Strange Liberators

You can be sure that Dr. Martin Luther King’s politics will be scrubbed clean of most of its content when President George W. Bush celebrates the public holiday named in his honor on Monday. In order to honor Dr. King’s legacy, Rootless Cosmopolitan invites readers to revisit his April 4, 1967 speech on the Vietnam war. It’s well worth reading and considering in light of contemporary realities.

Extract:

And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and search within myself for ways to understand and respond to compassion my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the junta in Saigon, but simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them too because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries.

They must see Americans as strange liberators. The Vietnamese people proclaimed their own independence in 1945 after a combined French and Japanese occupation, and before the Communist revolution in China. They were led by Ho Chi Minh. Even though they quoted the American Declaration of Independence in their own document of freedom, we refused to recognize them. Instead, we decided to support France in its reconquest of her former colony.

Our government felt then that the Vietnamese people were not “ready” for independence, and we again fell victim to the deadly Western arrogance that has poisoned the international atmosphere for so long. With that tragic decision we rejected a revolutionary government seeking self-determination, and a government that had been established not by China (for whom the Vietnamese have no great love) but by clearly indigenous forces that included some Communists. For the peasants this new government meant real land reform, one of the most important needs in their lives.

For nine years following 1945 we denied the people of Vietnam the right of independence. For nine years we vigorously supported the French in their abortive effort to recolonize Vietnam.

Before the end of the war we were meeting eighty percent of the French war costs. Even before the French were defeated at Dien Bien Phu, they began to despair of the reckless action, but we did not. We encouraged them with our huge financial and military supplies to continue the war even after they had lost the will. Soon we would be paying almost the full costs of this tragic attempt at recolonization.

After the French were defeated it looked as if independence and land reform would come again through the Geneva agreements. But instead there came the United States, determined that Ho should not unify the temporarily divided nation, and the peasants watched again as we supported one of the most vicious modern dictators — our chosen man, Premier Diem. The peasants watched and cringed as Diem ruthlessly routed out all opposition, supported their extortionist landlords and refused even to discuss reunification with the north. The peasants watched as all this was presided over by U.S. influence and then by increasing numbers of U.S. troops who came to help quell the insurgency that Diem’s methods had aroused. When Diem was overthrown they may have been happy, but the long line of military dictatorships seemed to offer no real change — especially in terms of their need for land and peace.

The only change came from America as we increased our troop commitments in support of governments which were singularly corrupt, inept and without popular support. All the while the people read our leaflets and received regular promises of peace and democracy — and land reform. Now they languish under our bombs and consider us — not their fellow Vietnamese –the real enemy. They move sadly and apathetically as we herd them off the land of their fathers into concentration camps where minimal social needs are rarely met. They know they must move or be destroyed by our bombs. So they go — primarily women and children and the aged.

They watch as we poison their water, as we kill a million acres of their crops. They must weep as the bulldozers roar through their areas preparing to destroy the precious trees. They wander into the hospitals, with at least twenty casualties from American firepower for one “Vietcong”-inflicted injury. So far we may have killed a million of them — mostly children. They wander into the towns and see thousands of the children, homeless, without clothes, running in packs on the streets like animals. They see the children, degraded by our soldiers as they beg for food. They see the children selling their sisters to our soldiers, soliciting for their mothers.

What do the peasants think as we ally ourselves with the landlords and as we refuse to put any action into our many words concerning land reform? What do they think as we test our latest weapons on them, just as the Germans tested out new medicine and new tortures in the concentration camps of Europe? Where are the roots of the independent Vietnam we claim to be building? Is it among these voiceless ones?

We have destroyed their two most cherished institutions: the family and the village. We have destroyed their land and their crops. We have cooperated in the crushing of the nation’s only non-Communist revolutionary political force — the unified Buddhist church. We have supported the enemies of the peasants of Saigon. We have corrupted their women and children and killed their men. What liberators?

Now there is little left to build on — save bitterness. Soon the only solid physical foundations remaining will be found at our military bases and in the concrete of the concentration camps we call fortified hamlets. The peasants may well wonder if we plan to build our new Vietnam on such grounds as these? Could we blame them for such thoughts? We must speak for them and raise the questions they cannot raise. These too are our brothers.

Perhaps the more difficult but no less necessary task is to speak for those who have been designated as our enemies. What of the National Liberation Front — that strangely anonymous group we call VC or Communists? What must they think of us in America when they realize that we permitted the repression and cruelty of Diem which helped to bring them into being as a resistance group in the south? What do they think of our condoning the violence which led to their own taking up of arms? How can they believe in our integrity when now we speak of “aggression from the north” as if there were nothing more essential to the war? How can they trust us when now we charge them with violence after the murderous reign of Diem and charge them with violence while we pour every new weapon of death into their land? Surely we must understand their feelings even if we do not condone their actions. Surely we must see that the men we supported pressed them to their violence. Surely we must see that our own computerized plans of destruction simply dwarf their greatest acts.

How do they judge us when our officials know that their membership is less than twenty-five percent Communist and yet insist on giving them the blanket name? What must they be thinking when they know that we are aware of their control of major sections of Vietnam and yet we appear ready to allow national elections in which this highly organized political parallel government will have no part? They ask how we can speak of free elections when the Saigon press is censored and controlled by the military junta. And they are surely right to wonder what kind of new government we plan to help form without them — the only party in real touch with the peasants. They question our political goals and they deny the reality of a peace settlement from which they will be excluded. Their questions are frighteningly relevant. Is our nation planning to build on political myth again and then shore it up with the power of new violence?

Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence when it helps us to see the enemy’s point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.

So, too, with Hanoi. In the north, where our bombs now pummel the land, and our mines endanger the waterways, we are met by a deep but understandable mistrust. To speak for them is to explain this lack of confidence in Western words, and especially their distrust of American intentions now. In Hanoi are the men who led the nation to independence against the Japanese and the French, the men who sought membership in the French commonwealth and were betrayed by the weakness of Paris and the willfulness of the colonial armies. It was they who led a second struggle against French domination at tremendous costs, and then were persuaded to give up the land they controlled between the thirteenth and seventeenth parallel as a temporary measure at Geneva. After 1954 they watched us conspire with Diem to prevent elections which would have surely brought Ho Chi Minh to power over a united Vietnam, and they realized they had been betrayed again.

When we ask why they do not leap to negotiate, these things must be remembered. Also it must be clear that the leaders of Hanoi considered the presence of American troops in support of the Diem regime to have been the initial military breach of the Geneva agreements concerning foreign troops, and they remind us that they did not begin to send in any large number of supplies or men until American forces had moved into the tens of thousands.

Hanoi remembers how our leaders refused to tell us the truth about the earlier North Vietnamese overtures for peace, how the president claimed that none existed when they had clearly been made. Ho Chi Minh has watched as America has spoken of peace and built up its forces, and now he has surely heard of the increasing international rumors of American plans for an invasion of the north. He knows the bombing and shelling and mining we are doing are part of traditional pre-invasion strategy. Perhaps only his sense of humor and of irony can save him when he hears the most powerful nation of the world speaking of aggression as it drops thousands of bombs on a poor weak nation more than eight thousand miles away from its shores.

Read the whole thing. And consider what Dr. King would make of the wars being waged by a government that honors him even as its own actions speak only of contempt for his legacy.

Posted in Situation Report, Unholy War | 5 Comments

Bush’s New Iraq Plan: Bomb Tehran

Critics are right to label President Bush’s new Iraq plan an “escalation,” but what was most clear from his speech announcing it is that the object of this escalation is not Iraq, but Iran.

For all the smarmy talk about the Iraq Study Group, Bush bluntly rejected its central premise that the only way the U.S. can salvage anything in Iraq is through a new political agreement both among Iraqis and their neighbors — a process that takes into account the reality that Iran has legitimate interests in Iraq (far more so, quite frankly, than the U.S. does), and envisages a process in which all stakeholders are accommodated. Instead, Bush offered familiar distortions in his description of the reason for failure thus far — al-Qaeda and Iran, were the culprits, the former stoking sectarian violence through terror attacks and the latter ostensibly supporting death squads. Anyone familiar with the current dynamics in the Middle East would have taken President Bush’s outline of the consequences of failure — “radical Islamic extremists would grow in strength and gain new recruits” and “would be in a better position to topple moderate governments,” Iran would be emboldened and al-Qaeda would have a new safe haven — as an admission of failure, since all of those consequences are already in play.

But it was the characterization of Iran’s role that was most disturbing. Bush suggested that the Iraqi people had voted for united country at the polls, and seen their dreams dashed by the maneuvering of Iran and Syria and others. That’s a crock. Iran enthusiastically supported those elections, and why wouldn’t they? The Shiite majority voted overwhelmingly in favor of parties far closer to Tehran than they are to Washington. Moreover, while Bush implies that sectarianism was somehow a deviation from what the electorate had chosen, in fact the electorate had voted almost entirely on sectarian and ethnic lines. The sectarian principle is at the heart of the democratically elected government; it’s not some imposition by al-Qaeda or Iran.

Iran and Syria must be addressed, Bush said, but only as a threat — he accused them of offering support to insurgent forces attacking U.S. troops, and vowed to stop them. Almost in the same breath, he added: “We are also taking other steps to bolster the security of Iraq and protect American interests in the Middle East. I recently ordered the deployment of an additional carrier strike group to the region. We will expand intelligence sharing ­ and deploy Patriot air defense systems to reassure our friends and allies. We will work with the governments of Turkey and Iraq to help them resolve problems along their border. And we will work with others to prevent Iran from gaining nuclear weapons and dominating the region.”

Carrier strike groups and Patriot missile defenses are of no use in the counterinsurgency war in Iraq: They are an attempt to turn up the heat on Iran by preparing for an air strike, and putting in place the means to contain Iran’s response via its missile capability. Bush called for regional support, but only on the basis of his anti-Iran alliance — for the Sunni regimes, support for the U.S. in Iraq was cited as a duty in light of their common purpose in containing Iran.

So, essentially we’re now being asked to believe that the Iraqi government, dominated by Iran-friendly Shiite religious parties, is going to act in concert with Bush’s plan — and even Bush admitted that their support is the critical factor — giving U.S. forces the green light to take control of Sadr City from the Sadrists and so on, even as Washington moves its assets into position for a military strike on Iran. It may be, of course, that Washington is posturing in order to sweat Tehran into believing that a military strike is coming in order to intimidate the Islamic Republic into backing down, but frankly I wouldn’t bet on the collective strategic wisdom of Cheney-Rice and Khamenei-Larijani-Ahmedinajad combining to avoid a confrontation. And if the U.S. is raising the stakes, you can reliably expect Iran to do the same, probably starting in Iraq.

Even within the narrow Iraqi context, no matter what Maliki has told Bush, I wouldn’t bet on him coming through for the U.S. when the battle for Sadr City starts in earnest, and Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, appalled by the violence, begins demanding that the U.S. go home.

Equally important, though, the new Bush moves give Iran no incentive to cooperate, and plenty of incentive to tie the U.S. up in an increasingly messy situation in Iraq. And my suspicion is that Tehran has hardly begun to exercise its ability to cause chaos in Iraq.

Again, the Bush Administration has failed to grasp the most basic lesson of his failures in Iraq and elsewhere — that military force has its limits, and that power is a more complex thing. Instead of recognizing what the likes of Baker and Scowcroft have emphasized all along — that the basic crisis in the region is political — Bush is going the Cheney lock-and-load route. Perhaps that’s why Bush warned Americans to expect another year of bloodletting. And stupendously reckless adventurism though it may be, I wouldn’t bet against him launching air strikes against Iran’s nuclear facilities. And then he’ll have to learn the same lesson all over again, because the region will be no safer or any more stable. On the contrary, I’d say it’s a safe bet that by the time he leaves the White House, the U.S. position everywhere from Lebanon, Egypt and the Palestinian territories to Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan, will be considerably worse than it is now.

Posted in Situation Report, Unholy War | 89 Comments

Condi’s Savage War on the Palestinians

In the coming weeks, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice will cluck regretfully about the violence unfolding in the Palestinian territories as if the chaos in Gaza has as little to do with her as, say, the bizarrely warm winter weather in New York. And much of the U.S. media will concur by covering that violence as if it is part of some inevitable showdown in the preternaturally violent politics of the Palestinians. But any honest assessment will not fail to recognize that the increasingly violent conflict between Hamas and Fatah is not only a by-product of Secretary Rice’s economic siege of the Palestinians; it is the intended consequence of her savage war on the Palestinian people – a campaign of retribution and collective punishment for their audacity to elect leaders other than those deemed appropriate to U.S. agendas. Moreover, the fact that the conflict is now coming to a head is a product of Rice’s micromanagement of Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas’s political strategy – against his own better instincts.

Rice’s siege strategy was premised on the belief that the economic torture of the entire Palestinian population would either force the Hamas government to chant the catechism of recognizing Israel-renouncing violence-abiding by previous agreements (again, Israeli leaders have to giggle at that one!) — or else, preferably, force the Palestinian electorate to recant the heresy of choosing Hamas as its government in the first place. Frustrated by the failure of this collective punishment to produce the desired results — and mindful of the need to quickly reorder Palestinian politics in order to satisfy the urgent need of the increasingly marginal Arab autocracies that Washington seeks to mobilize against Iran — she has stepped things up a notch, cajoling the hapless Abbas to take steps to toppled a government democratically elected only 11 months ago and beefing up the forces of the Fatah warlords dedicated to taking down Hamas in order to restore their own power of patronage.

Update: Thanks to Paul Woodward at Conflicts Forum — the absolutely indispensable project launched by Mark Perry and Alistair Crooke (whose work engaging with the thinking of Hamas, Hizballah and other Islamist groups I have previously highlighted) offering unrivaled perspective based on access to the thinking of groupings that are fast becoming the key force in Middle Eastern politics — do yourself a favor and subscribe to their free updates, because each one contains essential perspective you won’t find elsewhere. Anyway, thanks to Conflicts Forum, we now know also that Elliot Abrams, the last of the Likudniks in senior Bush Administration positions, has spoken openly of the need for the U.S. to fund, arm and train Fatah activists to launch a “hard coup” against the elected Hamas government (Abrams, of course, is a veteran of Reagan -era Latin America policies, so he has some experience in these things.) This is more berserk social engineering from the neocon Likud crowd, and most of the U.S. government (as well as the Israelis) know that the extensive effort to promote a coup are doomed to fail, but fail bloodily. Read the whole thing, it’s a fascinating account that confirms all the reasons why even Poppy Bush considers Condi Rice a “disappointment.”

Even Middle East experts and State Department officials close to Rice consider her comments about Palestinian violence dangerous, and have warned her that if the details of the U.S. program become public her reputation could be stained. In fact, Pentagon officials concede, Hamas’s inability to provide security to its own people and the clashes that have recently erupted have been seeded by the Abrams plan. Israeli officials know this, and have begun to rebel. In Israel, at least, Rice’s view that Hamas can be unseated is now regularly, and sometimes publicly, dismissed.

According to a December 25 article in the Israeli daily Haaretz, senior Israeli intelligence officials have told Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert that not only can Hamas not be replaced, but that its rival, Fatah, is disintegrating. Any hope for the success of an American program aimed at replacing Hamas, these officials argued, will fail. These Israeli intelligence officials also dismissed Palestinian President Abu Mazen’s call for elections to replace Hamas — saying that such elections would all but destroy Fatah. As Haaretz reported: “Shin Bet chief Yuval Diskin told the cabinet Sunday [December 24] that should elections be held in the Palestinian Authority, Fatah’s chances of winning would be close to zero. Diskin said during Sunday’s weekly cabinet meeting that the Fatah faction is in bad shape, and therefore Israel should expect Hamas to register a sweeping victory.”

Apparently Jordan’s King Abdullah agrees. On the day this article appeared, December 25, Abdullah kept Palestinian President Abu Mazen waiting for six hours to see him in Amman. Eventually, Abdullah told Abu Mazen that he should go home — and only come to see him again when accompanied by Hamas leader and Palestinian Prime Minister, Ismail Haniyeh. Most recently, Saudi officials have welcomed Haniyeh to Saudi Arabia for talks, having apparently made public their own views on the American program to replace Hamas.

Last week, in an excellent cautionary commentary that – interestingly enough – ran in the International Herald Tribune but not in the New York Times, Robert Malley and Henry Siegman made plain the folly underlying the Rice-Abrams strategy.

They write:

A civil war — for that is what it would be — would spell disaster for the Palestinian people. The presidential guard might become a more formidable fighting force than Hamas, but it will remain a far less motivated one, seen by many as doing America’s and Israel’s bidding. In such a contest, success is far from assured, as we should know from Iraq, Lebanon and, indeed, Palestine itself.

Even assuming Fatah were to prevail, it would at most drive Hamas underground, leading it to resume suicide bombings and increase rocket assaults while retaining the loyalty of a committed rank-and-file. Does one seriously believe that a genuine negotiation process can emerge from a battered, polarized Palestinian society, renewed Palestinian violence and predictable disproportionate Israeli retaliation?

The most fundamental miscalculation of all is the notion that there can be a peace process with a Palestinian government that excludes Hamas. Hamas is not an ephemeral phenomenon that can be extinguished by force of arms. It is as permanent a feature of the Palestinian political landscape as Fatah, which means that no enduring change in relations between Israelis and Palestinians — and certainly no end to violence, or beginning of a political process, let alone meaningful Israeli withdrawals from the West Bank — can occur over its opposition.

Abbas is a man of good intention, but has no political base of his own. His power is derived from two constituencies: The remnants of a Fatah organization in steady decline over the past decade, and all but shattered by its defeat in the January 2006 elections, its only organized formations now being squadrons of gunmen answerable to various warlords, and the bureaucracy of the PA. And the United States, at least to the extent that it represents the only game in town for the realization of Abbas’s preferred strategy of patient diplomacy in pursuit of Palestinian statehood, because it’s the only party capable of delivering Israeli compliance. That, of course, is an abstraction, because no matter how capable the U.S. is of delivering Israeli compliance with a peace deal, it has no intention of doing so — not under the Bush Administration, and I have to say, I’m pessimistic about the chances of the Democrats doing it, either. Still, Abbas has no alternative but to jump through whatever hoops Washington places before him, because once he gives up hope of a U.S. mediated solution, his own political role is over.

Curiously enough, in this instance the interests of the U.S. Administration and those of the corrupt and self-serving Fatah warlords and bureaucrats coincide entirely. So entrenched was the sense in Fatah’s leadership of entitlement to rule over the Palestinians that its activist leadership had been pressing Abbas, from the moment the election results were announced, to move to topple Hamas. The fact that Fatah had been repudiated by the people would have demanded a thorough reorganization and democratization, a political “long march” in which the organization restored its standing among ordinary Palestinians by standing by them, working for them, listening to them and articulating their aspirations, as Hamas had done so successfully. Instead, the Fatah leadership demanded that Abbas make a coup and reinstate them, restoring their power of patronage.

And Condoleezza Rice, in her typically callous arrogance (remember those “birthpangs of a New Middle East” that shook Beirut last summer?) supported them: The Palestinian people would have to pay for their folly in defying her and electing Hamas, and would have to keep paying until they were ready to recant.

Malley, who knows Abbas well from his own days as a Clinton Administration official at Camp David – one who declined to drink the self-serving Kool Aid his old boss offered by way of explaining the all-too-predictable failure failure of those talks — makes clear that Rice’s strategy actually contradicts Abbas’s own preferences, but that he’s being forced to play along or else reconcile himself to oblivion.

Although [Hamas] is not willing to formally renounce violence, it is prepared to abide by a comprehensive cease-fire, and has proved its ability to implement it when Israel fully reciprocates.

Hamas is willing to deal directly with Israel on day-to- day matters, indirectly on more substantive ones. It will acquiesce in negotiations between Abbas and Olmert and abide by any agreement ratified by popular referendum.

Hamas will not, however, recognize Israel. That’s unfortunate. But is it really worth plunging the region into greater chaos because Hamas will not confer upon Israel the legitimacy the Jewish state is granted by virtually every nation in the world?
This alternative is one Abbas advocated from the start, which is why he chose to promote the Islamists’ entry into political life in the first place and why he courageously resisted repeated pressure — foreign but also, sadly, domestic — to violently confront Hamas. His resistance, apparently, may be running out. Faced with Western inflexibility and Islamist obstinacy, he is being forced down a violent path for which he was not made and from which he is unlikely to survive as Palestinian leader.

The rational thing to do after Hamas won was to accept the verdict of the electorate and try to engage – by setting red lines based on actions rather than empty declarations for continued funding. Instead, Rice opted for setting conditions that Hamas would regard as symbolic surrender, and which would be meaningless anyway (frankly, Israel routinely engages in this kind of stunt where it demands things of the Palestinians precisely because it knows they won’t do them, and uses that as an excuse to explain the absence of peace, whereas Israel is not held to account for its own refusal to withdraw to its 1967 borders, which remains the only basis for an internationally recognized peace settlement).

Abbas, still mindful of the national interest, sought a unity government with Hamas, based on a compromise document forged between Fatah and Hamas prisoners held in Israel. But Rice was having none of it — it didn’t require Hamas to grovel sufficiently and apologize for disrupting the Bush administration’s somnambulent stroll in Middle Eastern fantasy — and pressed Abbas to abandon the plan, and instead seek national unity on terms less acceptable to Hamas.

And then, together with the venal warlords and corrupt bureaucrats of Fatah, Rice finally prevailed on Abbas to threaten to call new elections — which he did three weeks ago, touching off the latest bout of violence. Hamas is unlikely to accept the call — why would it, since it has been forced on the Palestinians from outside — and any election held without their participation would be meaningless. No matter, the U.S. appears to be pressing ahead in forcing Abbas into a violent confrontation with Hamas. (Was it just a Freudian slip that Abbas made clear on Saturday in declaring Hamas’s militias in Gaza “illegal” that he had, earlier in the day been on the phone with Condi?) So, Gaza will bleed. And it will starve. And it will burn. Until the Palestinians are ready to rue the day they ever dared to choose their own leaders over those chosen for them by Rice, and Bush and Blair.

Posted in Featured Analysis, Situation Report, Unholy War | 27 Comments

What the Saddam Lynching Tells Us About Iraq

You have to wonder what President Bush would have made of the image — had he been shown the tape — of Saddam Hussein being strung up by a bunch of masked toughs, while all around the small crowd in the room could be heard victoriously chanting the name of Moqtada Sadr. (For an excellent description of the events and translation of what was being said, see my friend Nir Rosen’s great post great post at Iraqslogger.com, a daily news and analysis web site covering all things Iraq that he helped found — and is well worth bookmarking. In a symbolic tribute to just what the U.S. has achieved in Iraq, Saddam was essentially killed by a lynch mob of his enemies — indeed, one reason the current Iraqi government was in such a hurry to string him up was that the Sadr-Maliki alliance wanted the credit, over Shiite rivals, for slaying the former tyrant.

Amid all of this, we’re told, the Bush Administration is “making good progress” towards formulating a new Iraq policy. No doubt, although it’s a relatively safe bet that nothing they’re planning to do will reverse the slide. Saddam’s grim end merely confirms what has long been obvious: That sectarianism is the organizing principle of Iraqi society now, and that the United States no longer has any control over political events in Iraq.

No question the Saddam execution is viewed through the sectarian prism, and will only exacerbate the civil war — indeed, the U.S. could not have done a better job of ensuring his lionization in the eyes of Sunni Arabs throughout the region. (Not the first time the U.S. has given Saddam a leg-up, of course — Juan Cole offers an excellent summary of the long history of U.S. complicity in putting Saddam in power and keeping him there.) But the fact that he was executed now against the wishes of the U.S. is a perfect illustration of what the U.S. has created in Iraq — a political system over which it has no control, in which the leading elements are ultimately hostile to U.S. regional ambitions (although they’re willing and eager to use U.S. military support to their own political and sectarian ends), and which simply cannot be made to conform to U.S. goals and strategies.

Washington has made no secret of its frustration at the refusal of Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki to authorize a crackdown on the sectarian militia of his ally, Moqtada Sadr, and to marginalize the anti-American rabble-rouser — and also his refusal to do anything meaningful to coax the Baathists in the insurgency back into the fold.

Of course, before that the U.S. was equally frustrated with Prime Minister Ibrahim al-Jaafari, and backed (or was it initiated?) efforts to get him removed (which brought Maliki to power, when the U.S. was hoping to get SCIRI’s Adel Abd’el-Mahdi into the job). And so the U.S. has been consorting with all and sundry in the hope of getting SCIRI, ironically the most pro-Iranian of all the Shiite parties but which appeals to the U.S. because it has largely cooperated and shares an enmity for Moqtada Sadr, to either take over the leadership of the Shiite Alliance or else to break with it and set up a new government in alliance with the Kurds and Sunnis. For some reason, the U.S. had convinced itself that they had the support of Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani for such a move, so when he nixed it and anything else that divides the Shiites, it became clear that the (frankly bizarre) idea of turning the longtime Iranian asset SCIRI into a pliant U.S. client regime in Baghdad quietly collapsed. Just for good measure, two of the Iranian officials arrested last week by U.S. forces in Baghdad accused of plotting attacks on Americans were picked up inside the compound of SCIRI leader Abdulaziz al-Hakim, who was being feted at the White House only two weeks earlier.

While the most likely new course to be announced by Bush in the couple of days is “surging” U.S. troops in Iraq, i.e. sending a few thousand more to help secure Baghdad. But that really is just a case of “staying the course,” because there’s no sign of any change in the political direction of the Iraqi government, without which sending more U.S. troops is pointless, or worse. The Shiite political leadership wants the troops to fight the Sunni insurgents; the Sunni politicians want the troops to protect them from the Shiite death squads — both communities remain sharply antagonistic to the U.S. presence.

In a thoughtful analysis of the Iraq Study Group report, the International Crisis Group makes clear the logical conclusion from the evidence presented in the study — although which could not possibly be made explicit in its conclusions without making Bush and Blair sound foolish:

All Iraqi actors who, one way or another, are involved in the country’s internecine violence must be brought to the negotiating table and pressed to accept the necessary compromises. That cannot be done without a concerted effort by all Iraq’s neighbours, which in turn cannot be done if their interests are not reflected in the final outcome. If Iraq can be saved at this late date, it will require three ambitious and interrelated steps:

  • A new forceful multilateral approach that puts real pressure on all Iraqi parties. The Baker-Hamilton report is right to advocate a broad International Support Group; it should comprise the five permanent Security Council members and Iraq’s six neighbours. But its purpose must not be to support the Iraqi government. It must support Iraq, which means pressing the government, along with all other constituencies, to make necessary compromises. The government and security forces should not be treated as privileged allies to be bolstered. They are but one among many parties to the conflict and not innocent of responsibility for much of the trouble. It also means agreeing on rules of conduct and red-lines for third-party involvement. Sustained multilateral diplomacy, not a one-off international conference is needed.
  • A conference of all Iraqi and international stakeholders to forge a new political compact. This is not a military challenge in which one side needs to be strengthened and another defeated. It is a political challenge in which new consensual understandings need to be reached. A new, more equitable and inclusive national compact needs to be agreed upon by all relevant actors, including militias and insurgent groups, on issues such as federalism, resource allocation, de-Baathification, the scope of the amnesty and the timetable for a U.S. withdrawal. This can only be done if the International Support Group brings all of them to the negotiating table, and if its members steer their deliberations, deploying a mixture of carrots and sticks to influence those on whom they have particular leverage.
  • A new U.S. regional strategy, including engagement with Syria and Iran, end of efforts at regime change, revitalisation of the Arab-Israeli peace process and altered strategic goals. Mere engagement of Iraq’s neighbours will not do; Washington must clearly redefine its objectives in the region to enlist regional, and particularly Iranian and Syrian help. The goal is not to bargain with them, but to seek compromise agreement on an end-state for Iraq and the region that is no one’s first choice, but with which all can live.
  • That’s what the grownups would do. And the Bush Administration has made clear it won’t follow grownup advice. Instead, it plans to send more troops ostensibly to shore up a phantom fledgling democratic national unity government under attack by extremists (many of whom, in reality, are actually part of the government and its security forces).

    The moment the U.S. lost control of the process was when it first conceded to democratic elections to choose an Iraqi government. This is often mistakenly attributed to misguided missionary zeal on the part of the president: In reality, it was demanded by Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, who made clear that J. Paul Bremer’s plans to have a constitution draw up by a government of his own choosing weren’t going to fly, and unless it was an elected government, the Shiites would rebel.


    It takes one to know one: My favorite moment of the whole Bush tenure came in this Dec. 2004 Soviet-style awarding of the Medal of Honor to former CIA chief George Tenet, Iraq war commander Gen. Tommy Franks, and former Iraq viceroy J. Paul Bremer for the “pivotal role” they had played in the “great events” in Iraq. Yes, yes, I know, I also wondered whether it was April 1 when I first read it…

    Once Iraqis could vote, the leaders the U.S. had attempted to install (from Chalabi to Iyad Allawi) were marginalized, and a number of them moved back to London. Those chosen by the electorate have proven unwilling to implement the U.S. strategy for holding Iraq together. Saddam’s death confirms how little control the U.S. now has over political events in Iraq. And that makes the number of troops it fields on the ground largely irrelevant to the outcome — except, of course, if the U.S. was willing to treble the number of troops it has there now and seize direct political control again. But even if it had the political will, it doesn’t have enough troops to do that.

    The problem, I think, in part derives from the fact that Cheney-Bush have not yet reconciled with the inevitability of quitting Iraq — I suspect that they still see those massive permanent bases built in Iraq playing the long-term role originally envisaged in the invasion (Jay Garner compared it to the Phillippines, where the U.S. maintained military bases for a century to fuel its Pacific Fleet; others made clear that Iraq would become the new Saudi Arabia because that country could no longer afford the domestic political cost of hosting massive U.S. bases… either way, it’s clear that Bush went in planning to stay.) I’m not expecting a new strategy from Bush in the coming days; I’m expecting new tactics, and even then, the shifts will be quantitative rather than qualitative.

    Posted in Situation Report, Unholy War | 24 Comments

    Dead at the Apollo

    If I had the time, I’d build James Brown a proper online shrine, with “Night Train” welcoming you and Tom Tom Club’s exquisite JB tribute song “Pleasures of Love” bidding him farewell… (“What you gonna do when you get out of jail? We’re gonna have some fun…”)

    But I don’t have the time, so listen instead (you can do it online) to Terry Gross’s excellent James Brown tribute edition of her excellent “Fresh Air” radio program. It has rare groove tracks and great interviews with Mr. Brown, Maceo Parker and the inimitable Bootsy Collins. My favorite clip is when she asks Bootsy about the dress code of the JBs, and he admits that being down with the psychedelic revolution personified by the likes of Jimi Hendrix at the end of the 60s, he would have been more inclined to take the stage wearing a T-shirt, jeans, an Afro and granny glasses — but it was not to be. In the JBs, you had to wear matching suits and keep your hair cut, or get a fine from Mr. Brown. “It was like we was the Army band,” says Bootsy.

    I love the fact that thousands of people took to 125th Street today to bid him farewell, chanting “Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud!” And there he was, lying in state on stage as mourners filed slowly, reverently past, resplendent in the sort of powder-blue suit he’d wear on stage.

    I’m also reminded of that scene in Alan Parker’s “The Commitments,” about a Dublin soul band in the late ’60s that includes that immortal “we’re the blacks of Europe” line. The band leader, in one scene, is educating his bandmates in soul traditions by showing them old clips of James Brown performing. At the passionate climax of one song, JB did his signature collapse on the stage to be carried off, covered in his cape, by anxious looking attendants. “Is he dead?” one band member asks, before JB returns to finish the song.

    Sad to say, there’ll be no encore this time.

    P.S. I’m reminded by Bernard’s comment below that I forgot to add a link to this truly excellent piece from Rolling Stone by Jonahtan Lethem who got to hang with JB while completing his final album. And also this appreciation by my fried and pop-culture oracle Richard Corliss.

    Posted in New York Moments, The Whole World's Africa | 10 Comments

    Saddam is But a Footnote, Now

    No one should cry any tears for Saddam Hussein, who will no doubt be executed within a matter of days. He was a vicious butcher who terrorized his own people, and ran a regime of fear in which arbitrary execution and torture were a staple, and the majority of Iraqis — being Shiites and Kurds, both communities suffering episodes of mass murder at his behest — will see justice done by his execution.

    Still, the circumstances of his trial and likely execution offer little cause for satisfaction among those who will trumpet it as vindication for their support of the Iraq war. Saddam Hussein was a long-time U.S. client, who fell afoul of Washington not when his men butchered the Shiites of Dujail or gassed the Kurds of Halabja or unleashed chemical munitions on Iranian troops as U.S. advisers watched; his unforgivable transgression was to invade Kuwait and take control of its oil reserves. Even then, the role he had played as a U.S. client remained too important for the first Bush Administration (the grownup one) to have him toppled from power in a popular revolt — if his own armed forces weren’t going to do the job and replace him with a friendlier and more reliable strongman, then Washington wasn’t going to facilitate the Shiites and Kurds doing it, because they knew (as the second — infantile — Bush Administration may be in the process of discovering) that this would empower Iran.

    The Shiites and Kurds welcomed the end of Saddam, but three years later, they may no longer be thinking much about the old dictator, because the horrors of the new Iraq are upon them. Saddam has been tried by a failed state, in a process whose legitimacy has been questioned by many of the same Western human rights groups that championed the suffering of his victims.

    The process, and his execution, instead of uniting Iraqis in common purpose as they put the past behind them will instead be viewed entirely through a sectarian prism. The Shiites and Kurds will celebrate; the Sunnis will protest. And, more importantly, their war will continue. Saddam is but a footnote on the pages of today’s Iraq story.

    And the most telling indictment of what the U.S. has wrought in Iraq came from Kofi Annan, the U.N. Secretary General appointed because of support from Washington and who always remained close to Washington moderates such as Colin Powell, in his valedictory BBC interview. Annan, freed from the shackles of his diplomatic role, told a basic truth that few dare utter in the U.S. media:

    If I were an average Iraqi obviously I would make the same comparison [that life was worse now than under Saddam]… they had a dictator who was brutal but they had their streets, they could go out, their kids could go to school and come back home without a mother or father worrying, “Am I going to see my child again?”

    (He forgot to mention the electricity, and the jobs, and the freedom of women to move around outside the home, and the fact that much of Iraq’s professional class has fled — that even many of the democratically elected leaders of the new Iraq actually live, to all intents and purposes, in Jordan or London — and so on, see Juan Cole for more.)

    Thus the backdrop of Saddam’s execution — that the average Iraqi was safer under his barbarous dictatorship than they are now. So while Bush will likely take the opportunity to pontificate about how the execution symbolizes the closing a dark chapter yadda-yadda-yadda, the reality is that Iraqis are now living an even darker chapter as a result of the U.S. invasion. Rather than bringing any kind of closure to the suffering of Iraq, Saddam Hussein will be just another corpse in the daily body count that shows no sign of ebbing.

    Posted in Situation Report | 12 Comments

    Israel and Apartheid: In Defense of Jimmy Carter

    Nothing makes liberal American supporters of Israel more uncomfortable than the comparison between the circumstances it has imposed on the Palestinians and those that the apartheid regime imposed on black South Africans. That’s precisely why it is so important and commendable that Jimmy Carter has tempted the wrath of the Israel lobby and many Jewish-American liberals-in-denial by making that comparison — as he says, it’s time Americans took a look at Palestinian life and history, and as any good person of faith or basic humanity would, treat it as of equal value. The point being that Jimmy Carter had to write this book precisely because Palestinian life and history is not accorded equal value in American discourse, far from it. And his use of the word apartheid is not only morally valid; it is essential, because it shakes the moral stupor that allows many liberals to rationalize away the daily, grinding horror being inflicted Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza.

    Or preferably, to avoid discussing it altogether. As Carter notes:

    For the past 30 years, I have witnessed and experienced the severe restraints on any free and balanced discussion of the facts. This reluctance to criticize policies of the Israeli government is due to the extraordinary lobbying efforts of the American-Israel Political Action Committee and the absence of any significant contrary voices. It would be almost politically suicidal for members of Congress to espouse a balanced position between Israel and Palestine, to suggest that Israel comply with international law or to speak in defence of justice or human rights for Palestinians… What is even more difficult to comprehend is why the editorial pages of the major newspapers and magazines in the US exercise similar self-restraint, quite contrary to private assessments expressed forcefully by their correspondents in the Holy Land.

    Indeed, you only had to look at the coverage of Carter’s book in much of the mainstream media, which focused less on the arguments he presented, than on the — entirely predictable — furor they caused.

    Carter makes his intentions clear:

    The ultimate purpose of my book is to present facts about the Middle East that are largely unknown in America, to precipitate discussion and help restart peace talks (now absent for six years) that can lead to permanent peace for Israel and its neighbours. Another hope is that Jews and other Americans who share this goal might be motivated to express their views, even publicly, and perhaps in concert. I would be glad to help with that effort.

    This, too, is a welcome intervention. What Carter is doing is challenging a taboo. And as a well-established voice of peace and reason, it’s hard to brand him some sort of anti-Semitic Israel basher — although that hasn’t restrained hysterics such as Alan Dershowitz and Marty Peretz from doing so.

    More disappointing, is the anxious rush to denounce him by such intellectually nimble figures as Slate’s Michael Kinsley
    , flailing about in search of arguments to dispute the obvious. The apartheid parallel is invalid, says Kinsley, because

  • apartheid was founded on an ideology of racial superiority — Israelis teach their children to love everyone as equals whereas Arabs teach their children to hate Jews;
  • Israel has Arab citizens that are allowed to vote, but most Jews have been forced to flee Arab countries;
  • Israel doesn’t have Bantustans;
    and, this, my favorite:
  • “And the most tragic difference: Apartheid ended peacefully. This is largely thanks to Nelson Mandela, who turned out to be miraculously forgiving. If Israel is white South Africa and the Palestinians are supposed to be the blacks, where is their Mandela?”

    Some of these points are too silly to even bother refuting. Carter is careful, conceptually, to apply his apartheid analogy to the West Bank and Gaza, not to Israel itself. His perspective is hardly radical: He is simply setting out to show that despite the popular myth that the absence of peace is a result of Palestinian militancy and terrorism, in fact Israel has not yet shown a willingness to retreat to its internationally recognized boundaries (those of 1967), the basis of a two-state solution. BTW, Mike, apartheid only ended peacefully because the apartheid regime took an historic decision to reverse itself and accept the principle of black majority rule — Mandela’s propensity for forgiveness only came into play after that. And if that hadn’t happened, Mandela was committed to armed struggle as an essential component of the means of persuasion.

    Kinsley defines apartheid as white supremacism plus Bantustans, but that doesn’t really get it — the Bantustans meant little in practice; the majority of black people lived in the industrialized cities. And racial ideology was just that — ideology. It didn’t describe the lived experience of black people at all. The essence of the system, in fact, was that black people were ruled by an authority over which they had no control or say, like a colonized people, except that their colonizer lived within the same geographic space. (And actually, like many a colonizing power, the white regime was democratic as far as its own social base went, its governments elected and accountable, and governance based on the rule of law — except that its democracy and legality largely excluded black people.) The logic of the system was to physically deny black people access to the spaces occupied by the “colonizing” population, except to the extent that their labor was required — which, of course, was the whole point: It didn’t function very effectively precisely because it needed a vast urban black population to run the economy. Here, in fact, is an important difference between Israel and apartheid South Africa — Israel manages with very little Palestinian labor, and as a result the daily intimacy between black and white South Africans created by their economic interaction even at the height of the apartheid system is largely absent in relations between Jews and Arabs in Israel. In South Africa, the fact that black people were driven off their land forced them into wage labor in a common economy; in Israel-Palestine Palestinians have been forced off their land in order to drive them out of a common polity and economy. That, I believe, means that the solution to the conflict in Israel-Palestine will be quite different to that in South Africa, at least in the near term.

    But the comparison with the essence of apartheid remains valid — in South Africa, black people lived under the control of a state over which they had no control even as they participated in a shared economy, on the West Bank and Gaza Palestinians live under a state over which they have no control which seeks to keep them out of a shared economy. But in both cases, they found themselves ruled by a state that denied them the rights of a sovereign people. Even now, after it has ostensibly withdrawn from Gaza, Israel still tightly controls Palestinian life there, determining whether the lights work and whether salaries are paid, who may enter and who may leave, and much of the time who will live and who will die. Sure, the Palestinians have an elected government (which the Israelis together with the U.S. are doing their best to subvert), but it isn’t allowed to govern — post-pullout Gaza, in fact, looks rather a lot like what the apartheid regime had in mind in its original Bantustan policy: A separate geographic state within which Africans could “exercise their political rights” while still remaining under effective sovereign control of the Pretoria regime. In the West Bank, Israel is the effective political authority, and there it creates restrictions on the movement of Palestinians every bit as odious — if not even more so — than those imposed on black people under apartheid. That’s because on the West Bank, Israel is not only maintaining overall sovereign control, as in Gaza, but is also trying to “cleanse” of Palestinians vast swathes of the best land illegally settled since 1967, and the networks of roads that connect them.

    Jimmy Carter wants American liberals, who’re passionate about Kosovo or Darfur, to consider the plight of the colonized Palestinians of the West Bank and Gaza, and discuss their own and America’s moral responsibility to those people. Kinsley and countless other commentators want to avoid doing that, which is why they need to convince themselves that the reason the Palestinians don’t have a state is that they don’t have a Mandela; that instead they had an Arafat — in short, that the Palestinians are to blame for their plight.

    I’ve written at length elsewhere about the bizarre habit of Americans of inventing their own Mandelas that have no relationship to the real one — suffice to point out for our purposes here that Mandela was a guerrilla commander who continued the armed struggle until the apartheid regime was ready to concede peacefully to the principle of black majority rule, so one wonders what, in fact, Michael Kinsley imagines a Palestinian Mandela would do. Parsing this question a few years ago in a TIME.com column, I concluded thus: “Of course, the Israelis would be wrong to think a Palestinian leader who was more like Mandela would be more pliant. Quite the contrary. They’d find it a lot harder to conclude a deal with a Mandela, or any leader of more democratic bent than Arafat. But in the end, they’d be able to rest a lot more assured that such a deal would hold.”

    Curiously enough, when Nelson Mandela visited Gaza in 1999, he warned that in order for Israel to achieve peace and security, it would have to withdraw from all occupied territories, including the Golan Heights. “It is a realization of a dream for me to be here to come and pledge my solidarity with my friend Yasser Arafat,” Mandela said, and told the Palestinian legislature that “the histories of our two peoples correspond in such painful and poignant ways that I intensely feel myself at home amongst my compatriots.”

    And you’d think that more than two years after Arafat’s death, people would start to feel a little silly blaming him for the fact that there’s no peace — especially at a moment when the Bush Administration is doing its best to get Mahmoud Abbas to govern in exactly the ways it denounced Arafat for doing, taking personal control of finances and security forces, ignoring elected institutions etc.

    Jimmy Carter doesn’t say this, of course, but I have a strong suspicion that many — although far from all, and I’m not even sure who’s in the majority — Jewish liberals in America have an emotional block on confronting the ugly side of Israel. Let’s just say that if the occupiers and settlers of the West Bank and Gaza were Orthodox Christians, or Confucians or Muslims, I’d venture to suggest that the moral outrage over the plight of the Palestinians would be far more universal than it currently is. (Nor is this a uniquely American phenomenon — I’ve long marveled at the fact that people are who are capable of a strong, objective morally sound critique of just about every human rights abuse everywhere else in the world suddenly become evasive, or even turn into Avigdor Lieberman when the issue is the Palestinians.)


    Just don’t talk about the war… Menachem Begin, Moshe Dayan and Yitzhak Rabin feting South Africa’s unrepentant Nazi Prime Minister B.J. Vorster at the Knesset in 1976

    A digression: I’ll admit that growing up as a Jewish liberal in South Africa, I somehow managed to convince myself that apartheid had nothing to do with us, that Jews were somehow automatically in the anti-apartheid column — it was a lot easier to do this in light of the rabid anti-Semitism of the ruling National Party, whose leaders had actively sympathized with the Nazis. Even then, it wasn’t true; evidence to the contrary was everywhere: Israel was, together with Pinochet’s Chile, the closest foreign ally of the regime, and in 1976, it welcomed the unrepentant Nazi, Prime Minister John Vorster (who had spent time in an internment camp during the war after being captured running sabotage operations under the direction of the Nazi intelligence service) on a state visit, and even took him to Yad Vashem! Activists of my wing of the Zionist youth movement, the socialist-inclined Habonim, protested, and were told to shut up by the senior leadership of the SA Zionist Federation. The following year, one of the leading lights of the Likud-aligned Revisionist bloc that dominated the SAZF, Abe Hoppenstein, stood for parliament on the National Party ticket.

    Then, one of my early forays into campus activism took me, along with some friends, one afternoon, to Herzliah, Cape Town’s Jewish high school, to distribute leaflets explaining why black students were on strike across the city. Waiting for the final bell to sound to dismiss the students for the day, a fat, bald mustachioed man came lumbering towards me. I immediately recognized Brenner, my downstairs neighbor. We didn’t like each other much, but all I was expecting from him was his customary disapproving grunt. Then I saw the gun in his hand. “I’ll take those,” said Brenner, grabbing our leaflets. “Now, get in your car and follow me, and if you run away, I know where to find you…” He gestured at us with the revolver, while flashing his police reservist’s ID. He drove us down to Caledon Square, and delivered us into the hands of Captain “Spyker” van Wyk, a notorious security police torturer. “Spyker” quickly realized we were minnows and knew nothing of interest to him, and after six hours we were sent home with chilling warnings to stay out of politics. But the experience taught me that Jews were just as capable as anyone else of doing the apartheid regime’s dirty work — I later learned that the prosecutor who tried to have Mandela hanged, Percy Yutar, fit the same bill, trying to show the regime that some Jews could be “trusted” — after all, the three white men in the dock along with Mandela were all Jewish, too. (My kind of Jews!) I learned that there was nothing about inherited Jewishness that precluded anyone from doing evil; every Jew in South Africa faced inescapable moral choices.

    I have spent my subway commute this winter reading Paul Kriwaczek’s sweeping history Yiddish Civilization, a must-read and endlessly revealing tale of the years between the Roman Empire and the collapse of the heym. And one observation about early Jewish life in the Ukraine jumped out at me for its relevance both to the experience of Jews in South Africa, and of the Israeli experience, particularly after 1967.

    Kriwaczek, in a prelude to his explanation of the notorious Cossack pogrom of mid-18th century Ukraine, explains the fraught relationship between the Polish nobility, the Ukrainian peasantry and the Cossack warlords, and the way Jews were inserted into that complex and unfortunate web. Polish nobles who had feudal ownership over the Ukrainian villages began renting them to Jewish entrepreneurs. These frontier moneymen were now “owners” of the land and feudal labor of the Ukrainian peasantry, and were inclined, as market forces dictated, to extract as much surplus as they could. At the same time, Jews had long been used by the Polish nobles as their tax collectors and bailiffs, making them the on-the-ground presence of an oppressive feudal system under which the peasants chafed. It was a moral disaster, writes Kriwaczek:

    The alliance between ruthless Polish nobles and insecure Yiddish frontiersmen proved dangerous and destructive. The Jews now held a position that nothing in their background or religious law had properly prepared them for. They had been placed in authority over another people, of another social order, another culture and another religion, a people of whom the [Polish noble] magnates, the Jews’ masters, regarded as racially inferior and fair game for callous exploitation. Tragically, shaking off the restraining influence of the wise [Rabbinical] counsel of the West, the repeated warnings of the rabbis of metropoiltan Cracow, Posen and Lublin, the Yiddish businessmen who flocked to the colony came to reagard the peasantry in a similar contemptuous light.

    The parts I emphasized in italics could as well have been applied to many of the Jews arriving in already colonially-segregated South Africa in the first three decades of the last century. And, of course, to Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza.

    Indeed, Jimmy Carter wasn’t the first person to raise the idea in my head that what Israel had created in the West Bank and Gaza is an apartheid situation. Back in January of 1979, when he was still in the White House, I was in Israel, living and working on Kibbutz Yizreel for about six weeks, fervently committed to making aliyah myself. Yizreel, in the Jezreel Valley, was home to a number of graduates of South African Habonim. And I vividly remember a discussion they started with us one afternoon, about the policy of building Israeli settlements in the West Bank that the new Likud government was encouraging. The South African-Israelis saw the continued occupation of the West Bank and Gaza as a disaster for Israel and for their own progressive version of Zionism. And they recognized that the settlements were a calculated strategy by Begin and Sharon to create “facts on the ground” that would make handing it back impossible. “And so,” one summarized, “you have a situation where Israel now has control over more than 3 million Palestinians. If it annexes the West Bank, they become citizens of Israel, and Israel quickly loses its Jewish majority. So that’s not an option. But the settlement policy makes it more and more difficult for Israel to envisage letting go of the territories. So what are you left with? An apartheid situation.” Of course. To anyone who had lived in South Africa, it was blindingly obvious.


  • Posted in A Wondering Jew, Situation Report | 78 Comments

    Cricket’s Coded Conversation

    It is with unrestrained joy that I introduce my friend Balaji, a Madras-born scientist currently teaching at Princeton, who, in agreeing some months ago to write an analysis on the cultural and political subtexts of Australian umpire Darryl Hair falsely accusing Pakistan’s cricketers of ball-tampering, ended up delivering, as his first installment, this marvelous memoir of the personal and political meanings bound up in the clash of leather and willow. I love this piece, it got me thinking about my own memories of the game and the wider context in which we learned and played it. (But I’ll save those reflections for the comments sections, and I hope you will too)

    Cricket’s Coded Conversation
    by V. Balaji

    Some 46 years ago this month at the Woolloongabba ground in Brisbane, there occurred an event until that time quite unique in cricket history: The first test match in the series between Frank Worrell’s West Indies and Richie Benaud’s Australians resulted in a tie. A tie may not seem like much, if football is your gig, but in five-day cricket it is quite extraordinary – a total of 737 runs was scored by each side, every man out twice with only one ball left to be bowled at sunset on the fifth day.

    So extraordinary was the “Tied Test” that its oral history reverberated across the former British empire – of the feats of brilliance and the changes of fortune in a match that happened before my time, before television, in a country I’ve never visited, as a schoolboy I could quote chapter and verse: Gary Sobers’s electrifying first-innings century, his three fours in a single over against the always dangerous — and that morning, nearly unplayable — Alan Davidson; the Australian fight-back led by a flashy Norman O’Neill and a dour Bobby Simpson; and through twists and turns to the final day — Conrad Hunte’s 90-yard throw from the boundary to run out Davidson; Wes Hall dropping Neil Harvey’s return catch purely out of excitement and tension; Solomon, from 15 yards out at square leg, with only one stump visible, running out Meckiff with a direct hit, and the final image of the young Rohan Kanhai whooping and jumping up and down after the final out, not really knowing (no one really knew for a while) what the result was.


    The legendary Barbados paceman Wes Hall remembers the tied test – with some of that classic footage the writer watched at school 15 years later

    By some osmosis, and cricket’s oral tradition, we all knew about the Tied Test growing up, away in India, and a decade too late. Indian cricket, in those days, never amounted to much on the international stage; we were happy to adopt the West Indies as our stand-ins, where the handsome and dashing Guyanan Rohan Kanhai gave us an Indian face in which to see our own. (Two generations later, Rohan still remains a popular boy’s name among cricket-loving parents.) One memorable happening at school in Madras in 1971 was when the sports master somehow acquired a grainy 16-mm print of the Tied Test condensed into an hour: the whole school piled into the auditorium and watched it, nodding knowingly as the well-rehearsed events unrolled. A friend from those days recently confessed to me that he’d been absent at school that day, malingering from some minor illness, and cannot recall this even now without a gut-wrenching sense of loss.


    Kanhai: “An Indian face in which to see our own”

    Cricket always has had an epic quality to it, an ability to draw itself on a larger canvas. It is, frankly, more interesting to read about, talk about, and savor as a narrative after the fact: the actual experience of a Test match is composed of elements of carnival, crowd-watching, meals, and tedium. Jack Fingleton, a minor Aussie figure from the great Bradman sides of the 1930s, subsequently made a small career for himself as a cricket writer. His book about the 1960 tour of Australia by Worrell’s side, is called ‘The Greatest Test of All’, and captures a moment in which somehow, something transcendent occurred, and everyone, including the Australian public (recall that there were no Caribbean expats in Australia back then…), seemed for a moment touched by grace. When Worrell’s team left, after losing the series 2-1, they were given a send-off on the streets of Melbourne that included a motorcade and 100,000 people lining the sidewalks. Whoever heard of a ticker-tape parade farewell for losing visitors?
    Fingleton himself ascribed the transcendence to something inherent in cricket itself. His book uses as its epigraph this verse from the obscure poet Henry Newbolt:


    There’s a breathless hush on the Close to-night
    Ten to make and the match to win
    A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
    An hour to play, and the last man in.
    And it’s not for the sake of a ribboned coat.
    Or the selfish hope of a season’s fame,
    But his captain’s hand on his shoulder smote
    “Play up! Play up! And play the game!”

    “Playing the game,” “just not cricket”, “a straight bat”… Fingleton would argue that these phrases embody an entirely different philosophy of sport – and life – from the “Just win, baby!” of Al Davis’s Oakland Raiders. Cricket, alone of all sports, has “laws” instead of “rules,” and the laws are interpreted by an omniscient umpire, who’s always right, even when he isn’t. Even beyond that, cricket has a series of unwritten rules to live by. “Walking” – declaring yourself out when your bat had got the faintest fleeting touch to a ball caught by the wicketkeeper, even when the umpire had missed the fact and was ready to let you bat on – was the decent thing to do; it was “cricket.” Claiming a catch when you knew the ball had in fact touched the ground before you’d gathered it is “not cricket.” Fingleton argued that two teams had consistently and impeccably played the game the way it should be played, and that in fact was what had cast the golden glow over the 1960 tour.

    The Trinidadian Marxist C.L.R James inevitably takes it a step further. His ‘Beyond a Boundary’ from 1963 is a tour de force of social analysis. Prescient in its application of dialectical materialism to the analysis of cricket as a cultural phenomenon, it anticipates by some years the “cultural studies” movement spearheaded by his fellow West Indian, friend, comrade and collaborator Stuart Hall. The book is quirky and brilliant, with odd contradictions abounding: quaint rolling constructions inherited from a colonial education (“he was as handsome a man as you could meet in a day’s journey…”) telling the story of how West Indians chafed under colonialism; a precise description of how racism functions in team selection devolving in the turn of a page to an account of George Headley (the “black Bradman”)’s bowel movements just prior to going out to bat. A committed Marxist analyzing colonialism through very detailed and personal accounts of individual men, and not only the content of their characters, but their cricket technique as well.

    For James, the key to the 1960 tour was in the person of one man, Frank Worrell himself. Worrell was Jamesian socialism’s new man, the man constructed to be his own post-colonial future. Like no captain before him – he was, in fact, the first black man to captain the West Indies – Worrell led by example, and taught all his young team-mates to be new men as well. If he felt other batsmen were being unnecessarily cautious against innocuous bowling, he would promote himself up the order to go out and flay the attack; if he felt the track was beginning to turn, he would take upon himself a spell of spin bowling. Both in his cricket and off the field, Worrell held to his dignity with steel under his gentle demeanor. In his presence, James argues, no one could be less than their own better selves. Worrell taught everyone — teammates, opponents, spectators — how to play and enjoy cricket. It is in some sense a reprise of James’s argument about Toussaint L’Ouverture, in ‘The Black Jacobins,’ that the French themselves learned their droits de l’homme from the Haitian theorist of freedom.

    Worrell’s ascension to the captaincy was itself a part of the anti-colonial struggle, one in which James played a central role. (James, it must be added, practised his cultural studies down at the barricades, not wallowing in the depths of an endowed chair.) Before Worrell, West Indies cricket labored under the colonial “wisdom” that black men were incapable of being captain: they supposedly lacked the qualities of command, strategic thinking, and holding their nerve under pressure. (Similarly, “Blacks can’t quarterback” was received wisdom in the U.S. until the Washington Redskins won a Superbowl in the 80s which owed everything to the leadership and unerring receiver selection of Doug Williams.) So, before 1960, West Indies sides were always led by a white man, often the only one in the side. The struggle for independence from Britain and the struggle to have Worrell appointed captain became one and the same, and both came to pass not least because of CLR James’s own brilliant polemics in newspapers and pamphlets. And captain Worrell did, with grace and acumen, always leading from the front. Acknowledging and commemorating independence, Britain knighted him, and Australia named the trophy for future West Indies-Australia tours for him, while he was still an active player: which is why in 1960 we could observe the spectacle of Frank Worrell handing the Sir Frank Worrell Trophy to Richie Benaud after losing the series.

    So where does “Play up, play up and play the game!” fit in, then? James doesn’t take it quite in the same spirit of unreflective acceptance as does Fingleton. An extensive section of the book deals with Arnold (not sure of his first name… it is hard to imagine Arnold, a historical character immortalized in ‘Tom Brown’s Schooldays’, even having a first name, or a mother… he was headmaster, pure and simple. My illustrated copy of Tom Brown had a frontispiece of Arnold in pince-nez and gown leaning across his desk with upraised finger and exclaiming “You are expelled, Flashman!” That figure of the stern headmaster must have been the stuff of nightmares for every schoolchild in an authoritarian school system.). Headmaster of Rugby in the 1800s, he did more than anyone to plant and cultivate the mythos of “British pluck,” the “British sense of fair play,” and so on that were a staple of Boys’ World stories for a hundred years after. (Only in the 1960s did a subversive genre emerge, openly mocking these pretensions, most explicitly in the Flashman series of novels by George MacDonald Fraser.) A frankly stated aim of educating through sport was to prepare boys for a career in the Colonies. Cricket was to be yet another demonstration of British superiority over the natives. The brown and black races (and the French, for that matter…) did not have that innate sense of sport and fair play and must be taught it. Until they learnt, they couldn’t run their own states, they would need their white captain…


    Colonial captains in the making: The First XI of Harrow School, 1910

    But every such edifice carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. It wasn’t hard for us, unthinking, privileged youth within a colonial education system though we might have been, to see the hypocrisy in much of this. The basic fact was that the “white” cricket-playing nations didn’t actually appear to play cricket with anything like that mythic sense of sport. England were a dour lot, hating to lose, especially to Asian or Caribbean teams, and wouldn’t hesitate to delaying tactics barely within cricketing law in order to salvage a draw. And Australia and New Zealand were notorious for their biased umpires.


    The inimitable Chandrasekhar

    A famous story from those days has the normally mild-mannered B.S Chandrasekhar, who used an arm deformed by polio to become the most unpredictable of the legendary Indian spin quartet, appealing loudly after bowling an Australian batsman all ends up. (Many ways of getting out in cricket require the fielding side to appeal to the umpire for a judgment, but when you’ve knocked over the stumps, there’s really no two ways about it.) So the umpire turns to Chandra and says, “Well, he’s bowled, isn’t he?” And Chandra replies, “I know he’s bowled, but is he out?”

    It’s probably too much to claim that it was stuff like this that sent some of us down the road leftwards… but there’s a germ of truth in there somewhere. That the West doesn’t live up to its stated values becomes obvious at one point or another, whether it’s sports or history, even if you’re fed a steady diet of Boys’ World and Biggles and the canon of dead European males. (Personally, my bookish path to the left went from John Stuart Mill to Bertrand Russell to Marx… with Engels, Haldane and Bernal to render my interest in science respectable. It wasn’t until much later that non-DEMs entered my world, Gandhi, Mao, Fanon, Sheila Rowbotham, not to mention C.L.R James…)

    But just in case you were too dense to see it, the second verse from the Newbolt poem (not quoted by Fingleton) drives the point home:

    The sand of the desert is sodden red-
    Red with the wreck of the square that broke
    The gatling’s jammed and the colonel dead,
    And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
    The river of death has brimmed its banks,
    And England’s far, and Honour a name,
    But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks-
    “Play up! Play up! And play the game!”

    No points for guessing where this is set: clearly the schoolboy is wandering somewhere well east of Eton. And he’s still there, except now the grounds are marked out with “Scimitar tanks and ASLAV armored vehicles”, and everyone now and then they’ve had to call off the match because a “Merlin helicopter caused a sandstorm by landing nearby.”
    So, will cricket stiffen the spine of the the boys in Basra? Check back with us in Part II, coming soon…

    Posted in Annals of Globalization, Glancing Headers, Guest Columns | 37 Comments

    What Arab Holocaust-Deniers Should Learn from Mandela


    Haganah fighters take aim: Survivors of the camps arriving in Israel in 1948 having been denied anywhere else to go weren’t going to see the war as anything but a matter of physical survival

    No, this is not another one of those idiotic diatribes by Americans or Israelis who know nothing about Nelson Mandela, but use their fantasy picture of him to add authority to their claims that the Palestinians should embrace whatever Israel deigns to offer them. For the record, in making peace with the apartheid regime, Nelson Mandela did not significantly compromise on the ANC’s core demand – he agreed to end the armed struggle only when the white minority had conceded to the principle of democratic majority rule after decades of trying in vain to force the national liberation movement to settle for less.

    Still, there is a very, very important lesson that the Palestinian national movement and its Arab allies – and certainly, those in Iran who claim to speak on its behalf – have failed to learn. Mandela made it his business, as a responsible leader of a national liberation movement fighting apartheid’s unique form of colonialism, to understand the motives of the system’s die-hard supporters. Not simply their tactics and strategies, but the historical narrative within which they constructed their system of minority rule as an “historic necessity” by which they could justify the suppression of others. Because all systems of oppression are ultimately founded on fear, and their claim to offer protection to their adherents from the things they most fear.

    When Mandela stood in the dock in 1964 and told the court that one of his prime sources of inspiration for waging guerrilla war was the great Boer War general Deneys Reitz — whose book “Kommando” was an early manual worthy of Giap — he was not simply being cute. He was telling the Afrikaners that he connected with their own national liberation struggle waged against the British, and that he was representing his own people in a narrative they should understand from their own experience. The Boers built the system that guaranteed their privileges and power on the basis of the common historical experience of the Afrikaners at the hands of the British – and for those of you who didn’t know, the very term “Concentration Camp” was actually a British invention during the Boer War. The highly mobile Boer guerrilla forces were more than a match for Britain’s large conventional formations, saddling up and riding into battle and then simply disappearing back into the civilian population. So the British responded by simply rounding up that civilian population, burning their farms, and imprisoning them in what they called “Concentration Camps,” where 26,000 Boer women and children died of starvation and disease.

    And it was that sense of victimhood and outrage at the hands of the Brits that drove the Afrikaner-Nationalist ideology of Mandela’s foes. Both from prison and in power, Mandela never belittled or dismissed their experience; instead he honored the suffering of the Boers and their courage and ingenuity in their war against Britain. Mandela’s message, in essence, was “we understand your suffering, but we were not your oppressors, and you have nothing to fear from us; your suffering cannot excuse the suffering you have imposed on us.”

    Mandela went out of his way to incorporate Afrikaner suffering, and even Afrikaner national pride, in his articulation of a new national identity. The ANC government celebrated the centenary of the Anglo Boer war in 1999, commemorating it as part of the legacy of South Africans’ fight for freedom. And five years earlier, Mandela had donned that most potent of symbols of Afrikaner pride — the Springbok rugby jersey — to cheer on the national team at the Rugby World Cup, a gesture more powerful than any words could convey to many ordinary Afrikaans people fearful of their place in Mandela’s new South Africa.

    The reason we’re talking about this, of course, is that Iran is hosting an international gathering of Holocaust deniers, as if assembling a rogues gallery of neo-Nazis and Klu Klux Klansmen to “negate” the experience of history can somehow strengthen the Palestinian cause. In truth, of course, President Mahmoud Ahmedinajad is not concerned with the Palestinians; he’s fighting his own power struggle against more pragmatic elements inside the regime in Tehran, his strategy involving repeat symbolic provocations of the West in order to foment a crisis that sabotages the efforts of those in the regime seeking a pragmatic coexistence. His tactics are those of the 1979 U.S. embassy seizure — create a confrontation with the West that polarizes the situation, forcing Iranians to rally against an external enemy and sabotaging any effort to cooperate with the U.S. and others.

    And in inviting Palestinians and Arabs to deny the Holocaust, Ahmedinajad is doing their cause a profound disservice. Ahmedinajad’s Holocaust-denial is hardly unique. It’s been echoed even in recent weeks by representatives of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood, and even Mahmoud Abbas — although he has since disavowed it — wrote a PhD thesis in the early 1980s in which he claimed that the number of Jews killed by the Nazis was less than 1 million.

    This offends me profoundly, as a Jew, as an advocate of justice for the Palestinians, as a global citizen. Because even if Holocaust denial arises among Arab intellectuals largely as a result of the uses to which the Zionist movement has put the Holocaust to justify all manner of injustices against the Palestinians, that does not excuse it. To deny the Holocaust becuase of the way it has been exploited is like denying that the attacks on the World Trade Center took place because you don’t like the Patriot Act or the way 9/11 has been used to cow a frightened nation into supporting the invasion of Iraq.

    Arab Holocaust denial is a feeble-minded distortion that puts its adherents into the bizarre company of people who today would just as soon butcher Muslims to get them out of Europe as they once did to Jews (or, indeed, of the diseased minds in the Zionist camp who spend all their time bashing out emails and journal articles purporting to show that there are no Palestinians, that Edward Said never lived in Jerusalem and that sort of thing…). But that’s not the worst of it: Arab Holocaust denial also evades confronting the fact that not only did the Holocaust happen to the Jews of Europe, but because it happened to the Jews of Europe — and because of the reaction by other Western powers before and after the fact — the Holocaust profoundly changed the Arab world. Indeed, in this sense, the Holocaust may have been one of the most important historical events shaping Arab history over the past century.

    No, Ahmedinajad would say, not the Holocaust, but the “myth” of the Holocaust. But does he think we’re stupid? The vast majority of the world’s Jews before World War II had rejected Zionism and its idea of colonizing Palestine in order to build a Jewish nation-state as a fringe movement of zealots. In terms of Jewish political affiliation, Zionism accounted for less than 20 percent. The vast majority of Europe’s Jews had identified themselves with the parties of the Left (and also secular liberalism in the case of elements of Western Europe’s more prosperous Jewish communities) — they were socialists and social democrats, Bolsheviks and Bundists (the Jewish Workers Bund was a Yiddish-speaking organization for Jewish workers but aligned itself with the broader socialist movement, as compared with the entirely secular currents of Bolshevism in which many Jews participated, but as individuals rather than en bloc).

    And, of course, among the massive Jewish population of the main Arab cities of the time, such as Cairo and Baghdad (and also Tehran, of course, which is not Arab, but Persian), there was no statistically significant presence of a Zionist movement at all. And it is important to remember, here, that it was in the Muslim world that Jews had historically sought refuge from persecution in Christian Europe, at whose hands Jews and Muslims shared a common fate.

    The Holocaust wiped out the pre-war (mostly anti-Zionist) European leadership, and the Zionists were ready to take advantage of the opportunity presented by universal horror at what had transpired in the camps to make a case for a Jewish State in Palestine — a cause for which they had fought long before the Holocaust, but in which they hadn’t won the support of a majority of European Jews. Ben Gurion notoriously remarked, circa 1938, “‘Were I to know that all German Jewish children could be rescued by transferring them to England and only half by transfer to Palestine, I would opt for the latter, because our concern is not only the personal interest of these children, but the historic interest of the Jewish people.” Indeed, Ben Gurion warned that as a result of universal outrage at the Kristallnacht pogrom, other nations might be moved by conscience to open their doors to Jewish refugees — “Zionism is in danger!” Ben Gurion warned.

    Indeed, after the war, the Zionist movement actively agitated to ensure that the survivors of the Holocaust were transferred to Palestine, and nowhere else. Morris Ernst, a Jewish adviser to President Roosevelt, wrote later of a plan he devised and had pressed the U.S. president to accept that would throw open the doors of the U.S. to at least 150,000 survivors. “It would free us from the hypocrisy of closing our own doors while making sanctimonious demands on the Arabs,” Ernst wrote, in reference to the fact that Arabs in Palestine were being told to make room for the survivors, while the main Western powers kept a tight restriction on Jewish immigration even after Auschwitz. When he proposed the plan to Zionist activists in Jewish organizations, he was shocked at the reaction: “I was amazed and even felt insulted when active Jewish leaders decried, sneered, and then attacked me as if I were a traitor…I think I know the reason for much of the opposition. There is a deep, genuine, often fanatical emotional vested interest in putting over the Palestinian movement [i.e. the move to settle Jews there].”

    And in his excellent book The Seventh Million: Israeli Jews and the Holocaust, Israeli historian Tom Segev reveals that for the first 15 years after the liberation of the camps, Israelis were not much interested in hearing the testimonies of Holocaust survivors or discussing an episode they saw simply as connoting Jewish weakness. It was only after the Eichmann trial in Jerusalem that Israel began to actively claim ownership of the Holocaust as part of its national narrative, and the reason was political: the first generation of Western Jews who had settled in the new state was beginning to lose faith and emigrate, and a sense of gloom had settled over the Zionist project — reviving the memory of the Holocaust became a way of promoting national unity behind Zionist goals. (And my personal Zionist experience was intimately bound up with the Holocaust, and the sense the Zionist movement had created in me that we were always on the brink of extinction, and that Israel embodied the spirit of the Warsaw Ghetto, of not going meekly to the gas chamber — take a 17-year old to Yad Vashem, then tell him that our only insurance against another Holocaust is the IDF, and you’ll add another true believer to the ranks.)

    For the Palestinians and their supporters, however, the point is simple: The memory of the Holocaust is such a powerful ideological tool for Zionism precisely because of its reality — it speaks the collective memory of Ashkenazi Jews of our fate in Europe, and it pricks the conscience of the perpetrators and those who preferred to turn away.

    To respond by trying to deny the reality of the Holocaust is as profoundly immoral as it is idiotic — creating a kind of binary game in which if Israel says mother’s milk is good for babies, the likes of Ahmedinajad will convene a symposium to prove the superiority of formula. The point about the Holocaust is that it happened to the Jews of Europe, and afterwards, as a result of the efforts of the Zionist movement and some combination of shame and latent anti-Semitism in the West, many of its survivors had no choice but to go to Palestine, where they were willing to fight with every fiber of their being for survival, without the luxury of considering the history and context into which they’d been thrust. In the war that followed, Palestinian Arabs, who had been 55 % of the population and had controlled around 80 % of the land, now found themselves displaced and dispossessed, confined to a mere 22 % of Palestine (the West Bank and Gaza), and prevented by a series of ethnic-cleansing laws passed by the State of Israel at its inception from reclaiming the homes and land from which they’d mostly fled in legitimate fear of their lives.

    So, the Holocaust, in a very real way, reverberated traumatically in Palestinian national life: It was the narrative that fueled the ferocity with which many of those who drove the Palestinians from their homes in 1948 approached the struggle. And, as Morris Ernst wrote in his reference to “sanctimonious demands on the Arabs,” the Palestinian Arabs had been asked to pay a steep price for Western guilt over what had befallen the Jews of Europe.

    Ahmedinajad ought to pay attention to one particular guest, a Palestinian lawyer from Nazareth called Khaleed Mahameed, who runs a small Holocaust exhibit at his office in Nazareth, and argues that it is essential that the Palestinians understand the Holocaust because in it lies the root of their own suffering. Addressing the Israelis on the basis of an understanding of their experience was essential for the Palestinians to make progress in their own national struggle, he argues. He was invited to the conference after writing to Ahmedinajad telling him that the Holocaust was an historical fact that should not be questioned, and that doing so only played into the hands of right-wing Zionists. Indeed, the Zionist establishment doesn’t quite know what to make of Mahameed, because he’s directly challenging Ahmedinajad at the same time as making clear that the Holocaust has been abused in order to justify suffering inflicted on the Palestinians. That’s how a Palestinian Mandela would put it — the Holocaust, in fact, is part of the legacy of suffering that is the common history of Israel and the Palestinians.

    Posted in A Wondering Jew, Situation Report | 86 Comments

    Gracias, Pinochet — For Proving That Your Victims Are Better Than You


    Milton Friedman comes to Chile

    General Augusto Pinochet died, Sunday, shamed as a butcher and human rights abuser — even an international terrorist, given the CIA’s finding of his complicity in the 1976 Washington, D.C. car bombing that killed Orlando Letelier and Ronni Moffit — and yet, as a free man. Some will argue that this was justice denied for the thousands killed and tortured by his regime. But only if justice is measured as retribution.

    Long before the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, September 11 was a black day for Chileans. It was on that day, in 1973, that years of subversion directed by Henry Kissinger and the CIA came to fruition, with a coup led by Pinochet that overthrew the democratically elected Marxist government of Salvador Allende. The U.S. and Chile’s right-wing military and conservative elements in Chilean society the country’s Opus Dei-dominated Catholic Church hated the values represented by Allende’s government, and warned that he was plunging the country into chaos (not that the CIA wasn’t actively spreading that chaos as part of an explicity campaign based on Henry Kissinger’s memorable statement that “I don’t see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist because of the irresponsibility of its own people.”) But regardless of his ideology, Allende wasn’t killing people, or torturing them, or summarily arresting them. They were free to organize and express their opposition.

    But they couldn’t win in democratic elections, so they made a coup. And what followed, in the name of “saving Chile from communism” (supposedly an authoritarian system of human rights abuses) was a wave of savage repression that included rounding up left-wing activists in the national stadium, where many were tortured to death — none more famously than the gentle musician Victor Jara, whose hands were broken by Pinochet’s goons and was then told to play his guitar, during four days of torture before he was machine gunned.

    Pinochet’s savagery was conveniently overlooked by such pals as Reagan and Thatcher, simply because those he was brutalizing were people of the left — never mind that they were the non-violent democrats who believed in the will of the people, expressed through the ballot box, and the rule of law, while Pinochet represented the vile stench of the torturer’s exertions.

    Back in the 80s, as I was coming of age politically in South Africa, the example of Chile immediately explained why it was that the Reagan Administration backed the apartheid regime — because Chile showed that the U.S. cared nothing about democracy abroad, and would actively support vicious tyrants who declared themselves anti-communist. Even the deranged kleptocrat and mass murderer Mobutu Sese Seko, for example, was an honored guest in Reagan’s White House. As the Clash (who also memorialized Victor Jara on ‘Sandinista’) sang on a different track, “If Adolf Hitler, were here today, they’d send a limousine anyway…”

    Back then, I believed that Pinochet deserved to die, to avenge all those whose lives he destroyed for no reason other than that their views were deemed unacceptable to his own, a blend of Prussian Military authoritarianism, Catholic crypto-fascism and the economics of free enterprise fundamentalist Milton Friedman.

    But we all grow up.

    The South African experience taught me that once the leaders of a violent authoritarian regime are stripped of their power, they are forced to confront their own criminality in the eyes of a society that has moved on, repudiating them — and more importantly, simply moving on to build a better society that, in itself, shows the moral bankruptcy of those that unleashed violence on the people in the name of progress and security. P.W. Botha, another third world thug admired by Lady Thatcher, died a couple of months ago, too, stripped of his power, a cantankerous old fool who had destroyed tens of thousands of lives, but had faced no retribution from his victims. Instead, they had simply moved on, repudiating him by building a new society that had no need for torture chambers.

    Botha spent his last years living in the dustbin of history, and so did Pinochet. Once he was forced to allow the Chilean people to vote for their own leaders, he was summarily rejected. And he had to endure the fact that the society he had killed so many to “protect” from communism had, in fact, chosen to return to power the very people he had locked up and tortured. And in the West, in whose defense he had ostensibly committed his atrocities, he was now treated as a criminal, freed from the ignominy of extradition to Spain after 18 months under house arrest only on humanitarian grounds.

    Today, Chile is ruled by a former detainee and torture victim, but the society Michele Bachelet is helping develop has no need to turn Pinochet’s own methods on him. They will even allow him a military funeral, but not a state one. After all, he was legitimately head of the military (having been appointed by the legally elected President he later killed); he was never legitimately a head of state.

    In its humane handling of Pinochet, in fact, the government of his victims proved its superiority. Sure, his victims would have liked to see him face a judge and answer to each and every charge — Pinochet, while still ruling as the head of the military, created for himself a bogus amnesty. They pursued him to his death, but only via the law. It is Pinochet’s victims who will be memorialized with honor as the old man’s bones are interred. And all Chileans know, whether or not they admit it, that they have created a better society by getting rid of him. Pinochet will have sensed it, too.

    And since his arrest and extradition trial in Britain in 1998, he has had to confront the reality that even in the West, he is deemed a criminal — his release, remember, was on compassionate grounds. This from a piece I wrote for Britannica.com following his release:

    Abuse is made all the more traumatic when its victims are denied the right to remember, and post-Pinochet Chilean society had–until the general’s arrest– imposed a cruel amnesia on those who had suffered at the hands of the dictatorship. A trial is a cathartic moment for people on whom silence has been imposed; it’s an affirmation, a bearing of witness to their pain and suffering, a moment that allows a healing process to begin. Confronting their tormentor, now stripped of both the power to hurt them and of the palliatives of political rationalization, and recalling the horrors he perpetrated in all their painful detail can be of immeasurable psychological benefit to those burdened by trauma. Pinochet’s victims won’t get to confront him in court, although there’s been an unprecedented bearing of witness–mostly through the media, both Chilean and international–since his arrest.

    No matter what crimes he may be guilty of, Pinochet is unlikely ever to see the inside of a prison cell. But justice–imperfect at the best of times–may well have been served precisely by denying the general the exoneration by the West he so desperately craved. In Pinochet’s mind, every head that had ever been cracked by his goons, every torture-riddled corpse tossed into the Pacific Ocean, every child stolen from its doomed leftist parents and handed over to a childless military couple, all of his junta’s crimes against the people of Chile had been committed in defense of Western values–ugly but necessary measures to defend democracy and freedom from totalitarian communism.

    This involved some twisted logic from a man who’d overthrown a leftist government that had meticulously upheld the constitution of Latin America’s oldest democracy, while the general himself turned it into toilet paper–but then the ability to rationalize is an essential skill for those who commit crimes against humanity. Torturers go home at the end of their day to wives and families; they have to create a structure of meaning that sanctions unconscionably sadistic behavior toward their foes and then allows them, only hours later, to read their children a bedtime story. And that leaves them vulnerable to a justice more subtle, yet every bit as harsh, as that dispensed by courts.

    South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission was not a court of law, and it had no power to punish individuals no matter how heinous the crimes to which they were admitting. And yet there are numerous tales of torturers and assassins breaking down in its sessions or after, being overwhelmed by the weight of their own confession. They are left depressed and anxious, unable to function socially now that their own children knew what they had once done. Stripped of their dignity and acceptability in polite society, the torturers of the past are subject to a justice more profound, perhaps, than any prison could offer, because prisons inevitably cast the prisoner, in his own mind, as a victim.

    After 15 months as a prisoner awaiting trial in England, Pinochet’s spirit and body are in decline. The arrogant generalissimo will return home diminished and humiliated, shunned by the West as a criminal, the abuses of his regime exposed. And that may be a punishment more profound than any prison term: General Pinochet has been sentenced to live with himself.

    Posted in Situation Report | 10 Comments