World Trade Center is a very good movie well worth the price of admission. I had read all the pundits and critics words concerning the movie before I paid for my ticket. I thought I was prepared. I was wrong. The first view of lower Manhattan before the planes hit the towers punched me in the gut. I rode along with the Port Authority cops as they struggled to wrap their brains around the events of the day. I remembered, through them, how I felt that sunny, Tuesday morning five years ago. I was captivated by the acting, but what really stood out was the direction, and the sets. Oliver Stone made me feel that day all over again, and the sets seemed as real as if I were walking around the WTC campus. In fact, the only thing with which I took any umbrage was a scene where a Wisconsin cop is feeding workers inside "the pit." As he hands an EMT a knockwurst he says, "These bastards." That's it. No mention of who the bastards were.
I was not expecting the ever conspiracy minded Stone to take the Islamists to task for their actions, but one line in a more than two hour movie does not seem too much to ask. By the time the supposed conversation took place we knew who the bastards were, and one can only presume that a member of law enforcement standing in the smoking pit would have been a little more....colorful, shall we say with his ire. Other than that gripe though, I must say Stone stayed mostly away from politics; preferring instead to paint his picture through the eyes of both the survivors and their families. It was if we were all waiting for the rescuers with them.
Multiple times I caught myself breathing heavily to stave off tears. I ached for the officers buried beneath 3 stories of rubble, and held my breath when the men tasked with digging them out wormed their way beneath the unstable mountain of twisted steel and concrete. My heart hurt for the wife of one officer who, while awaiting word of her husband's fate, smells the sheets on which they slept. As the two officers struggled to stay awake amidst their broken bones, internal injuries and constricted lungs, that accompany being buried beneath tons of debris, I consciously urged them to hold on just a little longer.
This is no United 93. In that movie I found fuel for anger, and tears for courage. In this one I found.........something else. I found reason to believe, once again, that at base the United States, whatever our disagreements, is a family. A family that squabbles amongst itself, but one that pulls together when the chips are down. A family that reminds those who would intrude on our internal strife that this is a "family affair." I remembered the pain of that sunny Tuesday in September, but I also remembered strangers hugging each other on street corners. I remembered how we came together, black and white, Republican and Democrat, and stood a little taller. I remember the resolve of all of us to avenge the ones we lost that day. I remembered the seemingly endless walls of flyers advertising for missing loved ones, and I remembered Rangers jumping into Afghanistan with those same flyers affixed to their rucksacks. I do not know where all that togetherness went. Maybe it was simply too much to sustain, but I miss it. In many ways, for good or ill, it was us against the world that day, and in many ways it still is. So, go see World Trade Center and when it is done maybe we can all find our way home again.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Who Killed the Children of Qana?
Sunday an Israeli airstrike killed 56 people in the southern Lebanese town of Qana. I, like everyone else, was saddened to see image after image of children being carried lifeless and broken from the rubble. As the father of a precocious, 22 month old, high-energy daughter I was troubled more than most. I could not help but feel pangs in my heart for these dead children's parents. That's where my sympathetic relationship for the Lebanese civilians ends. That may seem a harsh statement, but the truth of the matter is that when women and children die in Lebanon, the Israeli's grieve. When Jewish women and children are slaughtered though, these self same Lebanese dance in the streets. Remember the videotapes of the Lebanese celebrating 9/11? Former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Mier said, "I can, perhaps, forgive them for killing our children, but I can never forgive them for making us kill their children." That, is the true focus of Sunday's airstrike. Hezbollah killed those women and children as surely as if they had lined them up against a wall and shot them; Israeli air power was only the method they chose.
We have all seen the photos and film of the dead in Qana. What has been less prolific is the footage recently released by the Israeli military. It shows the building subsequently struck by the Israelis being used as a firing platform for a Hezbollah rocket launcher. When the two images are shown together an analogy put forth by Harvard Law professor, Alan Dershowitz, seems particularly apropos. Professor Dershowitz likens the terrorists of Hezbollah to an armed bank robber who takes a teller hostage in an attempt to make his getaway from the scene of the crime. "If the bank robber fires indiscriminately at officers outside the bank and his hostage is then killed in the crossfire we still see it as a tragic event, but we recognize that the robber is to blame." That is a decidedly apt analogy for what Hezbollah has been doing in southern Lebanon.
For all too long Hezbollah has been shielding its murderous rampages behind women and children. The United Nations recently castigated Hezbollah for the practice and the BBC has reported it, but yet, the Israel-bashing continues. Hand wringers the world over weep and beat their chests at the inappropriate response of Israel. Never mind that Israel could lay waste to the entire country without risking a single soldier's life, but has chosen instead to expose their soldiers to risk so as to limit civilian loss of life. Nations align against Israel and yet another cease fire commences. Israeli military forces retreat, and Hezbollah, now unencumbered, refits, rearms and rests in preparation for their next unprovoked attack on Israeli civilians. In the meantime, Islamists the world over bleat and cheer another defeat of the west. Somewhere, Osama bin Laden is applauding Hezbollah for making martyrs of their children, and praising their scrupulous attention to the Islamist "culture of death."
Israel, to her credit, has refused to knuckle under to international pressure. They recognize that as long as any of their citizens remain captive to a terrorist group, they all remain captive. Remember this latest Israeli act of aggression began after Hezbollah kidnapped two Israeli soldiers, and then a third. Hezbollah has refused to return them even in the face of mounting military might. Those 56 women and children would be alive if not for Hezbollah's actions. We should always seek to remember that. Hezbollah knows something that the rest of the world has seemingly forgotten. No war has ever been settled conclusively until one side or the other has had their means, and will, to fight eliminated.
The Israelis, if they truly want safety and peace, must destroy Hezbollah. That means that not only will terrorists die, but Hezbollah will see to it that women and children die. You might want to consider why no men, of any age, were killed in the Qana strikes. Hezbollah understands that pictures of dead women and children incite their followers to further mayhem. Hezbollah knows too, that the world press will help their cause, at least as much as Iran and Syria. Finally, Hezbollah also knows that Israel can only be stopped by world opinion. Negotiating with such monsters is absurd; regardless that they hold seats in the Lebanese parliament. Israel must continue to press the military advantage. The terrorist organization that is Hezbollah must be decimated; its criminals killed and weapons destroyed. The Islamists respect nothing else.
Many will read this and gnash their teeth. "Why can't we just give peace a chance?" they will cry. To them I say, "Not only have we given peace a chance, they do not want it." Lebanon is the most visible front in the war against militant Islam. Israel will be rebuked, criticized and upbraided no matter what they do, so they may as well finish the job. My only regret is that we have not been able to provide more support for their actions. Israel is used to this though. "Never again" is their motto, and for good cause. We may have forgotten that a third of all the Jews on the planet were murdered by Hitler, but they have not. They may be forced by world condemnation to reign in their operations before all the Hezbollah fighters have been exterminated, but they will never completely give up the fight against those who would destroy them. I, remembering that, will stand by them, and can only hope you will too.
We have all seen the photos and film of the dead in Qana. What has been less prolific is the footage recently released by the Israeli military. It shows the building subsequently struck by the Israelis being used as a firing platform for a Hezbollah rocket launcher. When the two images are shown together an analogy put forth by Harvard Law professor, Alan Dershowitz, seems particularly apropos. Professor Dershowitz likens the terrorists of Hezbollah to an armed bank robber who takes a teller hostage in an attempt to make his getaway from the scene of the crime. "If the bank robber fires indiscriminately at officers outside the bank and his hostage is then killed in the crossfire we still see it as a tragic event, but we recognize that the robber is to blame." That is a decidedly apt analogy for what Hezbollah has been doing in southern Lebanon.
For all too long Hezbollah has been shielding its murderous rampages behind women and children. The United Nations recently castigated Hezbollah for the practice and the BBC has reported it, but yet, the Israel-bashing continues. Hand wringers the world over weep and beat their chests at the inappropriate response of Israel. Never mind that Israel could lay waste to the entire country without risking a single soldier's life, but has chosen instead to expose their soldiers to risk so as to limit civilian loss of life. Nations align against Israel and yet another cease fire commences. Israeli military forces retreat, and Hezbollah, now unencumbered, refits, rearms and rests in preparation for their next unprovoked attack on Israeli civilians. In the meantime, Islamists the world over bleat and cheer another defeat of the west. Somewhere, Osama bin Laden is applauding Hezbollah for making martyrs of their children, and praising their scrupulous attention to the Islamist "culture of death."
Israel, to her credit, has refused to knuckle under to international pressure. They recognize that as long as any of their citizens remain captive to a terrorist group, they all remain captive. Remember this latest Israeli act of aggression began after Hezbollah kidnapped two Israeli soldiers, and then a third. Hezbollah has refused to return them even in the face of mounting military might. Those 56 women and children would be alive if not for Hezbollah's actions. We should always seek to remember that. Hezbollah knows something that the rest of the world has seemingly forgotten. No war has ever been settled conclusively until one side or the other has had their means, and will, to fight eliminated.
The Israelis, if they truly want safety and peace, must destroy Hezbollah. That means that not only will terrorists die, but Hezbollah will see to it that women and children die. You might want to consider why no men, of any age, were killed in the Qana strikes. Hezbollah understands that pictures of dead women and children incite their followers to further mayhem. Hezbollah knows too, that the world press will help their cause, at least as much as Iran and Syria. Finally, Hezbollah also knows that Israel can only be stopped by world opinion. Negotiating with such monsters is absurd; regardless that they hold seats in the Lebanese parliament. Israel must continue to press the military advantage. The terrorist organization that is Hezbollah must be decimated; its criminals killed and weapons destroyed. The Islamists respect nothing else.
Many will read this and gnash their teeth. "Why can't we just give peace a chance?" they will cry. To them I say, "Not only have we given peace a chance, they do not want it." Lebanon is the most visible front in the war against militant Islam. Israel will be rebuked, criticized and upbraided no matter what they do, so they may as well finish the job. My only regret is that we have not been able to provide more support for their actions. Israel is used to this though. "Never again" is their motto, and for good cause. We may have forgotten that a third of all the Jews on the planet were murdered by Hitler, but they have not. They may be forced by world condemnation to reign in their operations before all the Hezbollah fighters have been exterminated, but they will never completely give up the fight against those who would destroy them. I, remembering that, will stand by them, and can only hope you will too.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
A Battle for Sand and Rocks
The deaths of civilians is "collateral damage and a necessity of war." That sentence will, no doubt, raise the hackles on some of the more peaceful among you. Some are certain, given the recent events in Lebanon, that the statement must be a precursor to a defense of Israel's actions regarding Hezbollah. Well, you would only be half right. The quote comes from the website of one Mohammed al-Massari, a Saudi who established the Committee for Defense of Legitimate Rights in London. On the website he justified the assassination of President George W. Bush and Prime Minister Tony Blair. He also called for attacks on coalition forces and "apostate" Muslims who helped them in Iraq and Afghanistan. It is these "civilians," amongst others, that he considers collateral damage and a necessity of war. Al-Massari has claimed that the CDLR is the "ideological voice" of Al-Qaeda. It is then, that statement which leads me back to my defense of Israel's recent actions, and the extraordinary restraint the Israeli Defence Forces have shown.
Over the course of the last 10 years Israel has bargained land for peace in good conscience. Under President Clinton's administration Yassar Arafat was the most common guest in the White House. Several Israeli Prime Ministers negotiated ever broadening truces, which culminated in the dismantling of West Bank settlements by Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. Sharon, himself a veteran and architect of multiple campaigns against united Arab armies intent on wiping Israel from the map, oversaw these operations, apparently believing the time had come for peace between the nation of Israel and its Arab neighbors. Unfortunately, Hezbollah, Hamas and their nation-state sponsors, Iran and Syria, saw this as an opportunity to once and for all remove Israel from existence. Suicide bombings proliferated in Israeli cities, rockets, provided by Iran, rained down on Israeli cities and, as the Jewish death toll mounted, the terrorist organizations rearmed themselves for the coming struggle. For at least the last eight years Hezbollah, which translates as the Party of God, has been refitted with modern armament through Iranian and Syrian complicity.
It is then that Israel showed its remarkable restraint. They, like most of us, want to see the good in people. The dismantling of the West Bank settlements was a divisive issue in Israel. It pitted friends and neighbors against each other, but finally the divisiveness had somewhat ameliorated. At that point Hezbollah, a terrorist organization in root and deed, made itself known. Members of Hezbollah kidnapped two IDF soldiers and demanded that Israel release scores of political prisoners or the soldiers would be summarily executed. Hezbollah referenced Al-Qaeda actions in Iraq, and elsewhere, as to what would befall the soldiers were their demands not met. Israel then, having no other option in my opinion, began to rain the proverbial fire and brimstone down upon suspected Hezbollah strongholds. At the time of this writing airstrikes have continued unabated for twelve days. IDF armor and infantry have massed on Lebanon's border with intentions of taking the fight to those entrenched elements of Hezbollah who have so desperately sought this confrontation. Israel has demanded that the two soldiers, plus another recently kidnapped, be returned, or Hezbollah will face the consequences.
As a former infantryman I was reminded of a speech given by my First Sergeant. In it he affirmed that although he could not promise we would all come back from any deployment alive, we would all come home. For those who have never served this most seem somehow.....less than comforting, but to a soldier, an infantryman who recognizes death may visit him, this is great comfort indeed. It is, in fact, the highest comfort we can expect. We will sacrifice any number of ourselves so that our fallen brethren can return home with us, even if that means they come home in a flag-draped casket. Israel, as a nation, is exercising that discipline. They have promised to never desert their citizens, soldier or otherwise, no matter the cost. In this response, Lebanese civilians have, undoubtedly, been killed. None were targeted, and most were being used as shields of one sort or another by men such as Al-Massari. Even the venerated BBC has recently reported that "it is becoming increasingly difficult to separate Hezbollah from legitimate civilians." The Lebanese people have suffered from Israeli airstrikes, which have rendered their power stations and airports unusable. Meanwhile, Syria and Iran, who could stop the bloodshed with one message to Hezbollah, have beat their chests and demanded that the suffering of the poor Lebanese cease immediately. All the while, Israeli soldiers remain in terrorist captivity. One wonders if they are being afforded the much publicized abuse detainees at Guantanamo receive. I somehow doubt that the Islamists are allowing them to pray unmolested, eat kosher food, or observe the Jewish Sabbath.
As an American of Irish descent many would say I have no dog in this fight. I beg to differ. I see this as just more of the same in the unraveling of the Islamist desire to world domination. They will not stop until sharia law rules in every country in which Muslims live. Not all Muslims support this obviously, but all too many do. It is these Muslims, and their logistical supporters, that must be brought to justice, and I do not mean the sympathetic justice of The Hague. No, they must be brought to the only form of justice they understand: they must be ruthlessly hunted down and exterminated. Only then, can the supposedly moderate Muslims, who we have all heard so much about, be free to raise their children in safety and peace. The only countries in the Middle East where Muslims can freely vote and exercise democracy are Iraq, Afghanistan and, yes, Israel. It is time for all the Muslims who truly want peace to stand up and cast off the bonds of Hezbollah, Hamas, al-Qaeda, Iran and Syria. It is time for them to extend a hand to the democracies of the West, and that means Israel too. I am currently wearing a "Blue String" around my wrist. I received it from a website called www.iloveisrael.org. It symbolizes my support for Israel, now and forever. When these strings, thin and somewhat tenuous, begin to appear on Lebanese civilians arms I will consider their plight differently. Otherwise, I can only consider them complicit, in the same way the citizens of Tokyo were complicit when we firebombed the city during World War II. The moderate Muslims have done nothing to stop western civilian deaths at the hands of these monsters masquerading as both an army and a political party. Until they do I will support Israel and can only hope that you will too.
Over the course of the last 10 years Israel has bargained land for peace in good conscience. Under President Clinton's administration Yassar Arafat was the most common guest in the White House. Several Israeli Prime Ministers negotiated ever broadening truces, which culminated in the dismantling of West Bank settlements by Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. Sharon, himself a veteran and architect of multiple campaigns against united Arab armies intent on wiping Israel from the map, oversaw these operations, apparently believing the time had come for peace between the nation of Israel and its Arab neighbors. Unfortunately, Hezbollah, Hamas and their nation-state sponsors, Iran and Syria, saw this as an opportunity to once and for all remove Israel from existence. Suicide bombings proliferated in Israeli cities, rockets, provided by Iran, rained down on Israeli cities and, as the Jewish death toll mounted, the terrorist organizations rearmed themselves for the coming struggle. For at least the last eight years Hezbollah, which translates as the Party of God, has been refitted with modern armament through Iranian and Syrian complicity.
It is then that Israel showed its remarkable restraint. They, like most of us, want to see the good in people. The dismantling of the West Bank settlements was a divisive issue in Israel. It pitted friends and neighbors against each other, but finally the divisiveness had somewhat ameliorated. At that point Hezbollah, a terrorist organization in root and deed, made itself known. Members of Hezbollah kidnapped two IDF soldiers and demanded that Israel release scores of political prisoners or the soldiers would be summarily executed. Hezbollah referenced Al-Qaeda actions in Iraq, and elsewhere, as to what would befall the soldiers were their demands not met. Israel then, having no other option in my opinion, began to rain the proverbial fire and brimstone down upon suspected Hezbollah strongholds. At the time of this writing airstrikes have continued unabated for twelve days. IDF armor and infantry have massed on Lebanon's border with intentions of taking the fight to those entrenched elements of Hezbollah who have so desperately sought this confrontation. Israel has demanded that the two soldiers, plus another recently kidnapped, be returned, or Hezbollah will face the consequences.
As a former infantryman I was reminded of a speech given by my First Sergeant. In it he affirmed that although he could not promise we would all come back from any deployment alive, we would all come home. For those who have never served this most seem somehow.....less than comforting, but to a soldier, an infantryman who recognizes death may visit him, this is great comfort indeed. It is, in fact, the highest comfort we can expect. We will sacrifice any number of ourselves so that our fallen brethren can return home with us, even if that means they come home in a flag-draped casket. Israel, as a nation, is exercising that discipline. They have promised to never desert their citizens, soldier or otherwise, no matter the cost. In this response, Lebanese civilians have, undoubtedly, been killed. None were targeted, and most were being used as shields of one sort or another by men such as Al-Massari. Even the venerated BBC has recently reported that "it is becoming increasingly difficult to separate Hezbollah from legitimate civilians." The Lebanese people have suffered from Israeli airstrikes, which have rendered their power stations and airports unusable. Meanwhile, Syria and Iran, who could stop the bloodshed with one message to Hezbollah, have beat their chests and demanded that the suffering of the poor Lebanese cease immediately. All the while, Israeli soldiers remain in terrorist captivity. One wonders if they are being afforded the much publicized abuse detainees at Guantanamo receive. I somehow doubt that the Islamists are allowing them to pray unmolested, eat kosher food, or observe the Jewish Sabbath.
As an American of Irish descent many would say I have no dog in this fight. I beg to differ. I see this as just more of the same in the unraveling of the Islamist desire to world domination. They will not stop until sharia law rules in every country in which Muslims live. Not all Muslims support this obviously, but all too many do. It is these Muslims, and their logistical supporters, that must be brought to justice, and I do not mean the sympathetic justice of The Hague. No, they must be brought to the only form of justice they understand: they must be ruthlessly hunted down and exterminated. Only then, can the supposedly moderate Muslims, who we have all heard so much about, be free to raise their children in safety and peace. The only countries in the Middle East where Muslims can freely vote and exercise democracy are Iraq, Afghanistan and, yes, Israel. It is time for all the Muslims who truly want peace to stand up and cast off the bonds of Hezbollah, Hamas, al-Qaeda, Iran and Syria. It is time for them to extend a hand to the democracies of the West, and that means Israel too. I am currently wearing a "Blue String" around my wrist. I received it from a website called www.iloveisrael.org. It symbolizes my support for Israel, now and forever. When these strings, thin and somewhat tenuous, begin to appear on Lebanese civilians arms I will consider their plight differently. Otherwise, I can only consider them complicit, in the same way the citizens of Tokyo were complicit when we firebombed the city during World War II. The moderate Muslims have done nothing to stop western civilian deaths at the hands of these monsters masquerading as both an army and a political party. Until they do I will support Israel and can only hope that you will too.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Reaching Across the Aisle
I am a proud veteran of the US Army's 7th Infantry Division, Light, a Ronald Reagan Republican, and a card-carrying member of the vast, right-wing conspiracy. There are shades of grey in my political opinions, but for the most part I stand the line with the Republican Party. That's why it comes as no small surprise to me that I am so enamored with my current girlfriend. She's a liberal democrat, with a cat named Mao, who thinks that my right wing, meat eating, military t-shirt wearing, SUV driving lifestyle is anathema to all that is good and pure in the world. In fact, she is in direct opposition to 90% of that which I hold dear. Believe me when I say that Matlin and Carville have nothing on us, and yet, something about us works surprisingly well.
In the current political climate it is not unusual to have friends and family on separate sides of nearly every issue. Heated discussions erupt over dinner tables and through closed bathroom doors all across the country, probably more often than any of us like to think. Recently, my inamorata and I were strolling lazily down South Street in Philadelphia when a long-haired, DNC t-shirt and Birkenstock wearing, self professed Socialist approached us about donating to the Cause. Apparently, we republicans, who are responsible for all of the world's ills, need to be combated at the grass-roots level, and this "peaceful warrior" was part of the legion sallying forth to do so. I informed him that I was on the opposing team and stepped away, but the communist in my ladylove would not let her pass without at least some street-level commiseration. I watched, with no little amusement, as they decried the malfeasance of the evil republican machine. When she had sympathized enough with her kindred spirit, she grasped my hand in hers and we went upon our merry way.
We have had two more than irate arguments, each of which resulted in one of us refusing to speak to the other. One concerned immigration, and one the veracity of the reasons for going to war in Iraq. I would love to be able to tell you that we found a middle ground, or listened with an open mind to each other's position, but in these cases we did not do much more than fume at each other. In that, we seem to be a nearly perfect microcosm for the country as a whole. There is some overlap of political consideration. After all, 90% of politics is local, but on a wide variety of issues we will seemingly never agree. In my mind this makes her naive to the notion that there are carnivores loose in the world who would do us harm. To her, I am simply a lost, misguided soul.
In the end, for us, it all comes down to good, old-fashioned boy/girl stuff. I love her gentle touch and she swoons at my kiss. She champions me and I hold doors for her. She laughs at my jokes and I listen to her when she speaks, even if it is the bottom of the ninth with two out. She recently received a new credit card and, when they did not have available the emblem for the college where she teaches (yes she is part of academia in addition to everything else), she chose instead the symbol for my first love: the New York Yankees. Lest you think she has somehow come back from the dark side due to me, you should know she has, of late, decided to cheer for France in the World Cup. She even attempted to trick me into drinking Evian last night. In fact, she recently developed the tactic of using t-shirts of mine she finds offensive as sleep wear, assuming that this will cut down on my ability to sport them. I guess she does not realize that seeing her in an "I Love Halliburton" t-shirt, whatever the reason, cheers me to no end.
Life is a strange and wondrous thing. It is fraught with strife and turmoil, beauty and love. It alternately angers and exhilarates me. I am amused and aghast, seemingly every day. Why then should my closest relationship be any different? Seen in the context of life as a whole, shouldn't we all be "sleeping with the opposition", as it were? Isn't close proximity to those who disagree with us the only way to affect change? If we are going to solve any of the problems currently bedeviling the country, do we not have to start with discussions on a personal level? All liberals are socialists, and all socialists are communists, but since my vegetarian (of course) sweetheart was persuaded to eat a BLT (on white bread, no less) for dinner the other night, can a boycott of the hippie bastion of Whole Foods be far behind? So, the end result of dating the other side is bringing them over to the tent where, hopefully, they will stay for barbecue, and who knows, maybe even cast, under protest no doubt, a vote for McCain in '08.
In the current political climate it is not unusual to have friends and family on separate sides of nearly every issue. Heated discussions erupt over dinner tables and through closed bathroom doors all across the country, probably more often than any of us like to think. Recently, my inamorata and I were strolling lazily down South Street in Philadelphia when a long-haired, DNC t-shirt and Birkenstock wearing, self professed Socialist approached us about donating to the Cause. Apparently, we republicans, who are responsible for all of the world's ills, need to be combated at the grass-roots level, and this "peaceful warrior" was part of the legion sallying forth to do so. I informed him that I was on the opposing team and stepped away, but the communist in my ladylove would not let her pass without at least some street-level commiseration. I watched, with no little amusement, as they decried the malfeasance of the evil republican machine. When she had sympathized enough with her kindred spirit, she grasped my hand in hers and we went upon our merry way.
We have had two more than irate arguments, each of which resulted in one of us refusing to speak to the other. One concerned immigration, and one the veracity of the reasons for going to war in Iraq. I would love to be able to tell you that we found a middle ground, or listened with an open mind to each other's position, but in these cases we did not do much more than fume at each other. In that, we seem to be a nearly perfect microcosm for the country as a whole. There is some overlap of political consideration. After all, 90% of politics is local, but on a wide variety of issues we will seemingly never agree. In my mind this makes her naive to the notion that there are carnivores loose in the world who would do us harm. To her, I am simply a lost, misguided soul.
In the end, for us, it all comes down to good, old-fashioned boy/girl stuff. I love her gentle touch and she swoons at my kiss. She champions me and I hold doors for her. She laughs at my jokes and I listen to her when she speaks, even if it is the bottom of the ninth with two out. She recently received a new credit card and, when they did not have available the emblem for the college where she teaches (yes she is part of academia in addition to everything else), she chose instead the symbol for my first love: the New York Yankees. Lest you think she has somehow come back from the dark side due to me, you should know she has, of late, decided to cheer for France in the World Cup. She even attempted to trick me into drinking Evian last night. In fact, she recently developed the tactic of using t-shirts of mine she finds offensive as sleep wear, assuming that this will cut down on my ability to sport them. I guess she does not realize that seeing her in an "I Love Halliburton" t-shirt, whatever the reason, cheers me to no end.
Life is a strange and wondrous thing. It is fraught with strife and turmoil, beauty and love. It alternately angers and exhilarates me. I am amused and aghast, seemingly every day. Why then should my closest relationship be any different? Seen in the context of life as a whole, shouldn't we all be "sleeping with the opposition", as it were? Isn't close proximity to those who disagree with us the only way to affect change? If we are going to solve any of the problems currently bedeviling the country, do we not have to start with discussions on a personal level? All liberals are socialists, and all socialists are communists, but since my vegetarian (of course) sweetheart was persuaded to eat a BLT (on white bread, no less) for dinner the other night, can a boycott of the hippie bastion of Whole Foods be far behind? So, the end result of dating the other side is bringing them over to the tent where, hopefully, they will stay for barbecue, and who knows, maybe even cast, under protest no doubt, a vote for McCain in '08.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Death of A Salesman
The death merchant, known as the Prince to Osama bin Laden, is dead. His safe house destroyed by two 500lb bombs, the leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq lived for 52 minutes before expiring. The man who believed it acceptable to cut off the heads of those he deemed apostates suffered nowhere near enough to atone for the acts of terror he both committed and inspired. Die he did though, and the world is better off for it. Alone in my living room at 4:00am last Thursday morning, I cheered the news that Musab Abu al-Zarqawi had been killed by US forces. I cheered not only because one of the most vile, murderous, loathsome, evil creatures ever spawned had received his just due, but because his death is sure to have lasting effects, out of context with the death of one man, on the global war on terror.
Much has been made recently of the notion that his particular cell of Al-Qaeda was small, and barely more than a regional player. Pundits from far and wide have weighed in to pontificate on how this will have little to no impact on the war in Iraq, much less the global War on Terror. What is neglected in that opinion is the charismatic, iron-fisted nature of Zarqawi. He ran Al-Qaeda in Iraq with a no nonsense attitude that brooked no dissent. His goal of repelling the infidels from the Middle East was to be accomplished three ways: first, he was an instigator of a rabid, radical Islam that demanded the faithful attack the US and its allies at all points of the globe; second, he trained terrorists in Iraq, (some 300 according to Jordanian security forces), who were then sent back to their home countries to await the time when fomenting terror could exact the most casualties; and third, to attack US forces himself whenever and wherever he could.
His handiwork has been seen in Jordan and in Chechnya. Western intelligence forces confirm that dozens of young, militant Muslim men have been intercepted on their way to fight in Iraq, or stopped while planning to do so. His death, if nothing else, momentarily arrests that flow. His successor, allegedly named yesterday, does not yet hold the charismatic sway among the radicals that Zarqawi did. In the internecine fighting that is sure to develop, considering the vacuum he left behind, his force will be broken into factions and weakened through death, attrition and neglect. When these new factions rise up to make names for themselves they will be forced to crawl out from the cracks that currently shelter them, and it is then that US military force can make its mark. More will be killed, and the remnants will be that less able to wage war.
It is not simply that he led what has been termed a splinter group of Al-Qaeda. Zarqawi was poised to challenge bin Laden directly for, if not operational control, then spiritual control of the worldwide network that is Al-Qaeda. Bin Laden does not specifically order many attacks, but he inspires a great number; one need only look to the recently uncovered plot in Canada to see aspects of both men. To the young would be jihadists Zarqawi, not bin Laden, exemplified the current fighting spirit. Bin Laden, while still revered as a sheik, is seen more as the elder statesman, with Zarqawi as the Islamic warrior on the frontlines. His death, then, leaves the movement without a warrior prince in the mold of Darius. Someone that could physically take the throne from the heretics and infidels is suddenly absent, and no talk of virgins and martyrdom can replace that.
Surely, Zarqawi's death is not the end of anything. In fact, it is sure to spawn a spate of violence that will spike in the coming weeks. What his death changes though, is the dynamic of the conflict. By pushing the advantage, US and Iraqi military forces have a narrow window in which to turn the tide against the less experienced members of not only Al-Qaeda in Iraq, but the network as a whole. It is time to begin the fight we should have started years ago, namely one of no quarter asked, none given. Special Operations forces have started that directive pointedly. Some three dozen raids on suspected terrorist hideouts have been carried out since Zarqawi was killed. It is time to send the message that the sleeping giant is awake. Putting Zarqawi's head on a pike alongside the road to Baghdad may be too much to ask of the Iraqi and coalition forces, but, to take a page from Gen. Black Jack Pershing, we could send a more poignant message. We should, quite publicly, butcher a hog and wrap Zarqawi's remains in its skin, before unceremoniously dumping his body in an unmarked grave. We should then announce that this is the fate that awaits any radical Muslim who attacks us, or our allies. This would directly address terrorists all over the world. You can still play the game, if you wish, but no virgins nor martyrdom await you. You will be revealed to this world, and the afterlife at once, as what you have always been: an unclean, low-rent thug who has done nothing but pervert a religion for your own ends. Only then will we stem the tide of terror and allow freedom loving people everywhere the right to pursue happiness. Only then can we, and those like us, truly be free.
Much has been made recently of the notion that his particular cell of Al-Qaeda was small, and barely more than a regional player. Pundits from far and wide have weighed in to pontificate on how this will have little to no impact on the war in Iraq, much less the global War on Terror. What is neglected in that opinion is the charismatic, iron-fisted nature of Zarqawi. He ran Al-Qaeda in Iraq with a no nonsense attitude that brooked no dissent. His goal of repelling the infidels from the Middle East was to be accomplished three ways: first, he was an instigator of a rabid, radical Islam that demanded the faithful attack the US and its allies at all points of the globe; second, he trained terrorists in Iraq, (some 300 according to Jordanian security forces), who were then sent back to their home countries to await the time when fomenting terror could exact the most casualties; and third, to attack US forces himself whenever and wherever he could.
His handiwork has been seen in Jordan and in Chechnya. Western intelligence forces confirm that dozens of young, militant Muslim men have been intercepted on their way to fight in Iraq, or stopped while planning to do so. His death, if nothing else, momentarily arrests that flow. His successor, allegedly named yesterday, does not yet hold the charismatic sway among the radicals that Zarqawi did. In the internecine fighting that is sure to develop, considering the vacuum he left behind, his force will be broken into factions and weakened through death, attrition and neglect. When these new factions rise up to make names for themselves they will be forced to crawl out from the cracks that currently shelter them, and it is then that US military force can make its mark. More will be killed, and the remnants will be that less able to wage war.
It is not simply that he led what has been termed a splinter group of Al-Qaeda. Zarqawi was poised to challenge bin Laden directly for, if not operational control, then spiritual control of the worldwide network that is Al-Qaeda. Bin Laden does not specifically order many attacks, but he inspires a great number; one need only look to the recently uncovered plot in Canada to see aspects of both men. To the young would be jihadists Zarqawi, not bin Laden, exemplified the current fighting spirit. Bin Laden, while still revered as a sheik, is seen more as the elder statesman, with Zarqawi as the Islamic warrior on the frontlines. His death, then, leaves the movement without a warrior prince in the mold of Darius. Someone that could physically take the throne from the heretics and infidels is suddenly absent, and no talk of virgins and martyrdom can replace that.
Surely, Zarqawi's death is not the end of anything. In fact, it is sure to spawn a spate of violence that will spike in the coming weeks. What his death changes though, is the dynamic of the conflict. By pushing the advantage, US and Iraqi military forces have a narrow window in which to turn the tide against the less experienced members of not only Al-Qaeda in Iraq, but the network as a whole. It is time to begin the fight we should have started years ago, namely one of no quarter asked, none given. Special Operations forces have started that directive pointedly. Some three dozen raids on suspected terrorist hideouts have been carried out since Zarqawi was killed. It is time to send the message that the sleeping giant is awake. Putting Zarqawi's head on a pike alongside the road to Baghdad may be too much to ask of the Iraqi and coalition forces, but, to take a page from Gen. Black Jack Pershing, we could send a more poignant message. We should, quite publicly, butcher a hog and wrap Zarqawi's remains in its skin, before unceremoniously dumping his body in an unmarked grave. We should then announce that this is the fate that awaits any radical Muslim who attacks us, or our allies. This would directly address terrorists all over the world. You can still play the game, if you wish, but no virgins nor martyrdom await you. You will be revealed to this world, and the afterlife at once, as what you have always been: an unclean, low-rent thug who has done nothing but pervert a religion for your own ends. Only then will we stem the tide of terror and allow freedom loving people everywhere the right to pursue happiness. Only then can we, and those like us, truly be free.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Lead the Way
Rudyard Kipling famously described what was once the job of a journalist in his poem The Elephant's Child. It reads, in part
I keep six honest serving men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
That stanza encapsulates the supposed ends of a hard news story. Apparently though, the major American newspapers have come to redefine who. The New York Times and The Washington Post have done stories in the past few days detailing a plot uncovered by Canadian police this weekend. In the event you were busy watching American Idol reruns On-Demand, 17 Muslim men were caught red-handed in the act of attempting to secure three tons of ammonium nitrate, or three times as much as Timothy McVeigh used in Oklahoma City. They ranged in age from their late teens to one in his early forties. They were all Canadian citizens, who had been nurtured by the state, all men and all, as described by both the Post and Times, of Southeast Asian descent. Not until the second page of the story, in either paper, did we learn that they all belonged to the same mosque.
Today being the 62nd anniversary of D-Day I could only wonder what the boys of Pointe du Hoc would think of that. On that day 225 US Army Rangers jumped off British landing craft and, braving hails of machine gun fire, ran to the bottom of a nearly sheer, ten story cliff, atop which supposedly sat a battery of naval guns capable of wiping the attackers from both the beaches and the seas. These guns were defended by battle hardened German soldiers intent on kicking the landing force back into the sea. As the German soldiers rained grenade and automatic rifle fire down upon them the Rangers began to climb. When one Ranger fell another would take his place. They climbed, returned fire and, eventually, captured the land at the top of the cliff. Of the 225 Rangers that started the ascent, 90 remained able to fight on in the battle to recapture Europe.
What does one cowardly act nipped in its nascent stages have to do with one of the most heroic missions ever undertaken by soldiers you ask? The answer is simple: the 2nd Ranger Battalion's men climbed because they recognized that there was no choice. They were not ambivalent about the idea that they were fighting consummate evil. It was do or die, and they did both. Sadly, neither writer of this week's Post and Times stories shares that emotion. Both journalists have forgotten, or choose to ignore, that who someone is carries weight. It is the basis of all police work, and once was the basis of journalism too.
The Toronto Star got it right though, in today's edition. In a city that was arguably a target for terror, the major daily newspaper called this what it is: terrorism perpetrated by Islamic fundamentalists. The editorial stated, "Clearly, there are simple truths arising from the weekend events, most notably that all 17 of the people arrested are Muslims. Our important efforts at cultural understanding cannot disguise that fact." In a country awash in political correctness our neighbors in The Great White North, at least on the Star's editorial staff, recognize that the only way to defeat evil is to target it. All 17 of those arrested were Muslim, just as all 19 hijackers on 9/11 were Muslim. We can disagree as to whether they were acting in direct contravention of the Qur'an's teaching, or not, but we cannot disagree that they were all Muslim.
Why then did two of the United State's most prestigious newspapers choose to bury this fact? Sadly, it appears they wish to cloak these acts in some sort of aberrant cape. It is here that we are constantly reminded that not all Muslims are bad people. In fact, most are hard working, honest, decent people who just want to raise their kids. I cannot disagree that most Muslims are such, but I can disagree with the notion that these terror attacks are an aberration. They are premeditated, fundamentalist visions for an all Islamic world. Up until I see massive street protests, like the one excoriating newspapers for printing cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad with a bomb in his turban, from these supposed moderate Muslims, I can only presume that the rank and file Muslim, both here and abroad, believes these acts to be, if not tacitly okay, than at least understandable; something we, and Britain, Spain and Canada, brought on ourselves through our failure to heed the Prophet's words.
The Rangers at Pointe du Hoc were not the only Rangers who acted heroically on the beaches of Normandy. The 5th Ranger Battalion gave the regiment it's motto. While literally thousands of men were pinned down on the beaches of Normandy 62 years ago, General Norman Cota spotted a group of men armed with equipment for blowing holes in the maze of obstacles arranged on the beach. "What unit is this?" he shouted. "5th Rangers, sir!" came the reply. "Well, god-damnit then Rangers, Lead the Way!" Without hesitation these Rangers, like their brothers on the cliffs, jumped up and, under murderous heavy weapons fire began inching up the beach. One wonders what these men would think of the notion that we might hurt some unoffending Muslims feelings if we identified terrorists by their religious affiliation. I can only presume that the sheer lunacy of it would be unfathomable to a group of young men, many unable even to shave, who behaved so majestically under the toughest of conditions. As then, we are at war with an enemy bent on world domination. Unlike then though, our enemy does not wear a uniform to readily identify himself. They hide in crowds of civilians and cowardly attack those least able to defend themselves, while cloaking themselves in the garb of god.
There are no fortifications for brave men to storm, or cliffs for them to climb in the war in which we are currently engaged. We are at war with an enemy who seeks to conceal himself until he strikes, not at soldiers, but at civilians. We will never defeat this evil among us until we learn to accept, and acknowledge, our enemies commonalities, of which the most prominent feature is a shared belief in radical Islamic domination, by any means. If we are going to defeat this enemy, freedom loving people, Muslims and non-Muslims alike, here and in Britain and in Canada and, yes, in Iraq and Iran must realize that we are, like those Rangers on the beaches of Normandy so long ago, in this together. Otherwise we are simply sacrificial lambs waiting for the slaughter, and unworthy of the history of those Rangers, and men and women throughout our past, who have spilled their blood so that we could be free.
I keep six honest serving men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.
That stanza encapsulates the supposed ends of a hard news story. Apparently though, the major American newspapers have come to redefine who. The New York Times and The Washington Post have done stories in the past few days detailing a plot uncovered by Canadian police this weekend. In the event you were busy watching American Idol reruns On-Demand, 17 Muslim men were caught red-handed in the act of attempting to secure three tons of ammonium nitrate, or three times as much as Timothy McVeigh used in Oklahoma City. They ranged in age from their late teens to one in his early forties. They were all Canadian citizens, who had been nurtured by the state, all men and all, as described by both the Post and Times, of Southeast Asian descent. Not until the second page of the story, in either paper, did we learn that they all belonged to the same mosque.
Today being the 62nd anniversary of D-Day I could only wonder what the boys of Pointe du Hoc would think of that. On that day 225 US Army Rangers jumped off British landing craft and, braving hails of machine gun fire, ran to the bottom of a nearly sheer, ten story cliff, atop which supposedly sat a battery of naval guns capable of wiping the attackers from both the beaches and the seas. These guns were defended by battle hardened German soldiers intent on kicking the landing force back into the sea. As the German soldiers rained grenade and automatic rifle fire down upon them the Rangers began to climb. When one Ranger fell another would take his place. They climbed, returned fire and, eventually, captured the land at the top of the cliff. Of the 225 Rangers that started the ascent, 90 remained able to fight on in the battle to recapture Europe.
What does one cowardly act nipped in its nascent stages have to do with one of the most heroic missions ever undertaken by soldiers you ask? The answer is simple: the 2nd Ranger Battalion's men climbed because they recognized that there was no choice. They were not ambivalent about the idea that they were fighting consummate evil. It was do or die, and they did both. Sadly, neither writer of this week's Post and Times stories shares that emotion. Both journalists have forgotten, or choose to ignore, that who someone is carries weight. It is the basis of all police work, and once was the basis of journalism too.
The Toronto Star got it right though, in today's edition. In a city that was arguably a target for terror, the major daily newspaper called this what it is: terrorism perpetrated by Islamic fundamentalists. The editorial stated, "Clearly, there are simple truths arising from the weekend events, most notably that all 17 of the people arrested are Muslims. Our important efforts at cultural understanding cannot disguise that fact." In a country awash in political correctness our neighbors in The Great White North, at least on the Star's editorial staff, recognize that the only way to defeat evil is to target it. All 17 of those arrested were Muslim, just as all 19 hijackers on 9/11 were Muslim. We can disagree as to whether they were acting in direct contravention of the Qur'an's teaching, or not, but we cannot disagree that they were all Muslim.
Why then did two of the United State's most prestigious newspapers choose to bury this fact? Sadly, it appears they wish to cloak these acts in some sort of aberrant cape. It is here that we are constantly reminded that not all Muslims are bad people. In fact, most are hard working, honest, decent people who just want to raise their kids. I cannot disagree that most Muslims are such, but I can disagree with the notion that these terror attacks are an aberration. They are premeditated, fundamentalist visions for an all Islamic world. Up until I see massive street protests, like the one excoriating newspapers for printing cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad with a bomb in his turban, from these supposed moderate Muslims, I can only presume that the rank and file Muslim, both here and abroad, believes these acts to be, if not tacitly okay, than at least understandable; something we, and Britain, Spain and Canada, brought on ourselves through our failure to heed the Prophet's words.
The Rangers at Pointe du Hoc were not the only Rangers who acted heroically on the beaches of Normandy. The 5th Ranger Battalion gave the regiment it's motto. While literally thousands of men were pinned down on the beaches of Normandy 62 years ago, General Norman Cota spotted a group of men armed with equipment for blowing holes in the maze of obstacles arranged on the beach. "What unit is this?" he shouted. "5th Rangers, sir!" came the reply. "Well, god-damnit then Rangers, Lead the Way!" Without hesitation these Rangers, like their brothers on the cliffs, jumped up and, under murderous heavy weapons fire began inching up the beach. One wonders what these men would think of the notion that we might hurt some unoffending Muslims feelings if we identified terrorists by their religious affiliation. I can only presume that the sheer lunacy of it would be unfathomable to a group of young men, many unable even to shave, who behaved so majestically under the toughest of conditions. As then, we are at war with an enemy bent on world domination. Unlike then though, our enemy does not wear a uniform to readily identify himself. They hide in crowds of civilians and cowardly attack those least able to defend themselves, while cloaking themselves in the garb of god.
There are no fortifications for brave men to storm, or cliffs for them to climb in the war in which we are currently engaged. We are at war with an enemy who seeks to conceal himself until he strikes, not at soldiers, but at civilians. We will never defeat this evil among us until we learn to accept, and acknowledge, our enemies commonalities, of which the most prominent feature is a shared belief in radical Islamic domination, by any means. If we are going to defeat this enemy, freedom loving people, Muslims and non-Muslims alike, here and in Britain and in Canada and, yes, in Iraq and Iran must realize that we are, like those Rangers on the beaches of Normandy so long ago, in this together. Otherwise we are simply sacrificial lambs waiting for the slaughter, and unworthy of the history of those Rangers, and men and women throughout our past, who have spilled their blood so that we could be free.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
A Suitable Memorial Day
Nearly twenty years ago, the kindest, most caring, compassionate soul it has ever been my pleasure to know, was killed by a bullet to the throat. His life literally drained out of him. He was no victim of street crime. He was a soldier serving proudly in the uniform of the United States Army. At 18 he volunteered for the 7th Infantry Division (Light) and the Rapid Deployment Force. At 20 his life was snuffed out by an insurgency group that believed their god had called them to kill infidels. While many people I know were thinking of barbecues and beer, my Memorial Day was spent thinking about that young man as I made the rounds of the area War Memorials. During my weekend of reverence I was assaulted by numerous major media outlets, most prominently The New York Times, and their coverage of an atrocity allegedly committed by United States Marines in Iraq. On a day supposedly set aside for us to remember those who came home with a funeral escort, the major media decided that the story that should lead their coverage was best served by scenes of dead civilians.
For those who have been hiding under a rock, the allegation is that a number of Marines killed as many as two dozen, unarmed men, women and children in Haditha, Iraq last November. After the killings they then attempted to cover up their nefarious deeds by suggesting that the dead civilians were either harboring insurgents, or were insurgents themselves. I wasn't there, so I do not know what happened. The New York Times had no reporters there, nor did ABC, CBS, CNN or any of the other major outlets. Congressman John Murtha (D-PA) was not there either, but not being there has not stopped him, or the aforementioned news agencies from trumpeting the guilt of the Marines. The Marines have been convicted of murder in the press, before the report is even completed. Gleefully, newscasters trot out the abysmal events of My Lai, and Rep. Murtha goes on any news program that will have him and proclaims the Marines killed civilians "in cold blood."
Meanwhile, an alleged cop killer, Solomon Montgomery, recuperates in a Philadelphia hospital. He was shot by Philadelphia detectives as he allegedly reached for one of the two handguns he was carrying. The allegation is that he executed a Philadelphia police officer who responded to a bar where the suspect was supposedly carrying out an armed robbery. Officer Gary Skerski died from a shotgun blast alleged fired by Solomon Montgomery. The coverage, which was front page news until Montgomery was arrested, has slipped from the top spot. Philadelphia officials have been careful not to taint the ongoing investigation by carefully wording their responses to press questions. In fact, Montgomery was not even immediately charged with the homicide. A suspect with numerous, violent, felony arrests, and even an acquittal for another armed robbery, is being given the presumption of innocence, in direct accordance with the rule of law. Videotape of the holdup and numerous witnesses abound in Montgomery's case, and yet, the District Attorney's Office has not released an inflammatory statement remotely close to the one's leveled at US Marines serving under fire in a combat zone. Rep. Murtha has not seen fit to weigh in on the loss of life of a Philadelphia cop, and by all accounts a good guy, but convicts fellow Marines absent any evidence other then anecdotal responses from people who may, or may not, have an axe to grind.
Can events such as the one the Marines are alleged to have committed occur? Not only can they occur they have, ever since the first caveman clubbed an unarmed opponent's family to death with a sharp rock. That is not truly the question here; not yet. For the record, as an infantryman the activities ascribed to the Marines does not pass my smell test. Nuances only another infantryman would notice are visibly apparent. The timelines and actions simply do not fit with what I know to be the inner workings of small unit tactics. I personally believe that what is being reported as happening did not happen the way it is being portrayed. That said, if even one scintilla of the story being presented is accurate I want the offenders punished severely, but what I want more than anything is for these military volunteers to be afforded the same respect we give alleged cop-killers; I want them presumed innocent until the investigation is complete.
On Memorial Day I am somewhat subdued, as a rule. I along with literally millions of veterans and active duty personnel paused for a moment of silence at 3:00pm yesterday. I turned off all the noise makers in my house, came to attention and for a full minute saluted the flag which flutters from a neighbors wall. I felt the presence of men and women all over the world doing the same thing, and a tear trickled down my cheek as I thought of my friend Rob. The New York Times, as well as other broadcast outlets, profaned that moment. In their rush to judgment they painted all veteran's with a broad brush, because if one could do this, the supposition is that we all have. Why else did a national network broadcast a 30 year old piece on My Lai at 3:30am today, if not to remind us of the inhumanity of soldiers everywhere? The major media, at least in this case, has an axe to grind, and no compulsion at sacrificing what they see as the expendable among us.
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Marine General Peter Pace, when questioned Sunday about the alleged incidents said, "it would be premature for me to judge" the outcome of a Pentagon investigation. I respect the General, and I respect the 99.9% of men and women of the armed forces who have performed their duties honorably, under great duress, with no fanfare for a job well done. It hurts my heart to think that any of my brothers-in-arms could do anything even approximating a war crime, as I am sure it does veteran's everywhere. What hurts more though, is that on a day set aside to remember the truly valiant among us, those who have given their lives to secure freedom, the nation's largest newspaper and several major broadcast networks decided that it was more important to use that freedom to cast, to this point unsubstantiated heinous aspersions, upon men serving in a combat zone. Why these media bastions thought this was the right thing to do is open to conjecture. What is not open to conjecture though is that the 25,000,000 veterans and active duty personnel, on this day above all others, deserved better.
For those who have been hiding under a rock, the allegation is that a number of Marines killed as many as two dozen, unarmed men, women and children in Haditha, Iraq last November. After the killings they then attempted to cover up their nefarious deeds by suggesting that the dead civilians were either harboring insurgents, or were insurgents themselves. I wasn't there, so I do not know what happened. The New York Times had no reporters there, nor did ABC, CBS, CNN or any of the other major outlets. Congressman John Murtha (D-PA) was not there either, but not being there has not stopped him, or the aforementioned news agencies from trumpeting the guilt of the Marines. The Marines have been convicted of murder in the press, before the report is even completed. Gleefully, newscasters trot out the abysmal events of My Lai, and Rep. Murtha goes on any news program that will have him and proclaims the Marines killed civilians "in cold blood."
Meanwhile, an alleged cop killer, Solomon Montgomery, recuperates in a Philadelphia hospital. He was shot by Philadelphia detectives as he allegedly reached for one of the two handguns he was carrying. The allegation is that he executed a Philadelphia police officer who responded to a bar where the suspect was supposedly carrying out an armed robbery. Officer Gary Skerski died from a shotgun blast alleged fired by Solomon Montgomery. The coverage, which was front page news until Montgomery was arrested, has slipped from the top spot. Philadelphia officials have been careful not to taint the ongoing investigation by carefully wording their responses to press questions. In fact, Montgomery was not even immediately charged with the homicide. A suspect with numerous, violent, felony arrests, and even an acquittal for another armed robbery, is being given the presumption of innocence, in direct accordance with the rule of law. Videotape of the holdup and numerous witnesses abound in Montgomery's case, and yet, the District Attorney's Office has not released an inflammatory statement remotely close to the one's leveled at US Marines serving under fire in a combat zone. Rep. Murtha has not seen fit to weigh in on the loss of life of a Philadelphia cop, and by all accounts a good guy, but convicts fellow Marines absent any evidence other then anecdotal responses from people who may, or may not, have an axe to grind.
Can events such as the one the Marines are alleged to have committed occur? Not only can they occur they have, ever since the first caveman clubbed an unarmed opponent's family to death with a sharp rock. That is not truly the question here; not yet. For the record, as an infantryman the activities ascribed to the Marines does not pass my smell test. Nuances only another infantryman would notice are visibly apparent. The timelines and actions simply do not fit with what I know to be the inner workings of small unit tactics. I personally believe that what is being reported as happening did not happen the way it is being portrayed. That said, if even one scintilla of the story being presented is accurate I want the offenders punished severely, but what I want more than anything is for these military volunteers to be afforded the same respect we give alleged cop-killers; I want them presumed innocent until the investigation is complete.
On Memorial Day I am somewhat subdued, as a rule. I along with literally millions of veterans and active duty personnel paused for a moment of silence at 3:00pm yesterday. I turned off all the noise makers in my house, came to attention and for a full minute saluted the flag which flutters from a neighbors wall. I felt the presence of men and women all over the world doing the same thing, and a tear trickled down my cheek as I thought of my friend Rob. The New York Times, as well as other broadcast outlets, profaned that moment. In their rush to judgment they painted all veteran's with a broad brush, because if one could do this, the supposition is that we all have. Why else did a national network broadcast a 30 year old piece on My Lai at 3:30am today, if not to remind us of the inhumanity of soldiers everywhere? The major media, at least in this case, has an axe to grind, and no compulsion at sacrificing what they see as the expendable among us.
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Marine General Peter Pace, when questioned Sunday about the alleged incidents said, "it would be premature for me to judge" the outcome of a Pentagon investigation. I respect the General, and I respect the 99.9% of men and women of the armed forces who have performed their duties honorably, under great duress, with no fanfare for a job well done. It hurts my heart to think that any of my brothers-in-arms could do anything even approximating a war crime, as I am sure it does veteran's everywhere. What hurts more though, is that on a day set aside to remember the truly valiant among us, those who have given their lives to secure freedom, the nation's largest newspaper and several major broadcast networks decided that it was more important to use that freedom to cast, to this point unsubstantiated heinous aspersions, upon men serving in a combat zone. Why these media bastions thought this was the right thing to do is open to conjecture. What is not open to conjecture though is that the 25,000,000 veterans and active duty personnel, on this day above all others, deserved better.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Graduates Acting Badly
In the past week Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice and Senator John McCain were invited to be commencement speakers at prestigious universities. They were both treated badly by the assembled graduates. They were heckled and subjected to juvenile acts of vanity by the students who are widely praised as the best and brightest among us. As the press coverage roiled I was brought back to my own personal experiences at a graduation last week. Two-time Academy Award winner Jodie Foster gave the commencement speech for the 250th graduating class of the University of Pennsylvania. In her speech, which she read, she touched on the nature of academic elitism and rolled into the political part of her statements. On a blustery, rainy day at Franklin Field, I suffered through the party line of squandered world sympathy after 9/11, and the 20/20 vision of the mistakes made in Iraq. I considered it par for the course. I was moved to action though when she focused on the aftermath of Katrina. As she began a Kanye West-like version of events I rose from my seat and made my exit from Franklin Field. I hurled no epithets, or angry gestures at the dais. I simply excused myself to those seated near me and removed myself from the offending remarks.
Secretary of State Rice and Senator McCain were, no doubt, bothered by the actions to which they were subjected. I have been in the presence of both of them and have found them to be careful, considerate individuals. I am sure that they were both given pause by the ridiculous antics of those whom take themselves too seriously. I am certain, however, that neither lost any sleep over the unpleasant encounters. Secretary Rice grew up in a segregated South and was acquainted with the little girls incinerated in a Birmingham church bombing. That reprehensible act of racism formed and shaped her desire to achieve, and achieve she did. She is an accomplished pianist, a PhD holder and former Provost of Stanford, among other things. Her struggle to rise to her present position could not have been easy, and one can only imagine that the silly tactics she endured while speaking must have seemed trivial compared to a barefoot childhood spent in a pre-Civil Rights Alabama.
Senator McCain was subjected to imprisonment and torture in the vilest of places, the infamous Hanoi Hilton. Daily he, and his fellow POWs, withstood beatings and deprivations so callus and nefariously vulgar that most of us cannot even imagine the strength needed simply to draw breath. In a place of no honor, and less humanity, then Commander McCain exemplified both. When, after years of such treatment, he was offered a release by his captors due to his father's position he chose to allow another to leave in his place saying, "We go out in the order we came in." Who among us could summon the fortitude required to make such a decision?
I did not think of either of these people as I left Penn's graduation ceremony. I did think, however, of the friend I was there to support. A friend of whom I am immensely proud. I pictured her sitting in the rain in her cap and gown, dreaming of a bright future, aglow with pride for her none too easy accomplishments. I thought of Ms Foster's so glibly delivered remarks about a situation she only knows via a, no doubt very nice, television. I then allowed my anger to burn at the thought of my friends and family fleeing headlong from the wrath of a killer storm. I remembered how powerless I felt at not being able to contact any of them for days and, in several cases, weeks. I remembered a 30 hour drive to the disaster area in a truck laden with bottled water, my then 11 month old daughter belted in the back. I remembered the emotion I felt when I hugged my brother who then thought he had lost everything. I remembered the look in the eyes of strangers who hugged me with thanks for the trip, and the woman who collapsed tearfully into my arms in a rest area in Tennessee.
It takes no courage to heckle and taunt from the safety of a crowd, nor is it in anyway gritty or heroic to address such statements from the refuge of a dais. It is, in fact, quite the opposite. Courageous, heroic, stalwart and brave are words that are all too often these days bandied about by those who trumpet positions that make them popular in coffee houses and dorm rooms. These words are used to describe actors who hold forth on complex geopolitical issues, while surrounded by sycophants and the adoring masses. True courage comes from making calm, nuanced arguments and statements when those around you will try to forcefully yell you down. True heroism comes from registering to vote in a district scarred by sectarian violence. True stalwartness comes from walking a street in that same sectarian, scarred district as a scared soldier thousands of miles from home because the mission demands it. True bravery comes from knowing that the way to effect change is to be the best person you can be, always, regardless of what those about you say. So, as I stomped out of the ceremony last week I did not hurl curses or rain scorn upon Ms Foster. In fact, my only comment came when a security guard asked me where I was going. "Where are you from?" I asked. "West Philly," came the prideful reply, followed by a somewhat scornful "Where you from?" Standing up a little straighter I looked him in the eye and simply said, "New Orleans." Keeping me in his eyeline, he turned slightly to look at Ms Foster, looked back at me, nodded at Foster and said, "She don't know nothin'." And, Madam Secretary and Senator, neither did those who offered taunts. We can only hope that somehow that changes.
Secretary of State Rice and Senator McCain were, no doubt, bothered by the actions to which they were subjected. I have been in the presence of both of them and have found them to be careful, considerate individuals. I am sure that they were both given pause by the ridiculous antics of those whom take themselves too seriously. I am certain, however, that neither lost any sleep over the unpleasant encounters. Secretary Rice grew up in a segregated South and was acquainted with the little girls incinerated in a Birmingham church bombing. That reprehensible act of racism formed and shaped her desire to achieve, and achieve she did. She is an accomplished pianist, a PhD holder and former Provost of Stanford, among other things. Her struggle to rise to her present position could not have been easy, and one can only imagine that the silly tactics she endured while speaking must have seemed trivial compared to a barefoot childhood spent in a pre-Civil Rights Alabama.
Senator McCain was subjected to imprisonment and torture in the vilest of places, the infamous Hanoi Hilton. Daily he, and his fellow POWs, withstood beatings and deprivations so callus and nefariously vulgar that most of us cannot even imagine the strength needed simply to draw breath. In a place of no honor, and less humanity, then Commander McCain exemplified both. When, after years of such treatment, he was offered a release by his captors due to his father's position he chose to allow another to leave in his place saying, "We go out in the order we came in." Who among us could summon the fortitude required to make such a decision?
I did not think of either of these people as I left Penn's graduation ceremony. I did think, however, of the friend I was there to support. A friend of whom I am immensely proud. I pictured her sitting in the rain in her cap and gown, dreaming of a bright future, aglow with pride for her none too easy accomplishments. I thought of Ms Foster's so glibly delivered remarks about a situation she only knows via a, no doubt very nice, television. I then allowed my anger to burn at the thought of my friends and family fleeing headlong from the wrath of a killer storm. I remembered how powerless I felt at not being able to contact any of them for days and, in several cases, weeks. I remembered a 30 hour drive to the disaster area in a truck laden with bottled water, my then 11 month old daughter belted in the back. I remembered the emotion I felt when I hugged my brother who then thought he had lost everything. I remembered the look in the eyes of strangers who hugged me with thanks for the trip, and the woman who collapsed tearfully into my arms in a rest area in Tennessee.
It takes no courage to heckle and taunt from the safety of a crowd, nor is it in anyway gritty or heroic to address such statements from the refuge of a dais. It is, in fact, quite the opposite. Courageous, heroic, stalwart and brave are words that are all too often these days bandied about by those who trumpet positions that make them popular in coffee houses and dorm rooms. These words are used to describe actors who hold forth on complex geopolitical issues, while surrounded by sycophants and the adoring masses. True courage comes from making calm, nuanced arguments and statements when those around you will try to forcefully yell you down. True heroism comes from registering to vote in a district scarred by sectarian violence. True stalwartness comes from walking a street in that same sectarian, scarred district as a scared soldier thousands of miles from home because the mission demands it. True bravery comes from knowing that the way to effect change is to be the best person you can be, always, regardless of what those about you say. So, as I stomped out of the ceremony last week I did not hurl curses or rain scorn upon Ms Foster. In fact, my only comment came when a security guard asked me where I was going. "Where are you from?" I asked. "West Philly," came the prideful reply, followed by a somewhat scornful "Where you from?" Standing up a little straighter I looked him in the eye and simply said, "New Orleans." Keeping me in his eyeline, he turned slightly to look at Ms Foster, looked back at me, nodded at Foster and said, "She don't know nothin'." And, Madam Secretary and Senator, neither did those who offered taunts. We can only hope that somehow that changes.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Hugs, Bugs and Tears
Dozens of people, from a bartender that had to stand on a beer cooler, to a female cop in uniform to a 60 something year old man in a truly appalling Hawaiian shirt, hugged me this past weekend. It happened in airports and at a festival, in bars and, in the case of the officer, in a trailer, which temporarily houses the Deputy Chief of the New Orleans Police Department. I received the same level of affection from friends, family and strangers alike. The only commonality we shared was birthplace. We were all native New Orleanians. In every case it was soothing and in every case I got weepy eyed.
I spent six days spanning the end of last week, into the beginning of this week in New Orleans. I hadn't been home since a few days after the levee broke. This was the first time in too long that I walked the streets of my youth and danced in the sun at Jazz Fest. Much has changed. Fully one third of the geography of New Orleans resembles a George Romero movie. No lights, not traffic, street or home breaks up the eerie stillness of empty streets. Houses stand vacant, as often as not with doors hanging open, windows broken and roofs in various stages of disarray. Not even a feral cat breaks the still of the night. With no electricity to be had in the hardest hit areas, mom and pop establishments and corporate megaliths like HomeDepot and WalMart remain vacant. I had to traverse this wasteland twice daily, once in the daylight and once in the dark of night. I still don't know which view effected me most adversely.
The heart of the city was up and running, fully open for business. Although, every single restaurant, bar and retail outlet had help wanted signs posted. It was a grim reminder that life was happening in the normal New Orleans way, but that there are not enough people to staff it adequately. The French Quarter was it's usual gaudily lit and garishly decorated self. The immediate neighborhoods rollicked with the Jazz Fest crowds, though spray-painted x's and o's on buildings proliferated. Even the most boisterous crowds reverently passed these markers of less lucky fates; some even furtively caressing them in homage. I admit to doing so myself on a number of occasions. No one had to explain the significance of the various markings, and no one asked.
The Uptown neighborhoods, the Irish Channel and the Garden District seemed resigned to life going on, at all costs. Local watering holes had music and people spilling into the street. A palpable vibrancy echoed everywhere. Trees, shrubs and bushes blossomed and you would be forgiven for forgetting, if only for a moment, that the Storm had occurred. The only sign of things amiss here was an armed sheriff on duty in an all night Rite-Aid, and the absence of the constant clickety-clack and iron bell of the St Charles Avenue street car. I didn't venture all the way up the line to the Carrollton neighborhood, I just couldn't take seeing one of my favorite areas different than I remembered it. That notion nearly kept me from enjoying the best night of the trip. A bar/restaurant I worked in for years had changed names and design and designation so I had decided not to go in. Then the band started to play and I was sucked in. Before I knew it I was dancing and singing with people from New Orleans, nine states and three countries. The band kept it up until way into the hours when civilized folk are supposed to be in bed. I left there, in sunglasses, happy and cheered that, although the place had changed, the spirit had not.
A friend I brought along with me was introduced to the glories of a crawfish boil at my brother's house. My brother's roof had only been recently repaired; half blew away in the storm. Everyone of his friend's in attendance had some storm damage, from the brother-in-law who lost it all, to the coworker who lost two cars. None of that was discussed more than perfunctorily though. On this particular Sunday it was all about seafood and sun, laughter and lagniappe, music and moxie. Mounds of steaming, bright red bugs, mixed with corn, potatoes, sausage and mushrooms, graced a newspaper covered table, while fried catfish and grilled tuna competed nearby. No one left hungry or anything other than happy, and my friend became part of the extended tribe.
The high water mark, if you will excuse the metaphor, came while I was standing in the infield of the New Orleans FairGrounds with Little Feat playing behind me. Talking to a man from Vermont, by way of California, awash in a sea of people from all over the world, I had an epiphany. At that moment, and for every moment from then on, there was no place in the world I would have rather been, and no place else that will ever, truly be home.
I spent six days spanning the end of last week, into the beginning of this week in New Orleans. I hadn't been home since a few days after the levee broke. This was the first time in too long that I walked the streets of my youth and danced in the sun at Jazz Fest. Much has changed. Fully one third of the geography of New Orleans resembles a George Romero movie. No lights, not traffic, street or home breaks up the eerie stillness of empty streets. Houses stand vacant, as often as not with doors hanging open, windows broken and roofs in various stages of disarray. Not even a feral cat breaks the still of the night. With no electricity to be had in the hardest hit areas, mom and pop establishments and corporate megaliths like HomeDepot and WalMart remain vacant. I had to traverse this wasteland twice daily, once in the daylight and once in the dark of night. I still don't know which view effected me most adversely.
The heart of the city was up and running, fully open for business. Although, every single restaurant, bar and retail outlet had help wanted signs posted. It was a grim reminder that life was happening in the normal New Orleans way, but that there are not enough people to staff it adequately. The French Quarter was it's usual gaudily lit and garishly decorated self. The immediate neighborhoods rollicked with the Jazz Fest crowds, though spray-painted x's and o's on buildings proliferated. Even the most boisterous crowds reverently passed these markers of less lucky fates; some even furtively caressing them in homage. I admit to doing so myself on a number of occasions. No one had to explain the significance of the various markings, and no one asked.
The Uptown neighborhoods, the Irish Channel and the Garden District seemed resigned to life going on, at all costs. Local watering holes had music and people spilling into the street. A palpable vibrancy echoed everywhere. Trees, shrubs and bushes blossomed and you would be forgiven for forgetting, if only for a moment, that the Storm had occurred. The only sign of things amiss here was an armed sheriff on duty in an all night Rite-Aid, and the absence of the constant clickety-clack and iron bell of the St Charles Avenue street car. I didn't venture all the way up the line to the Carrollton neighborhood, I just couldn't take seeing one of my favorite areas different than I remembered it. That notion nearly kept me from enjoying the best night of the trip. A bar/restaurant I worked in for years had changed names and design and designation so I had decided not to go in. Then the band started to play and I was sucked in. Before I knew it I was dancing and singing with people from New Orleans, nine states and three countries. The band kept it up until way into the hours when civilized folk are supposed to be in bed. I left there, in sunglasses, happy and cheered that, although the place had changed, the spirit had not.
A friend I brought along with me was introduced to the glories of a crawfish boil at my brother's house. My brother's roof had only been recently repaired; half blew away in the storm. Everyone of his friend's in attendance had some storm damage, from the brother-in-law who lost it all, to the coworker who lost two cars. None of that was discussed more than perfunctorily though. On this particular Sunday it was all about seafood and sun, laughter and lagniappe, music and moxie. Mounds of steaming, bright red bugs, mixed with corn, potatoes, sausage and mushrooms, graced a newspaper covered table, while fried catfish and grilled tuna competed nearby. No one left hungry or anything other than happy, and my friend became part of the extended tribe.
The high water mark, if you will excuse the metaphor, came while I was standing in the infield of the New Orleans FairGrounds with Little Feat playing behind me. Talking to a man from Vermont, by way of California, awash in a sea of people from all over the world, I had an epiphany. At that moment, and for every moment from then on, there was no place in the world I would have rather been, and no place else that will ever, truly be home.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Let's Roll
With screams of Allah Akbar! echoing about the cockpit United Flight 93 rolled over and nosed into the ground outside Shanksville, PA. Thus ended the final phase of a reprehensible plan of terror executed by Islamic fundametalists on 9/11. The reason this plane crashed into an empty field, instead of reaching it's intended target, was that ordinary American men and women, warned of that day's earlier attacks, fought back, tooth and nail, against trained militants bent on exacting their god's vengeance. The passengers , male and female, black and white, gay and straight, young and old proved that the events of Valley Forge, the Alamo, Pointe du Hoc and, most recently, SFC Paul Smith's posthumous Medal of Honor actions outside a dusty village in Iraq, were not aberrations, but rather the indomitable spirit of the average American when he, or she, is confronted with extraordinary events. Knowing that their odds of surviving any counter-attack against armed, trained terrorists were less than slim, they still chose to fight back, rather than go like lambs to the slaughter. In sometimes gruesome, gut wrenching detail the latest movie to weigh in on the day's events, United93, depicts the actions of these ordinary heroes.
United Flight 93 departed the Newark International airport on September 11, 2001 bound for San Francisco. A 40 minute delay on the tarmac probably saved target number 4 from the fate of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The best evidence points to The Capitol as the intended target. The delay gave the passengers valuable time to make phone calls to numerous friends and family. Those calls alerted them to the fate that awaited them, and in a moment of pure understanding they bonded together and said, "not on my watch." It is also important to mention that Flight 93 was one terrorist short of the other planes because of the quick thinking of an INS agent named Jose Melendez-Perez. Jose turned back what the 9/11 Commission concluded was the twentieth hijacker one month prior to the attacks. Would the outcome have been the same had the terrorists had the extra muscle? We'll never know thanks to Jose's quick, street smart approach to law enforcement. What we do know of the the event's that transpired aboard United 93 has been gleaned from family members, airline employees and the cockpit voice recorder.
All that said, United93 is a work of fiction: one based stringently upon the known facts, but a movie nonetheless. The director does an admirable job of filling in the blanks without resorting to political rhetoric, in either direction. Those deserving blame get it, and the passengers are seen as a group, rather than a collection of individuals. No one passenger is singled out for special attention, and no marquee stars grace the screen. What we see are the known facts of the struggle, with the best guesses available to fill in the blanks. Family members will recognize their own, and we all will recognize some, but what truly stands out is the spirit of the passengers. I was glued to the screen for the entire two hours. I never once consulted the time, nor did I eat popcorn or drink soda. Nor should you. I did not learn anything new, and yet, I still inwardly cheered for these brave Americans. I went in knowing the outcome and came out a little taller. I entered anxious, and left saddened, enraged and proud.
The events portrayed in United93 did not just happen to the passengers and crew, they happened to all of us. I have seen the two earlier movies that depict the things that occurred on Flight 93. I have been to the makeshift memorial in Shanksville. I have read every credible source about that day, and still I left moved in a way I've never experienced before. I was so moved that, immediately after leaving the theater, I had a tattoo permanently inked into my bicep with Todd Beamer's last words imposed above the sentence: For the heroes of United Flight 93. No higher praise can I give. Whatever your political stripe, whatever you think about the events of that day, go see this movie, shed a few tears, utter a few curses, and, when you leave the theater, stand up a little taller. Do not ponder the issues that divide us these days, because on that plane, on that day, there were no republicans and no democrats. There were only Americans, and they have proven that the spirit that defines us as a people, still burns inside us all.
United Flight 93 departed the Newark International airport on September 11, 2001 bound for San Francisco. A 40 minute delay on the tarmac probably saved target number 4 from the fate of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The best evidence points to The Capitol as the intended target. The delay gave the passengers valuable time to make phone calls to numerous friends and family. Those calls alerted them to the fate that awaited them, and in a moment of pure understanding they bonded together and said, "not on my watch." It is also important to mention that Flight 93 was one terrorist short of the other planes because of the quick thinking of an INS agent named Jose Melendez-Perez. Jose turned back what the 9/11 Commission concluded was the twentieth hijacker one month prior to the attacks. Would the outcome have been the same had the terrorists had the extra muscle? We'll never know thanks to Jose's quick, street smart approach to law enforcement. What we do know of the the event's that transpired aboard United 93 has been gleaned from family members, airline employees and the cockpit voice recorder.
All that said, United93 is a work of fiction: one based stringently upon the known facts, but a movie nonetheless. The director does an admirable job of filling in the blanks without resorting to political rhetoric, in either direction. Those deserving blame get it, and the passengers are seen as a group, rather than a collection of individuals. No one passenger is singled out for special attention, and no marquee stars grace the screen. What we see are the known facts of the struggle, with the best guesses available to fill in the blanks. Family members will recognize their own, and we all will recognize some, but what truly stands out is the spirit of the passengers. I was glued to the screen for the entire two hours. I never once consulted the time, nor did I eat popcorn or drink soda. Nor should you. I did not learn anything new, and yet, I still inwardly cheered for these brave Americans. I went in knowing the outcome and came out a little taller. I entered anxious, and left saddened, enraged and proud.
The events portrayed in United93 did not just happen to the passengers and crew, they happened to all of us. I have seen the two earlier movies that depict the things that occurred on Flight 93. I have been to the makeshift memorial in Shanksville. I have read every credible source about that day, and still I left moved in a way I've never experienced before. I was so moved that, immediately after leaving the theater, I had a tattoo permanently inked into my bicep with Todd Beamer's last words imposed above the sentence: For the heroes of United Flight 93. No higher praise can I give. Whatever your political stripe, whatever you think about the events of that day, go see this movie, shed a few tears, utter a few curses, and, when you leave the theater, stand up a little taller. Do not ponder the issues that divide us these days, because on that plane, on that day, there were no republicans and no democrats. There were only Americans, and they have proven that the spirit that defines us as a people, still burns inside us all.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Parsing the War on Terror
I have, of late, had a number of conversations with my left-leaning friends on the progress and nature of the War on Terror. First, let me say that errors, numerous ones in fact, have been made. Second, every Presidential administration since Jimmy Carter, has failed us in the battle for our very existence. Even one of my personal heroes, Ronald Reagan, bears fault in this regard. That all said, that we are at war is not in doubt, although Kool-Aid drinkers from both sides of the political spectrum differ as to what can now be done to combat Islamic fascism. The political right apparently believes that we can contain the spread of this abhorrent evil without protracted killing, and the political left seems to think that this is a job for law enforcement, which will dissipate if we just bring the troops home. The right is populated by people who are afraid to do the killing that needs to be done for fear of seeming to be unmitigated warmongers. Meanwhile, the left has what appears to be a majority of people who are very smart, well-meaning compassionate souls who are simply unaware that there are carnivores loose in the world who cannot be assuaged with niceties of any sort.
Many people, I am sure, will take umbrage at my statement that this war has been going on for at least 30 years. As a quick refresher let us remember that the Iranian hostage crisis was undertaken by radical mullahs. The Beirut bombings of embassies and, later, a USMC barracks were ordered by militant Islamists. Five years later an Islamic insurgency group occupied the Philippine island of Mindanao, and American forces from the Rapid Deployment Force fought protracted battles to unseat them. As the nineties dawned the World Trade Center was bombed, and as it ended US embassies in Africa were leveled. This was followed by the attack on the USS Cole and, finally, and most spectacularly, the events of 9/11. This is by no means a comprehensive list. It leaves out the various airline hijackings, and, in one case, an act of piracy, that made headlines, as well as the reprehensible actions at the Munich Olympics. I listed them as I did so as to highlight direct attacks on US interests and personnel.
The administrations of Carter, Reagan and the first George Bush seemed to think that the emerging threat was something that would prove to be bothersome, but that it could be contained. By the early nineties the official policy had become one of tracking, catching and prosecuting these miscreants as if they were bank robbers. That notion effected the Clinton administration response to the multiple terrorist attacks which occurred on his watch. He ordered cruise missile attacks on sites at times that would minimize casualties, but still send a message. Most notably, he specifically turned down two or three opportunities to capture or, I would argue more reasonably, kill Osama bin Laden. The official word was that before the '98 embassy bombings there was not sufficient evidence to convict him in a court of law. This attitude apparently reached its zenith when a secret data mining operation uncovered evidence of a cell operating inside the US before 9/11. Mohammad Atta, and several other 9/11 hijackers, were raised as persons of interest by the members of Operation Able Danger, but were allegedly told to forget that because no legal right existed to investigate them. No response, not even a perfunctory one, was made to counter the attack on the Cole.
George W. Bush took office after an election that divided the nation. Save your crayon letters about the vote count. The New York Times undertook an extensive, exhaustive investigation and determined Bush won Florida by about 1,000 votes. That did not make multiple front pages, or any at all in fact, because it wouldn't sell papers. So, anyway, the Bush administration took office and proceeded to do absolutely nothing about the Cole. Word is that any response would only be seen as wagging the dog. The two sides can not seem to agree if material gathered in FBI investigations, that uncovered suspicious instances of Middle Easterners taking flying courses, was passed along to the incoming administration. The FBI dropped the ball in some form, whatever the outcome, because people wanting to learn to fly, but not land, airliners should have sounded every alarm bell we have. The most prolific, if albeit asinine statement I have heard, is that 9/11 happened when Bush was president, so it's all his fault. That's akin to saying multiple people stepped over a crime victim lying in the street, but the doctor who saw him in the ER hours later is solely responsible for his death from blood loss. I am not arguing that focus was lost by the Bush administration, it was, but they do not bear all, or even most of the responsibility for the mess we are in. They oversaw the tragic events of 9/11, botched an opportunity to deliver a knock-out blow in Afghanistan and then compounded that mistake by refusing to fight the war we are in, the way it must be fought, in Iraq.
I do not pretend to have all the answers, nor, even, a plurality of the questions. What I do know is that the finger pointing, for political advantage, must stop if we are to survive as a nation and a people. If those who vociferously avow hatred for President Bush would focus that animus at our common enemy, in more than just a yellow ribbon kind of way, we could defeat this all encompassing threat. And if those who religiously parrot the republican party line would begin holding all our elected officials responsible, not just the ones across the doctrinal aisle, we could unite. Sadly, the amount of killing which must be done is unpalatable to those in power, on either side, and the liberal apologists somehow have failed to learn history's lessons regarding appeasement. Winston Churchill famously said, "Appeasement is feeding the crocodile in the hopes that he eats you last." I can only hope that it is not too late for the loyal opposition to learn that lesson, and that the party in power accepts the heavy-lifting, much as Harry Truman did, and does what must be done.
Many people, I am sure, will take umbrage at my statement that this war has been going on for at least 30 years. As a quick refresher let us remember that the Iranian hostage crisis was undertaken by radical mullahs. The Beirut bombings of embassies and, later, a USMC barracks were ordered by militant Islamists. Five years later an Islamic insurgency group occupied the Philippine island of Mindanao, and American forces from the Rapid Deployment Force fought protracted battles to unseat them. As the nineties dawned the World Trade Center was bombed, and as it ended US embassies in Africa were leveled. This was followed by the attack on the USS Cole and, finally, and most spectacularly, the events of 9/11. This is by no means a comprehensive list. It leaves out the various airline hijackings, and, in one case, an act of piracy, that made headlines, as well as the reprehensible actions at the Munich Olympics. I listed them as I did so as to highlight direct attacks on US interests and personnel.
The administrations of Carter, Reagan and the first George Bush seemed to think that the emerging threat was something that would prove to be bothersome, but that it could be contained. By the early nineties the official policy had become one of tracking, catching and prosecuting these miscreants as if they were bank robbers. That notion effected the Clinton administration response to the multiple terrorist attacks which occurred on his watch. He ordered cruise missile attacks on sites at times that would minimize casualties, but still send a message. Most notably, he specifically turned down two or three opportunities to capture or, I would argue more reasonably, kill Osama bin Laden. The official word was that before the '98 embassy bombings there was not sufficient evidence to convict him in a court of law. This attitude apparently reached its zenith when a secret data mining operation uncovered evidence of a cell operating inside the US before 9/11. Mohammad Atta, and several other 9/11 hijackers, were raised as persons of interest by the members of Operation Able Danger, but were allegedly told to forget that because no legal right existed to investigate them. No response, not even a perfunctory one, was made to counter the attack on the Cole.
George W. Bush took office after an election that divided the nation. Save your crayon letters about the vote count. The New York Times undertook an extensive, exhaustive investigation and determined Bush won Florida by about 1,000 votes. That did not make multiple front pages, or any at all in fact, because it wouldn't sell papers. So, anyway, the Bush administration took office and proceeded to do absolutely nothing about the Cole. Word is that any response would only be seen as wagging the dog. The two sides can not seem to agree if material gathered in FBI investigations, that uncovered suspicious instances of Middle Easterners taking flying courses, was passed along to the incoming administration. The FBI dropped the ball in some form, whatever the outcome, because people wanting to learn to fly, but not land, airliners should have sounded every alarm bell we have. The most prolific, if albeit asinine statement I have heard, is that 9/11 happened when Bush was president, so it's all his fault. That's akin to saying multiple people stepped over a crime victim lying in the street, but the doctor who saw him in the ER hours later is solely responsible for his death from blood loss. I am not arguing that focus was lost by the Bush administration, it was, but they do not bear all, or even most of the responsibility for the mess we are in. They oversaw the tragic events of 9/11, botched an opportunity to deliver a knock-out blow in Afghanistan and then compounded that mistake by refusing to fight the war we are in, the way it must be fought, in Iraq.
I do not pretend to have all the answers, nor, even, a plurality of the questions. What I do know is that the finger pointing, for political advantage, must stop if we are to survive as a nation and a people. If those who vociferously avow hatred for President Bush would focus that animus at our common enemy, in more than just a yellow ribbon kind of way, we could defeat this all encompassing threat. And if those who religiously parrot the republican party line would begin holding all our elected officials responsible, not just the ones across the doctrinal aisle, we could unite. Sadly, the amount of killing which must be done is unpalatable to those in power, on either side, and the liberal apologists somehow have failed to learn history's lessons regarding appeasement. Winston Churchill famously said, "Appeasement is feeding the crocodile in the hopes that he eats you last." I can only hope that it is not too late for the loyal opposition to learn that lesson, and that the party in power accepts the heavy-lifting, much as Harry Truman did, and does what must be done.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Generals Gathered in Their Messes
In the past week, six flag officers have come forth to express the desire that Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld be fired, or, failing that, forced to resign. These generals come from the Army and Marines. All served honorably, several with distinction. Between them they served for a total of more than 200 years. They number among their ranks the former commander of US Central Command, Marine General Anthony Zinni, Lt General Greg Newbold USMC, the former Director of Operations for the Joint Chiefs, Army Maj General John Riggs, formerly the Pentagon's Objective Task Force director, Army Maj General Paul Eaton 2003-2004 commander of Iraqi troop training, Maj General Charles Swannack Jr, former commander in Iraq of the storied 82nd Airborne Division and finally, Maj General John Batiste, former commander of The Big Red One in Iraq. They are all patriots, and they are all wrong.
The liberal legislators, and their attendant members of the press, touting these former servicemen have forgotten two things: first, being a general does not make you a gentleman anymore than being elected to congress makes you honorable, and second, prior service, even above average service, does not make you infallible. Of the six only Maj General Batiste has any true credibility. It has been widely reported that he turned down a third star to protest the Secretary of Defense's strategy, or lack thereof to be more precise. He told USAToday that Rumsfeld should step down because, "he ignored sound military advice about how to secure Iraq after Baghdad fell." If his words had come as he retired, and suggestive of conscience, they would have carried possibly significant worth. Coming after the words of longtime critics, his animus comes off as merely expediency towards some as yet unnamed goal.
Longtime critic General Anthony Zinni's goal is anything other than unnamed. He has been a vocal opponent of the streamlined military Secretary Rumsfeld has long proposed, and now has a book to hawk. Maj General Swannack has suggested the Secretary should resign because "Rumsfeld had micromanaged the war." Maj General Paul Eaton, echoing general Batiste, wrote in The New York Times last month that Rumsfeld was, "incompetent strategically, operationally and tactically." Lt. General Newbold voiced disdain for the Secretary of Defense because he considered Iraq an "unnecessary war." Maj General Riggs only suggested that "Rumsfeld and his close aides should be cleared out." Seemingly tough words from truly tough guys when first they are heard, but empty rhetoric when inspected closely. That's because these men do not exist in a vacuum, contrary to CBS News, and their ilk. Over 4,ooo other flag officers, including Colin Powell, have offered no comment, and those best able to judge, Generals Tommy Franks and Richard Meyers and Lt General Michael DeLong, have made unqualified statements of support for Secretary Rumsfeld.
The major news outlets have acted as if this small percentage of generals is unheard of in recorded history. In fact, world history, not just American history is littered with such examples. In just the last 50 years of the last century multiple high-profile cases made headlines. General Curtis LeMay feuded with JFK, while President Truman relieved Medal of Honor winner General Douglas MacArthur of command. Even the media darling Wesley Clark was removed from command by President Clinton, albeit more diplomatically than MacArthur, for voicing displeasure with his civilian bosses. The military, especially generals who are used to getting their own way understandably, always believes they can manage a war, any war, more effectively than their civilian overlords. Read 1776 by David McCullough and you will see generals and their civilian masters feuding even before we were a country. President Lincoln removed General McClellan for much the same offenses, and Custer was demoted and sent west to meet his destiny for exactly the same infraction. This is not new, nor is it, in this case, systemic or coordinated. It simply is what it appears to be: a group of disaffected men expressing displeasure that their brilliance was not better recognized. If these six generals felt so strongly that the Secretary of Defense was incompetent wouldn't their honor demand that they resign publicly? It would, but tellingly none did.
Secretary Rumsfeld has made mistakes, to be sure, but he has also done an admirable job fighting two wars simultaneously. My gripe is that he has not allowed the military to fight the war that needs to be fought, on the "no quarter asked, none given" terms by which it needs to be fought. That too, is not his fault, or rather not his alone. That is the fault of the culture of a government that does not have the stomach to suffer the attacks that would come if we were to fight a war that means killing the enemy and destroying his land until he can no longer fight, or forces his civilian leadership to surrender. Dresden and Hiroshima, or even Omaha Beach are politically unacceptable today. That is fodder for another column though. Secretary Rumsfeld's transgression, at least in the eys of the "flagged six" truly is that he rocked the proverbial boat. He took over the Department of Defense as an executive, not a legislator, and the military, which abhors change, balked. These generals are just the vocal manifestation of that. When Colonel H.R. McMasters writes his next book you can be sure he will make note of this period of time, and the "flagged six" are merely using the political acumen they acquired to seem to be on the right side of it. Time will tell, I am sure, that the Secretary of Defense was trying to fight the next war, and the "flagged six" were stuck in the last.
The liberal legislators, and their attendant members of the press, touting these former servicemen have forgotten two things: first, being a general does not make you a gentleman anymore than being elected to congress makes you honorable, and second, prior service, even above average service, does not make you infallible. Of the six only Maj General Batiste has any true credibility. It has been widely reported that he turned down a third star to protest the Secretary of Defense's strategy, or lack thereof to be more precise. He told USAToday that Rumsfeld should step down because, "he ignored sound military advice about how to secure Iraq after Baghdad fell." If his words had come as he retired, and suggestive of conscience, they would have carried possibly significant worth. Coming after the words of longtime critics, his animus comes off as merely expediency towards some as yet unnamed goal.
Longtime critic General Anthony Zinni's goal is anything other than unnamed. He has been a vocal opponent of the streamlined military Secretary Rumsfeld has long proposed, and now has a book to hawk. Maj General Swannack has suggested the Secretary should resign because "Rumsfeld had micromanaged the war." Maj General Paul Eaton, echoing general Batiste, wrote in The New York Times last month that Rumsfeld was, "incompetent strategically, operationally and tactically." Lt. General Newbold voiced disdain for the Secretary of Defense because he considered Iraq an "unnecessary war." Maj General Riggs only suggested that "Rumsfeld and his close aides should be cleared out." Seemingly tough words from truly tough guys when first they are heard, but empty rhetoric when inspected closely. That's because these men do not exist in a vacuum, contrary to CBS News, and their ilk. Over 4,ooo other flag officers, including Colin Powell, have offered no comment, and those best able to judge, Generals Tommy Franks and Richard Meyers and Lt General Michael DeLong, have made unqualified statements of support for Secretary Rumsfeld.
The major news outlets have acted as if this small percentage of generals is unheard of in recorded history. In fact, world history, not just American history is littered with such examples. In just the last 50 years of the last century multiple high-profile cases made headlines. General Curtis LeMay feuded with JFK, while President Truman relieved Medal of Honor winner General Douglas MacArthur of command. Even the media darling Wesley Clark was removed from command by President Clinton, albeit more diplomatically than MacArthur, for voicing displeasure with his civilian bosses. The military, especially generals who are used to getting their own way understandably, always believes they can manage a war, any war, more effectively than their civilian overlords. Read 1776 by David McCullough and you will see generals and their civilian masters feuding even before we were a country. President Lincoln removed General McClellan for much the same offenses, and Custer was demoted and sent west to meet his destiny for exactly the same infraction. This is not new, nor is it, in this case, systemic or coordinated. It simply is what it appears to be: a group of disaffected men expressing displeasure that their brilliance was not better recognized. If these six generals felt so strongly that the Secretary of Defense was incompetent wouldn't their honor demand that they resign publicly? It would, but tellingly none did.
Secretary Rumsfeld has made mistakes, to be sure, but he has also done an admirable job fighting two wars simultaneously. My gripe is that he has not allowed the military to fight the war that needs to be fought, on the "no quarter asked, none given" terms by which it needs to be fought. That too, is not his fault, or rather not his alone. That is the fault of the culture of a government that does not have the stomach to suffer the attacks that would come if we were to fight a war that means killing the enemy and destroying his land until he can no longer fight, or forces his civilian leadership to surrender. Dresden and Hiroshima, or even Omaha Beach are politically unacceptable today. That is fodder for another column though. Secretary Rumsfeld's transgression, at least in the eys of the "flagged six" truly is that he rocked the proverbial boat. He took over the Department of Defense as an executive, not a legislator, and the military, which abhors change, balked. These generals are just the vocal manifestation of that. When Colonel H.R. McMasters writes his next book you can be sure he will make note of this period of time, and the "flagged six" are merely using the political acumen they acquired to seem to be on the right side of it. Time will tell, I am sure, that the Secretary of Defense was trying to fight the next war, and the "flagged six" were stuck in the last.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
What Would Jose Do?
On August 4, 2001, a Saudi national, Mohamed al-Qahtani, arriving on a flight which originated in the United Arab Emirates, was referred for secondary inspection upon landing at the Orlando International Airport. He was referred to the screening because he had not correctly filled out a mandatory customs form, due to a purported inability to speak English. The Immigration and Naturalization Services inspector with whom al-Qahtani then came into contact admitted that a search of al-Qahtani's luggage turned up nothing suspicious. Likewise, a check of the relevant watch-list data bases turned up no evidence of wrong doing. The inspector, Jose Melendez-Perez, a 26 year honorable, combat veteran of the US Army also agreed that the suspect's answers to his questions were not, in and of themselves, enough to deny him entry to the US. However, after an exhaustive interview Melendez-Perez denied al-Qahtani entry, against the advice of co-workers, and escorted him to a Dubai-bound plane. As al-Qahtani stepped into the waiting plane, he paused, turned to Melendez-Perez and, in perfect English, said, "I'll be back."
Mohamed al-Qahtani is indeed back. Well, not quite. He is currently a guest of the US government at Guantanamo Bay. You see al-Qahtani was captured in Afghanistan, while fighting US ground forces. Under interrogation he has admitted that he was to be the 20th hijacker on September 11th. A review of the cell phone records of 9/11 hijacker Mohammad Atta seems to bear this out as he was at the Orlando Airport at the exact time al-Qahtani was being interviewed by Jose Melendez-Perez. In fact, before al-Qahtani decided to stop answering questions he told Mr Melendez-Perez that someone was there to pick him up, but refused to answer who. We now know that Jose's instincts were correct and that his actions undoubtedly saved numerous lives. The valiant, heroic passengers of United Flight 93 might not have been able to thwart the hijacker's plans if their plane, like the other three, had had 5 terrorists aboard.
We now know for a fact that the passengers of Flight 93 caused the plane to crash before it reached its intended target. Whether that target was the Capitol or the White House is still unknown, but tapes played during the sentencing stage of Zacarias Moussaoui's trial forever put to bed any doubt that the ordinary, everyday passengers of Flight 93 fought back against their hijackers. Tapes played to a packed courtroom proved that, even knowing the odds against them, they banded together, men and women from disparate backgrounds, and fought in the finest traditions of the American citizen soldier. They repeatedly rammed a drink cart against the locked cockpit door. At least one hijacker was dispatched to his date with Allah by Americans who, warned of the earlier 9/11 attacks via cell phone conversations, refused to go like sheep to the slaughter. They had to know that they had scant chance of surviving the confrontation. And yet, armed with pots of boiling water, a beverage cart and accumulated odds and ends they attacked their hijackers and fought, literally, to the death.
Zacarias Moussaoui originally asserted that he was to be the 20th hijacker on 9/11. Since then he has declared that he and "shoe-bomber" Richard Reed were to be the hijackers in another 9/11-like attack. What he was honestly here for, we will probably never know. What we do know is that after he was captured the FBI found phone numbers for 11 of the 19 hijackers in his possession. We also know that while taking fight training in Minnesota he expressed no desire to learn how to land. He has, in open court, pledged allegiance to Osama bin Laden and admitted being an Al-Qaeda member, with prior knowledge of the 9/11 attacks. It is worth noting that he has since recanted the statement regarding prior knowledge of the 9/11 attacks.
By now you are, no doubt, wondering why I have combined the events of August 4, 2001, and April 13, 2006. The answer is simple: instead of being given a forum to smirk at the family members of 9/11 victims, Moussaoui should have been denied entry to begin with by an observant INS inspector. We need more men such as Jose Melendez-Perez guarding our points of entry. Had Jose been present when Moussaoui attempted to enter the US I have no doubt he would have been turned away. I have met Jose, twice. He is an unassuming man who, when greeted by a 600 person standing ovation at a luncheon given in his honor, said simply, "I wish my father was here to see this." Jose exhibited common sense and, due to heroic efforts of other patriots, part of a larger plan was altered. We now should exhibit common sense as a nation and alter the future plans of these miscreants who would cut our throats. Any person suspected of ties to the Islamic insurgents should be immediately sent to Guantanamo Bay. Likewise, anyone captured on the field of battle should be remanded to the custody of the military there, or some other such place. There they should stand trial before a military tribunal and, if convicted, summarily executed. No more should we treat the threat from Islamic fascists as if it were a matter to be solved by the FBI and the federal courts. War means fighting and fighting means killing, to paraphrase one of our greatest Civil War generals. You would think that a lesson so dearly learned then, would resonate now. I can only hope that the verdict of death is awarded Moussaoui, even though the appeal process will undoubtedly continue to play out in our living rooms. Instead of seeing terrorists on multiple segments of the nightly news we should see them for who, and what, they are, and send them to the afterlife they so desperately desire.
Mohamed al-Qahtani is indeed back. Well, not quite. He is currently a guest of the US government at Guantanamo Bay. You see al-Qahtani was captured in Afghanistan, while fighting US ground forces. Under interrogation he has admitted that he was to be the 20th hijacker on September 11th. A review of the cell phone records of 9/11 hijacker Mohammad Atta seems to bear this out as he was at the Orlando Airport at the exact time al-Qahtani was being interviewed by Jose Melendez-Perez. In fact, before al-Qahtani decided to stop answering questions he told Mr Melendez-Perez that someone was there to pick him up, but refused to answer who. We now know that Jose's instincts were correct and that his actions undoubtedly saved numerous lives. The valiant, heroic passengers of United Flight 93 might not have been able to thwart the hijacker's plans if their plane, like the other three, had had 5 terrorists aboard.
We now know for a fact that the passengers of Flight 93 caused the plane to crash before it reached its intended target. Whether that target was the Capitol or the White House is still unknown, but tapes played during the sentencing stage of Zacarias Moussaoui's trial forever put to bed any doubt that the ordinary, everyday passengers of Flight 93 fought back against their hijackers. Tapes played to a packed courtroom proved that, even knowing the odds against them, they banded together, men and women from disparate backgrounds, and fought in the finest traditions of the American citizen soldier. They repeatedly rammed a drink cart against the locked cockpit door. At least one hijacker was dispatched to his date with Allah by Americans who, warned of the earlier 9/11 attacks via cell phone conversations, refused to go like sheep to the slaughter. They had to know that they had scant chance of surviving the confrontation. And yet, armed with pots of boiling water, a beverage cart and accumulated odds and ends they attacked their hijackers and fought, literally, to the death.
Zacarias Moussaoui originally asserted that he was to be the 20th hijacker on 9/11. Since then he has declared that he and "shoe-bomber" Richard Reed were to be the hijackers in another 9/11-like attack. What he was honestly here for, we will probably never know. What we do know is that after he was captured the FBI found phone numbers for 11 of the 19 hijackers in his possession. We also know that while taking fight training in Minnesota he expressed no desire to learn how to land. He has, in open court, pledged allegiance to Osama bin Laden and admitted being an Al-Qaeda member, with prior knowledge of the 9/11 attacks. It is worth noting that he has since recanted the statement regarding prior knowledge of the 9/11 attacks.
By now you are, no doubt, wondering why I have combined the events of August 4, 2001, and April 13, 2006. The answer is simple: instead of being given a forum to smirk at the family members of 9/11 victims, Moussaoui should have been denied entry to begin with by an observant INS inspector. We need more men such as Jose Melendez-Perez guarding our points of entry. Had Jose been present when Moussaoui attempted to enter the US I have no doubt he would have been turned away. I have met Jose, twice. He is an unassuming man who, when greeted by a 600 person standing ovation at a luncheon given in his honor, said simply, "I wish my father was here to see this." Jose exhibited common sense and, due to heroic efforts of other patriots, part of a larger plan was altered. We now should exhibit common sense as a nation and alter the future plans of these miscreants who would cut our throats. Any person suspected of ties to the Islamic insurgents should be immediately sent to Guantanamo Bay. Likewise, anyone captured on the field of battle should be remanded to the custody of the military there, or some other such place. There they should stand trial before a military tribunal and, if convicted, summarily executed. No more should we treat the threat from Islamic fascists as if it were a matter to be solved by the FBI and the federal courts. War means fighting and fighting means killing, to paraphrase one of our greatest Civil War generals. You would think that a lesson so dearly learned then, would resonate now. I can only hope that the verdict of death is awarded Moussaoui, even though the appeal process will undoubtedly continue to play out in our living rooms. Instead of seeing terrorists on multiple segments of the nightly news we should see them for who, and what, they are, and send them to the afterlife they so desperately desire.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
The Aforementioned Tired, Poor and Huddled Masses
I am a proud American of 100% Irish extraction. I fly the Irish Republic Tri-Color from the ramparts of my deck. I wear a kilt on St. Patrick's Day, and whenever else I can justify it. My ancestors arrived on these shores at various times. On one side my great, great, great-grandparents made it to New York, nearly starved to death from the after effects of The Famine. On the other side, my great-grandmother, who was sixteen and pregnant, nearly died on the ocean voyage. We have, without a pause in any generation, been soldiers in every conflict since The War of Northern Aggression, which some of you may know as The Civil War. We have worked at hard, thankless jobs, both before and after serving in the military. We have picked cotton and scrubbed floors. We have been victims of scurrilous discrimination, and hurtful, taunting speech. To this day, various members of my family, me included, struggle to provide for our offspring. We band together in times of need, and weather the storms apart. Through all these trials and tribulations one thing has remained constant: We have never wanted to be anything more than we wanted to be Americans. To prove that, all my ancestors shared one thing in common as they alit on these shores: they signed in. They acknowledged that they were here, and asked to become citizens.
Apparently though, times have changed. This past weekend saw demonstrations in the hundreds of thousands of, presumably, illegal aliens. They are not immigrants, no matter what the PC climate. Nor are they undocumented aliens. They are exactly what they appeared to be: illegal inhabitants of the United States of America. Many covered their faces and waved Mexican flags as they demonstrated for, demanded even, rights they have not earned and do not deserve. They are thieves in the night who have sneaked in under the cover of darkness, refusing to acknowledge our laws, and spitting on our proud combined heritage and tradition. They want to set up as Mexicans, here in the United States, while absorbing every social service imaginable. They want all the rights they can grab, while accepting none of the responsibilities. They do not, in many cases, even try to learn English, relying instead on the ACLU to sue for the right to have all manner of services provided in Spanish.
Do not get me wrong. A great many Hispanics have been a wonderful boon to this nation. I recently witnessed several hundred service men and women sworn in as citizens after completing tours of duty on the frontlines in the War on Terror. I have seen Cuban-born American men and women march in the streets for various causes, and those self same patriots have helped countless thousands of legal immigrants to register to vote. I have collaborated with an Hispanic outreach program to teach underserved members of the community; bringing literature classes to adults with elementary school reading levels. I know that there are hard-working latinos and latinas who want nothing more than to be Americans, and raise their children to have more than they had. I recognize these groups and I applaud them. These are not the people I would stuff into Greyhounds and send home.
You see that's because those I would send back to Mexico, and El Salvador and Honduras, still see those places as home. They have no desire to be citizens here; not if it takes any effort or sacrifice. Sure, a great many would take advantage of an amnesty program if it guaranteed them citizenship at the end. Few, however, would draw breath at the notion of contributing to the common good unless they were sure to be let in. Need proof? Why would they sneak across the border if their intentions were pure? Is Mexico a hostile nation? Are they on the short list of allowances? No, Mexico is an ally and a friend, and her citizens have more legal means of emigrating to the United States than do most countries. A large number, as many as TEN MILLION, have therefore decided that the laws of the United States are not worth the effort, or cannot meet the scant guidelines involved in becoming citizens. They simply do not deserve the blessings that my, and, presumably, your ancestors have afforded immigrants from every country on the planet.
What to do then? Pennsylvania's senior senator Arlen Specter has said that the problem is too big. We can't send them all back; not anymore. Yeah? Well maybe not, but we could start trying. We could also construct a fence along the entire length of the southern border for a fraction of the cost of providing the aforementioned social services collected by millions of illegal aliens. We could station more Border Patrol agents, and, in limited instances, the National Guard along the southern frontier. That would stem the tide while we started throwing back the refuse who have deemed our laws unworthy of acknowledgement. The argument to these ideas is always the same: What message does this send to the rest of the world? I'll tell you what message it sends: The United States is a nation of laws, and of kind and generous men and women who will gladly offer you a hand, provided you sign in.
Why then won't the honorable men and women in congress do something more substantial to stop this ongoing invasion? Because both see Hispanics as the new base in their voting blocks, and a politician's job is, first and foremost, to get reelected. So, will anything truly happen? Probably not. Legislation will get enacted, with much posturing and gnashing of teeth from both sides of the aisle. Speeches will get made. The flag, the American flag, will be waved, and in the end nothing much will change. In the end, the naturalized Jamaican-American with whom I work, and whom I adore, will tell her niece that unfortunately she did not make the cut and must now return to the Caribbean. The Indians who pump my gas, while proudly flying the US flag, will sadly inform their wives that they cannot come over here, not yet. The Pakistanis who run the bodega where I buy The Washington Post, will call the old country and tell their friends and families to keep trying. These good, honest, hard-working Americans will suffer for doing the right thing, but hey, you and I will have cheap lettuce, and Barbara Striesand will have inexpensive domestic help. Sounds like a case of, I've got the pistols, so I'll keep the pesos. Yeah, that seems fair.
Apparently though, times have changed. This past weekend saw demonstrations in the hundreds of thousands of, presumably, illegal aliens. They are not immigrants, no matter what the PC climate. Nor are they undocumented aliens. They are exactly what they appeared to be: illegal inhabitants of the United States of America. Many covered their faces and waved Mexican flags as they demonstrated for, demanded even, rights they have not earned and do not deserve. They are thieves in the night who have sneaked in under the cover of darkness, refusing to acknowledge our laws, and spitting on our proud combined heritage and tradition. They want to set up as Mexicans, here in the United States, while absorbing every social service imaginable. They want all the rights they can grab, while accepting none of the responsibilities. They do not, in many cases, even try to learn English, relying instead on the ACLU to sue for the right to have all manner of services provided in Spanish.
Do not get me wrong. A great many Hispanics have been a wonderful boon to this nation. I recently witnessed several hundred service men and women sworn in as citizens after completing tours of duty on the frontlines in the War on Terror. I have seen Cuban-born American men and women march in the streets for various causes, and those self same patriots have helped countless thousands of legal immigrants to register to vote. I have collaborated with an Hispanic outreach program to teach underserved members of the community; bringing literature classes to adults with elementary school reading levels. I know that there are hard-working latinos and latinas who want nothing more than to be Americans, and raise their children to have more than they had. I recognize these groups and I applaud them. These are not the people I would stuff into Greyhounds and send home.
You see that's because those I would send back to Mexico, and El Salvador and Honduras, still see those places as home. They have no desire to be citizens here; not if it takes any effort or sacrifice. Sure, a great many would take advantage of an amnesty program if it guaranteed them citizenship at the end. Few, however, would draw breath at the notion of contributing to the common good unless they were sure to be let in. Need proof? Why would they sneak across the border if their intentions were pure? Is Mexico a hostile nation? Are they on the short list of allowances? No, Mexico is an ally and a friend, and her citizens have more legal means of emigrating to the United States than do most countries. A large number, as many as TEN MILLION, have therefore decided that the laws of the United States are not worth the effort, or cannot meet the scant guidelines involved in becoming citizens. They simply do not deserve the blessings that my, and, presumably, your ancestors have afforded immigrants from every country on the planet.
What to do then? Pennsylvania's senior senator Arlen Specter has said that the problem is too big. We can't send them all back; not anymore. Yeah? Well maybe not, but we could start trying. We could also construct a fence along the entire length of the southern border for a fraction of the cost of providing the aforementioned social services collected by millions of illegal aliens. We could station more Border Patrol agents, and, in limited instances, the National Guard along the southern frontier. That would stem the tide while we started throwing back the refuse who have deemed our laws unworthy of acknowledgement. The argument to these ideas is always the same: What message does this send to the rest of the world? I'll tell you what message it sends: The United States is a nation of laws, and of kind and generous men and women who will gladly offer you a hand, provided you sign in.
Why then won't the honorable men and women in congress do something more substantial to stop this ongoing invasion? Because both see Hispanics as the new base in their voting blocks, and a politician's job is, first and foremost, to get reelected. So, will anything truly happen? Probably not. Legislation will get enacted, with much posturing and gnashing of teeth from both sides of the aisle. Speeches will get made. The flag, the American flag, will be waved, and in the end nothing much will change. In the end, the naturalized Jamaican-American with whom I work, and whom I adore, will tell her niece that unfortunately she did not make the cut and must now return to the Caribbean. The Indians who pump my gas, while proudly flying the US flag, will sadly inform their wives that they cannot come over here, not yet. The Pakistanis who run the bodega where I buy The Washington Post, will call the old country and tell their friends and families to keep trying. These good, honest, hard-working Americans will suffer for doing the right thing, but hey, you and I will have cheap lettuce, and Barbara Striesand will have inexpensive domestic help. Sounds like a case of, I've got the pistols, so I'll keep the pesos. Yeah, that seems fair.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Wanna Bet?
Resplendent in County Limerick kilt and sporran, I spent the evening hours of St. Patrick's Day, and a goodly portion of the wee hours of Saturday, in and about several casinos in Atlantic City. I am Irish 365 days a year and had no desire to surround myself with the green beer drinkers, or worse, the 'yearly Irish.' So, although my only venture into gambling is a few dollars here and there for lottery tickets, or a friendly game of Texas Hold'Em at someone's house, I spent an enjoyable time amidst the bells, whistles, lights and sirens of A.C.'s finest. The kilt generated some interesting, and some not so interesting, conversations. I saw a couple bands, drank a few non-alcoholic beverages and, fully sated, came home. I adore casinos, in limited doses. That is why it may come as quite a shock to hear me say that the slots parlors soon to dot the Philadelphia landscape are an abomination and an evil incarnate. Organized 'gaming,' outside of areas created for it, like Atlantic City, Las Vegas and maybe a few of the Native American-run resorts such as Foxwoods, are a scourge on the population from which no good can come.
I grew up in New Orleans. As a high schooler I skipped class to go to the man-made, powder white beaches of Mississippi. Summer evenings I made the hour and a half drive, with a friend or two and our scantily clad teenage consorts, to frolic in the phosphorescent surf. Long Beach, Biloxi and Gulfport were then sleepy little towns, wholly dependent on the beaches for tourist dollars. Cheesy storefronts, selling sharks teeth and tie dyed t-shirts, competed with beautiful, antebellum style homes along the beachfront. It was somewhat backward, slow, and perfect as a respite from the city; at least for me. Now though those same beaches are littered with casinos. Huge monolithic, monstrosities proliferate up and down the coast. Originally, the law was written to say that only floating "river-boat style" casinos would be allowed. Nine zeroes in a corporate bank account cured that malady though. Of course, the ususal promises were made: property taxes will be lowered, schools will benefit and seniors will reap rewards. Property taxes have not gone down, student scores are still nearly last in the nation and, last time I checked, seniors were not rushing to embrace the Gulf Coast; except for when their assisted living communities organize bus trips that is.
The same thing was promised in New Orleans when Harrah's came to town. The blueprint was the same. A few "riverboats" would be allowed to dock for a while before they would be forced to set sail for a given amount of time. The result was predictable. The corporations realized they were losing money everytime they set sail, so the nine zeroes in the bank accounts once again made their presence known. Before you knew it, a landmark in New Orleans, The Rivergate, was being demolished for a giant casino, which would forever alter the city's brief skyline. The same promises of community assistance were made, and the same outcome was had. No relief was given to anyone. Well, that's not quite true. The most popular governor in recent Louisiana history, Edwin Edwards, received bundles of cash. A practice which, when $500,000 was discovered in his freezer, eventually sent him to federal prison, from where he is scheduled to be released in 2011. One of the principle owners of a profitable water-side casino, Edward DeBartolo, is said to have paid the governor hundreds of thousands of dollars to secure a gaming license. Mr. DeBartolo escaped jail by testifying, but was forced to divest himself of his controlling interest in the San Franciso 49ers.
What the casinos do not ever promise, but always deliver, is trouble. The crime rate immediately around the properties escalates. The local police become defacto security guards for the cash cows, but the price of their overtime still comes from the same place: you and me. Our taxes pay for cops to watch over the properties at the expense of other areas of town. Infrastructure has to be improved; roads widened, fences erected, and we foot that bill too. The promised tax relief never materializes because the new costs outweigh the old notices. Taxes go up, crime goes up, public assistance goes up and the city wonders how it got there. It is a fact of life that those least able to afford it are the biggest bettors. When the end of the month comes and there isn't enough money to pay the bills, no worries we'll go the casino and win the rent. The lower levels of society plug away hour after hour, and day after day, hoping against hope to win their way out of the hole they are ever deepening.
It is not all bad though. A handful of men will become obscenely wealthy. Usually a high-profile community leader is drafted to lend credibility to the endeavor. Here it is former 76ers President Pat Croce. He is a rock solid member of the community, and, by all accounts, a good guy. He is teamed with "The Donald" and no doubt believes that good will be done with the proceeds. Nothing could be further from thr truth. The money men's pockets, and a few of their politician friend's too, will be lined, both legally and illicitly. Some will walk away wealthy and some will walk away in cuffs, but in the end they will all walk away richer than they came. Don't get me wrong. I don't pity the poor and I don't hate the rich. Nor do I think it is the government's job to protect us from ourselves. What I do believe though, is that it is the government's job to promote the general welfare, while securing the blessings of liberty, neither of which is possible when you are shackled to the overwhelming monument of greed.
I grew up in New Orleans. As a high schooler I skipped class to go to the man-made, powder white beaches of Mississippi. Summer evenings I made the hour and a half drive, with a friend or two and our scantily clad teenage consorts, to frolic in the phosphorescent surf. Long Beach, Biloxi and Gulfport were then sleepy little towns, wholly dependent on the beaches for tourist dollars. Cheesy storefronts, selling sharks teeth and tie dyed t-shirts, competed with beautiful, antebellum style homes along the beachfront. It was somewhat backward, slow, and perfect as a respite from the city; at least for me. Now though those same beaches are littered with casinos. Huge monolithic, monstrosities proliferate up and down the coast. Originally, the law was written to say that only floating "river-boat style" casinos would be allowed. Nine zeroes in a corporate bank account cured that malady though. Of course, the ususal promises were made: property taxes will be lowered, schools will benefit and seniors will reap rewards. Property taxes have not gone down, student scores are still nearly last in the nation and, last time I checked, seniors were not rushing to embrace the Gulf Coast; except for when their assisted living communities organize bus trips that is.
The same thing was promised in New Orleans when Harrah's came to town. The blueprint was the same. A few "riverboats" would be allowed to dock for a while before they would be forced to set sail for a given amount of time. The result was predictable. The corporations realized they were losing money everytime they set sail, so the nine zeroes in the bank accounts once again made their presence known. Before you knew it, a landmark in New Orleans, The Rivergate, was being demolished for a giant casino, which would forever alter the city's brief skyline. The same promises of community assistance were made, and the same outcome was had. No relief was given to anyone. Well, that's not quite true. The most popular governor in recent Louisiana history, Edwin Edwards, received bundles of cash. A practice which, when $500,000 was discovered in his freezer, eventually sent him to federal prison, from where he is scheduled to be released in 2011. One of the principle owners of a profitable water-side casino, Edward DeBartolo, is said to have paid the governor hundreds of thousands of dollars to secure a gaming license. Mr. DeBartolo escaped jail by testifying, but was forced to divest himself of his controlling interest in the San Franciso 49ers.
What the casinos do not ever promise, but always deliver, is trouble. The crime rate immediately around the properties escalates. The local police become defacto security guards for the cash cows, but the price of their overtime still comes from the same place: you and me. Our taxes pay for cops to watch over the properties at the expense of other areas of town. Infrastructure has to be improved; roads widened, fences erected, and we foot that bill too. The promised tax relief never materializes because the new costs outweigh the old notices. Taxes go up, crime goes up, public assistance goes up and the city wonders how it got there. It is a fact of life that those least able to afford it are the biggest bettors. When the end of the month comes and there isn't enough money to pay the bills, no worries we'll go the casino and win the rent. The lower levels of society plug away hour after hour, and day after day, hoping against hope to win their way out of the hole they are ever deepening.
It is not all bad though. A handful of men will become obscenely wealthy. Usually a high-profile community leader is drafted to lend credibility to the endeavor. Here it is former 76ers President Pat Croce. He is a rock solid member of the community, and, by all accounts, a good guy. He is teamed with "The Donald" and no doubt believes that good will be done with the proceeds. Nothing could be further from thr truth. The money men's pockets, and a few of their politician friend's too, will be lined, both legally and illicitly. Some will walk away wealthy and some will walk away in cuffs, but in the end they will all walk away richer than they came. Don't get me wrong. I don't pity the poor and I don't hate the rich. Nor do I think it is the government's job to protect us from ourselves. What I do believe though, is that it is the government's job to promote the general welfare, while securing the blessings of liberty, neither of which is possible when you are shackled to the overwhelming monument of greed.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Can You Define That?
"Life is tough, but it's tougher if you're stupid," so said Sgt. John Stryker, as portrayed by John Wayne in The Sands of Iwo Jima. Apparently that sentiment is in short supply everywhere in the good ole US of A, but nowhere is that more obvious than in the rarefied air of our college campi. The institutes of higher education, from the ever liberal Ivy League, to the supposed mainstream of the genteel South, have seemingly lost their dictionaries. They can no longer define simple words, much less impart any true knowledge without the prerequisite dose of indoctrination. Three events, which together generated less coverage than Vice President Cheney's hunting accident, prove that point in sobering, saddening, maddening detail.
According to the The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, terrorism is defined as: The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence by a person or an organized group against people or property with the intention of intimidating or coercing societies or governments, often for ideological or political reasons. Pretty straightforward, at least to my decidedly simplistic ego. Yale, the bastion of waspish scions and Jodie Foster, has evidently concluded otherwise. I say that because they have accepted Sayed Rahmatullah Hashemi, former ambassador-at-large for the Taliban, for admission into a non-degree program for special students. Let's forget for the moment that his formal fourth grade education and high-school equivalency degree preclude him from entry into one of the world's top universities. Let us remember instead that he was the public face of the Taliban, the regime that dynamited the 1,000 year old Buddhas of Bamiyan, allowed female school-children to burn to death inside a elementary school because no male relatives were present to escort them away, and, oh yeah, harbored those directly responsible for destroying the World Trade Center towers on 9/11. Why would he travel thousands of miles to audit a class titled "Terrorism: Past, Present and Future?" Could it be because he needs a primer, or did he hope to continue his recruiting amongst the intelligentsia?
Discrimination is what Yale, and a coalition of law schools, stated they were against when they filed suit to keep the United States military from recruiting on campus. They affirmed that the "don't ask, don't tell" policy was just too onerous for their refined sensibilities. Banning recruiters from campus was the colleges' way of protesting this policy, and nothing more. Yeah, the fact that nearly all these hotbeds of liberalism are in opposition to any war in general, and the one we are currently engaged in, in particular, never entered into the equation. Ironic that this furor was never directed at the President who signed the policy into law. And yet we are supposed to see this as proof that the modern university is striving for an open, inviting, diverse experience; just not one that encourages pride in country, duty or honor, or the hayseeds who cherish such things. One wonders what the position of Yale will be when Ambassador Hashemi begins recruiting in the Quad. I doubt very sincerely that they will object so strenuously that the case will wind up before the justices of the US Supreme Court. Luckily for us all, even the esteemed Court's most liberal members voted against the nonsense the universities sought to avow. The Court decided that the universities could, indeed, bar military recruiters, but they must forfeit all federal funds if they do. In the case of the University of Pennsylvania this amounts to $600,000,000. Yes, you read that right. It remains to be seen if they have the strength of their convictions.
Finally, on Friday a University of North Carolina graduate was arrested for running down nine students with an SUV. Mohammed Reza Taheri-azar, who, it will come as a huge surprise no doubt, is a Muslim originally from Iran, told investigators, numerous times, that he intentionally hit people to "avenge the deaths of Muslims around the world." In a 9-1-1 call immediately after the event he said he wanted "to punish the government of the United States for their actions around the world." Funny how he never attempted to protest the actions of the Taliban as they tortured and killed Muslims, by running down Ambassador Hashemi. Funny how he never attempted to ram the gates of any Iraqi diplomatic station, to protest the gassing of the Kurds. More surprising still, is the fact that a student organization had to stage a rally to protest this overt act of terror, while the university was oddly silent. I can only wonder what the university response would have been had the Chapel Hill basketball team been mowed down on the eve of "March Madness." Would that hypothetical act have risen to the level of terrorism?
I love this country, warts and all. I recognize, that as Winston Churchill once opined, "Democracy is the worse form of government; except for all the others." I cannot for the life of me though, understand what it takes for the cultural elite to understand that there are people out there who intend to destroy us, and our entire way of life. Do they not remember that their darlings of armed struggle, from Che Gueverra to Hamas, execute the teachers and poets as soon as they take over? Have they forgotten the lessons of history so soon? I can only conclude that in their rush to purge the ivied towers of academia, of all manner of white, European male oppression and discrimination, that all the books, not just the dictionaries, have been removed. I can only conclude that when the Islamic hordes once again descend upon our shores that they will accept their fates and go peacefully to the slaughter. One thing is certain, 9/11 proved that ideas have consequences, and I can only hope that the country I love awakes before the ideas of radical Islam burn us down. I can only hope that the cultural elite recognizes, before it is too late, that dissent is patriotic, but aiding and abetting the forces aligned against us is not. I can only hope that somewhere amidst the Ward Churchill's and the John Bellamy Foster's there still exists a professor or two that became teachers because they want to open minds, not close them to any ideas but their own.
According to the The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition, terrorism is defined as: The unlawful use or threatened use of force or violence by a person or an organized group against people or property with the intention of intimidating or coercing societies or governments, often for ideological or political reasons. Pretty straightforward, at least to my decidedly simplistic ego. Yale, the bastion of waspish scions and Jodie Foster, has evidently concluded otherwise. I say that because they have accepted Sayed Rahmatullah Hashemi, former ambassador-at-large for the Taliban, for admission into a non-degree program for special students. Let's forget for the moment that his formal fourth grade education and high-school equivalency degree preclude him from entry into one of the world's top universities. Let us remember instead that he was the public face of the Taliban, the regime that dynamited the 1,000 year old Buddhas of Bamiyan, allowed female school-children to burn to death inside a elementary school because no male relatives were present to escort them away, and, oh yeah, harbored those directly responsible for destroying the World Trade Center towers on 9/11. Why would he travel thousands of miles to audit a class titled "Terrorism: Past, Present and Future?" Could it be because he needs a primer, or did he hope to continue his recruiting amongst the intelligentsia?
Discrimination is what Yale, and a coalition of law schools, stated they were against when they filed suit to keep the United States military from recruiting on campus. They affirmed that the "don't ask, don't tell" policy was just too onerous for their refined sensibilities. Banning recruiters from campus was the colleges' way of protesting this policy, and nothing more. Yeah, the fact that nearly all these hotbeds of liberalism are in opposition to any war in general, and the one we are currently engaged in, in particular, never entered into the equation. Ironic that this furor was never directed at the President who signed the policy into law. And yet we are supposed to see this as proof that the modern university is striving for an open, inviting, diverse experience; just not one that encourages pride in country, duty or honor, or the hayseeds who cherish such things. One wonders what the position of Yale will be when Ambassador Hashemi begins recruiting in the Quad. I doubt very sincerely that they will object so strenuously that the case will wind up before the justices of the US Supreme Court. Luckily for us all, even the esteemed Court's most liberal members voted against the nonsense the universities sought to avow. The Court decided that the universities could, indeed, bar military recruiters, but they must forfeit all federal funds if they do. In the case of the University of Pennsylvania this amounts to $600,000,000. Yes, you read that right. It remains to be seen if they have the strength of their convictions.
Finally, on Friday a University of North Carolina graduate was arrested for running down nine students with an SUV. Mohammed Reza Taheri-azar, who, it will come as a huge surprise no doubt, is a Muslim originally from Iran, told investigators, numerous times, that he intentionally hit people to "avenge the deaths of Muslims around the world." In a 9-1-1 call immediately after the event he said he wanted "to punish the government of the United States for their actions around the world." Funny how he never attempted to protest the actions of the Taliban as they tortured and killed Muslims, by running down Ambassador Hashemi. Funny how he never attempted to ram the gates of any Iraqi diplomatic station, to protest the gassing of the Kurds. More surprising still, is the fact that a student organization had to stage a rally to protest this overt act of terror, while the university was oddly silent. I can only wonder what the university response would have been had the Chapel Hill basketball team been mowed down on the eve of "March Madness." Would that hypothetical act have risen to the level of terrorism?
I love this country, warts and all. I recognize, that as Winston Churchill once opined, "Democracy is the worse form of government; except for all the others." I cannot for the life of me though, understand what it takes for the cultural elite to understand that there are people out there who intend to destroy us, and our entire way of life. Do they not remember that their darlings of armed struggle, from Che Gueverra to Hamas, execute the teachers and poets as soon as they take over? Have they forgotten the lessons of history so soon? I can only conclude that in their rush to purge the ivied towers of academia, of all manner of white, European male oppression and discrimination, that all the books, not just the dictionaries, have been removed. I can only conclude that when the Islamic hordes once again descend upon our shores that they will accept their fates and go peacefully to the slaughter. One thing is certain, 9/11 proved that ideas have consequences, and I can only hope that the country I love awakes before the ideas of radical Islam burn us down. I can only hope that the cultural elite recognizes, before it is too late, that dissent is patriotic, but aiding and abetting the forces aligned against us is not. I can only hope that somewhere amidst the Ward Churchill's and the John Bellamy Foster's there still exists a professor or two that became teachers because they want to open minds, not close them to any ideas but their own.
Friday, March 03, 2006
the beads
Three days before my last day of school as a senior in high school I was hauled into the principal's office for an infraction involving orange wine coolers, Bacardi Dark Rum and two teenage girls, who shall remain nameless. The principal, Mr. Bordelon, scolded me for a full ten minutes before saying, "The only reason I am not expelling you right now is because I don't want you back here next year." Fast forward nearly ten years. I walk into a high school Civics class at a girl's Catholic high school where I am the teacher. The third person on my roll sheet is, you guessed it, Mr. Bordelon's daughter. Now, it should be said that I was definitely involved in more than my fair share of expellable offenses while in high school, but that does not prevent me from feeling, to this day, unreasonable vitriol for Principal Bordelon. Obviously my position of authority presented all manner of opportunity to settle the score, as it were, with Principal B. I could, well within the rules if not the spirit of the position, have made his daughter's time in my class uncomfortable, at the very least. I opted not to. I did that not out of any altruism, or even maturity, but because I took my position as a teacher seriously. To me, it meant that I would present my course materials as objectively as possible, with no proselytizing, and no bias. Apparently high school teachers are no longer constrained by such ethical chains, as is evidenced by the case of Sean Allen, and Jay Bennish's high school geography class.
By now you have no doubt heard the tape Sean made. The day after the State of the Union Address Jay Bennish subjected his 1oth grade geography class to a twenty minute screed on the evils of the Bush administration. According to my dictionary, geography is defined as: the physical characteristics, especially the surface features, of an area. I seem to recall, from my college geography class, that some attention was paid to the effects of human activity on the planet, but even that discussion did not rise to the level meted out by Mr. Bennish. He, in succession, compared coca farmers in South America to tobacco farmers in North Carolina, framed capitalism as a system at odds with human compassion and caring, argued that the war in Iraq would have been for profit even if weapons of mass destruction had been found, characterized the United States as the "most violent nation on planet Earth," compared the country of Israel, as a whole, to Hamas, and, in one meorable quote, suggested that President Bush and Adolf Hitler possess "eerie similarities."
Knowing as I do that a great many of the people who read these postings are inclined to favor these views I will not seek to argue the veracity of Bennish's positions. Do not bother to send me what would, in a different technological age, be letters written in crayon. The point of this column is not to refight these particular battles. The point is that high school geography class is not the venue for this rant, for a number of reasons. The main reason is that teachers hold a position of authority. Just as it would have been wrong for me to make the daughter of Mr. Bordelon suffer for his perceived and/or real transgressions. It was wrong for Mr. Bennish to direct his anti-American bombast to, what is in effect, a captive audience.
Tustin Amole, a spokeswoman for the Cherry Creek school district said, "After listening to the tape, it's evident the comments in the class were inappropriate. There were not adequate opportunities for opposing points of view." That is the issue with which I, personally, take umbrage. I served, proudly, in the 7th Infantry Division (Light), in part, so that Mr. Bennish could bluster any bone-headed, outrageous point of view he wishes. The First Amendment specifically protects outrageous speech because mainstream speech needs no such protection. The error here is that suggesting Mr. Bennish's actions constitute free speech. What he did was wrong, partially because he offered no counterpoint, but mainly because he interjected his own opinions into a venue where they have no business. Education is about us finding ourselves through exposure to the facts of the world. Mr. Bennish violated the trust that comes along with the position by offering his viewpoints as the only facts. In a college setting these comments would have been odious, but in a high school setting they become indoctrinal. He became the thing he pretends to decry: a tyrant.
Sadly, all too many people will argue that the things Jay Bennish said are accurate and worthy of public debate. That may have weight, and, in a coffee shop that sells hemp products, he is welcomed to posit any dimwitted, misguided, communistic rhetoric he can cull from the Democratic Party talking points. What he should not do though, is use his position of trust to expound on these themes. What he should not do is violate the sanctity of the teacher-student relationship by offering personal opinion as classroom content. In one portion of his philippic he paused to allow note taking. Any excuse thereafter that this was all to stimulate discussion becomes nothing more than sophistry, and anyone who truly cherishes the right of free speech should recognize the difference.
I truly hope that the Cherry Creek school district fires Mr. Bennish. I do not believe, in these politically charged times, that they will, but I hope they do. He has hired the same attorney who currently defends Ward Churchill, so this will, no doubt, become an issue of political expression, and they will seek to represent Bennish as the victim. Nothing could be further from the truth. Children, and 10th graders are children, deserve the opportunity to develop their own positions and views about the world. Mr. Bennish would, no doubt, disagree because, seemingly, to him, and to all too many like him, free speech means freedom to say whatever you want, provided you agree with him. I wonder what Mr. Bordelon would think about his daughter hearing, in my classroom, twenty minutes of my thoughts on him. Shame on you Jay Bennish, and to you Mr. Bordelon I can only say, wherever you are, that I am grateful for the lesson I learned the day your daughter walked into my class.
By now you have no doubt heard the tape Sean made. The day after the State of the Union Address Jay Bennish subjected his 1oth grade geography class to a twenty minute screed on the evils of the Bush administration. According to my dictionary, geography is defined as: the physical characteristics, especially the surface features, of an area. I seem to recall, from my college geography class, that some attention was paid to the effects of human activity on the planet, but even that discussion did not rise to the level meted out by Mr. Bennish. He, in succession, compared coca farmers in South America to tobacco farmers in North Carolina, framed capitalism as a system at odds with human compassion and caring, argued that the war in Iraq would have been for profit even if weapons of mass destruction had been found, characterized the United States as the "most violent nation on planet Earth," compared the country of Israel, as a whole, to Hamas, and, in one meorable quote, suggested that President Bush and Adolf Hitler possess "eerie similarities."
Knowing as I do that a great many of the people who read these postings are inclined to favor these views I will not seek to argue the veracity of Bennish's positions. Do not bother to send me what would, in a different technological age, be letters written in crayon. The point of this column is not to refight these particular battles. The point is that high school geography class is not the venue for this rant, for a number of reasons. The main reason is that teachers hold a position of authority. Just as it would have been wrong for me to make the daughter of Mr. Bordelon suffer for his perceived and/or real transgressions. It was wrong for Mr. Bennish to direct his anti-American bombast to, what is in effect, a captive audience.
Tustin Amole, a spokeswoman for the Cherry Creek school district said, "After listening to the tape, it's evident the comments in the class were inappropriate. There were not adequate opportunities for opposing points of view." That is the issue with which I, personally, take umbrage. I served, proudly, in the 7th Infantry Division (Light), in part, so that Mr. Bennish could bluster any bone-headed, outrageous point of view he wishes. The First Amendment specifically protects outrageous speech because mainstream speech needs no such protection. The error here is that suggesting Mr. Bennish's actions constitute free speech. What he did was wrong, partially because he offered no counterpoint, but mainly because he interjected his own opinions into a venue where they have no business. Education is about us finding ourselves through exposure to the facts of the world. Mr. Bennish violated the trust that comes along with the position by offering his viewpoints as the only facts. In a college setting these comments would have been odious, but in a high school setting they become indoctrinal. He became the thing he pretends to decry: a tyrant.
Sadly, all too many people will argue that the things Jay Bennish said are accurate and worthy of public debate. That may have weight, and, in a coffee shop that sells hemp products, he is welcomed to posit any dimwitted, misguided, communistic rhetoric he can cull from the Democratic Party talking points. What he should not do though, is use his position of trust to expound on these themes. What he should not do is violate the sanctity of the teacher-student relationship by offering personal opinion as classroom content. In one portion of his philippic he paused to allow note taking. Any excuse thereafter that this was all to stimulate discussion becomes nothing more than sophistry, and anyone who truly cherishes the right of free speech should recognize the difference.
I truly hope that the Cherry Creek school district fires Mr. Bennish. I do not believe, in these politically charged times, that they will, but I hope they do. He has hired the same attorney who currently defends Ward Churchill, so this will, no doubt, become an issue of political expression, and they will seek to represent Bennish as the victim. Nothing could be further from the truth. Children, and 10th graders are children, deserve the opportunity to develop their own positions and views about the world. Mr. Bennish would, no doubt, disagree because, seemingly, to him, and to all too many like him, free speech means freedom to say whatever you want, provided you agree with him. I wonder what Mr. Bordelon would think about his daughter hearing, in my classroom, twenty minutes of my thoughts on him. Shame on you Jay Bennish, and to you Mr. Bordelon I can only say, wherever you are, that I am grateful for the lesson I learned the day your daughter walked into my class.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Any Port (Operator) in a Storm
The recent flap concerning the sale of U.S. ports may have escaped your notice this past week. After all, the Vice President tried to assassinate an attorney the same week the news broke that British world port operator P&O was bought by Dubai Ports World, an entity based in the United Arab Emirates. Well, truth be told, DPW has not bought any ports, nor can they. The physical ports are owned by the Ports Authority in the various regions. What DPW has bought, with their purchase of the last British owned port operator (there are no American operators left), is the rights to terminal space at six ports in the United States: New York, Port Elizabeth NJ, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Miami and New Orleans.
Let me stress the fact that I am not in favor of the ports being operated by any Arab nation, let alone the one that laundered funds for Al Qaida, and recognized the Taliban as sovereign before U.S. military might made that a moot point. What I am in favor of though, is the end to all the posturing and rhetoric espoused by self-serving politicians from both sides of the political divide. Republicans and Democrats alike are racing for the television cameras to avow their adamant opposition to "sales of American ports." As I mentioned above, what was sold by the merger of P&O and DPW are the rights to operate dock side services, including shore electric power, cleaning, waste disposal and storage. DPW has purchased the rights to physical space, and the opportunity to charge for services, and nothing more. This is akin to any of the various big city apartment management companies operating dozens of buildings for absentee landlords, for a small percentage of the take, of course. The building in which I live is just such a residence. A maintenance man takes my trash to the curb, fixes my plumbing, and handles minor improvements. He is too, ostensibly, at my beck and call around the clock. That is what DPW is interested in becoming: a maintenance man for the world's ocean going trade here in the United States.
Romania, Germany, Djibouti, Puerto Cabello in Venezuela, Adelaide in Australia, 5 ports in China, including Shanghai, and 3 in Hong Kong are just some of the ports operated by DPW. In fact, DPW is one of the world's fastest growing port operators. It is a concern that is vying for preeminence in a world which lists Maersk-Sealand of Norway as one of the major players. What the sale of P&O effectuates is the replacement of British upper management with UAE upper management. The CEO, CFO and COO will simply start sporting kaffiyahs, instead of staid Saville Row suits. The local Ports Authority will still patrol the ports. The US Coast Guard will still ply the waterways. The US Customs Service will still inspect the pitifully inadequate 5% of containers they inspect. In other words, nothing will change except the destination of the profits.
That's what rankles me. Although Dubai has become one of the safest ports of call for the US Navy, a tourist attraction for most of the Far and Middle East and a public denouncer of Al Qaida activities, it is still the home of two of the 9/11 hijackers and the source for illegal funds transfers by Al Qaida before 9/11. That they are now considered a partner in the War on Terror, both by their administration and ours, does nothing to cool my ardor. I simply do not trust them, yet. Let them continue to build bridges and things can change. My grandfather, a World War II veteran of the Burma-India campaign, did not live to see the immense friendship we developed with the Japanese. He would have been stunned to see US Army infantrymen being handed water and foodstuffs by Japanese support personnel, in a combat zone no less. In time maybe, just maybe, the UAE can become a friend and valued trading partner. I will go on record as saying I doubt it, but stranger things have happened. We did, after all, drop an atomic bomb on two cities in Japan.
The end result of the brouhaha has been twofold: true discussion of the deal on its merits has been stifled, and the Democrats in congress have been forced to admit that we are, indeed, fighting a war against a serious enemy. This is in direct contradiction to their previous positions. If they were consistent they would welcome this deal with open arms. After all, we are the ones creating terrorists in Iraq. We caused the majority of the world's ills. This deal would go a long way toward healing those wounds. That even the obstructionist Chuck Schumer, (D) New York, sees this deal as ill advised should gladden the hearts of many, but it does not gladden mine. What it does is sour my stomach to know that he, and those like him, through self-aggrandizement, will today rail against "selling our ports to foreign nations unfriendly to us," and tomorrow complain about unauthorized wiretaps, which actually do combat terrorism. In retrospect, my opinion of the whole mess is, to paraphrase Sun Tzu in The Art of War, when you cannot make your enemies your friends, kill them with bullets.
Let me stress the fact that I am not in favor of the ports being operated by any Arab nation, let alone the one that laundered funds for Al Qaida, and recognized the Taliban as sovereign before U.S. military might made that a moot point. What I am in favor of though, is the end to all the posturing and rhetoric espoused by self-serving politicians from both sides of the political divide. Republicans and Democrats alike are racing for the television cameras to avow their adamant opposition to "sales of American ports." As I mentioned above, what was sold by the merger of P&O and DPW are the rights to operate dock side services, including shore electric power, cleaning, waste disposal and storage. DPW has purchased the rights to physical space, and the opportunity to charge for services, and nothing more. This is akin to any of the various big city apartment management companies operating dozens of buildings for absentee landlords, for a small percentage of the take, of course. The building in which I live is just such a residence. A maintenance man takes my trash to the curb, fixes my plumbing, and handles minor improvements. He is too, ostensibly, at my beck and call around the clock. That is what DPW is interested in becoming: a maintenance man for the world's ocean going trade here in the United States.
Romania, Germany, Djibouti, Puerto Cabello in Venezuela, Adelaide in Australia, 5 ports in China, including Shanghai, and 3 in Hong Kong are just some of the ports operated by DPW. In fact, DPW is one of the world's fastest growing port operators. It is a concern that is vying for preeminence in a world which lists Maersk-Sealand of Norway as one of the major players. What the sale of P&O effectuates is the replacement of British upper management with UAE upper management. The CEO, CFO and COO will simply start sporting kaffiyahs, instead of staid Saville Row suits. The local Ports Authority will still patrol the ports. The US Coast Guard will still ply the waterways. The US Customs Service will still inspect the pitifully inadequate 5% of containers they inspect. In other words, nothing will change except the destination of the profits.
That's what rankles me. Although Dubai has become one of the safest ports of call for the US Navy, a tourist attraction for most of the Far and Middle East and a public denouncer of Al Qaida activities, it is still the home of two of the 9/11 hijackers and the source for illegal funds transfers by Al Qaida before 9/11. That they are now considered a partner in the War on Terror, both by their administration and ours, does nothing to cool my ardor. I simply do not trust them, yet. Let them continue to build bridges and things can change. My grandfather, a World War II veteran of the Burma-India campaign, did not live to see the immense friendship we developed with the Japanese. He would have been stunned to see US Army infantrymen being handed water and foodstuffs by Japanese support personnel, in a combat zone no less. In time maybe, just maybe, the UAE can become a friend and valued trading partner. I will go on record as saying I doubt it, but stranger things have happened. We did, after all, drop an atomic bomb on two cities in Japan.
The end result of the brouhaha has been twofold: true discussion of the deal on its merits has been stifled, and the Democrats in congress have been forced to admit that we are, indeed, fighting a war against a serious enemy. This is in direct contradiction to their previous positions. If they were consistent they would welcome this deal with open arms. After all, we are the ones creating terrorists in Iraq. We caused the majority of the world's ills. This deal would go a long way toward healing those wounds. That even the obstructionist Chuck Schumer, (D) New York, sees this deal as ill advised should gladden the hearts of many, but it does not gladden mine. What it does is sour my stomach to know that he, and those like him, through self-aggrandizement, will today rail against "selling our ports to foreign nations unfriendly to us," and tomorrow complain about unauthorized wiretaps, which actually do combat terrorism. In retrospect, my opinion of the whole mess is, to paraphrase Sun Tzu in The Art of War, when you cannot make your enemies your friends, kill them with bullets.
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