George Mason University's
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Roundup: Media's Take


This is where we excerpt articles from the media that take a historical approach to events in the news.

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Corey Robin, in the Wash Post (May 2, 204):

In 2000 I spent the tail end of the summer interviewing conservative patriarchs William F. Buckley and Irving Kristol. I was writing about the defections to the left of several younger right-wing intellectuals and wondered what the conservative movement's founding fathers thought of their wayward sons. But Buckley and Kristol were less interested in these ex-conservatives than they were in the sorry state of the movement and the uncertain fate of the United States as a global imperial power.

The end of communism and the triumph of capitalism, they suggested, were mixed blessings. Americans now possessed the most powerful empire in history. At the same time, they were possessed by one of the most anti-political ideologies in history: belief in the free market as a harmonious international order of voluntary exchange requiring little more from the state than the enforcement of laws and contracts. This ideology promoted self-interest over the national interest -- too bloodless a notion, Buckley and Kristol argued, upon which to found a national order, much less a global empire.

"The trouble with the emphasis in conservatism on the market," Buckley told me, "is that it becomes rather boring. You hear it once, you master the idea. The notion of devoting your life to it is horrifying if only because it's so repetitious. It's like sex." Kristol confessed to a yearning for an American empire: "What's the point of being the greatest, most powerful nation in the world and not having an imperial role?"

But because of its devotion to prosperity, he added, the United States lacked the fortitude and vision to wield imperial power. "It's too bad,"
Kristol lamented. "I think it would be natural for the United States . . . to play a far more dominant role in world affairs. . . to command and to give orders as to what is to be done. People need that. There are many parts of the world -- Africa in particular -- where an authority willing to use troops can make . . . a healthy difference." But not with public discussion dominated by accountants. "There's the Republican Party tying itself into knots. Over what?" he said. "I think it's disgusting that . . . presidential politics of the most important country in the world should revolve around prescriptions for elderly people."

Since 9/11, I've had many opportunities to recall these conversations. Sept.
11, we have been told, has restored to America's woozy civic culture a sense of depth and seriousness, of things "larger than ourselves." It has forced Americans to look beyond their borders, to understand at last the dangers that confront a world power. It has given the United States a coherent national purpose and a focus for imperial rule. A country that for a time seemed unwilling to face up to its international responsibilities is now prepared once again to bear any burden, pay any price, for freedom. This changed attitude, the argument goes, is good for the world. It is also good, spiritually, for the United States. It reminds us that freedom is a fighting faith rather than a cushy perch.

To understand this reaction to 9/11, we must examine the state of mind of American conservatives after the end of the Cold War. For neoconservatives, who had thrilled to the crusade against communism, all that was left of Ronald Reagan's legacy after the Cold War was a sunny entrepreneurialism, which found a welcome home in Bill Clinton's America. While neocons favor capitalism, they do not believe it is the highest achievement of civilization. Like their predecessors -- from Edmund Burke, Samuel Coleridge and Henry Adams to T.S. Eliot, Martin Heidegger and Michael Oakeshott -- today's conservatives prize mystery and vitality over calculation and technology. Such romantic sensibilities are inspired by questions of politics and, especially, of war. It is only natural, then, that the neocons would take up the call of empire, seeking a world that is about something more than money and markets.

Immediately following 9/11, intellectuals, politicians and pundits seized upon the terrorist strikes as a deliverance from the miasma Buckley and Kristol had been criticizing. Even commentators on the left saw the attacks as stirring a sleeping nation; Frank Rich announced in the New York Times that "this week's nightmare, it's now clear, has awakened us from a frivolous if not decadent decade-long dream."

What was that dream? The dream of prosperity. During the 1990s, conversative David Brooks wrote in Newsweek, we "renovated our kitchens, refurbished our home entertainment systems, invested in patio furniture, Jacuzzis and gas grills." This ethos had terrible consequences. It encouraged a "preoccupation with one's own petty affairs," Francis Fukuyama wrote in the Financial Times. It also had international repercussions. According to Vice President Cheney's chief of staff, I. Lewis Libby, the cult of peace and prosperity found expression in President Clinton's weak and distracted foreign policy, which made it "easier for someone like Osama bin Laden to rise up and say credibly, 'The Americans don't have the stomach to defend themselves. They won't take casualties to defend their interests. They are morally weak.' "

But after that day in September, the domestic scene was transformed. America was now "more mobilized, more conscious and therefore more alive," wrote Andrew Sullivan in the New York Times Magazine. Writers welcomed the moral electricity coursing through the body politic, restoring patriotism and bipartisan consensus....

The fact that the war against terrorism has not yet imposed the sacrifices on the population that normally accompany national crusades has provoked occasional bouts of concern among politicians and cultural elites. "The danger, over the long term," wrote the New York Times's R. W. Apple, "is loss of interest. With much of the war to be conducted out of plain sight by commandos, diplomats and intelligence agents, will a nation that has spent decades in easy self-indulgence stay focused?"

The Bush administration initially looked for things for people to do -- not because there was much to be done, but because it feared that the ardor of ordinary Americans would grow cold. The best the administration came up with were Web sites and toll-free numbers that enterprising citizens could contact if they wanted to help the war effort. But the numbers were for groups such as Freedom Corps, enabling volunteers to become rural health workers, or Citizen Corps, which bolstered household emergency preparedness and expanded Neighborhood Watch groups. Now, with the war in Iraq going awry, the administration talks less about active involvement from ordinary Americans, happy to settle for their tacit support instead.

We thus face a dangerous situation. On the one hand we have neoconservative elites whose vision of American power is recklessly utopian. On the other hand we have a domestic population that shows little interest in any far-flung empire. The political order projected by Bush and his supporters in the media and academia is just that: a projection, which can only last so long as the United States is able to put down, with minimum casualties, challenges to its power. We may well be entering one of those Machiavellian moments discussed by historian J. G. A. Pocock a quarter-century ago, when a republic opts for the frisson of empire, and is forced to confront the fragility and finitude of all political forms, including its own.


Friday, May 7, 2004 - 17:35

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Bruce Bartlett, in the Washington Times (May 5, 2004):

When people vote for candidates, they are not just voting for an individual; they are voting for a party. I don't just mean in terms of control of the White House or Congress, but in a philosophical sense. The two parties have very different philosophies on various issues and when one votes for a candidate of a particular party, one essentially votes for that philosophy, regardless of the views of the individual candidate. No matter what that candidate may say or believe personally, over time they eventually are forced to conform to their party's philosophy if elected.

On tax policy, it is pretty clear what the two major parties think. Democrats believe the tax system should be used aggressively and systematically to equalize incomes. Those at the top must be brought down by high tax rates and those at the bottom should be lifted up by tax subsidies, such as the Earned Income Tax Credit. Republicans, on the other hand, generally believe the tax system exists mainly to raise revenue needed to fund necessary government services and should not be used to implement social policy. In principle, Republicans believe we should have a tax system that interferes as little as possible with economic and social decisionmaking.

Obviously, both parties fall far short of their own ideals. Nevertheless, one can assume tax policy will tend toward a party's philosophy that is given the power to make policy. So it is worth looking at specific tax policies to see how the two parties differ, and how they might act on a broad range of issues. A good example is the Alternative Minimum Tax.

The AMT grew out of testimony by Joseph W. Barr, Treasury secretary for about two months at the very end of Lyndon Johnson's administration. Just days before Richard Nixon took office in January 1969, Mr. Barr used his position to publicize that 155 wealthy taxpayers had avoided paying any federal income taxes in 1967 because of legal tax avoidance techniques. This was considered a scandal that demanded legislative action.

In the Tax Reform Act of 1969, which Nixon stupidly signed into law, the AMT was first imposed. The idea was that if people were too aggressive in using tax deductions, credits and exclusions, they should be punished, even if everything they did was perfectly within the law. For example, if someone put all their money into tax-exempt municipal bonds, the AMT forced them to pay federal income taxes, even though the tax-exempt status of municipal bonds was created intentionally to subsidize local governments.

It's also worth mentioning that everyone who buys municipal bonds pays a large de facto tax. This is because interest rates on municipal bonds are well below those on equivalent taxable bonds. Therefore, municipal bond buyers always pay a tax equal to the difference between such bonds and taxable bonds. This difference will about equal the average marginal tax rate.

In 1986, largely at the behest of Democrats, the AMT was broadened into its present form. Taxpayers calculate their taxes under the ordinary income tax and again under the AMT and pay whichever yields the higher tax.

Under the AMT, many deductions that are legal under the ordinary income tax are disallowed. One of the most important is the deduction for state and local taxes. As a result, the AMT tends to heavily hit residents of high-tax states like New York. Indeed, some analysts have taken to calling the AMT the "Blue-State Tax," since most of the states hit hardest by the AMT are those where the Democratic Party is strongest; i.e., those that voted for Al Gore in 2000.

The real problem is the AMT's income thresholds are not indexed to inflation or real income growth. As a consequence, many of those considered rich in 1986 are simply middle class today. This illustrates an important point about tax policy: Laws designed to soak the rich eventually hit the middle class.


Thursday, May 6, 2004 - 21:19

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Richard Pyle, Associated Press (May 6, 2004):

... From the Confederacy's notorious Andersonville prison of the Civil War to the Hanoi Hilton, where American POWs were held in Vietnam, military history is rife with grim stories of brutality, starvation and humiliation in captivity.

Few such tales stir such immediate and profound public revulsion and anguish as the recently disclosed mistreatment of Iraqi detainees by U.S. troops at the Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq.

A key reason, say experts, is a built-in resistance among Americans to the idea that U.S. troops or other military pesonnel would so such things.

"We're always the white hats in military affairs, the ones who hand out the Hershey bars and pat the kids on the head, not the ones who sexually abuse POWs, so we don't believe it," says military historian Douglas Brinkley. "We love our armed forces so much - in a country that has no sustainable political heroes, we honor the military as the men and women of democracy."

In addition, said Brinkley, cameras were not present to record abuses of the past as they were at Abu Ghriab. "Only someone who's a real wingnut could not be aghast at those images," he said in a phone interview.

The mistreatment has brought to mind other grievous episodes involving prisoners of war.

Among them: the slaying of war chief Crazy Horse, who was bayoneted while in Army custody in 1877, the year after he helped lead the Indian victory over Lt. Col. George Custer's 7th Cavalry at Little Big Horn.

The last time Pentagon officials were at such a loss to explain unsoldierly conduct involving prisoners was in 1969, when eight U.S. Special Forces members, including their commander in Vietnam, were accused of murdering a Vietnamese double agent by shooting him and dumping his chained corpse from a boat. The sensational "Green Beret Murder Case" ended before trial when then-Defense Secretary Melvin Laird dropped the charges.

Another major uproar in Vietnam concerned the "tiger cages" at Con Son island prison, where political prisoners incarcerated by the U.S.-backed Saigon regime were confined and allegedly tortured. While there was no direct U.S. involvement in the reported abuse, the cages themselves had been built by RMK-BRJ, a Texas military contractor and antecedent to the Halliburton Co. subsidiary KBR.

But Americans also were subjected to "tiger cage"-type abuse; 29 captured by the Viet Cong in South Vietnam were held in primitive jungle camps that included cages. About half were killed or died in captivity, according to "Honor Bound," the most comprehensive book on the Vietnam POW experience.

Former Army intelligence specialist John Giannini, who spent a year interrogating prisoners in Vietnam, said Americans there did not mistreat captives, because "it was counter-productive; If you abused them, they would tell you anything, just to get you to stop."

All prisoners taken by U.S. forces in Vietnam were under Saigon's control, which proved helpful in interrogations, Giannini said in an interview.

"We knew the South Vietnamese abused them," Giannini said, "and the best way to get someone to talk was to say, 'Look, if you don't cooperate with me I will have no choice but to turn you over to the South Vietnamese. Don't force me to do that.'"

Along with the massacre of hundreds of Vietnamese civilians at the village of My Lai by American troops in 1968, the Green Beret and "tiger cage" scandals helped turn U.S. public opinion against the war.

The Vietnam incidents pale next to many prisoner-related atrocities of World War II, which including the 1942 Bataan Death March, in which 7,000 to 10,000 POWs died or were killed by their Japanese captors during the 55-mile trek to prison camps, and the Malmedy Massacre of dozens of captured GIs by Nazi troops at Malmedy, Belgium, in 1944.

Japan's particularly abhorrent record of mistreating POWs stemmed in part from its samurai-based warrior code, called "bushido," in which surrender was deemed dishonorable.

That code led to such incidents as the execution of eight American fliers captured at the South Pacific island of Chichi Jima in 1944, a story told in James Bradley's 2003 best seller, "Flyboys."

Years after the war, details also surfaced about the Japanese Imperial Army's Unit 731, which conducted grisly physical and germ warfare experiments on captured Chinese soldiers and civilians, Russians and some Western POWs in Manchuria from 1936 to 1945.

Some 9,000 were believed to have died before the laboratory's chief ordered it destroyed in the last days of the war.


Thursday, May 6, 2004 - 18:50

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Nicholas Thompson, in Legal Affairs (May/Hune 2004):

FOR THREE-QUARTERS OF A CENTURY, an unspoken gentleman's agreement bound the moneymen of Wall Street and the New York attorney general's office. The AG got to use an astonishingly powerful state securities law called the Martin Act, but not against the big boys. Acceptable targets through the years included shady pharmacists, Ponzi schemes, and peddlers of fraudulent Salvador Dali lithographs.

Two years ago, Eliot Spitzer, New York's current attorney general, broke the deal. He took the Martin Act, the securities legislation that is the legal equivalent of King Arthur's Excalibur, and plunged it into the guts of Merrill Lynch. Then he turned his saber on Salomon Smith Barney and the rest of New York's investment banking industry. This past fall he speared several large players in both the hedge fund and mutual fund industries. Others worry that they will face similar fates in the remaining two years of Spitzer's present term. They should.

The purpose of the Martin Act is to arm the New York attorney general to combat financial fraud. It empowers him to subpoena any document he wants from anyone doing business in the state; to keep an investigation totally secret or to make it totally public; and to choose between filing civil or criminal charges whenever he wants. People called in for questioning during Martin Act investigations do not have a right to counsel or a right against self-incrimination. Combined, the act's powers exceed those given any regulator in any other state.

Now for the scary part: To win a case, the AG doesn't have to prove that the defendant intended to defraud anyone, that a transaction took place, or that anyone actually was defrauded. Plus, when the prosecution is over, trial lawyers can gain access to the hoards of documents that the act has churned up and use them as the basis for civil suits."It's the legal equivalent of a weapon of mass destruction," said a lawyer at a major New York firm who represents defendants in Martin Act cases (and who didn't want his name used because he feared retribution by Spitzer)."The damage that can be done under the statute is unlimited."

Spitzer and his allies, of course, see the law the opposite way, lauding its unlimited capacity for good. Given the deep slumber of the SEC and other important financial regulators since 2000, the glaring improprieties of mutual funds and stock analysts—improprieties that disproportionately harm small, trusting investors—might not have been documented and addressed if Spitzer hadn't forcefully applied the Martin Act.

Either way, there's no question that a little-known New York law, intentionally rendered anemic when first passed in 1921, has morphed into something remarkable, helped along the way by ambitious supporters, neglectful opponents, and generous court rulings. The Martin Act has also given Spitzer the stature he needs to run for governor of New York in 2006—and perhaps, one day, something higher.

THE FIRST STATE STATUTE CRACKING DOWN ON FRAUD IN SECURITIES, or speculative investments, was passed in Kansas in 1911. It was nicknamed a"blue-sky" law after hustlers who, the story went, would sell shares of the blue sky if they could. Other states quickly followed, pushed by public concern about fraud as well as by self-interested lobbying from small banks, which worried that money which would otherwise be deposited was being put into securities.

By the end of World War I, the state that served as home to the world's financial capital decided it had to join in. Swindlers stalked Gotham's streets, fleecing the people who were investing with solo speculators and putting money into the stock market for the first time in a burst of postwar patriotic fervor. Much as when shares of Amazon.com hit the NASDAQ, newcomers were everywhere—and they quite frequently lost their bowlers.

New York's legislature was one of the last to pass a blue-sky law, letting through a deliberately enfeebled version. It gave the AG power to counter fraud once it was committed, but left that office with minimal control over who could sell securities in the first place. To the big financial companies that dominated New York politics, a registration law was a bureaucratic burden to be avoided. A simple fraud statute seemed like a good way to swat down small-time sharks and keep the field open for themselves. The weak law went into force in May 1921, bearing the name of Louis M. Martin, its sponsor in the state assembly.

New York barely made use of Martin's act for the first four years of its life, spending almost nothing on enforcement. The attorney general did try to apply it on several occasions in 1923, going after firms like the Multi-Insert Mailing Machine Corporation, which sold stock after spuriously claiming to have developed machines that addressed, folded, and handled envelopes. But he was tripped up by a clause in the Martin Act that granted automatic immunity to anyone who testified under it or even answered questions."It is said that the Martin law has teeth. It has, but they are an ill-fitting set of false teeth," snapped New York City's district attorney Joab Banton to The New York Times.

In 1925, the law found its first aggressive user, Attorney General Albert Ottinger, who was also successful in pushing for legislation that dramatically limited the act's immunity provisions. Spitzer's forebear in many ways, Ottinger sought out high-profile fraud cases and used the Martin Act to shut down the Consolidated Stock Exchange, a lowbrow offshoot of the New York Stock Exchange. His actions riled major financiers and led to several prominent court challenges."In this proceeding, if such it may be called, the Attorney General is . . . the complainant, the prosecuting officer and the magistrate before whom the proceeding is instituted," wrote Louis Marshall, a prominent constitutional lawyer, who led the charge against the act.

But Ottinger beat Marshall in the courts and continued his crackdown. At the end of his term, the AG summed up his political record as follows:"Hammer, hammer, hammer, at every manner and means of fraud and dishonesty, the prevention and assertion of which the Legislature has assigned to the Attorney General." Despite the popularity of Ottinger's hammering, however, he lost a close race for the governor's office in 1928 to a former assistant secretary of the Navy named Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Ottinger left a two-part legacy for Spitzer. He'd set an example for how an AG could use the Martin Act with vigor. And the court challenges he'd faced ended up bolstering the law. ...


Tuesday, May 4, 2004 - 18:03

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Katharine Q. Seelye, in the NYT (May 3, 2004):

It was 1959 when Dick Cheney, then a student at Yale University, turned 18 and became eligible for the draft.

Eventually, like 16 million other young men of that era, Mr. Cheney sought deferments. By the time he turned 26 in January 1967 and was no longer eligible for the draft, he had asked for and received five deferments, four because he was a student and one for being a new father.

Although President Richard M. Nixon stopped the draft in 1973 and the war itself ended 29 years ago on Friday, the issue of service remains a personally sensitive and politically potent touchstone in the biographies of many politicians from that era.

For much of Mr. Cheney's political career, his deferments have largely been a nonissue.

In an increasingly vituperative political campaign, Mr. Cheney this week again questioned the credentials of Senator John Kerry and his ability to be commander in chief. Mr. Kerry, who was decorated in Vietnam and has made his service there a central element of his campaign, fired back.

Putting Mr. Cheney's record in the spotlight, Mr. Kerry said that he "got every deferment in the world and decided he had better things to do."

Steve Schmidt, a spokesman for the Bush-Cheney campaign, dismissed the criticism, saying that Mr. Kerry was delving into a subject that he had said he would not touch. Mr. Schmidt said that Mr. Kerry was trying to divert attention from what the spokesman said was Mr. Kerry's reversals on other topics.

While Mr. Cheney's deferment history was briefly an issue when George W. Bush picked him as his running mate in 2000, the Democrats did not focus on it after Al Gore, the Democratic presidential nominee, who had served in Vietnam, picked as his running mate Senator Joseph Lieberman, who also had not served.

The issue also received little attention during Mr. Cheney's Senate confirmation hearings as defense secretary in 1989 under the first President Bush, largely because the Armed Services Committee had just completed a bitter and protracted battle over the president's original choice, John G. Tower. Mr. Tower had faced questions about philandering, drinking and conflicts over defense contracts before he was rejected.

Senators of both parties were so eager to confirm Mr. Cheney quickly that they were relatively undemanding, not pressing him on the draft but merely asking him if he had anything to say about it.

He said he "never served" because of deferments to finish a college career that lasted six years rather than four, which he attributed to subpar academic performance and the fact that he had to work to pay for his education.

He added that he "would have obviously been happy to serve had I been called."

Away from the hearing room, he told the Washington Post that he had sought his deferments because "I had other priorities in the 60's than military service."

"I don't regret the decisions I made," he added. "I complied fully with all the requirements of the statutes, registered with the draft when I turned 18. Had I been drafted, I would have been happy to serve."

But others contend that Mr. Cheney appeared to go to some length to avoid the draft.

"Five deferments seems incredible to me," said David Curry, a professor at the University of Missouri in St. Louis who has written extensively about the draft, including a 1985 book, "Sunshine Patriots: Punishment and the Vietnam Offender."


Monday, May 3, 2004 - 19:34

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From the South China Morning Post (April 25, 2004):

If the United States and its allies had consulted history books before invading Iraq just over a year ago, they might have had second thoughts. Iraqis do not take foreign occupation lightly, as the blood-spattered accounts attest.

Most telling is the British war cemetery in Baghdad known as North Gate.

Row upon row of graves - more than 3,000, mostly unidentified - mark the last resting places of invading soldiers killed during more than four decades of occupation from 1914.

That, according to historians, is the tip of the human cost of Britain's attempts to militarily hold on to the region once known as Mesopotamia as part of its empire. Tens of thousands of civilians died fighting to oust the occupiers, sometimes in aerial bombings and mustard gas attacks.

Such methods of warfare are now outlawed by the Geneva Conventions, but invasion of another country is not, as the United States-led occupation proves. Neither have Iraqis altered their desire to determine their own future.

The point is not lost on historians and defence analysts, who are not surprised at the mounting toll of coalition soldiers. More than 800 have so far been killed - more than three-quarters of them since US President George W. Bush declared the war over on May 1.

As the toll rises and the objectives of instilling stability and democracy seem increasingly difficult to attain, the comparisons with the Vietnam war are inevitable. But it is the British occupation, not Vietnam - America's biggest military humiliation - that is a closer parallel, former US army colonel Kenneth Allard suggested last week.

"Americans do not know their history and what they do know, they do not know well," Professor Allard, a defence analyst with the Centre for Strategic and International Studies in Washington, said."Most have at least heard of Vietnam and we're inevitably drawing our lessons in Iraq from that conflict.

"But in this case, the relevant example is the British occupation of Iraq in the 1920s, not Vietnam. There were the same number of British there after the first world war as there are Americans in Iraq now."

There are 135,000 American troops in Iraq and calls are rising in the US for that figure to be increased to crush resistance before the handover of power to an Iraqi civilian authority on June 30.

Britain became militarily involved in the region in November 1914 when it declared war on the Ottoman Empire for siding with Germany in the dawning days of the first world war. With an eye primarily on protecting its oil interests in Persia, now Iran, it invaded and occupied Mesopotamia the following month.

With Germany's defeat in 1918, Britain and its victorious allies divided the territorial spoils of war. In January 1919, Britain formed Iraq from Mesopotamia and the governates of Baghdad, Basra and Mosul. In April the following year, the forerunner to the United Nations, the League of Nations, gave the British a mandate over the new nation.

Middle East expert Phebe Marr, author of The Modern History of Iraq, said most Iraqis viewed the mandate as foreign occupation, and it resulted in a ferocious rebellion from July to October 1920. Involving all sectors of society, from urbanites to tribespeople, different ethnic and religious groups, the human and economic cost for Britain was high.

Historical accounts generally agree that 4,000 Arabs and 450 British were killed. The cost to the British treasury was about GBP40 million - an amount worth many times more today.

"Britain had to go back to the drawing board because taxpayers refused to foot the bill or accept the cost in lives," Dr Marr, a Washington resident who spoke during a visit to Qatar, said."What they came up with was indirect British rule under a monarch and a western-style democracy with a parliament and elections."

The rumblings from Iraqis continued, though, and eventually the main dissenters, Shi'ite religious leaders, were exiled to Persia. Fresh elections were held, an Anglo-Iraq treaty signed in October 1922 to supplant the mandate and, through behind-the-scenes manipulation and skill, relative stability was created.

Iraqi independence was recognised by a British treaty in 1927, although the nation still retained three air bases on Iraqi soil. The pact was formally recognised by the Iraqi parliament in November 1930, confirming independence, sovereignty and British base rights for the next 25 years. Statehood was finalised with admission to the League of Nations in October 1932.

Political instability persisted, though, with a military coup in 1936. The onset of the second world war in 1939 and Iraq's pro-German stance prompted a second British invasion and occupation in 1941, which ended six years later.

With parliament and elections restored, a period of calm ensued until the coup of 1958, in which the king was assassinated, the monarchy abolished and a republic established. That decade could be described as Iraq's"golden age", Dr Marr suggested.

"Although there was martial law and newspapers had to be closed, this was a period of great stability," she said."They had a parliament, a constitution, elections and a reasonably free press. It didn't function as well as it would have in a western society and economic development was not widely spread, but it could be termed a 'golden era' nonetheless."

Gradually, Britain lessened its influence and relaxed control.

Dr Marr agreed there were striking similarities between the British occupation and that of present American operations. But she also believed there were sufficient differences to suggest that history was not being repeated.

Both occupying forces had believed Iraqis were ready to embrace efforts of"liberation"; there was a similarity in the June 30 handover to an Iraqi administration with a degree of sovereignty, but little control over security and the economy; and a parallel could be drawn with the future role of the UN and that of the League of Nations in 1919 to legitimise the process.

"But I wouldn't push these parallels too far," Dr Marr said."We have gone into a state which we all agree was ruled by an horrendous regime and destroyed the institutions that ruled it - the government, the ruling Ba'ath Party and the military. We had no grip on reality in Iraq or understanding of what we were doing."...


Thursday, April 29, 2004 - 21:16

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Susan Page, in USA Today (April 26, 2004):

Allan Lichtman, a historian at American University in Washington, D.C., who created a formula to predict presidential elections, says that the"very odd recovery" has made the political repercussions of individual economic statistics less reliable than in the past [as a guide to the election outcome].

Lichtman is the author of The Keys to the White House, which identifies 13"keys" that he says can be used to project the winner of a national election. Two keys are economic. His short-term measure is whether the economy is in recession. His long-term measure is whether real per-capita economic growth during the term is at least as good as the average of the last two terms.

In November, Bush is likely to hold the advantage on the first economic key but not the second. In contrast, Clinton held both keys in 1996. The elder Bush held neither in 1992.

"We no longer can simply look at economic growth and then say this will help one or the other candidate," says Sung Won Sohn, chief economic officer at Wells Fargo Banks and a White House economist in the Nixon administration."We have now economic growth, the jobs situation, terrorism concerns and a lot more variables in the equation. The traditional analysis of simply looking at the unemployment rate to gauge election outcome is not workable anymore."

In this economy, middle-class Americans can face very different situations:

* Times can be good for a family that has benefited from Bush's tax cuts and has refinanced a mortgage to take advantage of low interest rates. Both things can feel like a pay raise even if income is flat. And since the stock market began to recover, investors have fewer qualms about opening quarterly statements for their 401(k) retirement accounts.

* Times can be bad for a family that includes someone who has lost a job and had a hard time finding another one with comparable pay and benefits; long-term unemployment rates are the worst in at least 40 years. People with jobs have been hit by rising health insurance premiums. Those with kids in college have seen tuition bills climb much faster than inflation, too.

How miserable?

When the Kerry campaign unveiled a"misery index" this month, it used seven statistics that generally show middle-class families under pressure: household income, private-sector job growth, bankruptcies, home ownership, and the costs of health care, college tuition and gas.

The Bush campaign quickly released its calculation of the traditional"misery index," a formula devised by Arthur Okun, an economic adviser to President Johnson. That index combines the unemployment and inflation rates.

By Kerry's"misery index," the economy is the worst it has been for any president running for re-election since Carter. By the old-style"misery index," the economy is the best it has been for any president running for re-election since then.

Commerce Secretary Don Evans calls it" clearly one of the strongest economies in my lifetime." He says,"You can lead by looking at the glass being half-full and seeing all the positive trends in our economy."

Democrats say administration officials are mistaken if they don't recognize the economic strain many Americans still feel."When people hear that the economy is supposedly getting better and they feel incredibly uncertain about where the new middle-class jobs are and they find themselves squeezed by the run-of-the-mill costs of life, it's led to a palpable anxiety," says Gene Sperling, a White House economic adviser for Clinton who advises the Kerry campaign.

Sperling says"anxiety" is the word that best describes the current economy. White House economic adviser Gregory Mankiw says he'd choose the words"on track." He says,"We're not where we want it to be, but it's heading in the right direction."


Thursday, April 29, 2004 - 20:55

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Gordon Dryden, in the New Zealand Herald (April 26, 2004):

Maybe it's the death of Michael King, so soon after completing The Penguin History of New Zealand. Or maybe the devastation and killing in Iraq. But somehow Anzac Day seemed much more important this year than any others I can remember.

A good time, too, to recall George Santayana's famous quotation:"Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

But the lessons are much wider and different than those raised by Ron Smith in his article http://www.nzherald.co.nz/storydisplay.cfm?thesection=news&thesubsection=&storyID=3561864 Appeasement policy puts us all in danger

Perhaps the biggest lesson of all is, beware of simplistic, single-word or simple-sentence dogma.

All who grew up in the 1930s and 1940s can remember the now-obvious bias of New Zealand's primary-school history book, Our Nation's Story. Michael King and other historians have since spent years trying to dispel its one-sided message of the glories of the British Empire.

So what are some of the lessons New Zealanders might ponder from our own involvement in war?

The Musket Wars of the 19th century led to at least 20,000 being slaughtered, thousands more being enslaved, and almost all tribal boundaries being redrawn. As Michael King put it in his introduction to Ron Crosby' s 1999 book, The Musket Wars:"If any chapter in New Zealand history has earned the label 'holocaust', it is this one."

In World War I, New Zealand suffered, with Belgium, the biggest proportionate losses of any country - in our case, 17,000 dead. Can anyone now justify the senseless and bloody slaughter of that four-year disaster? Yet at every school Anzac Day service I attended in the 1930s and 1940s, we were regaled with the myth that our soldiers had died fighting for"God, King, country and our freedom". The Germans and Turks, of course, were told the same.

World War II? Most who lived through it would probably agree with Dr Smith on the major lessons, including the peril of appeasement, but also the danger of any other global power wanting to dominate the world.

The Vietnam War? I happened to be in America in 1964 when President Lyndon Johnson announced that North Vietnam had fired on an American naval vessel"in international waters" in the Gulf of Tonkin.

With this"grave threat to the United States", America declared itself at war. So did Australia and New Zealand - on the oft-repeated ground of the"domino effect", that if Vietnam goes, so will the dominoes fall in the rest of Southeast Asia.

More than 50,000 American deaths and 2 million Vietnamese deaths later, the US was finally defeated in 1975. But the dominoes didn't fall. And then came the proof: the Tonkin Gulf incident was a lie. An American naval boat had deliberately gone inside North Vietnam's 12-mile limit to provoke an attack.

And how about the Cold War? There is no doubting the disastrous consequences of the Soviet domination of eastern Europe after World War II. But from 1950 to 1990, America's enormous military budget was ramped up each year on the basis of the well-publicised alleged parity between US and Soviet military forces.

Yet such parity did not exist. In 1970, Moscow didn't even have a public phone-book. By any standard, the Soviet economy was in ruins. And when the Soviet empire finally collapsed in 1989-90, we discovered its economy was the same size as that of the Netherlands.

And what of terrorism, weapons of mass destruction, democracy in the Middle East, and religious fundamentalism?


Thursday, April 29, 2004 - 20:48

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Edward Epstein, in the San Francisco Chronicle (April 28, 2004):

The special committee formed to investigate what the president called an"unprovoked and dastardly attack" on the United States waded deep into controversy, interviewed dozens of witnesses and produced a 10 million-word record.

It issued a final report, blaming many involved in U.S. national security for failing to do their jobs and recommended sweeping changes to prevent a similar attack in the future.

In many ways, this sounds like the current bipartisan commission investigating the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, which is due to report by late July. But it's the tale of Congress' Joint Committee on the Investigation of the Pearl Harbor Attack, which in 1945-46 conducted the last of a host of inquiries, and the most complete, into Japan's Dec. 7, 1941, bombing of the U.S. Pacific fleet in Hawaii.

The similarities between the reports of the two commissions are striking. If a reader substitutes the words"Sept. 11" for"Pearl Harbor," at times the voluminous final report of the Pearl Harbor inquiry can induce a serious case of deja vu, raising the question of how much a nation caught napping in 1941 -- and again 60 years later -- has really learned.

"The committee has been intrigued throughout the Pearl Harbor proceedings by one enigmatical and paramount question: 'Why, with some of the finest intelligence available in our history, with the almost certain knowledge that war was at hand, with plans that contemplated the precise type of attack that was executed by Japan on the morning of December 7 -- why was it possible for a Pearl Harbor to occur?'" the final report asked.

The committee's report told a tale of complacency, poor communications between government agencies and officials' stubborn refusal to contemplate the seemingly impossible, even though an attack on Pearl Harbor had been the subject of military war games.

Flash forward to 2004, and the 10-member bipartisan commission has heard what previous inquiries into the Sept. 11 attacks learned -- that the FBI and CIA failed to share information with each other or within their own agencies, that investigators in the field were frustrated in getting their concerns heard by higher-ups, that Presidents Bill Clinton and George Bush might not have done all they could to pursue al Qaeda and its leader, Osama bin Laden, and that virtually everyone ignored indications that commercial planes could be hijacked and used as flying suicide bombs.

"We were drowning in a sea of intelligence both times," said Stanley Weintraub, author of"Long Day's Journey Into War: Pearl Harbor and a World at War."

"It was a matter of connecting the dots," he added.

The intelligence failure was much greater on Sept. 11 because"there were rather specific threats and the FBI knew of people training to fly planes, but not land them or take off," said Weintraub, a professor emeritus of history at Penn State University.

In contrast, Washington knew in 1941 that Japan was planning military action somewhere in the vast Pacific because Tokyo's diplomatic code had been broken. But no specific intelligence about the attack on Pearl Harbor was captured. Despite that, on Nov. 27, 1941, the commanders at Pearl Harbor, Navy Adm. Husband Kimmel and Army Gen. Walter Short, were sent a"war warning."

A series of inquiries that began just days after the attack found that the two didn't do enough to prepare for the attack that eventually killed 2,395 Americans and wounded 1,178.

In the face of the warnings,"the Japanese attack was a complete surprise to the commanders and they failed to make suitable dispositions to meet such an attack. Each failed properly to evaluate the seriousness of the situation. These errors of judgment were the effective causes for the success of the attack," the joint inquiry said. President Franklin D. Roosevelt sacked the two men days after the attack.

In interim reports and questioning by members, the current commission has been highly critical of the FBI and CIA, but it isn't clear yet what the panel's final report will say about the agencies or their leaders. The 1945-46 inquiry panned the government's performance before Dec. 7 but went out of its way to praise top leaders.

"The president, the secretary of state and high government officials made every possible effort, without sacrificing our national honor and endangering our security, to avert war with Japan," the report said.

As has happened since Sept. 11 with the criticism of Bush, conspiracy theories about what Roosevelt might have known before the attacks surfaced after Pearl Harbor and have become a cottage industry ever since.

Stanford historian David Kennedy, in his book"Freedom from Fear, The American People in Depression and War, 1929-1945," had a simple explanation for such theories after Pearl Harbor, one that could just as easily apply to Sept. 11, 2001.

"Conspiracy theories proliferate, as they often do in the face of the improbable," he wrote.

The Pearl Harbor congressional inquiry dealt with the theories head-on.

"The committee has found no evidence to support the charges, made before and during the hearings, that the president, the secretary of state, the secretary of war or the secretary of Navy tricked, provoked, incited, cajoled or coerced Japan into attacking this nation in order that a declaration of war might be more easily obtained from the Congress," the report said.

One big difference between today and the 1940s is that none of the Pearl Harbor inquiries, which included a 1942 commission headed by Supreme Court Justice Owen Roberts, ever asked Roosevelt to appear before them, on or off the record.

In contrast, after protracted wrangling, Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney are scheduled to appear Thursday before the Sept. 11 commission in a private White House session."Roosevelt was such a Godlike figure," Weintraub said, that no one would think to question his judgment.

Since FDR had died in April 1945, the joint inquiry couldn't have questioned him anyway. In an arrangement that appears positively quaint by today's standards, the inquiry allowed Grace Tully, FDR's secretary, to go through White House files and"furnish the committee all papers in these files for the year 1941 relating to Japan, the imminence of war in the Pacific and general Far Eastern developments," it said.


Thursday, April 29, 2004 - 19:51

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John Nicholas, in the Nation (April 24, 2004):

History usually provides a roadmap for the present. Unfortunately, leaders fail to consult the map. That's certainly been the case as the 9/11 Commission has prepared to hear behind-closed-doors testimony from Vice President Dick Cheney and President George Bush at the same time.

Members of the commission and, for the most part, members of congress, have accepted the secret-testimony arrangement. But why?

Presidents have testified before investigatory committees before. And they have done so on comparable issues. Former US Rep. Elizabeth Holtzman reminds us that in 1974, amid the national firestorm that followed President Gerald Ford's pardon of former President Richard Nixon, Ford voluntarily appeared before a House subcommittee that was reviewing the pardon.

"The President came before the subcommittee, made an opening statement and was questioned by the House members. Although each of us had only five minutes, I was able to ask the President directly whether there had been a deal with Nixon about the pardon. The public could determine by Ford's demeanor and his words whether to believe his emphatic denial of any deal," recalls Holtzman, who as a young member of the House was a key player in the Judiciary Committee's investigation of the Watergate scandal.

"The fact that important questions could be posed directly to the President and the fact that the President was willing to face down his severest critics in public were healthy things for our country. And, not even the staunchest Republicans complained that the presidency was being demeaned."

By recalling the history, Holtzman reminds us that President Bush could, and should, simply appear before the 9/11 Commission. There is no Constitutional crisis here. There is no dangerous precedent that could be established. And there is no question of proportionality--certainly, the intensity of the demands for an explanation of the Nixon pardon can appropriately compared with those for an explanation of how the current administration responded to terrorist threats before and after the September 11, 2001 attacks. "As with the Nixon pardon, the events of 9/11 have caused huge national concern," explains Holtzman. "The victims' families--as well as millions of others--have asked why it happened and what if anything could have been done to avert the tragedy. These are simple, reasonable questions."


Thursday, April 29, 2004 - 11:13

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Eric Posner, professor of law at the University of Chicago, in the NYT (April 28, 2004):

The decision by the Coalition Provisional Authority to ease its policy barring former Baath Party members from Iraqi government jobs has generated widespread criticism in Iraqi political circles. Ahmed Chalabi, America's onetime favorite member of the Iraqi Governing Council, said that giving jobs to former Baathists was like "allowing Nazis into the German government immediately after World War II." But that's precisely the point — the history of the last 50 years shows that countries trying to make transitions to democracy must inevitably bring back at least some members of the ousted regime.

After World War II, the allies resolved not only to punish Nazi war criminals but also to purge Nazism from German public life. Yet even before the Nuremberg trials had concluded, the Americans realized that they could not rebuild Germany without the help of at least some former Nazis who had dominated the bureaucracy, industry and the military. Although the worst Nazis were punished, most others were eventually given amnesty and went to work on reconstruction.

Simultaneously in Japan, transitional justice was even more perfunctory. From the beginning, the Americans decided that Emperor Hirohito would have to be retained so that the United States could exert control over the populace through him. His absence from the Tokyo trials of war leaders weakened that tribunal's impact, and soon enough many members of the wartime regime were allowed to help get the country back on its feet.

In both cases, the decisions to ease the purges were partly, but not entirely, realpolitik. Yes, America needed Germany and Japan as allies against the Soviet Union. But it also realized that neither place could become a functioning liberal democracy without the cooperation and expertise of the vast majority of those tainted by the previous governments. An endless occupation was not an attractive prospect — just as it is not in Iraq now. The compromise in both Germany and Japan was a series of high-profile trials of the worst war criminals, followed by amnesty for most everyone else, many of whom were not only complicit in the old regime but responsible for some of its ugliest decisions.

This set the pattern for the next several decades — in Spain, Greece, Portugal, Argentina, Chile, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Poland, the former East Germany, the Philippines, South Africa and elsewhere. Although in some cases moderate transitional justice measures were carried out — including truth commissions, reparations, purges of leaders and collaborators, and trials of some lower-level officials like border guards — most holdovers from the old regime were permitted to take part in the new.


Wednesday, April 28, 2004 - 19:33

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Frank Rich, in the NYT (April 18, 2004):

The most apt movie for this moment just may be David Lean's "Lawrence of Arabia." Richard Holbrooke, the Clinton ambassador to the United Nations whose foreign service career began in Vietnam, said to me last week, "That's the image everyone I've talked to who saw the movie has in his head right now."

What Mr. Holbrooke is referring to is the story's mordant conclusion. The Arab revolt against the Ottoman empire, abetted by the heroic British liaison officer T. E. Lawrence and guerrilla tactics, has succeeded. The shotgun mandating of the modern state of Iraq, by the League of Nations in 1920, is just a few years away. But as the local leaders gather in an Arab council, a tentative exercise in self-government, there is nothing but squabbling, even as power outages and public-health outrages roil the populace. "I didn't come here to watch a tribal bloodbath," says Peter O'Toole, as Lawrence, earlier in the movie when first encountering the internecine warfare of the Arab leaders he admired. But the bloodbath continued — and now that we've ended Saddam's savage grip on Iraq, it has predictably picked up where it left off. Only Americans have usurped the British as the primary targets in the crossfire of an undying civil war.

It was last weekend, after I watched "Lawrence" again for the first time in years, that L. Paul Bremer was asked by Tim Russert to whom we would turn over the keys in Iraq on June 30, and gave his now immortal answer: "Well, that's a good question." We don't have a clue, and in part that's because we have no memory.

As the historian Niall Ferguson points out in his new book, "Colossus: The Price of America's Empire," President Bush's promise to Iraqis of "a peaceful and representative government" in place of Saddam's brutal regime was an uncanny, if unconscious, replay of what the British commander who occupied Baghdad in 1917 told the people of what was then still Mesopotamia. "Our armies do not come into your cities and lands as conquerors or enemies, but as liberators," Gen. F. S. Maude said back then, expressing the desire that his forces would help the populace build their own governmental institutions.

Iraq did not, however, give birth to an indigenous form of self-government. The country was run instead by a Bremer-like civil commissioner, Sir Arnold Wilson, for three often violent years. He and his deputy, Mr. Ferguson writes, "drew up a scheme for a unitary Iraqi state with almost no local consultation, simply ignoring those who advised against yoking together Assyria and Babylonia, Sunni and Shia." Eventually a British-style constitutional monarchy was installed, leading to decades of tumult and coups. By the time the revolution of 1958 overthrew the monarchy, the Baath party and Saddam were lurking in the wings.

To revisit "Lawrence" and the history it dramatizes in embryo is to feel not only déjà vu but also a roaring anger at the American arrogance and ignorance that has led to the current nightmare. Condoleezza Rice's use of the word "historical" to describe the Aug. 6, 2001, presidential briefing on Osama bin Laden was not the only tipoff to her limited understanding of history. In the opening filibuster of her testimony, she invoked the Lusitania, Hitler's rise and Pearl Harbor as analogues of 9/11 — an asymmetrical comparison that blurs the distinctions between nations' acts of war and the stateless conspiracies of modern terrorists. Apparently the administration's understanding of British colonial history in the Middle East is no sharper. Though it might have been impossible to prevent the 9/11 attacks, it would have been possible to avoid what's happening in Iraq now had anyone heeded the past. However much the current crisis may be a function of a military bungle like Donald Rumsfeld's inadequate deployment of troops or the diplomatic failure to attract a proper coalition, it is above all else the product of cultural hubris.


Wednesday, April 28, 2004 - 15:54

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Editorial in the WSJ (April 27, 2004):

... As a matter of fact, violence has been part of May Day protests from the start. It may come as a surprise to some that May Day had its origins in the United States, where in 1886, during the first ever May protests for the eight-hour work day, a bomb killed eight policemen in Chicago.

May Day was then adopted by the International Labor Congress in Paris 1889 and was later usurped not only by the Soviet Union but also Nazi Germany, where Adolf Hitler made the first of May a public holiday. It is still an official holiday in Germany and much of Europe, and in recent years has become an important day in the busy calendar of the diffuse antiglobalization movement. This means that, apart from calling for more workers' rights, protesters usually use this day to trash McDonald's restaurants, bash American"imperialism," the war in Iraq and express solidarity with Yasser Arafat and suicide bombers.

Unions in Germany, France, Italy and elsewhere in Europe will mark the day by calls to hang on to privileges gained during economic boom years --"rights" that have now become the biggest obstacles to job creation, as Gabor Steingart notes nearby. This is where the arrival of the East European countries could help lead the rest of continental Europe out of its current stagnation.

With their real-life experience of communism's harsh reality and the impoverishing effects of a planned economy, the new members have little patience for the kind of socialist nostalgia many May protesters indulge in. Instead, East Europeans are pioneering the kind of wealth-stimulating reforms much of continental Europe is so reluctant to emulate. Thanks to such innovations as the flat tax, flexible labor laws and less bureaucracy combined with a highly skilled work force, the region has turned into a giant magnet for foreign investment.


Tuesday, April 27, 2004 - 18:09

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David Carr, in the NYT (April 25, 2004):

...The current administration's squeamishness about photographs depicting the consequences of war has plenty of precedents in American history, but it stands in stark contrast to where war photography began.

In 1862, New Yorkers went to the gallery of Matthew Brady and saw, for the first time, the gory externalities of the Civil War. The dead were a persistent presence because of the limitations of the technology of the day. Daguerreotypes required subjects that remained still, and there is no subject more patient than the dead.

But by the beginning of World War I, as the mass reproduction and distribution of images became more commonplace, the political and military leadership began to understand that seeing lifeless American soldiers could have a corrosive effect on the country's will to fight, and photography was banned altogether. It was only two years into World War II when the federal government decided it was time to take the lens cover off the camera - albeit in controlled and thematically patriotic ways.

"Up until that time, Americans had been supporting the war on imagination alone," said Susan Moeller, a professor at the Philip Merrill College of Journalism at the University of Maryland. "The photographs helped to make the rhetoric and the goals tangible. The military, in this instance, wanted the American public to be in the same war they were in."

By the time of the Vietnam conflict, all hell was breaking loose, often in front of the eyes of the viewing public. War's inherent savagery, its indifference to human suffering, entered the hearts and minds of Americans like a rocket-propelled grenade through graphic video and still pictures. The dissonance between those images and the rhetoric of the American leadership helped the public decide that what was initially sold as a global quest for freedom had become a trap with incalculable costs.

Sometimes, it is the juxtaposition of images that creates its own narrative. During the first Gulf war, President George H. W. Bush was photographed playing golf at a time when coffins were piling up at Dover. And horror and outrage created by the iconic pictures from the so-called Highway of Death, where Iraqis fleeing in retreat from Kuwait were immolated by American bombs and missiles, may have been one reason Saddam Hussein was not pursued into Baghdad. It was under the first President Bush that formal ceremonies for the returning bodies of soldiers were discontinued at Dover - and with that, cameras were banned as well. The reason given at the time was that the type and timing of ceremonies ought more rightly to be left to each soldier's individual family, but then - as now - those motives were widely questioned. Still, the same policy has now become the general rule at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland and Ramstein Air Base in Germany.


Tuesday, April 27, 2004 - 16:59

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John Tierney, in the NYT (April 25, 2004):

If they disagree with their president, a few officials resign, as Secretary of State Cyrus R. Vance did after Jimmy Carter's unsuccessful military attempt to rescue American hostages in Iran. A few are fired for insubordination, like Gen. Douglas MacArthur. But there is a third way, as Colin L. Powell has demonstrated.

Call it the Bartleby approach, in honor of the legal copyist in Melville's 1853 story, "Bartleby, the Scrivener." Refusing either to work or to leave his job, Bartleby deflects all commands from his boss with the maddeningly calm reply, "I would prefer not to."

Mr. Powell was never publicly hostile to President Bush, but in his own quiet, calm way he slowed the administration's rush to war in Iraq. His resistance was the worst-kept secret in Washington, and now it has been confirmed in detail in Bob Woodward's new book, "Plan of Attack," which depicts Mr. Powell as "the reluctant warrior."

Some critics have accused Mr. Powell of disloyalty and say he should have either resigned or kept quiet; his defenders say that his warnings were a useful reality check for Mr. Bush and have been borne out by events. Right or wrong, his reluctance is not surprising. Generals with combat experience have often been far more leery of going to war than civilians. Mr. Powell was not initially enthusiastic about fighting the first Persian Gulf war either, said Brent Scowcroft and other officials in the first Bush administration. Instead, he favored using troops to defend Saudi Arabia from attack.

The State Department spokesman, Richard A. Boucher, said Mr. Powell's reputation as a reluctant warrior is unfair. "As a soldier in 1990, his mission initially was to defend Saudi Arabia," Mr. Boucher said. "Then he brought back the plan to expel Iraq from Kuwait when diplomacy had spent its course."

Similarly, he said, Mr. Powell firmly supported the second war with Iraq. "Don't assume that because he raised questions he was opposed to the policy," Mr. Boucher said. "He was with the president."

Mr. Powell's caution was already evident in 1987 to a White House colleague, Peter Robinson, a presidential speechwriter. In his recent memoir, "How Ronald Reagan Changed My Life," Mr. Robinson tells of being summoned to a meeting with Mr. Powell, then the deputy national security adviser, to discuss a sentence in a coming presidential speech. Although Mr. Reagan had already approved the line, Mr. Robinson recalls, Mr. Powell's agency and the State Department considered it too belligerent, and Mr. Powell urged that it be deleted.

The issue remained unsettled until the day of the speech, Mr. Robinson recalls, when Mr. Reagan went ahead with the line. Standing at the Berlin Wall, he said, "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall."

Mr. Powell has a different recollection of that incident, Mr. Boucher, the State Department spokesman, said. "There was a discussion, but the line was O.K. with him," Mr. Boucher said. "It was the State Department that objected to the line."...

Gen. George McClellan, the Union commander, had, in the words of his exasperated president, a bad case of "the slows." Openly disdainful of Lincoln and his orders to fight, General McClellan was relieved of command and went on to run for president in 1864 as the nominee for the Democrats, whose platform called for ending the war.

Mr. Powell has said that his model is George C. Marshall, another general who became secretary of state. Like Mr. Powell, he stayed in the job, even while telling President Truman that he strongly disagreed with him on an important issue - the recognition of Israel. But Marshall kept his objections from becoming common knowledge.

At some point, though, a dissenter may cease to do himself or his boss much good, said John P. Burke, a co-author of "How Presidents Test Reality."

"Some officials lose today hoping they'll win tomorrow, but that can be a trap because they may not win tomorrow or next week or the next year," said Professor Burke, a political scientist at the University of Vermont. "They also may become what are called domesticated dissenters, offering dissenting policy views for show but with little practical impact."

Robert S. McNamara advocated escalating the Vietnam War early on, but eventually concluded that it was unwinnable. Yet he continued to defend the war publicly, and refused to air criticisms after he left office.

In lieu of criticizing the boss, principled resignation is sometimes the only option. "It seems to me when one is part of a team, one does not disagree with the coach's decisions once they have been made, even if one wishes that the decisions were different," said Zbigniew Brzezinski, who was national security adviser to President Carter. A good example of a dissenting team player, he said, was his rival in the administration, Mr. Vance, who felt compelled to resign after breaking with the president over the Iran rescue mission.

How much can you disagree and stay in the administration? "If there is an unresolvable moral conflict, the only truly honorable thing to do is resign," said Michael A. Genovese, the author of "The Power of the American Presidency."


Tuesday, April 27, 2004 - 16:48

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David Halbfinger, in the NYT (April 24, 2004):

When questions were raised last month about whether a 27-year-old John Kerry had attended a Kansas City meeting of Vietnam Veterans Against the War where the assassination of senators was discussed, the Kerry presidential campaign went into action.

It accepted the resignation of a campaign volunteer in Florida, Scott Camil, the member of the antiwar group who raised the idea in November 1971 of killing politicians who backed the war. The campaign pressed other veterans who were in Kansas City, Mo., 33 years ago to re-examine their hazy memories while assuring them that Mr. Kerry was sure he had not been there.

John Musgrave, a disabled ex-marine from Baldwin City, Kan., who told The Kansas City Star that Mr. Kerry was at the meeting, said he got a call from John Hurley, the Kerry campaign's veterans coordinator.

"He said, `I'd like you to refresh your memory,' " Mr. Musgrave, 55, recounted in an interview, confirming an account he had given to The New York Sun. "He said it twice. `And call that reporter back and say you were mistaken about John Kerry being there.' "

Such little-noticed moments in Mr. Kerry's past — including his decision at age 26 to meet the Vietcong emissaries to the Paris peace talks — are coming under new scrutiny now, as Mr. Kerry finally makes the presidential run that his comrades in arms, and in the antiwar movement, half-mockingly predicted decades ago.

In an interview about his antiwar activities, Mr. Kerry said that he knew nothing of attempts by his campaign to tinker with the past and that he disapproved. "People's memories are people's memories," he said, adding that he had no memory of the Kansas City meeting.

Mr. Hurley says he was merely asking Mr. Musgrave to be accurate, "because his memory was contrary to everything I was hearing."

Yet while Mr. Kerry is heavily accentuating his five months in combat in Vietnam, he rarely emphasizes his two years working against the war — though he first catapulted to fame 33 years ago this week when he electrified millions of viewers in asking the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, "How do you ask a man to be last man to die for a mistake?"

And when Mr. Kerry appeared on "Meet the Press" last weekend, he disavowed his own remarks on the same program in April 1971, when he said he and thousands of other soldiers had committed "atrocities."

From its inception, Vietnam Veterans Against the War was a curiosity and an influential force in the Vietnam protest movement because of the novelty, and political potency, of antiwar demonstrators in uniform.

In the year and a half that Mr. Kerry belonged to the group, it was loosely structured and had its share of revolutionaries and provocateurs — including many secretly working for law enforcement — who pushed the writings of Chairman Mao and talked of tossing grenades, though they seldom did worse than toss bags of chicken droppings at the Pentagon....


Saturday, April 24, 2004 - 15:27

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Roselyn Tantraphol, in the Hartford Courant (April 18, 200):

The increasing level of violence gripping Iraq does not signal a repetition of the Vietnam War, but has been the result of an administration that turns a blind eye to historical lessons,"60 Minutes" correspondent Morley Safer said Saturday.

And the unfolding events have been reported by"a captive media" that failed to aggressively probe reasons for the march to war - and one that subsequently came to depend on the government through the embedded journalist program, he said.

In warning against becoming beholden to the government, he said:"We don't want anything from the government but that furtive little fellow called the truth - which, by the way, they'll never give you, which you have to go out and find by talking to people."

The hour of candid comments was held as part of the 10th National Writers' Workshop. The annual conference draws journalists, writers and instructors.

The fighting in Vietnam was driven by the domino theory, the belief that the war would prevent other countries in the region from falling to communism."Everything about Iraq is totally different," Safer said."In this one, we went to war and made the countries around fall like dominoes - the wrong way."

Safer, who covered the Vietnam War for CBS, brought up former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara's mea culpa on the Vietnam War."McNamara's plea was that he had no idea that Vietnam had a history of longing for self-determination, a history of resisting foreign invasion."

"The stupidity is unbearable," Safer said. Libraries are full of books on that history, he said - and"reading one would have been enough."

Safer sees a similar problem with the Bush administration, noting the criticism Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld received last year when he referred disparagingly to France and Germany as"old Europe." In the Bush administration, Safer said,"there is a kind of pride in the ignorance."


Friday, April 23, 2004 - 14:05

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Stephen Schwartz, author of The Two Faces of Islam: The House of Sa'ud from Tradition to Terror, in frontpagemag.com (April 21, 2004):

Isolationists, Islamist extremists, and"intellectuals" -- and other types beginning with the letter"i," who will be left unnamed in the interest of civility -- have sneered at the awkward eloquence of President George W. Bush, embodied in his press conference on the evening of April 13.

"Awkward eloquence" is not an oxymoron, for those who express themselves with some difficulty, or when struggling with emotion, may yet speak more powerfully than those whose orations are brilliantly-crafted, and well-practiced. Moses, the prophet of freedom, was afflicted with a stammer, and the prophet Muhammad was an illiterate. Neither of them would have had a chance on most of today's television talk shows, yet they moved the world.

I did not sneer at the President's words. And I believe there are others who, like me, were moved, even to tears, by his statements:

"Freedom is not this country's gift to the world. Freedom is the Almighty's gift to every man and woman in this world. And as the greatest power on the face of the earth, we have an obligation to help the spread of freedom… We have an obligation to work toward a more free world."

The Chief Executive of these United States sought, at times haltingly, to explain to the American people that"it's important for us to spread freedom throughout the Middle East."

Not for many decades, for even a century, has an American statesman so simply and necessarily defined our place in world history. As I explained to my son, other admirable American leaders fought to defend our freedoms -- only rarely, and at great risk, did they commit our nation to the defense, nay, the extension of freedom far from our borders, in places where most of us would never set foot.

Harry Truman did so, when he sent General Douglas MacArthur to the relief of South Korea. What were the Koreans to us? And yet, the people of Western Europe held their breaths in horror, waiting to see if America would save the Koreans -- for if we did not, then Stalin, the most feral of all the 20th century monsters, would be emboldened to invade Western Europe. Revisionist historians may jeer at such an interpretation, yet I have interviewed an American naval attaché who described to me a young German woman rushing to embrace him in the streets of Bonn, when news of the Inchon landing came, saying,"you have saved us!" And I know from the history of the former Yugoslavia that Marshal Tito told his cabinet the same thing -- that MacArthur's daring action had prevented Stalin from marching into Yugoslavia, into Italy, into West Germany, and beyond.

John F. Kennedy promised the same expansion of the dominions of light, when he tried to assist the Cubans in liberating their brothers and sisters from Castro, and refused to back down from the challenge of Vietnam. But his projects failed, for reasons we all know, above all because of his untimely martyrdom.

Reagan succeeded in bringing down the Muscovite empire of evil because he understood that the Soviets were bluffers, that their power rested on the hesitation of their strongest opponents. Somewhere in his soul Reagan understood that history could not stand still, and that the bourgeois revolution, the engines of entrepreneurship, contract, accountability, and individual freedom in general, must inevitably conquer the whole planet.

Shall we shrink, now, from words like"revolution"? Perhaps it would be better not to frighten the amateur thinkers in the isolationist camp, the pretentious pygmies who, knowing little of our history, tell us America never stood for anything but protection of our own shores, our own borders, our own hearths. The Hebrewphobes among them will particularly take offense at the dread word that signifies nothing more than inevitable change in the affairs of humanity, a turning of the mighty wheel of destiny. But let us not give them too much to shriek about. Some of us, like my friend Christopher Hitchens, may smile devilishly when they pronounce the words"regime change," suggesting that it was always a euphemism, and that they were for it on the barricades of Barcelona in 1937 when Orwell stood up against Stalinism, as well as in the streets of Manila in 1986 when"people power" ended the dictatorship of Marcos, and in the Nicaraguan voting booths when the Sandinista usurpers were shoved aside in 1990.

Isolationist poseurs wish the American people to forget that we were once described by Louis Kossuth, the 19th century hero of Hungarian independence, who was liberated from Russian and Austrian aggression by a" coalition of the willing" -- made up of the U.S., Britain, France, and Turkey -- in these terms:

"I have to thank the people, Congress, and government of the United States for my liberation from captivity. Human tongue has no words to express the bliss which I felt, when I -- the downtrodden Hungary's wandering chief -- saw the glorious flag of the Stripes and Stars fluttering over my head -- when I first bowed before it with deep respect -- when I saw around me the gallant officers and the crew of the Mississippi frigate -- the most of them the worthiest representatives of true American principles, American greatness, American generosity -- and to think that it was not a mere chance which cast the Star-spangled Banner around me, but that it was your protecting will -- to know that the United States of America, conscious of their glorious calling, as well as of their power, declared, by this unparalleled act, to be resolved to become the protectors of human rights -- to see a powerful vessel of America coming to far Asia to break the chains by which the mightiest despots of Europe fettered the activity of an exiled Magyar, whose very name disturbed the proud security of their sleep -- to feel restored by such a protection, and, in such a way, to freedom, and by freedom to activity; you may be well aware of what I have felt, and still feel, at the remembrance of this proud moment of my life. Others spoke -- you acted; and I was free! You acted; and at this act of yours, tyrants trembled; humanity shouted out with joy; the downtrodden people of Magyars -- the downtrodden, but not broken -- raised their heads with resolution and with hope, and the brilliancy of your Stars was greeted by Europe's oppressed nations as the morning star of rising liberty."

But enough of concern with the whimpers of the unwilling. President George W. Bush has clearly seen in the Arab and Islamic world an equivalent, for him, of what the Soviet empire represented for Reagan -- a part of the world that must inevitably also share the benefits of capitalism, democracy, prosperity, and peace. As he said on April 13,"Free societies are hopeful societies. A hopeful society is one more likely to be able to deal with the frustrations of those who are willing to commit suicide in order to represent a false ideology. A free society is a society in which somebody is more likely to be able to make a living. A free society is a society in which someone is more likely to be able to raise their child in a comfortable environment and see to it that child gets an education."

These simple phrases were not scripted. They were spontaneous, in reply to questions from reporters. And they speak to the responsibility that was always our American mission, when heroes like Kossuth looked to us for hope, and when our leaders, exemplified above all by Abraham Lincoln, proclaimed"a new birth of freedom" to the globe.

The task President Bush has assumed is an immense one, and is not without risk. When Reagan called on Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall, Sovietism was moribund. By contrast, the Wahhabi ideology of al-Qaeda, the brutalizing brainwashing that led to horrors like the mutilations of Americans in Fallujah, remains volatile.

But I have said before, and will write now, and will argue again, that President Bush has restored to the Republican party its rightful legacy as a party of liberation. Those who, in the President's words,"don't believe Iraq can be free; that if you're Muslim, or perhaps brown-skinned, you can't be self-governing or free," will be proven wrong.

The walls that separate the Muslim world from the planetary realm of light will crumble. Iraq will not be President Bush's Vietnam, but his Berlin Wall.

Let the isolationists and Islamists, the limping leftists and recusant racists, make of it what they will: democracy will be fully globalized.

And as our greatest poet, Walt Whitman, wrote after a war wrought by another Republican war president:

"--Then turn, and be not alarm'd, O Libertad--turn your undying face,
To where the future, greater than all the past,
Is swiftly, surely preparing for you.


Friday, April 23, 2004 - 14:00

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William Greider, in the Nation (May 3, 2004):

...One can begin to recognize that much of the news is  actually an old story--recycled versions of the human folly committed  by previous generations. To my eyes, the insurrection under way in  Iraq looks like"little Tet"--a smaller version of the original Tet  offensive the Vietcong staged in 1968. It shocks Americans in much  the same way. Iraq is a"little war" compared with Vietnam, but  Americans are learning, once again, that the indigenous people we "liberated" do not love us. Many want our occupying army to withdraw.  Insane as it may seem to Americans, they are willing to die for this  objective. But what about the schools and roads we built for  them?

Every day I hear echoes from the past. George W. Bush  even invokes the same phrase--"stay the course"--that four decades  ago was understood, ironically, as an expression of official  obstinacy and ignorance. A prominent newspaper columnist, one of the  most ardent advocates of this war-for-democracy, scolds the"silent  majority" in Iraq, urging them to stand up against the killers and  proclaim their solidarity with the US troops. He seems angry at their  cowardice. His kind of frustration was a constant theme during  Vietnam too.

When popular resolve among the Vietnamese  disappointed Washington, US strategists would change the government  in Saigon. The US proconsul in Baghdad, Paul Bremer, fired the  interior minister in charge of the Iraqi police we trained to  maintain civil order, because they fled the police stations rather  than shoot it out with their countrymen. The"hearts and minds" thing  was never resolved in Vietnam either. After the Americans withdrew,  they discovered that some of their Vietnamese employees (even in news  bureaus) had been Vietcong agents all through the war.

What  did you learn from that war, Grandpa? Like most Americans, I never  saw the battlefield in Indochina, but I did learn painful, indelible  lessons as a citizen. My grandchildren are watching this war on  television, so I will tell them: I learned that the government  sometimes lies to the people--big lies with awful consequences--and  sometimes government begins to believe its own lies. As a reporter, I  learned with embarrassment to listen to the people in the street,  because sometimes they tell you things the government is concealing.  Again and again, antiwar dissenters and civil-rights activists told  me the FBI and CIA were spying on them, tapping their phones,  infiltrating their ranks and disrupting their organizations. The  stories I dismissed as paranoia all turned out to be true. I also  learned that military conquest, regardless of the stated intentions,  seldom succeeds in creating democracy.


The war in Iraq is  different from Vietnam in one fundamental respect: A substantial  portion of Americans (and others around the world) were in the  streets protesting this venture before the shooting started. The  media generally dismissed them and often caricatured the protesters  as aging hippies on a sixties nostalgia trip. It's a pity reporters  didn't listen more respectfully. Virtually every element of what has  gone wrong in Iraq was cited by those demonstrators as among the  reasons they opposed the march to war....

"Tell me how this ends?" an American field  commander asked a battlefield reporter. I will tell him how it ought  to end: Declare victory and get out. Withdraw now, not later, as  responsibly as this can be arranged. That wise formulation was first  proposed during the bloodiest Vietnam years by the late Senator  George Aiken, a Vermont Republican. Neither LBJ nor Nixon had the  courage to listen."Stay the course.""Light at the end of the  tunnel.""Peace with honor." The war continued for years, with many  more deaths on both sides and eventual defeat for ours. US military  power can proceed now to pulverize the cities of Iraq, but there is  no victory ahead, only more killing, and when it is over, a  well-earned sense of shame.

Friday, April 23, 2004 - 13:55

SOURCE: ()

William Choong, in the Straits Times (Singapore) (April 17, 2004):

A HEAVILY armed military force from a Western country takes down a Middle Eastern regime which threatens Western interests in the region. A widespread revolt breaks out. This forces the invader to hand back power to elements of the former regime.

Iraq? Obviously. But in describing the latest case of insurrection in the country, one could just as well be talking about Britain's Iraqi experience in the 1920s.

'What happened in Iraq in 1920 so closely resembles the events now that only a historical ignoramus can be surprised,' writes Mr Niall Ferguson, the author of Empire: The Rise And Demise Of The British World Order And The Lessons For Global Power.

The parallels are chilling.

During World War I, between 1914 and 1918, Britain overthrew an authoritarian regime in Baghdad. It then installed a political order that was respectful of British interests in the Persian Gulf.

In 1920, a widespread revolt ensued, comprising the country's three main ethic groups - Shi'ites, Sunni and even the Kurds. It led to thousands of British casualties.

By August that year, the desperate British commander even appealed to London for poison-gas shells - an option that Winston Churchill, then a secretary of state in the War Office, had also called for.

In the following years, Britain ceded control of the country to elites from the former regime - made up mostly of Sunnis and politicians not representative of the population.

This scenario led to the emergence of Saddam Hussein, a Sunni, in the 1970s.

There is no reason - as yet - to believe that Washing- ton's experience in Iraq could see the United States venturing down the British road.

The latest insurgency led by radical Shi'ite cleric Moqtada Al-Sadr is estimated to command support from less than a tenth of Iraq's 25 million people.

But the intensification of the current insurrection suggests that the US is slowly being pushed the way of Britain in the 1920s.

'A light military force whose occupation of Iraq was becoming unpopular allowed armed groups to fight with great effectiveness,' said Iraq expert Toby Dodge of Britain's Warwick University.

'That caused Britain to leave before completing the job of state-building.

'It looks like this might happen to the US as well,' he told The Straits Times.

If the US does leave before it builds a broad-based government, the Iraq of today could indeed go the way of the Iraq of the 1920s.

Ironically, the unpopular 25-member Iraqi Governing Council - whose members are considered by many Iraqis to be US puppets - looks very much like Britain's unrepresentative regime of the 1920s.

'The British were forced to give up on building a solid state with popular support. They gave power to a clique of politicians who were totally unrepresentative of the population,' said Dr Dodge.

'This is what the Americans are doing today.'

To be fair, Washington has agreed to United Nations' recommendations that the council be scrapped in place of a more broad-based interim government before power is returned to Iraqis on June 30.

But with the rise of the insurgency and an American public that is cooling towards Iraq, a British-style disengagement is possible.

Writing three months before the US invasion of Iraq in March last year, British historian Charles Tripp warned of such an outcome.

A US disengagement would 'certainly cause despair among those Iraqis who have seen the US as their main hope of radical political change,' he wrote.

'But for the US, as for the British 80 years ago, the lower risk, the lesser cost and the short-term advantages may outweigh the possible future benefits of fundamental social transformation in Iraq.'


Thursday, April 22, 2004 - 22:33