Category: Debris

  • Different Perspectives

    Last night I gathered with my English as a Second Language students for our final class of the semester. Before digging into another dry reading comprehension exercise, we just sat and talked, which, to be honest, is the main reason that Thursday night is often the highlight of my week. At various points over the last few months, I’ve learned that: my friend from Turkey is a Kurd whose parents live just north of the Syrian border (I learned this on the day that Turkey gave the U.S. permission to do fly-overs); my friend from the Sudan, a refugee, spent several weeks circumnavigating the civil war in the south, much of his trip on foot, before finally receiving his papers in Khartoum and heading north to Cairo, where he spent several more weeks waiting for asylum; and my friend from Ethiopia, a person who now works in “food service,” was once a speaker in the Upper House of her country’s Parliament. Unbelievable. I need to get out more.

  • Red Five Standing By

    I subscribe to the Pop Culture Association & American Culture Association listserv, which typically fills my in-box only with announcements of calls for papers and research queries. But occasionally someone’s dander will rise and an interesting discussion will follow. This week, several participants have been debating the merits of the various Cultural Studies textbooks, and from that debate has blossomed a chat about the practical impact of myth and heroes on American politics. I was only skimming the messages until I discovered this note, written by John Shelton Lawrence, co-author of The Myth of the American Superhero (2002):

    I would challenge people to think about President Bush’s donning of the flight suit today, engaging in flight, appearing with his flight helmet on deck of the Abraham Lincoln and place it in the context of the film Independence Day. Is the president being scripted to match the plot of a superheroic action president in the film? The question seems worth exploring.

    If you’re at all intrigued by this question, Dr. Lawrence has posted an interesting article on his Web server. “Post 9/11: Who Can Save the Day?” is an anecdotal but historically sensitive discussion of the “relationships between U.S. foreign policy makers and some important popular artifacts.” He takes on, in short order: Teddy Roosevelt and Buffalo Bill’s Wild West, FDR and William Randolph Hearst, Clinton’s and Dole’s celebration of Independence Day, and Dubya’s affinity for Rambo. The last section, as you might have guessed, is the most relevant today. After describing the administration’s push for the American Services Members Protection Act, Lawrence concludes with this fun little anecdote (and by “fun” I mean horrifying):

    In February 2002 the president’s pleasure in superheroic fantasy and his eagerness to use it in conveying his own political values was revealed in an incident with Germany’s leading news magazine, Der Spiegel. To accompany a “Masters of the Universe” article on the Bush administration’s crusade against evil, Spiegel created a satirical cover depicting each national security player in the role of a zealous destroyer from American popular culture. George W. Bush, surrounded by his advisers, received a muscular Rambo body holding an automatic weapon and ammunition belts.

    Daniel Coats, U.S. Ambassador to Germany, visited Der Spiegel‘s editorial offices — not to protest the caricature or the article’s viewpoint about reckless unilateralism — but to report that “the President was flattered,” whereupon he ordered thirty-three poster-size renditions of the cover for the White House. Each policy maker on the cover reportedly wanted a copy.

    [insert loud guffaw, deep sigh, profane tirade, or sarcastic insult — whichever best suits you.]

  • The Agenda

    At the risk of sounding like a broken record, let me begin by saying that, within the strange confines of my personal experience, many of the “Regular Joes” who support President Bush and his agenda seem to do so because he is pro-life and because he evidences publicly the recognizable signs of a “committed walk with God.” Within this community — this large, evangelical sub-culture — voting Republican is a “moral” act, a single gesture by which evangelicals hope to restore America to its Christian foundations (whatever that means — and, of course, it doesn’t mean anything, which is the beauty of empty, historically-blind rhetoric, but that’s another rant entirely).

    So with that out of the way — along with the obligatory acknowledgement that there are, of course, notable exceptions to my rule — I want to dig into William Grieder’s recent piece for The Nation, “Rolling Back the 20th Century,” which does a nice job, I think, of summarizing the Neoconservative agenda. The thesis of his argument, as implied by the title of the article, is that, since Reagan’s election in 1980, the Right has moved slowly but steadily toward a dismantling of New Deal America with the ultimate goal of returning us to the “lost Eden” of the McKinley Era. This is the line that really grabbed by attention:

    Many opponents and critics (myself included) have found the right’s historic vision so improbable that we tend to guffaw and misjudge the political potency of what it has put together. We might ask ourselves: If these ideas are so self-evidently cockeyed and reactionary, why do they keep advancing?

    If you’re a regular reader of Long Pauses, then you know that I’m plagued by the word “praxis” — the symbiotic relationship of theory and action. I was reminded of it again last night as I finished reading Radical Chic, Tom Wolfe’s 1970 account of a fund-raising party held at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Bernstein in honor of the Black Panthers. At one point, the trio of Bernstein, Otto Preminger, and Barbara Walters (!) assail Don Cox with pointed questions concerning the risks of violent revolution, and the leather-clad, afro-ed Panther is able only to regurgitate the Maoist jargon of “petty bourgeois oppression” and “individual freedoms.” He isn’t very convincing.

    But the Neocons are. I keep thinking of a line from Angels in America, when Joe, the mostly-closeted Mormon, Republican lawyer, asks Louis, his Jewish, progressive lover: “Do you want to be pure or do you want to be effective?” The Neocons seem to have discovered praxis in spades, though it’s praxis built upon grossly immoral theories of capital. Grieder summarizes the main points of that agenda, each of which is explained in much greater detail in the article:

    • Eliminate federal taxation of private capital, as the essential predicate for dismantling the progressive income tax.
    • Gradually phase out the pension-fund retirement system as we know it, starting with Social Security privatization but moving eventually to breaking up the other large pools of retirement savings, even huge public-employee funds, and converting them into individualized accounts.
    • Withdraw the federal government from a direct role in housing, healthcare, assistance to the poor and many other long-established social priorities, first by dispersing program management to local and state governments or private operators, then by steadily paring down the federal government’s financial commitment.
    • Restore churches, families and private education to a more influential role in the nation’s cultural life by giving them a significant new base of income — public money.
    • Strengthen the hand of business enterprise against burdensome regulatory obligations, especially environmental protection, by introducing voluntary goals and “market-driven” solutions.
    • Smash organized labor.

    Later in the piece, Grieder boils it down even further: “Dismantle the common assets of society, give people back their tax money and let everyone fend for himself.” It’s an oversimplification, obviously, but it’s also a frighteningly accurate summary of Bush’s domestic policy. I guess the question that plagues me is: How did this agenda become the guiding light for America’s evangelicals? How did a Church founded on Christ’s ministry become united behind a political ideology that elevates market forces over justice and mercy? Do we so completely lack imagination and understanding of history that we’ve concluded that this is the best we can do?

    Grieder concludes:

    I do not believe that most Americans want what the right wants. But I also think many cannot see the choices clearly or grasp the long-term implications for the country. This is a failure of left-liberal politics. Constructing an effective response requires a politics that goes right at the ideology, translates the meaning of Bush’s governing agenda, lays out the implications for society and argues unabashedly for a more positive, inclusive, forward-looking vision.

    Perhaps it could be modified slightly and still retain some of its weight:

    I do not believe that most Christians want what the right wants. But I also think many cannot see the choices clearly or grasp the long-term implications for the country. This is a failure of the evangelical church. Constructing an effective response requires a theology that goes right at the ideology, translates the meaning of Bush’s governing agenda, lays out the implications for society and argues unabashedly for a more graceful, just, and merciful vision.

    Just doing my part for the cause.

  • Eight Dollar Magazines

    I never buy eight dollar magazines. Ever. On principle. Even the really tempting ones like Paste that come with those nifty CD samplers. Which is why it’s so odd that, tonight, I bought an eight dollar magazine. But I didn’t really have any choice in the matter, because, well, The Believer might just be the coolest damn magazine I’ve ever seen.

    A small sampling of the contents of The Believer Vol.1, No.1, March 2003, 127 pages:

    • “Rejoice! Believe! Be Strong and Read Hard! A Call for a New Era of Experimentations and a Book Culture That Will Support It” by Heidi Julavits
    • “The Most Pre-Protested Would-Be War in History” by Marc Herman
    • Badlands and the ‘Innocence’ of American Innocence” by Jim Shepard
    • “Magical Realism: A Short, Loose History”
    • “A Conversation between Salman Rushdie and Terry Gilliam”
    • “An Interview with Beth Orton
    • “An Interview with Kumar Pallana

    So what are you waiting for? Go subscribe already! A magazine this interesting won’t be around for long — at least not without our support. (Oh yeah, and go subscribe to Beyond while you’re at it.)

  • Deep South

    I spent the long Easter weekend in Monroeville, “The Literary Capital of Alabama.” It earned its moniker by virtue of being the home of Nell Harper Lee and the setting of her novel, To Kill a Mockingbird. (Gregory Peck came to town for the local film premiere. I’ve seen pictures.) A young Truman Capote was also known to roam its streets on occasion, as was my wife, who grew up there and whose family still calls Monroeville home. Miss Nell was invited to our wedding, actually. She didn’t come, but, as I recall, her sister sent a nice note.

    After spending the last decade or so transplanted in various locales throughout the South, I feel pretty comfortable calling Monroeville a typical deep South town. It’s filled with nice folks and big churches. It’s got a Wal-Mart and a Rite-Aid, a McDonald’s, a Hardees, and a Burger King. Two courthouses fill the town square (the old one is now a museum), and the air smells of azaleas and paper mills. It also has that Old South segregation — unofficial, of course. Most of the whites who can afford to, send their kids to the private Academy — the new “white flight,” you could say. According to the 2000 Census, about 25% of Monroe County’s residents live below the poverty level and only 55% of those over the age of 16 are employed (that last one’s a complicated statistic, I know). Just over 40% of the population is African-American. I can only guess how closely all those figures are linked. But I seldom see that side of Monroeville.

    We were married at the Baptist Church — not because anyone in the family attends there (they’re mostly Presbyterians and Methodists), but because it was the only one large enough to hold all of the guests. I kept my nose out of the arrangements, so I don’t have an exact figure, but I clearly remember standing up there, looking out over the deep rows of pews and the hundreds of strange faces as my bride walked towards me. Quite a sight. Then I remember being whisked away to the reception, which was held beneath an impressive encampment of rented tents in the back yard of a restored Victorian home. If you’ve seen Sweet Home Alabama and remember the wedding that wasn’t to be, then you can probably picture it. My midwestern family and Yankee friends from back home had never seen anything like it. Several of them still call it the “Big Party in Alabama.”

    “The Party” was, of course, paid for by my father-in-law, the honorable small town doctor who reduced my wife to tears at our rehearsal dinner by stepping up to the microphone and delivering flawlessly Steve Martin’s monologue from Father of the Bride:

    I used to think a wedding was a simple affair. A boy and girl meet, they fall in love, he buys a ring, she buys a dress, they say “I do.” I was wrong. That’s getting married. A wedding is an entirely different proposition. I know. I’ve just been through one. Not my own. My daughter’s. Annie Banks-MacKenzie. That’s her married name. MacKenzie. I’ll be honest with you. When I bought this house seventeen years ago, it cost me less than this blessed event in which Annie Banks became Annie Banks-MacKenzie. I’m told that one day I’ll look back on all this with great affection and nostalgia. I hope so.

    You fathers will understand. You have a little girl. An adorable little girl who looks up to you and adores you in a way you could never imagine. I remember how her little hand used to fit inside mine. How she used to sit in my lap and lean her head against my chest. She said that I was her hero. Then the day comes when she wants to get her ears pierced and she wants you to drop her off a block before the movie theater. Next thing you know she’s wearing eye shadow and high heels. From that moment on, you’re in a constant state of panic. You worry about her going out with the wrong kind of guys, the kind of guys who only want one thing–and you know exactly what that one thing is because it’s the same thing you wanted when you were their age.

    Then she gets a little older and you quit worrying about her meeting the wrong guy and you worry about her meeting the right guy. And that’s the biggest fear of all because then you lose her. And before you know it, you’re sitting all alone in a big, empty house, wearing rice on your tux, wondering what happened to your life.

    See, that’s one of the perks of marrying into the South. In all of the weddings I’ve attended up north, I’ve never seen anything that cool. That gentle, soft-spoken man put himself on display, but managed still to turn the spotlight on his daughter on her day. That’s the part of Monroeville that I see. The part where cousins drive you out onto the property they manage for a day of catfishing. The part where friends take you for a morning horseback ride and let you spend the day in their camphouse. It’s Utopian. Kind of.

    One of my best friends is writing his dissertation on the intersections of race and class in Southern literature. I’m hoping that, by the time he finishes, he’ll have some advice for me, something that will cure me of the paralyzing ambivalence I feel whenever I visit Monroeville. I tend to slip quietly into a reserved resignation when there. I smile politely at the jokes and find excuses to leave the room when talk turns to politics. It seldom seems worth the effort to me then. Pass the pie, please.

  • News from the Front

    Tonight, I listened to Shane Claiborne tell stories about Baghdad. He’s taller than I expected (6′ 3″, maybe) and skinnier and younger. I mean, I knew he was young, but after reading his diaries for the last few weeks I somehow expected him to carry the weight of his experience in his skin. He’s just a kid, though — a couple years younger than I am, in fact. Looks like that skater kid who annoys you at the mall. The one with the flared pants and chunky glasses who you avoid making eye contact with. Shane had the pants and the glasses, along with a light brace around his chest that restrained his left shoulder. The one he dislocated while riding at high speed through a militarized zone on the road from Baghdad to Amman. The one he dislocated while bombs fell in every direction. The one he dislocated while his friends’ skulls cracked open beside him.

    Shane is a local boy — a graduate of Maryville High School who went off to college in Philadelphia a few years ago and decided to stay. He and several friends committed to spending five years together in community, living Christ’s example in an inner-city neighborhood. After his talk tonight I told him that I was glad he was home safe, that I had prayed for him. Then I thanked him for being one of those voices that has brought me comfort in recent months, when I have felt so alienated from so much of American religion. With typical grace, he smiled and said, “That’s the struggle, isn’t it? At some point you have to stop complaining about the Church and start being the Church.” The Simple Way, they call it.

    Shane left for Baghdad a few weeks ago as part of a Christian Peacemaker Team, in cooperation with Voices in the Wilderness. He went, he told us, with two goals in mind: first, to comfort the people of Iraq, showing them the other face of America, and second, to document that experience so that it could be shared with everyone willing to listen. I was deeply discouraged to hear him confirm my worst suspicions. Whenever they fought to bring specific humanitarian crises to the attention of reporters, the international media would soon be on the scene, asking questions, conducting interviews. Shane’s one experience with the American media — a live interview on one of the morning news programs — was cut off soon after he began answering the first question: “How does it feel to be considered a traitor in your own country?” A quick sidenote: one of the crises that they experienced was the bombing of the Baghdad market. Shane visited the scene the next day, and tonight I held a small part of a civilian vehicle that was incinerated in the attack, immediately killing all of its passengers.

    He had plenty of stories to share, many of which are posted in his diaries. There’s the one about the thirteen year old girl whose birthday party he attended. She wished for “Peace” as bombs blasted the horizon, an image that I would dismiss as cheap sentimentality in a film, but not in life. There’s the one about the bombs that explode before impact, spraying uniformly sized cubes of shrapnel into homes and families — the cluster bombs that we promised we wouldn’t use this time. (Shane has photos of those cubes, scraped from the bloodied walls of apartments near his camp.) There’s the one about the well-spoken (in English, that is) Iraqi doctor who stitched Shane and his friends back together after their accident, refusing payment. He asked only that they tell the world that the Americans had bombed their smalltown hospital three days earlier.

    My favorite story was of an Iraqi Christian who Shane met during a worship service. I didn’t realize that there were so many Christians in Iraq — upwards of one million, he told us. After a service, this man and Shane were discussing the war, and the man asked, “Do Americans support this war?” “Some do, but there is growing opposition.” “And the church?” Shane said that his heart sunk when he heard that second question. “Well, most do not, but some parts of the Church do support the war.” “Not Christians,” the man said, startled. “Yes, Christians.”

    “But, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’”

    What I love about this story and about this man is that his mind could not reconcile such a gross contradiction. It was impossible for him to imagine a Christian Church that imagines disaster and that accepts Bush’s heresy of redemptive violence as so many segments of ours have. He is such a wonderful reminder of the catholicity of Christ’s church and of how powerful it is despite our best efforts to castrate it.

  • New and Improved

    With more than one hundred html documents, nearly three hundred images, and thousands upon thousands of words, Long Pauses was getting a bit unwieldy. If I’ve done this correctly, the redesign will help in a number of ways.

    • CSS — God bless Cascading Style Sheets. My main goal in this whole endeavor was to make better use of CSS, giving me site-wide control of formatting. More than a hundred pages and not a single <font> tag to be found. It’s a thing of beauty. I originally planned to design everything with CSS, even abandoning nested tables, but there were just too many browser issues. One of my earlier designs absolutely exploded in Netscape 4. This one is a good compromise, I think. Not bad for an English major, eh?
    • Variety — That gray background was getting old. This design, as you’ll see in the coming weeks, allows me to change the entire look of the site in about two minutes. Should be fun. So, if you don’t care for the current Long Pauses banner (bonus points if you can name that film), be patient. It will change often.
    • Content — I also wanted to continue paring down the design, focusing more of my efforts on the content rather than flashy images. I’m hoping that you’ll find the new format more readable, and it should print more accurately, too.
    • Spring Cleaning — Revisiting every page gave me a much-needed opportunity to fix broken links, check spelling, and clean up fat code. At times I was also tempted to revise history — to edit some of the writing that no longer seems quite as insightful or clever as I once imagined it to be — but I fought the urge. The only links I didn’t check are those from my blog to external sites. I’ve always assumed that most of them would break. It’s just the nature of this beast.
    • Blogosphere — Since I launched Long Pauses, the Internet, along with many other media and traditional journalism, have been reshaped by blogging. This new design reflects that change to some extent. My blog now looks and functions more like others, including the addition of permalinks (Karen!). I decided against making it interactive, though, for several reasons that aren’t really worth sharing.
    • Experimentation — Long Pauses will always be a blank canvas, of sorts. If I were able to draw or paint or sculpt or create in other ways, I probably wouldn’t spend nearly so much time sitting behind a computer. But I can’t, so I do. Hopefully it’s worth the effort.

    So, what do you think? I’m guessing that an assortment of bugs and CSS quirks will reveal themselves over the next few days. Let me know if you stumble upon any. Unfortunately, blog updates will continue to be few and far between for the next week to ten days. Things are a bit hectic around here.

    Thank you for reading, and thank you especially to everyone who has sent kind notes over the last few days, asking for updates. I genuinely appreciate it.

  • Kushner on Bush

    Tony Kushner on President Bush and military intervention in Iraq:

    It’s very hard for me to ever say that I think unilateral military action on the part of United States can be a great thing at this point. The idea of the United States armed forces going in and suppressing and controlling a population of any sort is so fraught with history. . . . The minute we start dropping bombs on anybody, everybody feels very good for five minutes. And there is a fantasy sense that we’re still the number one country on earth because we can go in there and kick this person, and we forget we’re talking about this completely decimated country that was annihilated [a few] years ago and has never rebuilt.
    — from an interview with Craig Lucas on January 20, 1993.

    Yep. 1993. He was talking about that President Bush. I’ve just begun working through Tony Kushner in Conversation, edited by Robert Vorlicky. Here’s another interesting tidbit. Turns out that the Reagan administration wasn’t all bad. Kushner describing a federal grant that helped to fund the writing of Angels in America:

    The application for it was very honest. I said I was going to write a play about gay men and Mormons and Roy Cohn, sent it in to the federal government under Reagan, and thought, this will come back immediately with no money attached. Then they gave us this huge check. . . . It was Washington money with an eagle stamped on the check. So I felt, when I was writing it, that it was taxpayers’ money, and I do think that had some impact on the play’s scope.

    I wonder if Jesse Helms — the homophobic, anti-NEA Helms of old; not the kinder, gentler, post-Bono, pro-AIDS relief Helms — ever found out.

  • Frontline

    I watched the address last night and got exactly what I expected. As an aside, I don’t understand why the President’s staff informs the media of what he will be saying hours before he says it. I guess it is just more time for the administration to disseminate its message.

    I watched a fantastic installment of Frontline last night called, The Long Road to War. The first half hour was devoted to a political biography of Saddam, the second segment dealt mostly with the ’91 Gulf War, and the final bit addressed the Clinton and Dubya years. I’m so glad I caught it because it helped fill in a lot of holes for me. It was also nice to get the story from a relatively objective source, which was then supplemented with original interviews with prominent Iraqi officials and neo-cons like William Kristol and Richard Perle, who offered a fascinating peek inside the Hawk mentality. Here’s a helpful chronology from Frontline’s Website.

    Some interesting facts (that were news to me):

    Saddam’s relationship with the CIA goes back to the early-60s, when he was an up and coming enforcer (torturer/killer) for the Bath Party. The CIA helped them overthrow the existing government, which was pro-Soviet, and Saddam slowly rose through the ranks until he deposed his mentor in 1979. To inaugurate his regime, Saddam, at a formal dinner, had several of his best friends removed from the room and executed. Video footage of the dinner (which was shown on Frontline) was also broadcast throughout Iraq to let the people know what kind of a leader they now had. An odd moment: you can see Saddam crying after he gives the orders. Even in the 1960s, by the way, Saddam had a separate library devoted to Stalin. Nice.

    One interesting segment dealt with the feud between Saddam and Bush 41. All commentators, American and Iraqi alike, agreed that each man had disastrously misjudged the other. Bush made the regrettable mistake of making it personal — calling out Saddam by name — and in the process he did nothing but elevate Saddam’s status in the Middle East. Not only was Saddam taking on the United States, but he was now actually taking on the President himself. What a hero. Saddam, for his part, assumed that Bush would never actually attack him. After being supported by America throughout the 80s during his war with Iran and in his suppression of the Kurds, Saddam guessed that Bush would never risk American lives in the Iraqi desert.

    The big revelation for me was learning about the massive mistakes that we made at the end of the Gulf War (and that were strangely well-intentioned). After beating down the Iraqi army and destroying most of Saddam’s Republican Guard, our forces planned to eliminate what remained of enemy opposition. Powell, who was on the scene and who was disturbed by what he was seeing (on Frontline they showed footage of American helicopters gunning down retreating soldiers), Powell called Schwarzkopf and suggested that they call it off. Schwarzkopf passed the recommendation onto the White House, who went along with Powell. Rather than risk more American lives and needlessly kill more Iraqis, a truce was declared and Schwarzkopf was sent alone to sign off on Iraq’s terms of surrender. Here’s where it gets interesting.

    The Iraqis asked for permission to fly their helicopters. Knowing that we had destroyed most of their roads and bridges, Schwarzkopf agreed. Then, the Iraqis asked for permission to fly their armored helicopters. Again, Schwarzkopf agreed. Why did the Iraqis need those helicopters? Both in the North (the Kurds) and in Baghdad itself (Shia Muslims), opposition forces were rising up to depose Saddam — just as Bush had hoped! What did we do about it? Well, after allowing Saddam’s troops to use their armored helicopters, we just threw up our hands and said, “We did our job. Now it’s up the Iraqi people to deal with Saddam.” Tens of thousands of resistance forces were wiped out while our military looked on from a safe distance, forbidden to intervene.

    I’m really frustrated by the frequent comparisons of Saddam to Hitler — Saddam is contained, after all — but the footage of the crushed uprising was eerily similar to what I saw in The Pianist this weekend. Young men were dragged on the ground and shot point blank in the back of the head. Women and children had no choice but to put their belongings on their back and step in line. Everyone fought for bread and water. Bush didn’t act until several weeks later, when Saddam turned his attention to the Kurds. We set up and protected relief camps that were filled with Kurdish refugees, but by then the resistance had been quashed and Saddam was firmly in power again. Several interviewees said that, had America intervened, even for only a few days, Saddam would have been ousted by his own people.

    I also enjoyed the program because it dealt explicitly with the divide in the Republican party between what they called the Neo-Reaganites and the Practicalists. The divide has created an interesting tension in Dubya’s administration. On one side are folks like Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz, who have been pushing Bush toward war with Iraq since well before 9/11; on the other are Bush 41 and Powell, who warned the President months ago that he would never get support for war from the U.N. The Hawks versus the Diplomats. I was well aware of this divide, of course, but the show cast it in a new light. I have more sympathy for the Practical thinkers, especially for Powell, who has been dutifully fighting an honorable diplomatic battle that he has always known would never amount to more than ceremonial political maneuvering. But I have to admire (in a sick, sick way) the Machiavellian efficiency of the neo-cons, who exercise such remarkable control over affairs. That they’ve managed to do it under the flag of “Christian Providence” is just forehead-slapping.

    I have to admit that some of the administration’s attitudes toward Saddam make more sense to me now. I am so ready to see his reign brought to an end, and to think that that will happen without actual military force is, at best, idealistic, at worst, hopelessly naive. But I’m still horrified by the prospect of our looming war because I genuinely believe — and the Frontline special only reinforced this belief — that our administration honestly thinks that it will be stage one (or maybe stage two, after Afghanistan) in a military-supported, imperial quest to democratize the world. Talk about naive.

  • Rilke’s “The Man Watching”

    Less than an hour until President Bush’s national address, and I’m too tired, too frustrated, and too stunned to think. I know that there’s not much lower on the blog food chain than posting a poem without comment, but, well, a friend sent this to me today, and it’s been a source of welcomed comfort. And besides, great poetry speaks for itself.

    The Man Watching
    by Rainer Maria Rilke

    I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
    so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
    that a storm is coming,
    and I hear the far-off fields say things
    I can’t bear without a friend,
    I can’t love without a sister

    The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
    across the woods and across time,
    and the world looks as if it had no age:
    the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
    is seriousness and weight and eternity.

    What we choose to fight is so tiny!
    What fights us is so great!
    If only we would let ourselves be dominated
    as things do by some immense storm,
    we would become strong too, and not need names.

    When we win it’s with small things,
    and the triumph itself makes us small.
    What is extraordinary and eternal
    does not want to be bent by us.
    I mean the Angel who appeared
    to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
    when the wrestler’s sinews
    grew long like metal strings,
    he felt them under his fingers
    like chords of deep music.

    Whoever was beaten by this Angel
    (who often simply declined the fight)
    went away proud and strengthened
    and great from that harsh hand,
    that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
    Winning does not tempt that man.
    This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
    by constantly greater beings.

    Okay, one comment . . . I’ll never write a line this good:

    the landscape like a line in the psalm book,
    is seriousness and weight and eternity.

    Read it out loud. There is so much dramatic force in those three nouns. The stanza, up until that point, is almost romantic — filled with images of a storm and a mythical landscape. But then you hit the word “seriousness,” and the tone, even the tempo of the line changes. The light, fluid reading is brought to a halt, and we’re forced to confront those words, individually and in relation to one another: “seriousness and weight and eternity.”

    A perfect poem for today, I think.

  • A Bush Win?

    Mark Levine, an assistant professor in the History Department at UC – Irvine, has written a piece for Alternet that asks a simple but important question: How will the Left respond to a “Bush Wins” scenario? In other words, what will happen to the energies and coalitions formed around the anti-war movement this year when American forces depose Hussein quickly and with relatively few casualties — few enough, at least, to avoid swaying public opinion back home? What will happen when Bush successfully establishes something resembling (superficially, at least) a democratic-like regime in post-war Iraq? Remember that the general opinion of the American populace is that we have already achieved an overwhelming victory in Afghanistan — a victory against terrorism, a victory for democracy. Problem solved. Time to move on.

    The political Left, having established its most public position in decades, could be heading toward another in a series of significant embarrassments. With war now only days away (I assume), parts of the anti-war movement seem to be — and I say this with some hesitation — relishing the prospect of disaster. Today, Antiwar.com posted a link to this article, which promises “thousands of U.S. fatalities.” Surely the Left — which, you must admit, expresses its concerns in moral terms as often as the President does — can stake out its position on stronger grounds than, “Well, when thousands of Americans die, then, then the whole world will finally see how misguided Bush really is.” Surely the Left can hope for better than a bloody “I told you so.”

    Levine writes:

    the reality is that if the war is quick and a U.S.-occupation established effectively, progressive forces need to accept the removal of Hussein as a great opportunity to build democracy and justice in Iraq, whatever the actual motives of the Bush Administration. The social and political forces unleashed by the end of decades of Hussein’s murderous rule will not easily be penned in by a US-sponsored show-democracy; but whether these forces use a reopened public sphere or turn to violence to respond to the likely betrayal depends in good measure on how adroitly the world progressive community can lay fast but deep roots in Iraq.

    Levine argues that the Left should be working overtime now “to inoculate the American people against what the Carnegie Endowment for Peace has already labeled the ‘mirage’ of democracy that will likely be planted in Iraq after a short war.” Doing so is a tricky game, though, especially when American attention spans are busily occupied by American Idol and Anna Nicole. Harkening back to the finest hours of the New Left, Levine suggests that our greatest potential might lie in student movements. But he warns that the Left’s credibility also rests on its ability to refocus “on the larger world systems which have produced toxic conflicts such as Iraq, Sudan, Colombia and the Congo. In other words, taking steps toward a more holistic approach to peace and justice.” I hope I get to see it happen.

    But, of course, the Left continues to hold out hope for peaceful resolution, and the White House waffling of the last few days has offered occasional glimpses of promise. The best initiative for peace that I’ve found was offered this week by Sojourners – Christians for Justice and Peace. After meeting with Tony Blair and Clare Short, an ecumenical delegation of church leaders worked with Sojourners to draft a 6-point “Alternative to War for Defeating Saddam Hussein.” It seems remarkably pragmatic and just to me — a welcomed relief after months of naive anti-war sloganeering. Instead of annotating the proposal, I would encourage you to read it for yourself and pass it along.

  • God Bless Norman Mailer

    My wife is convinced that I’m the only person in America who is grateful that C-Span 2: Book TV comes standard with basic cable service. (If the shoe fits . . .) On Saturday night, I flipped it on and was pleased to find Norman Mailer answering questions from a large audience, doing so with his typical blend of blustery arrogance and spot-on insight. He was there to discuss The Spooky Art, his latest collection of essays, but I tuned in too late and only caught the last few questions. Two of them caught my attention.

    First, a man near the back of the room stood up and told Mailer that he felt “cheated.” His comment was something along the lines of, “While I’ve enjoyed your latest turn toward novels, I hate that I’ll never get to read Mailer on Clinton or Mailer on Bush, because I really cherish Mailer on Kennedy and Mailer on Nixon.” The second question-asker was more to the point: “Mr. Mailer, what is your opinion of American fascism?” I was pleasantly surprised by Mailer’s response. After first pointing out that he had, in fact, written about Clinton — and after taking several well-deserved jabs at the former President for the despicable connections between his policy in Kosovo and a certain Oval Office blowjob — Mailer suggested that, instead of addressing the issue with less care and time than it obviously deserved, he would defer to a speech he had recently delivered, which would soon be published in The New York Review of Books. From the shift of tone in his voice, it was obvious that Mailer was genuinely troubled by recent events, that he had paid them considerable attention, and that he was generally satisfied with the resulting speech.

    Only in America is now available online, and it is the best piece on Bush, Iraq, religion, and America’s political troubles that I’ve read. As I’ve mentioned around here often, I’ve been a champion of Mailer’s political commentary since first reading Armies of the Night and gasping at his prescient analysis of the Cold War. Sure, he can be as subtle as a sledgehammer, but the combined weight of his experience, intelligence, and confidence strike me with a welcomed force. (As an Onion headline put it this week, “Fox News Reporter Asks The Questions Others Are Too Smart To Ask.”) Man, I’d love to see an 80-year-old Mailer hand Bill O’Reilly his ass.

    One of that remarkable generation of Jewish-American authors (along with Miller, Malamud, Salinger, Bellow, and Roth, among others), and as its most explicitly political member, Mailer is, of course, intimately familiar with the long-standing and oft-troubling relationship between America’s faiths in God and country. Bush’s triumphalism has not gone unnoticed. For Mailer, Bush’s brand of “Flag Conservatism” is a natural and deeply disturbing by-product of America’s schizophrenia.

    And, of course, we were not in shape to feel free of guilt about September 11. The manic money-grab excitement of the Nineties had never been altogether free of our pervasive American guilt. We were happy to be prosperous but we still felt guilty. We are a Christian nation. The Judeo in Judeo-Christian is a grace note. We are a Christian nation. The supposition of a great many good Christians in America is that you were not meant to be all that rich. God didn’t necessarily want it. For certain, Jesus did not. You weren’t supposed to pile up a mountain of moolah. You were obligated to spend your life in altruistic acts. That was still one half of the good Christian psyche. The other half, pure American, was, as always: beat everybody. One can offer a cruel, but conceivably accurate, remark: To be a mainstream American is to live as an oxymoron. You are a good Christian, but you strain to remain dynamically competitive. Of course, Jesus and Evel Knievel don’t consort too well in one psyche. Human rage and guilt do take on their uniquely American forms.

    I love Mailer because of moments like this — blunt-force observations with remarkable consequences. Here’s another, where he takes a cliched symbol — in this case, plastic, which has been neutered of its metaphoric value at least since The Graduate — and wrestles from it more significance and poetic delight than I imagined possible:

    Marketing was a beast and a force that succeeded in taking America away from most of us. It succeeded in making the world an uglier place to live in since the Second World War. One has only to cite fifty-story high-rise architecture as inspired in form as a Kleenex box with balconies, shopping malls encircled by low-level condominiums, superhighways with their vistas into the void; and, beneath it all, the pall of plastic, ubiquitous plastic, there to numb an infant’s tactile senses, plastic, front-runner in the competition to see which new substance could make the world more disagreeable. To the degree that we have distributed this crud all over the globe, we were already wielding a species of world hegemony. We were exporting the all-pervasive aesthetic emptiness of the most powerful American corporations. There were no new cathedrals being built for the poor— only sixteen-story urban-renewal housing projects that sat on the soul like jail.

    The current tenor in D.C. seems to reflect a more general suspicion of intellectualism that is seeping across the country (much to the delight of cable news architects). Well, I’m going to say something that will sound terribly elitist to many: phrases like “that sat on the soul like jail” matter — and not just because of their content. Mailer knows precisely what effect that 64-word sentence — the one that begins “One has only to cite” — will have on his readers, just as he knows precisely how much dramatic weight will be carried by each of those seven monosyllabic words that end the paragraph. As do all good readers and writers. Despite the claims to the contrary made by Bush’s defenders, a love of and attention to words cannot be so easily divorced from a love of and attention to ideas, which is why I choke on my fist every time I hear America’s most public evangelical reduce the complex machinations of foreign policy, morality, and theology (most of all) down to good and evil. Is his world really so simple? Is his mind?

    Mailer continues (and in a manner that makes me think he’d enjoy Long Pauses):

    “Flag conservatives” like Bush paid lip service to some conservative values, but at bottom they didn’t give a damn. If they still used some of the terms, it was in order not to narrow their political base. They used the flag. They loved words like “evil.” One of Bush’s worst faults in rhetoric (to dip into that cornucopia) was to use the word as if it were a button he could push to increase his power. When people have an IV tube put in them to feed a narcotic painkiller on demand, a few keep pressing that button. Bush uses evil as a narcotic for that part of the American public which feels most distressed. Of course, as he sees it, he is doing it because he believes America is good. He certainly does, he believes this country is the only hope of the world. He also fears that the country is rapidly growing more dissolute, and the only solution may be—fell, mighty, and near-holy words—the only solution may be to strive for World Empire. . . .

    From a militant Christian point of view, America is close to rotten. The entertainment media are loose. Bare belly-buttons pop onto every TV screen, as open in their statement as wild animals’ eyes. The kids are getting to the point where they can’t read, but they sure can screw. So one perk for the White House, should America become an international military machine huge enough to conquer all adversaries, is that American sexual freedom, all that gay, feminist, lesbian, transvestite hullabaloo, will be seen as too much of a luxury and will be put back into the closet again. Commitment, patriotism, and dedication will become all-pervasive national values once more (with all the hypocrisy attendant). Once we become a twenty-first-century embodiment of the old Roman Empire, moral reform can stride right back into the picture. . . .

    More directly (even if it is not at all direct) a war with Iraq will gratify our need to avenge September 11. It does not matter that Iraq is not the culprit. Bush needs only to ignore the evidence. Which he does with all the power of a man who has never been embarrassed by himself. Saddam, for all his crimes, did not have a hand in September 11, but President Bush is a philosopher. September 11 was evil, Saddam is evil, all evil is connected. Ergo, Iraq.

    I feel obliged to comment on those snippets, but mostly I just want them to be read. Mailer slips so easily into flag conservative “logic” here — coloring it all with much needed irony — which makes his moments of genuine outrage all the more powerful. Mailer on post-war Iraq (as an aside, it’s good to see that he still holds impotent liberalism in such high contempt):

    Real democracy comes out of many subtle individual human battles that are fought over decades and finally over centuries, battles that succeed in building traditions. The only defenses of democracy, finally, are the traditions of democracy. When you start ignoring those values, you are playing with a noble and delicate structure. There’s nothing more beautiful than democracy. But you can’t play with it. You can’t assume we’re going to go over to show them what a great system we have. This is monstrous arrogance.

    “This is monstrous arrogance.” Consonance. I love it. I wonder if we’ll ever again have a president who values the life of the mind, one who can recognize or even define consonance. Take it home, Norman:

    The need for powerful theory can fall into many an abyss of error. I could, for example, be entirely wrong about the deeper motives of the administration. Perhaps they are not interested in Empire so much as in trying in true good faith to save the world. We can be certain Bush and his Bushites believe this. By the time they are in church each Sunday, they believe it so powerfully that tears come to their eyes. Of course, it is the actions of men and not their sentiments that make history. Our sentiments can be loaded with love within, but our actions can turn into the opposite. Perversity is always ready to consort with human nature.

  • American Triumphalism

    First, read Ashes to Alvin by Ann Lamott, whose name has come up so often in my life recently that I feel downright compelled to go get some of her books.

    Hats off to Rev. Fritz Ritsch, pastor of Bethesda Presbyterian Church, for his wonderful op-ed piece in Sunday’s Washington Post. Taking to task both President Bush — who has consistently and brazenly appropriated bad theology in an effort to forward his agenda — and those portions of the American church that have graciously accepted that agenda without criticism, Ritsch likens Bush’s self-image to that longed-for “Davidic ruler — a political leader like the Bible’s David, who will unite [the American church’s] secular vision of the nation with their spiritual aspirations. All indications are that they believe they have found their David in Bush — and that the president believes it, too.” Ritsch distinguishes between this attitude of “American triumphalism” and the alternative message that should be emanating from our churches: “grace, hope and redemption — the truth of Biblical faith.”

    For months now, as I’ve grown increasingly concerned by the administration’s evocations of Providence as a justification for war, I have often accused Bush of a type of Fundamentalism that is difficult for me to distinguish from the “Evil” that he is so determined to eradicate. Ritsch echoes these concerns, but does so more eloquently than I’ve been able to manage:

    In the aftermath of 9/11, people came to church in droves, looking for larger meaning, and then they left again, frustrated. That’s a problem churches need to address, not least because our failure to give them what they were looking for may have lent potency to presidential theology. When people were searching for meaning, the president was able to frame that meaning. In a nation of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. In a secular society, a president who can confidently quote scripture is that man.

    The president confidently (dare I say “religiously”?) asserts a worldview that most Christian denominations reject outright as heresy: the myth of redemptive violence, which posits a war between good and evil, with God on the side of good and Satan on the side of evil and the battle lines pretty clearly drawn.

    War is essential in this line of thinking. For God to win, evil needs to be defined and destroyed by God’s faithful followers, thus proving their faithfulness. Christians have held this view to be heretical since at least the third century. It is the bread-and-butter theology of fundamentalists, whether Muslim, Jewish or Christian.

    In contrast, the Judeo-Christian worldview is that of redemption. Redemption starts from the assumption that all of humanity is flawed and must approach God with humility. No good person is totally good, and no evil person is irredeemable. God’s purpose is to redeem all people. Good and evil, while critical, become secondary to redemption.

    I can’t seem to get that “one-eyed man is king” line out of my head. It occurred to me again and again as I read the cover story in this week’s Newsweek, “Bush and God.” Everything about that article rings so true to me — its portrait of evangelical training (weekly Bible studies, “quiet times”) and “personal relationships” with God. There’s the sense that fluency in the lingo — “laying-on of hands,” being “called” to service, having a “walk” — is no longer an inevitable by-product of the contemplative life, but an end in and of itself. Somewhere along the line, American Christian “culture” seems to have superseded Christianity, diluting its call for humility and forgiveness and replacing them with strict codes of acceptable behavior (which, it seems to me, are decidedly white, suburban, middle class, and Protestant). It’s all so terribly frustrating and confusing.

    I so want Bush to be the Christian President that many of my friends claim him to be, but then I read articles like this, in which he makes such ridiculous comments. Asked about the 30 million marchers who protested against his policies a few weeks ago, he responded:

    “Of course, I care what they believe. And I’ve listened carefully. I’ve thought long and hard about what needs to be done,” he said. “And obviously some people in Northern California do not see there’s a true risk to the United States posed by Saddam Hussein. And we just have a difference of opinion.”

    As if “California liberals” were the only Americans upset right now. It’s difficult for me to believe that he has “listened carefully” when he has refused to even meet with leaders of his own church, who were counted among the protesters.

  • Strange Bedfellows

    After twenty-three straight days of precipitation, the sun is finally shining again on East Tennessee. It’s the type of day that demands grilled something-or-other for dinner. And beer. Not a lot of beer, mind you, but definitely some beer. Cold beer.

    Mmmmmmmm . . . cold beer . . .

    In Armies of the Night, Norman Mailer calls himself a member of the “Conservative Left,” which makes more and more sense to me as I spend more and more time arguing with friends about this unnecessary, but apparently inevitable, war. The cable news networks would like for us to believe that America’s political dialogue can be reduce to a simple dichotomy: conservative versus liberal. That sure would make things easier, wouldn’t it? Right/wrong. Black/white. Good/evil. Problems solved.

    In fact, we’re being led by a cabal of neo-conservatives in the White House (who trade in a strange language that melds religious fundamentalism with liberal interventionism), aided by a sad lot of liberal moderates in Congress (both Republicans and Democrats alike), who cower under the political pressures applied so efficiently by the administration. As a result, the only American politicians who are making any sense right now are those at the extreme ends of the spectrum, those who actuallystand for something. I can’t decide which side is making the stronger anti-war argument at the moment, but I applaud them both. John Duncan, my traditionally conservative Representative to the House, gave a great speech earlier this week that had him quoting Robert Byrd of all people.

    It is a traditional conservative position to be in favor of a strong national defense, not one that turns our soldiers into international social workers, and to believe in a noninterventionist foreign policy, rather than in globalism or internationalism. We should be friends with all nations, but we will weaken our own Nation, maybe irreversibly, unless we follow the more humble foreign policy the President advocated in his campaign.

    Finally, Mr. Speaker, it is very much against every conservative tradition to support preemptive war. Another member of the other body, the Senator from West Virginia, not a conservative but certainly one with great knowledge of and respect for history and tradition, said recently, “This is no simple attempt to defang a villain. No. This upcoming battle, if it materializes, represents a turning point in U.S. foreign policy and possibly a turning point in the recent history of the world.”

    If only the anti-war movement could manage to unite those two poles. That would be a fun march.

  • And In University News . . .

    It’s a small blogoshpere after all. Thanks to this week’s cover story in the Metro Pulse, I’ve discovered that Instapundit (a.k.a. Glenn Reynolds), one of the world’s pioneer and most heavily-trafficed bloggers, spends his days in an office just a few yards from my own. How odd. And after I’ve spent so much energy lamenting Knoxville’s isolation. Reynolds recently took on a more high profile blogspot at MSNBC.com, where he offers a counterpoint to Eric Alterman’s Altercation.

    And some good news: My dissertation proposal was accepted this morning without revisions by my committee, who were all remarkably complimentary of my work. I’ve spent the last five years waiting anxiously to be discovered — waiting for everyone in the department to realize that I have absolutely no idea what in the hell I’m talking about. Apparently, I’ve fooled them all.

  • Beautiful

    I had planned to post a rambling personal narrative today, describing in minute detail my particular experiences in Saturday’s anti-war demonstrations. But when I sat down to it, the idea seemed a bit too self-indulgent, even by blog standards. Here’s the long and short of it: On a rain-drenched day that never climbed out of the mid-40s, an estimated 500-650 Knoxvillians lined the city’s busiest street, stretching in a line of protest across the front face of its largest shopping center. There was a handful of long-hairs and radical-looking college kids in attendance, but most — maybe as much as 95% of the crowd — looked as though they had carpooled to the event in minivans. Hardly a ragtag cabal of jobless anti-Americans, as some would characterize the peace movement. It was pretty beautiful.

    One anecdote: During the two-hour protest, only four or five passersby felt compelled to hurl profanity at us, with maybe three times that many making their voice be heard by way of creative hand gestures. At one point, though, a nicely dressed man in a luxury car came to a complete stop, rolled down his windows, pointed to the group of Muslim women standing beside me, and yelled for them to “just go home.” I was stunned and began muttering under my breath, “I can’t believe that happened. I can’t believe that just happened.” Apparently I was saying it pretty loudly, because the woman beside me — a beautiful older woman wearing a head scarf and a “Human Shield” sign — grabbed my elbow, looked up at me, and said, “It’s okay. This is our country, too.” I can’t get her face out of my head — so kind and welcoming, well-worn and somewhat resigned. That’s the memory that will stick.

    It was such a treat to go home that afternoon and end temporarily my cable news boycott. On every channel I saw footage of global dissent. As many as 30 million people gathered throughout the world’s cities, small and large, from Alaska to Antarctica to India and all points in between. Pretty cool.

    Some notes from around the globe:

    “What astonished everyone who marched on Saturday – let’s settle on a million, shall we? – was the apparently limitless variety of those with whom they shared the roads of central London. Not just a diversity of banner-bearing interest groups but of individuality, brought into focus by the single underlying feeling that gave this day its resonance.”
    Richard Williams

    “On streets of beauty, the warm people inched along or stood and chanted and laughed against a war and for peace and their warmth made the winter temperature irrelevant.”
    Jimmy Breslin

    “This is not an America we recognize. When we recited the pledge of allegiance in our long-ago scout meetings, it was to a different America, one with different principles. It was an America that lived by the rule of law. An America that was a land of compassion and brotherly love. An America that took seriously a promise to be a good neighbor, both across the street and around the globe. Sure, some of it was myth but we believed in the heart of the story. Others envied our good fortune to be born in America, and we nodded with recognition of that truth.”
    Nancy Capaccio

    “The whole world is against this war. Only one person wants it,” declared South African teenager Bilqees Gamieldien as she joined a Cape Town antiwar demonstration on a weekend when it did indeed seem that the whole world was dissenting from George W. Bush’s push for war with Iraq.
    John Nichols

    “But on Saturday, Feb. 15, I emerged from the largest demonstration I’ve ever attended in Dallas with more hope than ever before that our situation will improve. It wasn’t just that 5,000 or so people from one of the most right-wing regions of the world, the former home of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney and the fictional J.R. Ewing and many others who represent cold-hearted, selfish economic and political policies, had braved the wind and cold and threats and everything else to make a statement to Bush Inc. that a ‘blood for oil personal revenge world domination military boost’ war against economic sanctions – wracked Iraq was unacceptable.”
    Jackson Thoreau

  • Duck and Cover

    I’ve heard the soundbite hundreds of times over the years, memorizing subconsciously its particular pauses and inflections. Not until the weeks following September 11, though, did FDR’s most memorable message resonate in any meaningful ways for me. “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” He was speaking, of course, within the context of our Great Depression, but that notion — that America must choose to never surrender its defining characteristics to irrational fear — has since been rightly applied to a host of economic, social, and political concerns.

    The peculiar dangers of “fear” — its threat to democracy, humanism, rationality, diplomacy, spirituality — have been on dramatic display in recent days. I’ve instituted a boycott of all 24-hour news channels in my home, but last night, as I burned off my frustrations at the local Y, I was deeply disheartened by what I saw on the TVs that surrounded me. Connie Chung’s silent lips mouthing the latest terror alerts. “Survival experts” providing how-tos on terrorism preparedness. Home Depot employees reporting raids on their duct tape and plastic sheeting inventories.

    I’m trying so hard to avoid surrendering to cynicism, to have sympathies for those who are genuinely afraid right now, to understand why Our Christian President (TM) has felt it necessary to whip us into such a frenzy of excitement and paranoia. As I’m prone to do, my thoughts have lately been drifting toward the 1950s and its obsessive/compulsive fixation on communism. I can practically hear Senator L. B. Johnson, his Texas drawl demanding that we respond to Sputnik before the Russkies take control of the atmosphere and unleash catastrophic weather on us (which he really did). I can hardly flip on the news without hearing Bert the Turtle reminding me to “duck and cover” at the first sight of a nuclear flash.

    The lines between fact and parody are blurring in frightening ways. Look at this bit from The Onion:

    Saddam Enrages Bush With Full Compliance
    WASHINGTON, DC—President Bush expressed frustration and anger Monday over a U.N. report stating that Iraqi president Saddam Hussein is now fully complying with weapons inspections. “Enough is enough,” a determined Bush told reporters. “We are not fooled by Saddam’s devious attempts to sway world opinion by doing everything the U.N. asked him to do. We will not be intimidated into backing down and, if we have any say in the matter, neither will Saddam.” Bush added that any further Iraqi attempt to meet the demands of the U.N. or U.S. will be regarded as “an act of war.”

    And now this from yesterday’s White House press briefing with Ari Fleischer:

    And I have a document — I’ll be happy to release this to you — about the fact that Iraq has not complied, they cover up their compliance in seeming efforts to comply, such as their statements about unconditional U-2 flights, which we now know from the letter that was sent by the Iraqis, so-called conditional became — so-called unconditional became conditional as soon as the ink was dry on their letter. It was never unconditional to begin with; it always had conditions attached.

    It’s all just too much at times, which, I guess, is precisely their point. Lull us into exhausted submission. I heard a report on NPR a couple weeks ago about the effect of impending war on our economy. The general consensus among those interviewed was, “Well, if we’re going to blow up Baghdad, I wish we’d go ahead and get it over with. I’ve got stuff to buy and episodes of American Idol to watch.” I don’t use this term lightly — and I’ll probably retract this in a day or two — but it all stinks of fascism to me.

    On Saturday, I’ll be standing at the corner of Morrell Road and Kingston Pike, smack dab in front of Knoxville’s largest shopping center and busiest intersection, participating in a peace vigil. I’m of two minds about it. I’m not so naive as to think that my presence will change the minds of those drivers zooming by, conducting their Saturday morning errands. But I’m excited by the idea of taking part in a global protest, and I also like the idea of being a living representative of that significant section of Christian America that feels increasingly alienated by an administration that so frequently claims our interests.

  • The Sweet Sting

    The Sweet Sting

    With nothing better to do last Saturday night, my wife and I found ourselves watching Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused again. Aside from my lingering obsession with Sixteen Candles, I’ve never been a big fan of teen comedies. Most are cut-and-paste collages of cliches and bad pop that are too busy romanticizing high school to remember how much it sucked and how damn interesting the typical teenager really is. I’m not being ironic this time. Seriously.

    The best compliment I can give Dazed and Confused is that it makes me deliriously nostalgic. My American Heritage calls “nostalgia” a “bittersweet longing,” which gets it just about right, I think. I’ve never been one to miss high school. I would guess that in the last ten years I’ve spoken to three people from my class. But I do occasionally find myself longing for something from those days, something lacking in the day to day management of adult life.

    Joanna and I chatted about this as we watched Dazed and Confused Saturday night (as adults are wont to do — we chat), and we decided that that something is an “intensity of experience” only found amidst the stew of anxiety and wonder that is adolescence. Think about it. When you’re in high school, whose car you ride around in on Friday night matters. And who sees you in that car matters even more. It’s not trivial, although I think we adults like to console ourselves by pretending it is. In fact, I’m not sure that anything I’ve done in the last ten years has mattered as intensely as almost everything mattered when I was fifteen. Dazed and Confused gets that just right, which makes it the only teen movie that, well, that matters.

    Watching it again, I was really struck by this conversation, which is also just right.

    Mike: I’m serious, man, we should be up for anything.
    Cynthia: I know. We are. But what? I mean, God, don’t you ever feel like everything we do and everything we’ve been taught is just to service the future.
    Tony: Yeah, I know. It’s like it’s all preparation.
    Cynthia: Right. But what are we preparing ourselves for?
    Mike: {glib} Death.
    Tony: Life of the party.
    Mike: {glib again} It’s true.
    Cynthia: You know, but that’s valid. Because if we’re all gonna die anyways, shouldn’t we be enjoying ourselves now? You know, I’d like to quit thinking of the present, like right now, as some minor, insignificant preamble to something else.
    Mike: Exactly. Man, that’s what everyone in this car needs is some good ol’, worthwhile, visceral experience.

    Sure, it’s a bit carpe diem-ish — and I usually recoil at anything that smacks of Robin Williams sentimentality — but there’s also something wonderfully freeing in that existential naivety. That “insignificant preamble” stuff has come up often in my conversations with other well-adjusted adults lately. Odd.

  • Let America Be America Again

    A friend just passed along this link, which made me laugh. Turns out that Laura Bush just cancelled a planned poetry celebration after learning that one of the invited speakers had encouraged his colleagues to use the event as an opportunity to publicly denounce war on Iraq.

    “It came to the attention of the First Lady’s Office that some invited guests want to turn what is intended to be a literary event into a political forum,” a White House statement said. “While Mrs. Bush understands the right of all Americans to express their political views, this event was designed to celebrate poetry.”

    Why do I find this amusing? Because the event was intended to celebrate the poetry of Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, and Langston Hughes — a homosexual, an atheist intellectual, and a radical Old Left Communist (grossly reductionist caricatures, but you get the point). Apparently Mrs. Bush thinks that readings of Whitman, Dickenson, and Hughes at the White House should be devoid of political content.

    Hopefully they’ll work out their differences real soon, though. I’d love to hear President Bush reading Hughes’s “Let America Be America Again.” I mean, can you think of a more patriotic title for a poem?

  • The State of the Union

    Thoughts on the State of the Union.

    To lift the standards of our public schools, we achieved historic education reform — which must now be carried out in every school and in every classroom, so that every child in America can read and learn and succeed in life. To protect our country, we reorganized our government and created the Department of Homeland Security, which is mobilizing against the threats of a new era. To bring our economy out of recession, we delivered the largest tax relief in a generation. To insist on integrity in American business we passed tough reforms, and we are holding corporate criminals to account.

    I realize that Bush is fiercely pro-life and that he has an inspirational Christian testimony, so I understand why he has garnered blind support from certain portions of the Right. What I don’t get is his claims of conservatism. When I think conservative, I think fiscal responsibility, small government, states’ rights, and isolationism. The Bush administration is none of the above. After deriding Gore as a “nation-builder” during the 2000 debates and promising to never use our military for such purposes, Bush has ushered in a new age of American imperialism, even winning from Congress the right to launch unilateral pre-emptive strikes on sovereign nations.

    Bush’s “education reforms” have likewise helped to grow the Federal government to its largest size ever and have mandated unprecedented Federal control over local school systems. His Department of Homeland Security now exercises the authority to monitor our private lives with near complete abandon. And his mismanagement of the economy has cost us billions of dollars and thousands of jobs. (Before you claim that he inherited a bloated economy from Clinton, which is partly true, explain to me why Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill and most of Bush’s other chief economic advisors were ushered out in the closing weeks of 2002.) If we can’t count on a Republican President for fiscal conservatism, what’s the point?

    A friend and I were discussing all of this last night, trying, as objectively as possible, to understand what is so conservative about Bush’s brand of “compassionate conservatism.” (Don’t get me started on the “compassionate” part.) This morning he sent me this link, writing, “Someone’s reading your mind.”

    To boost investor confidence, and to help the nearly 10 million senior who receive dividend income, I ask you to end the unfair double taxation of dividends.

    New rule: No one is allowed to play the “senior” card unless they’re discussing, well, seniors. To spin the dividend cut as a compassionate move in the interest of seniors is just dishonest. I can only imagine what kind of lightbulbs went off when someone coined the phrase “double taxation.” Mark my words, we’ll be hearing a lot more of that one in the coming weeks.

    Join me in this important innovation to make our air significantly cleaner, and our country much less dependent on foreign sources of energy.

    Environment-friendly Bush? I wonder if you can buy that in a two-pack with the “Pro-Affirmative-Action Lott” doll?

    I urge you to pass both my faith-based initiative and the Citizen Service Act, to encourage acts of compassion that can transform America, one heart and one soul at a time.

    See, now I actually like this idea in theory, but there is no way it will have legs if it ever squeaks through Congress. The other day, I flipped on an episode of “Random People Arguing” on CNNMSNBCFOX and caught a remarkable exchange between Jerry Falwell and Strawman Liberal Methodist Minister. SLMM did his very best to pin Falwell down with the following question: “Do you support the government’s use of your tax money for the funding of Muslim charities?” Falwell absolutely refused to answer the question, doing his best to maintain that tattooed grin. But SLMM continued to press until the two men regressed to adolescence right before my eyes. Honestly, Falwell threatened him. It was surreal. Dada, even.

    And that’s exactly what we’re going to get in Congress when politicians begin trying to divvy up Federal monies for distribution to “faith-based” initiatives. Again, I can’t imagine why any conservative would support this.

    Too many Americans in search of [drug] treatment cannot get it. So tonight I propose a new $600-million program to help an additional 300,000 Americans receive treatment over the next three years.

    Can you imagine if Clinton had tried this? Lott, Robertson, and Buchanan would have called him a Socialist.

    I ask the Congress to commit $15 billion over the next five years, including nearly $10 billion in new money, to turn the tide against AIDS in the most afflicted nations of Africa and the Caribbean.

    Well I’ll be damned. You know who’s responsible for this, don’t you? Bono, and God bless him for it. If Bush gets half of that amount out of Congress, I’ll be the first person to thank him. I can only imagine what kinds of “reproduction-related” measures will be attached to this one.

    Whatever the duration of this struggle, and whatever the difficulties, we will not permit the triumph of violence in the affairs of men — free people will set the course of history.

    This one is probably too obvious to even be worth mentioning, but with “we will not permit the triumph of violence in the affairs of men,” Bush has secured his place in the Meaningless Double-Speak Hall of Fame.

    In each case, the ambitions of Hitlerism, militarism, and communism were defeated by the will of free peoples, by the strength of great alliances, and by the might of the United States of America.

    Note to self: use this line in the conclusion of your dissertation. I couldn’t possibly imagine what “militarism” means in this context, but if this isn’t proof that the Cold War is alive and well, nothing is. How much do you want to bet that an earlier draft of this speech used “fascism” instead of “Hitlerism”? I guarantee it. Probably something like this:

    Bush: “What’s fascism again?”
    Rove: “Yeah, good point. Let’s change that to, uh, How ’bout Hitlerism?”
    Speechwriter: “Hmmm, I don’t think that’s a word.”
    silent stares from Bush and Rove
    Speechwriter: “Hitlerism works for me.”

    Tonight I have a message for the men and women who will keep the peace, members of the American Armed Forces. . . .

    If war is forced upon us, we will fight in a just cause and by just means — sparing, in every way we can, the innocent. And if war is forced upon us, we will fight with the full force and might of the United States military — and we will prevail.

    Note: I’m praying that we will somehow avoid this war because I don’t feel it is theologically just (despite Bush’s deliberate efforts to work that word into his rhetoric). Because I don’t think this war is justified, I feel that any casualties, any casualties, would be tragic and senseless wastes of lives that were created by God for more meaningful purposes. So please don’t take this as knee-jerk anti-Americanism, a phrase that, in recent weeks, has been thrown around much too casually and ignorantly by Rush Limbaugh and his ilk:

    This and this is how our forces will “keep the peace.”

    Americans are a free people, who know that freedom is the right of every person and the future of every nation. The liberty we prize is not America’s gift to the world, it is God’s gift to humanity. We Americans have faith in ourselves, but not in ourselves alone. We do not know — we do not claim to know all the ways of Providence, yet we can trust in them, placing our confidence in the loving God behind all of life, and all of history. May He guide us now. And may God continue to bless the United States of America.

    This will be my most carefully measured comment. The histories of nations that have exercised imperial force under the guise of Providence should be telling to all but the most blindly ill-informed and arrogant.

  • Nixon on Art

    It’s not every day that I link to the Weekly Standard, but this is just too surreal to pass up. In “Still the One,” Andrew Ferguson goes digging through the Nixon tapes and finds gold. Old Dick will always be a wonderful mystery to me. (That last sentence might get me some Google traffic.) I can’t imagine that I could possibly offer comments that would do this stuff justice. Kind of speaks for itself, eh?

    The next meeting that morning concerned the arts.

    Nixon’s presidency was the most generous ever enjoyed by the arts establishment in the United States. Representing that establishment in the administration were Nixon’s old law partner Leonard Garment and, preeminently, Nancy Hanks, a former director of the Rockefeller Brothers Fund and thus, ex officio, a life member of the Eastern Establishment.

    On the tape, Nixon says he wants to talk about the film industry.

    “Now, Nancy, it turns out, 52 percent of the movies we see here in the United States were made abroad. What I want to do is find a way to keep these damn foreign movies out. Oh, I know they’re supposed to be so damn great and so forth. To tell you the truth, I don’t see many movies. Saw ‘Love Story.’ ‘Patton.’ But my point is, I will not have America slip to number two in the world when it comes to movies.”

    Mrs. Hanks protests that the popularity of foreign movies is owing to their superior quality.

    “Well, then, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to take it to the movie industry. You tell ’em, You’ve got to start producing good movies. Say: No more of this weird stuff! Shape up!

    “The family movie is coming back, you know. People don’t like arty. They don’t like offbeat.

    “But the film industry, they’re trying to reflect the intelligentsia”–the word drips with venom–“and that is their big mistake. Following the intelligentsia is where they always go wrong. Look at these film schools today. All they do is the weird stuff. They produce weird movies. They produce weird people.”

    But Hanks and Garment have come to talk not about the movies but about the government’s grandest current project for the arts, the construction of the Hirshhorn Sculpture Museum on the National Mall.

    “Is this going to be some of that–that modern art?” Nixon asks suspiciously.

    “It is, Mr. President,” Mrs. Hanks replies, in her Rockefeller voice. “It’s one of the finest collections of modern sculpture in the world.” In the wuld.

    quot;Oh yeah?” Silence. Then: “Don’t let it be one of those horrible modern buildings, all right? ‘Cause if it is, we’re not going to do it.”

    Garment and Hanks try to explain that the plans have already been approved.

    Nixon’s voice deepens. “I will not have the Mall desecrated with one of those horrible goddamn modern atrocities like they have in New York with that, what is it, that Whitney thing. Jesus H. Christ. If it looks like that, it–will–not–happen.”

    Silence.

    “And I don’t want ‘controversial,’ either. All right? Now this list for the board or whatever. Am I stuck with these names?”

    Garment assures him the list for the museum’s board of directors can still be changed.

    “Good. I’m taking all the Easterners off of here. Got that? Every single one. And this name–what’s–some Harvard name. Know him. Part of the Eastern Establishment. Rich guy, but he’ll never lift a finger to help us. Well, the hell with him. Am I right?”

    Nixon mentions names of California donors he would like placed on the Hirshhorn board.

    “Just put ’em on the list,” he says. “I mean, why not? Think they’ll make the thing a disaster? They can’t make it a disaster because it’s a disaster already!”

    “No, no, Mr. President,” Mrs. Hanks scolds. “It will not be a disaster!”

    “Oh, come on, Nancy,” Nixon says quietly. “I’ve seen the plans.”

    Another silence.

    “Well,” he says at last, “I wash my hands of the damn thing. Just make sure I don’t have to see it when I look out this window.”

    And there it is: an entire administration in miniature, the capitulation of the tough-talking Republican. The damn building got built, of course, and the Hirshhorn is indeed an atrocity, as Nixon knew it would be, rising up on the Mall without windows or warmth, poured from dun-colored concrete in the shape of a giant automotive air filter.

    Why did they hate him so? “They” did get their building, after all, and so much else from him, too. A few hours in the tape room at Archives II, though, makes the answer plain: They hated him because he hated them. Deep as it was, the hatred wasn’t about politics. It cut much closer to the vitals–into culture, disposition, class, I’m not sure what to call it. One of Nixon’s legacies indeed is to demonstrate the puniness of politics, its relative insignificance in the larger scheme of what moves men to do what they do. His enemies knew he wasn’t one of them, and though he may have tried to buy their trust with every kind of political concession, Nixon knew it too. He hated them for it and vice versa. And the hatred, both his and theirs, is what did him in at the end, as he also knew.

    Sorry that was so long, but I want to capture it all in case the Standard pulls it down.

  • Tarkovsky and Sandwiches

    Tarkovsky and Sandwiches

    I spent my lunch hour (and then some) sitting around a table with the senior pastor of a Presbyterian church, the priest of a local Orthodox congregation, and three other laymen (for lack of a better word). We were brought together by several strokes of remarkably good fortune, the intricacies of which would take much too long to explain here. The long and short of it, though, is that we got together to talk about a movie.

    Not just any movie, mind you, but one of the best, Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev — that poetic, mystical, transcendant biopic of the 15th century Russian icon painter. Rublev was the first Tarkovsky film that I saw, and I’m still feeling the consequences. That I’m even posting to Long Pauses can be attributed directly to that viewing and to the awakening that it inspired in me.

    Last fall I spent nearly three months preparing and leading discussions of the arts with a group of friends from my church. The experience was at times frustrating, at times beautiful. What I soon realized was how muddied the discourse of faith/religion and art/creativity is. I’m not sure what exactly I mean by “muddied,” except that it seems to get at some of the dogmatic biases that hinder productive communication between peoples of differing theological bents. I honestly believe that art — or any medium, really, through which God reveals His presence in immediate, often non-verbal ways — can serve the reconciliation of His church. But until I led those discussions, I never knew how tricky a proposition it could be.

    What I found most gratifying about today’s meeting was the generosity of all involved, the obvious sense that we were gathering for a communal and (I use this word with some hesitation) sacred experience. Perhaps that is ultimately testament to Tarkovsky’s genius. He strove throughout his career to capture on film images that would force viewers to experience complex and contradictory emotions and, in the process, to be rendered capable of spiritual improvement. As we spoke — and we certainly spoke more about God than about the film — I was reminded often of how well he had succeeded. Instead of debating the particulars of plot developments or performances or special effects, as is often the case when Americans gather to talk movies, we struggled to make sense of the lingering emotions and longings that Rublev had wrestled from us. A friend calls this “creational theology” — the desire to better understand the mysteries of God by studying his revelation.

    I hope to have a full response to Rublev up by the end of the week. After being online for just over a year now, I guess it’s about time that I tried to write about the site’s inspiration.

  • High-Stakes Testing

    Eight years ago next week I began my student teaching internship at Niceville High School in Niceville, Florida. Niceville won a Blue Ribbon award that year, designating it one of the state’s finest. (I’m not making that up.) Midway through the semester, I was surprised when I learned that my lesson plans would have to be discarded for the next few weeks because it was time to begin preparing the 9th graders for their next round of standardized exams. And by “preparing,” of course, I mean giving practice tests and working systematically (and in mind-numbing detail) through past reading samples — or, in a nutshell, equipping my students not with knowledge or repeatable skills but with the tricks of test-taking. That experience is one of the main reasons my career as a secondary school teacher ended before it began.

    It’s also one of the main reasons  I was bothered by Bush’s education platform in the 2000 campaign. After accusing Gore of instigating an “education recession” and of using “fuzzy math,” Bush proceeded to construct America’s educational system in grossly capitalist rhetoric. “All I’m saying,” he grunted in the first debate, “is, if you spend money, show us results, and test every year.” Bush then turned to his “Texas miracle” as evidence of his rightitudedness, “proving” that more standardized testing would narrow the growing gaps in white/minority results. The “Miracle” had its doubters even then, but a new study, recently released by researchers at Arizona State University, seems to have proven what every good classroom teacher has been preaching for years:

    “Teachers are focusing so intently on the high-stakes tests that they are neglecting other things that are ultimately more important,” said Audrey Amrein, the study’s lead author, who says she supported high-stakes tests before conducting her research.

    “In theory, high-stakes tests should work, because they advance the notions of high standards and accountability,” Amrein said. “But students are being trained so narrowly because of it, they are having a hard time branching out and understanding general problem solving.”

    Perhaps most controversial, the study found that once states tie standardized tests to graduation, fewer students tend to get diplomas. After adopting such exams as a requirement for graduation, twice as many states did worse than the national graduation rate as did better. Not surprisingly, then, dropout rates worsened in 62 percent of the states, relative to the national average, while enrollment of young people in programs offering high school equivalency diplomas climbed.

    The reason for this is not solely that struggling students grow frustrated and ultimately quit, the study concluded. In an echo of the findings of other researchers, the authors asserted that administrators, held responsible for raising test scores at a school or in an entire district, occasionally pressure failing students to drop out.

    Here is the full report, and here is Arizona State’s press release.

  • A Working Outline

    Working from the assumption that someone out there might actually care, here is my first shot at a rough dissertation outline:

    I. Introduction

    Building from Jeffrey Alexander’s vocabulary (modernization, anti-modernization, post-modernization, neo-modernization), I’ll provide a general overview of Cold War American socio-political trends.

    II. Arthur Miller and Norman Mailer

    I’ll use Miller (All My Sons through A View from the Bridge) to exemplify modernization — the building of a Cold War liberal consensus — and Mailer (particularly Armies of the Night) for anti-modernization — the rise of the New Left. I had first thought to just treat them quickly in the introduction, but giving them a full chapter will, I hope, more adequately set the stage for the other chapters, which will discuss responses to these two periods.

    III. E.L. Doctorow and Robert Coover

    These two (The Book of Daniel and The Public Burning) are a natural pairing, which is obvious from much of the critical literature. Both works, in a sense, view modernization and anti-modernization through a postmodern lens. Also helpful to my project is that both The Crucible and Armies of the Night appear as intertexts in Doctorow and Coover.

    IV. Ishmael Reed and Tony Kushner

    Reed’s The Terrible Twos and The Terrible Threes, I will argue, are traditionally postmodern texts that clutter up Cold War history in order to offer a left critique of neo-modernization — the triumph of capitalism and neoconservatism. Kushner’s Angels in America is similar in that respect. This chapter will deal mostly with the Reagan/Bush years. I think that Reed’s concern with race/class and Kushner’s concern with sexuality, along with their shared frustration with the hypocrisy of America’s “moral majority,” makes them an interesting pairing and a good avenue into neo-modernization.

    V. Don DeLillo and Philip Roth

    I’m thinking of subtitling this chapter, “Epic History.” It’s interesting that, as the millennium approached, two of America’s premiere novelists set out to wrap their hands around the whole of the second half of the twentieth century. I’ll be dealing mostly with Underworld, American Pastoral, and I Married a Communist. At this point, this chapter remains the biggest mystery to me. I’m not sure what, if anything, they’ve accomplished, other than aestheticizing an impossible task: the writing of a coherent and comprehensive American Cold War narrative. The political implications are interesting and troubling and confusing to me.

    VI. Conclusion

    As I’ve yet to discover the main point of my project, I don’t know what my conclusion will be. But, like many intellectuals right now, I guess I’m interested in trying to figure out what’s next. I’m thinking of using Kushner’s Homebody/Kabul as a jumping off point. Obviously, it would deviate from my Cold War history emphasis, but it seems to be a logical next step after I have spent so many pages discussing the rhetorical formation of American liberalism. Social theorists have been saying for years that “totalitarianism,” “nationalism,” and “fundamentalism” would replace “communism” as the Other against which America defines itself. I can’t think of a better study than Afghanistan.

  • Hauerwas, Bush, and Alexander

    After listening to me ramble incessantly, a professor recently pointed me toward Stanley Hauerwas. I now see why. Hauerwas is a professor of theological ethics at Duke Divinity School, where he has earned a reputation as an outspoken critic of the complacency that has come to characterize much of the American Christian church. I’m on my way to the library to grab a book or two, and at the top of my list is A Better Hope: Resources for a Church Confronting Capitalism, Democracy, and Postmodernity, which sounds like it may have been written explicitly for me. Should be interesting.

    Hauerwas is a ridiculously prolific writer, but here’s an interesting and timely introduction. When asked what advice he would give to President Bush, he responds:

    It’s a tricky question because, if he had asked me, he wouldn’t have been President! (Laugh) So, I’d say, “You need to tell the American people the truth.” This is still about oil. We intervened in Kuwait to protect Saudi oil. You can say, “Well, gee, don’t you think you ought to oppose a tyrant?” Look, the United States is very selective about which tyrant it’s going to pursue. When Indonesia invaded East Timor twenty-five years ago, we didn’t do anything. Why? East Timor didn’t have any strategic interest to us. Bin Laden is clearly motivated by the fact that the United States is in Saudi Arabia. We’re in Saudi Arabia to protect the oil. We need to say that the reason America has such a problem is because we’re such a rich country, and we depend on the resources of the rest of the world. Therefore, maybe the best thing we could do… I mean, rather than saying, “Well, what can you do to support a reaction against bin Laden” — rather than saying “Go out and shop” — maybe he should have said we should put a three dollar tax on gas. (Laugh) That way we won’t use so much of it. That would have been a sacrifice. Yeah, I’d say, “Tell the American people the truth about these matters.” I’m not sure that people around the Bush Administration even know the truth because they need to tell themselves lies about what they’re doing — and they believe the lies — in order to carry forward.

    And later:

    I distrust words that try to explain. I think that we’re desperate to find some explanation when there just isn’t an explanation. I mean, George Bush saying, “Why did they do this? Because they hate us because we are free.” That’s not what they’re saying. They say that they’re enacting jihad against the infidel who they think are deeply corrupt. I think even to accept that — I mean, it doesn’t explain what was there. Of course it’s helpful to get certain kinds of background to put it into perspective, but the idea that somehow or other we’re going to understand this is a little bit like people wanting to have a conspiracy theory around Kennedy’s assassination. We so hunger for some reason that this might embody and make it intelligible to us. But genuine evil is not intelligible. Bin Laden understands some of this. He wants the action to be senseless. And it is senseless because he wants it to call into question America’s sense of non-vulnerability. And he certainly did.

    And along those same lines . . . In January, Laura Bush stood with Hamid Karzai and said:

    We will not forget that 70 percent of Afghans are malnourished.

    We will not forget that one of every four children dies by the age of five because of lack of health care.

    We will not forget that women were denied access to medical care — denied the right to work, and denied the right to leave their homes alone.

    Her speech echoed the sentiments voiced by her husband repeatedly since the days immediately following the start of the U.S. bombing campaign:

    In our anger, we must never forget that we are a compassionate people. While we firmly and strongly oppose the Taleban regime, we are friends with the Afghan people.

    But, of course, the rhetoric of compassion is quite different from the practical problems of “nation building.” Like many opposed to war in Iraq, one of my main concerns has always been “the day after.” What do we do after we have destabilized a dictatorship? What do we do after, in Hauerwas’s words, “we bomb a Stone Age country back into the Stone Age”? If Afghanistan is any indication, then not much:

    “Rather than getting out there in a leadership role and saying, ‘We need a Marshall Plan,’ and fighting for it, they’ve taken a minimalist approach,” complained Joel Charny, a vice president of Refugees International.

    He’s right. The reconstruction funds the Bush White House requested for Afghanistan have been flowing slowly to the country. Moreover, several months ago the White House opposed an effort in Congress to add $200 million to the total. And the total number of US troops committed to rebuilding — after the doubling — will be 340. That’s not a lot.

    Word of the day: nomothetic adj.

    • Of or relating to lawmaking; legislative.
    • Based on a system of law.
    • Of or relating to the philosophy of law.
    • Of or relating to the study or discovery of general scientific laws.

    Maybe some context would help. From Jeffrey Alexander’s Fin de Siecle Social Theory: Relativism, Reduction, and the Problem of Reason:

    In the postwar period, general sociological theory has been associated with the search for nomothetic knowledge. It has been viewed, by its proponents and critics alike, as the crowning glory of the positive science of society. (90)

  • Could You Define Post-Secularism?

    Mmmmm . . . probably not, or at least not well. Warning: this could get really boring.

    In the same way that postmodernism has always been a really problematic and contentious term, post-secular is just another attempt to fix a label on the questions that plague a particular era. For the last thirty years, most academics (at least in the humanities) have operated from the assumption that truth is a construct of cultural narratives or ideologies like religion or capitalism, and so a great deal of postmodern art has set out to expose very deliberately and self-consciously these “fictions” that control us.

    This belief has not been without its critics, though. Chief among them is Frederick Jameson, a Marxist who sees the postmodern era as one marked predominately by late-capitalism, which is, in more practical terms, globalization: all of culture and life and history, the world over, has been commodified — stripped of its particular meaning, affixed with a price, and reduced to its most superficial value. All we’re left with is what Jean Baudrillard calls “simulacrum” — a copy of something for which there is no original. Think The Matrix.

    For folks like Jameson, this tendency of postmodernism has serious political, social, and ethical consequences. If truth is just a construct of dominant ideologies, if history is an unknowable intertext, then what recourse do we have to making an ethical claim or critique? Postmodern thought, when taken to its logical extremes, is extremely nihilistic. We’re left with few options for improving our condition. We are, in effect, surrendering ourselves to the role of “cogs in the machine” (to borrow loosely from Marx).

    Until very recently, though, academics have lacked a critical framework for offering Sacred (for lack of a better word) critiques of postmodernism. But that’s starting to change, and the move has only been accelerated by 9/11. Many in the West have found the last year to be an occasion for re-examining spiritual beliefs and, just as importantly, for exploring the social and political currency in them. Once we’ve made a blanket statement like, “America’s system of representational democracy is better than the Taliban,” we’ve been forced to make an ideological commitment founded on something like objective truth.

    “Post-secular,” I think, is one way of trying to find the vocabulary for this type of stand. It’s a way of reconciling the good that was born from postmodernism, while acknowledging the value of the Sacred. As usual, the artists are a few steps ahead of the theorists on this one. In my blog entry of 11/5, I mentioned two recent plays by Patrick Marber that, like Angels in America in the 90s, dramatize this struggle in the personal journey of a representative character. I’m sure that we could come up with a list of other examples.

    Hope that does at least as much good as harm.

    And speaking of Marxism. . . . Have I mentioned lately that The Onion is really funny?

    Marxists’ Apartment A Microcosm Of Why Marxism Doesn’t Work

    AMHERST, MA—The filthy, disorganized apartment shared by three members of the Amherst College Marxist Society is a microcosm of why the social and economic utopia described in the writings of Karl Marx will never come to fruition, sources reported Monday.

    “The history of society is the inexorable history of class struggle,” said sixth-year undergraduate Kirk Dorff, 23, resting his feet on a coffee table cluttered with unpaid bills, crusted cereal bowls, and bongwater-stained socialist pamphlets. “The stage is set for the final struggle between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, the true productive class. We’re well aware of that here at 514 W. Elm Street, unlike other apartments on this supposedly intellectual campus. . . .”

  • Post-Secularism

    An e-mail that I received today sent me off on a rabbit trail, searching for more information about Parker Palmer. Palmer is an educator, activist, public speaker, and Quaker whose work examines the oft-ignored relationships between spirituality, teaching, and political change. In my wanderings, I stumbled upon this interview that was originally published in 2000 by Yes!, a great little ‘zine. It seemed like a natural follow-up to yesterday’s spotlight on Granny D.

    Sarah: One of the things that I found very striking about your work is the idea that the simple choice to live with integrity can have far-reaching effects. What experiences brought you to believe that this was such a central issue?

    Parker: What I know about living a divided life starts with my training as an academic. I was taught to keep things in airtight compartments: to keep my ideas apart from my feelings, because ideas were reliable but feelings were not; to keep my theories apart from my actions, because the theory can be pure, but the action is always sullied. . . .

    But the divided life is not just an academic dilemma, it’s a human dilemma. We work within institutions like schools, businesses, and civic society, because they provide us with opportunities that we value. But the claims those institutions make on us are sometimes at odds with our hearts – for example, the demand for loyalty to the corporation, right or wrong, can conflict with the inward imperative to speak truth. That tension can be creative, up to a point. But it becomes pathological when the heart becomes a wholly owned subsidiary of the organization, when we internalize organizational logic and allow it to overwhelm the logic of our own lives.

    At a certain juncture, some people find they must choose between allowing selfhood to die or claiming their identity and integrity. What I mean by divided-no-more is living on the outside the truth you know on the inside.

    I’m glad to say that I’ve begun noticing some progress along these lines, at least in my particular wing of academia. Last week I spent more than an hour pitching my dissertation project to a new faculty member. It was an interesting experience. She was the first person to ask the big question: What’s the point? I waffled for a moment, then fell back on an old trick: I told her the truth. “I’m not sure, but I hope to find a personal, practical politics in the process,” I shrugged. She was interested.

    We spent the next 45 minutes discussing the growing interest (academic interest no less) in post-secularism, one of the many -isms vying for a prominent position in our post-postmodern age (if such jargon is even worth using). I love imagining the political implications of these questions:

    • What is the relation between literature and theology, secular or sacred? How does a focus on theology, religious studies, and/or ethics open new territories for literary study, particularly in the contemporary period? What do we gain by returning to the sacred or secular sacred in literary study? What do we lose?
    • Is there a post-secular literature as well as a post-secular theory, and what would this literature look like? What do the writers say? Was postmodernism theological without our realizing it?
    • How is current theory about the post-secular being imported into literary studies?
    • How are assertions of value in current discussions about literature and ethics/spirituality similar to and different from pre-formalist critical notions of value (and the political implications of such) embedded in concepts such as artistic vision, the visionary sublime, the truth of beauty, or the artist as shaman/oracle/priest?
    • Why is theology surfacing in literary studies now, after more than fifty years of formalist, marxist, poststructuralist, and postmodern theory? What cultural moment is precipitating the theoretical turn?
    • Has the sacred already been caught in the secular theory machine? Will 9/11 poison the post-secular well, particularly in terms of literary studies?
    • How can a post-secular literary criticism accommodate a world literature radically diverse in terms of politics, cultural and social values, and understandings of the sacred? Will a post-secular theoretical view necessarily war with a historical study of literature? What are the problemmatics raised in the relation between multicultural/pluralist/ethnic/race criticism and post-secular perspectives? How might the post-secular be redefined in a global context?
    • How might gender theory intersect with post-secular philosophy in relation to literary studies?
    • What are the possibilities of relation in literary criticism between humanism and the post-secular? Marxist theory and the post-secular? ethics and the post-secular?
    • How theological is the literature classroom? How post-secular should it be?

    I never thought I would be so excited to begin writing a dissertation. Bizarre.

  • Here in the States

    A friend from Canada wrote, asking what friends and neighbors in the States are feeling and saying to each other. This is how I responded.

    I’ve been noticing a really odd disconnect between the American political climate as it’s depicted in the media (a too-easy target these days) and what I hear in typical conversations. Generally speaking, I think that most media outlets are slightly more liberal than the average American, which makes the media’s apparent disregard for the popular anti-war sentiment all the more frustrating (and borderline suspicious). Though estimates have varied wildly, something like 100,000 people gathered in Washington last weekend, and if I hadn’t actively sought out coverage, I wouldn’t have even known about it. In most major papers it was literally page 8 news.

    I have also yet to speak to a single American who is adamantly in favor of war. Sure, a certain portion of the population will simply parrot the words of those politicians who they most respect — “You’re either for us or against us” — but that tendency is hardly exclusive to Americans. Instead, everyone I speak to is, at best, unsure of the President’s motives, and most are downright upset. Granted, I spend most of my time in a university environment, which also tends to be more liberal, but I have yet to detect anything like a swell of broad support for war. In the days following 9/11, most Americans wanted to fire back. Now, there seems to be a more healthy skepticism.

    As an amateur political nut, I’m really intrigued by all of this. Bush and his buddies dug deep into the well of standard Republican tactics. They demonized an enemy (the axis of evil) in order to unite support, they reminded Americans of our “moral responsibility” to police the world, and they distracted us from traditional Democratic issues (social reform, health care, workers rights, etc.). Now, though, they’re obviously surprised to discover that their political rhetoric isn’t as stable as it was during the Cold War years. You can practically see it on Bush’s face. He says, essentially, “The U.N. won’t tell us what to do,” fully expecting every American to back up his claim. But a lot of us don’t, and now he’s stuck in quite a battle with France and Russia, frustrated that he even needs their input. I have no doubt that if a majority of Americans *really* wanted war, this UN resolution would be irrelevant.

    The war issue is obviously really complex — I think there are some very compelling arguments for the ouster of Saddam — but I have no doubt that Bush’s motivations have always been largely political. War has always been a good Republican issue, especially leading into election season. But I think it might just backfire on him this time. I guess we’ll find out on Tuesday, when we have our midterm elections. If the Democrats maintain control of the Senate, which just might happen, then I think Bush’s saber rattling will go down in history as a political mistake.

  • Flashbacks . . . And Not the Good Kind

    I live on the western edge of Knoxville, an area that, over the last twenty years, has been transformed from rural countryside into one of those middle- to upper-class, golf course and shopping mall suburbs that now populate so many American cities. I’m guessing that my friends in the older parts of town have not been greeted each day this week, as I have, by mass mailings from the Tennessee Republican Party, encouraging me to get out and vote. It’s a wise move. East Tennessee is the Republican stronghold of the state, and they know that the success of their two most prominent candidates — Van Hilleary for Governor and Lamar Alexander for U.S. Senate — depends largely on high turnout.

    The piece that came in yesterday’s mail is pretty remarkable. The front of the four-section foldout features a full color photo of a tranquil lake, surrounded by trees just beginning the fall turn. Above and below the photo, in red and blue print, is the caption:

    As soon as you vote. . .
    A new day will begin in Tennessee.

    Though I was only twelve at the time, I can still remember Reagan’s ’84 campaign, the one in which he called on America to wake up to a new dawn. In After the End: Representations of Post-Apocalypse (1999), James Berger sees that campaign typified in one of Reagan’s stump speeches. In the months leading up to the Los Angeles Olympics, Reagan would imagine a Vietnamese immigrant passing the torch to a black man, who would then pass it on to an 80-year old woman. “My friends,” Reagan would preach, “that is America.” But, of course, the problem with Reagan’s rhetoric was that his America was one founded on nostalgia and misdirection. Reagan’s speech, writes Berger, “alludes to the most traumatic events of the 1960s, the Vietnam War and racial turmoil, and eliminates all their traumatic content in an image of perfectly achieved social harmony.”

    And now that rhetoric is back and in Tennessee. I get to read about Hilleary’s plans to “reform” education by giving financial incentives to the best performing schools (could it be that the failing schools actually need the money more desperately?) and by focusing his efforts on reading and math in the early grades (has anyone told him that American 4th graders read at a higher level than children in almost every other nation, and that literacy levels, in fact, begin to drop off in middle school?). I get to read about his promise to “jumpstart” our economy by stopping any proposed income tax (have I mentioned lately that Tennessee now has the most regressive tax structure in the country?).

    A new day. Hurrah.

    And I get this piece of crap in my mail on the same day that Paul Wellstone is killed in a plane crash. Last night, Charlie Rose reran an interview with Wellstone that he conducted in July, 2001, soon after the Senator announced that he would run for reelection. Wellstone was passionate, informed, and articulate. I didn’t realize that they still made politicians like that.

  • In Their Own Words

    Iraq War Not Justified, Church Leaders Say

    The heads of more than 60 Christian organizations issued a statement opposing a preemptive war on both moral and practical grounds. They included leaders of Bush’s and Blair’s own denominations — the United Methodist Church and the Church of England, respectively — as well as other major Protestant groups, Catholic men’s and women’s orders, humanitarian agencies and seminaries.

    Evangelical Figures Oppose Religious Leaders’ Broad Antiwar Sentiment

    In religious circles, the antiwar voices are vastly outnumbering the those in favor of a war. Forty-eight Christian leaders, including the heads of the Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), the United Church of Christ and the National Baptist Convention, an African-American denomination, have sent a letter to the president opposing military action.

    U.S. Church Leaders Oppose Bush-proposed Iraq Pre-emptive Strike

    We oppose on moral grounds the United States taking further military action against Iraq now. The Iraqi people have already suffered enough through more than two decades of war and severe economic sanctions. Military action against the government of Saddam Hussein and its aftermath could result in a large number of civilians being killed or wounded, as well as increasing the suffering of multitudes of innocent people.

    Bishops toughen opposition to war

    The government’s hopes of achieving consensus for a pre-emptive war against Iraq were dealt a blow last night when the bishops of the Church of England significantly hardened their opposition. In a submission to the Commons foreign affairs select committee, the bishops say: “To undertake a preventive war against Iraq at this juncture would be to lower the threshold for war unacceptably.”

    Uniting Church plans civil disobedience over Iraq

    “They’re not fanatics or anything like that – they’re just church people, farmers, business people, ministers, young people, old people, men, women just feeling grave concern and feeling somewhat powerless in the

    face of all the saber-rattling that’s going on,” Reverend McCray said.

    51 Protestant, Orthodox, Catholic, Evangelical Leaders Petition President Bush To Reconsider Iraq Invasion

    Fifty-one heads of American Protestant and Orthodox churches and organizations and of Roman Catholic religious orders today announced opposition to U.S. military action against Iraq. In a letter to President Bush, the church leaders acknowledged that “Mr. Hussein poses a threat to his neighbors and to his own people, [but] we nevertheless believe it is wrong, as well as detrimental to U.S. interests” to launch an attack on Iraq.

    Minnesota Church Leaders Oppose War with Iraq

    At the time of publication, the member denominations of the Minnesota Council of Churches who have publicly declared opposition to immediate war with Iraq include: the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the United Methodist Church, the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA), the Episcopal Church (ECUSA), the United Church of Christ, and the Christian Churches (Disciples of Christ). Other state councils of churches who have taken similar stands include those in California, Kentucky, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.