Global
The militarism and political intolerance displayed in the Bush administration’s response to the September 11th attacks created a natural breeding ground for bigotry and racial harassment. For the Reverend Jerry Falwell, the recent tragedy was God’s condemnation of a secularist, atheistic America. The attacks were attributed to “the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists and the lesbians,” according to Falwell, “the ACLU (and) People for the American Way.” Less well-publicized were the hate-filled commentaries of journalist Ann Coulter, who declared: “We should invade their countries, kill their leaders, and convert them to Christianity.”
Similar voices of racist intolerance are also being heard in Europe. For example, Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi recently stated that “Western civilization” was clearly “superior to Islamic culture.” Berlusconi warmly praised “imperialism,” predicting that “the West will continue to conquer peoples, just as it has Communism.” Falwell, Berlusconi and others illustrate the direct linkage between racism and war, between militarism and political reaction.
Similar voices of racist intolerance are also being heard in Europe. For example, Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi recently stated that “Western civilization” was clearly “superior to Islamic culture.” Berlusconi warmly praised “imperialism,” predicting that “the West will continue to conquer peoples, just as it has Communism.” Falwell, Berlusconi and others illustrate the direct linkage between racism and war, between militarism and political reaction.
A consensus now exists across the American political spectrum, left to right, that everything fundamentally changed in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks. To be sure, there was an upsurgence of patriotism and national chauvinism, a desire to “avenge” the innocent victims of the Al Qaeda network’s terrorism.
I would suggest, however, that the events of recent weeks are not a radical departure into some new, uncharted political territory, but rather the culmination of deeper political and economic forces set into motion more than two decades ago.
I would suggest, however, that the events of recent weeks are not a radical departure into some new, uncharted political territory, but rather the culmination of deeper political and economic forces set into motion more than two decades ago.
A consensus now exists across the American political spectrum, left to right, that everything fundamentally changed in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks. To be sure, there was an upsurgence of patriotism and national chauvinism, a desire to “avenge” the innocent victims of the Al Qaeda network’s terrorism.
I would suggest, however, that the events of recent weeks are not a radical departure into some new, uncharted political territory, but rather the culmination of deeper political and economic forces set into motion more than two decades ago.
I would suggest, however, that the events of recent weeks are not a radical departure into some new, uncharted political territory, but rather the culmination of deeper political and economic forces set into motion more than two decades ago.
Some reckon that the provision of any sort of historical context
is an outrage to the memory of those slaughtered in the Sept. 11 attacks.
Here's Christopher Hitchens, writing in the current Nation: "Loose talk
about chickens coming home to roost is the moral equivalent of the hateful
garbage emitted by Falwell and Robertson, and exhibits about the same
intellectual content."
Hitchens seems to be arguing that Osama bin Laden and his Muslim cohorts are so pure a distillation of evil that they are outside history and any system of overall accounting. So all you can tell your kids is that the guys who planned and carried out those Sept. 11 attacks are really bad guys.
This isn't very helpful, particularly since among those kids to whom we are trying to explain Sept. 11 are America's future leaders and policymakers. Don't we want them to understand history in terms more complex than those of flag-wagging at the moral level of a spaghetti western?
Hitchens seems to be arguing that Osama bin Laden and his Muslim cohorts are so pure a distillation of evil that they are outside history and any system of overall accounting. So all you can tell your kids is that the guys who planned and carried out those Sept. 11 attacks are really bad guys.
This isn't very helpful, particularly since among those kids to whom we are trying to explain Sept. 11 are America's future leaders and policymakers. Don't we want them to understand history in terms more complex than those of flag-wagging at the moral level of a spaghetti western?
Back in 1988, the father of our current president was bedeviled by
what media outlets called "the wimp factor." After eight years as vice
president, George Bush was making a run for the Oval Office. But quite a
few journalists kept asking whether he was a tough enough man for the job.
Newsweek even headlined the "wimp" epithet in a cover story about him.
That image problem faded in late December of 1989, when U.S. troops invaded Panama. The commander-in-chief drew blood -- proving to some journalists that he had the right stuff. A New York Times reporter, R.W. Apple, wrote that the assault on Panama was Bush's "presidential initiation rite" -- as though military intervention in a Third World nation was mandatory evidence of leadership mettle.
But even later, while still ensconced in the White House, the senior Bush remained notably stung by the epithet. He couldn't always keep the pain of it under wraps. "You're talking to the 'wimp,'" President Bush commented on June 16, 1991. "You're talking to the guy that had a cover of a national magazine, that I'll never forgive, put that label on me."
That image problem faded in late December of 1989, when U.S. troops invaded Panama. The commander-in-chief drew blood -- proving to some journalists that he had the right stuff. A New York Times reporter, R.W. Apple, wrote that the assault on Panama was Bush's "presidential initiation rite" -- as though military intervention in a Third World nation was mandatory evidence of leadership mettle.
But even later, while still ensconced in the White House, the senior Bush remained notably stung by the epithet. He couldn't always keep the pain of it under wraps. "You're talking to the 'wimp,'" President Bush commented on June 16, 1991. "You're talking to the guy that had a cover of a national magazine, that I'll never forgive, put that label on me."
The Bush administration has vowed that it will not aim the
Pentagon's firepower at civilian targets in Afghanistan. Such assurances
are supposed to make us think that innocent bystanders will be spared when
the missiles fly and the warheads explode. Don't believe it.
Back in early August 1945, President Truman had this to say: "The world will note that the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a military base. That was because we wished in this first attack to avoid, in so far as possible, the killing of civilians."
Actually, the U.S. government went out of its way to select Japanese cities of sufficient size to showcase the extent of the A-bomb's deadly power. In Hiroshima and Nagasaki, hundreds of thousands of civilians died -- immediately or eventually -- as a result of the atomic bombings.
In the past several decades, presidents have routinely expressed their reverence for civilian lives while trying to justify orders that inevitably destroyed civilian lives. Denial is key to the success of public-relations campaigns that always accompany war.
Back in early August 1945, President Truman had this to say: "The world will note that the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a military base. That was because we wished in this first attack to avoid, in so far as possible, the killing of civilians."
Actually, the U.S. government went out of its way to select Japanese cities of sufficient size to showcase the extent of the A-bomb's deadly power. In Hiroshima and Nagasaki, hundreds of thousands of civilians died -- immediately or eventually -- as a result of the atomic bombings.
In the past several decades, presidents have routinely expressed their reverence for civilian lives while trying to justify orders that inevitably destroyed civilian lives. Denial is key to the success of public-relations campaigns that always accompany war.
"America roused to a righteous anger has always been a force for good. States that have been supporting if not Osama bin Laden, people like him, need to feel pain. If we flatten part of Damascus or Tehran, or whatever it takes, that is part of the solution." Thus writes Rich Lowry, National Review editor.
"Or whatever it takes." How many cities are we supposed to flatten? Is the revenge ratio for our lost 5,000 to be 500,000? America's official reaction to most horrible crimes wrought almost entirely against a civilian population has been of a nature calculated to magnify an already dreadful disaster and further exhilarate the foe.
"Or whatever it takes." How many cities are we supposed to flatten? Is the revenge ratio for our lost 5,000 to be 500,000? America's official reaction to most horrible crimes wrought almost entirely against a civilian population has been of a nature calculated to magnify an already dreadful disaster and further exhilarate the foe.
In Time magazine's special issue about the events of Sept. 11,
chilling photos evoke the horrific slaughter in Manhattan. All of the pages
are deadly serious. And on the last page, under the headline "The Case for
Rage and Retribution," an essay by Time regular Lance Morrow declares: "A
day cannot live in infamy without the nourishment of rage. Let's have rage."
Exhorting our country to relearn the lost virtues of "self-confident relentlessness" and "hatred," the article calls for "a policy of focused brutality." It's an apt conclusion to an edition of the nation's biggest newsmagazine that embodies the human strengths and ominous defects of American media during the current crisis.
Much of the initial news coverage was poignant, grief-stricken and utterly appropriate. But many news analysts and pundits lost no time conveying -- sometimes with great enthusiasm -- their eagerness to see the United States use its military might in anger. Such impulses are extremely dangerous.
Exhorting our country to relearn the lost virtues of "self-confident relentlessness" and "hatred," the article calls for "a policy of focused brutality." It's an apt conclusion to an edition of the nation's biggest newsmagazine that embodies the human strengths and ominous defects of American media during the current crisis.
Much of the initial news coverage was poignant, grief-stricken and utterly appropriate. But many news analysts and pundits lost no time conveying -- sometimes with great enthusiasm -- their eagerness to see the United States use its military might in anger. Such impulses are extremely dangerous.
On Friday, the Senate voted 98-0 for a war resolution. It says:
"The president is authorized to use all necessary and appropriate force
against those nations, organizations, or persons he determines planned,
authorized, committed, or aided the terrorist attacks that occurred on
Sept. 11, 2001, or harbored such organizations or persons, in order to
prevent any future acts of international terrorism against the United
States by such nations, organizations or persons."
This resolution, written as a blank check, is payable with vast quantities of human corpses.
* * * * *
The black-and-white TV footage is grainy and faded, but it still jumps off the screen -- a portentous clash between a prominent reporter and a maverick politician. On the CBS program "Face the Nation," journalist Peter Lisagor argued with a senator who stood almost alone on Capitol Hill, strongly opposing the war in Vietnam from the outset.
"Senator, the Constitution gives to the president of the United States the sole responsibility for the conduct of foreign policy," Lisagor said.
This resolution, written as a blank check, is payable with vast quantities of human corpses.
* * * * *
The black-and-white TV footage is grainy and faded, but it still jumps off the screen -- a portentous clash between a prominent reporter and a maverick politician. On the CBS program "Face the Nation," journalist Peter Lisagor argued with a senator who stood almost alone on Capitol Hill, strongly opposing the war in Vietnam from the outset.
"Senator, the Constitution gives to the president of the United States the sole responsibility for the conduct of foreign policy," Lisagor said.
We stare at TV screens and try to comprehend the suffering in the
aftermath of terrorism. Much of what we see is ghastly and all too real;
terrible anguish and sorrow.
At the same time, we're witnessing an onslaught of media deception. "The greatest triumphs of propaganda have been accomplished, not by doing something, but by refraining from doing," Aldous Huxley observed long ago. "Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth."
Silence, rigorously selective, pervades the media coverage of recent days. For policy-makers in Washington, the practical utility of that silence is enormous. In response to the mass murder committed by hijackers, the righteousness of U.S. military action is clear -- as long as double standards go unmentioned.
At the same time, we're witnessing an onslaught of media deception. "The greatest triumphs of propaganda have been accomplished, not by doing something, but by refraining from doing," Aldous Huxley observed long ago. "Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth."
Silence, rigorously selective, pervades the media coverage of recent days. For policy-makers in Washington, the practical utility of that silence is enormous. In response to the mass murder committed by hijackers, the righteousness of U.S. military action is clear -- as long as double standards go unmentioned.