong on defense. They were hopeful, not angry, and transcended partisanship rather than reinforced it. Dean has veered from all of this, Lieberman concludes.
And yet while Lieberman and his staff are energized, there is little evidence that the rest of the Democratic establishment is. Gephardt, Clark and Edwards refuse to criticize Dean in any comprehensive way. And in truth, even Lieberman is unwilling to go for the jugular.
His anti-Dean speech last week was read by wonks and journalists, but he also unveiled a TV commercial that will be seen by actual voters in New Hampshire. It doesn't even mention Dean.
Last Friday, I followed Lieberman to three campaign events in Delaware. "I'm fighting for the heart and soul of my party," he declared. But he showed no rage, little sense of urgency. On the stump he seems too decent and admirable a guy to take on Howard Dean, the Huey Long of the iPod set.
Last week, I asked Lieberman if he would pick a fight with Dean on values. I asked him if he had formed any conclusions about Dean's temperament. I asked him if he would run commercials pointing out that if Dean had his way, Saddam would still be in power, filling mass graves. No, no, no.
Presidential campaigns climb a hill of righteous indignation. By the time they squared off in South Carolina in 2000, the Bush and McCain campaigns loathed each other. But in the Democratic race, the Dean campaign has all the loathing and the passion.
It is a loathing not only for Bush but also for the Democratic establishment, and contempt for its weakness. Nothing has so vindicated the Dean campaign as the Democratic establishment's pallid response to it.
