Saturday, May 13, 2006

Dinner With A Liberal Hawk

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"We deal in illusions, man. None of it is true. But you people sit there day after day, night after night, all ages, colors, creeds. We're all you know. You're beginning to believe the illusions we're spinning here. You're beginning to think that the tube is reality and that your own lives are unreal. You do whatever the tube tells you. You dress like the tube. You eat like the tube. You even think like the tube. In God's name, you people are the real thing, WE are the illusion." Howard Beale

Dinner With A Liberal Hawk

by tristero

Last night, I went to the annual dinner of a liberal group, and sat next to a very smart, very successful, and very well travelled man in his mid 60's. I found him likable, talkative and in many ways, quite an interesting fellow.

He told us he supported the Bush/Iraq war because 9/11 was a wake-up call and it was inconceivable to him that the Bush administration would lie the United States into an invasion. Another reason: he had been in Cambodia and seen firsthand the capacity of human beings to do evil. Also, he said that during his lifetime, there was the Holocaust. If there was a chance to prevent that kind of horror from re-occurring, then he felt it was important to take that chance.

My mind started to reel from the effort of discerning what the connection was between Pol Pot's atrocities and the September 11, 2001 attacks. Yes, they were both horrible and both were inflicted on innocents. But how did that lead one to conclude: "Invade Iraq?" And as catastrophic as the Holocaust was, I couldn't figure out how the desire to prevent another such tragedy factored into his willingness to support the pre-emptive invasion and conquest of a country which, while brutal, had apparently given up gassing its citizens right around the time Donald Rumsfeld no longer was in a position to shake Saddam's bloody hand.

There's something about such reasoning that strikes me as profoundly illogical, as if history literally repeats itself and therefore we're now getting a second chance to "get it right." Time The Revelator (in Gillian Welch's brilliant phrase) has other tricks up Her sleeve and never repeats, only cycles.

I tried to interrupt - as I said, he was talkative. But when he claimed that the Middle East had been "deadlocked for years," I saw my chance, "What's so bad about a deadlock? It certainly beats sheer chao..." and then he repeated everything in the first paragraph again. He seemed calm to me as he went through his reasons, but I noticed he spilled some wine on what looked to be a rather pricey shirt. He dropped his fork just a mite too loudly on his plate.

My friend on the other side managed to slip in, "Y'know, Tristero got it right from the start. He knew Bush was lying. He was right. And he was worried about the aftermath from the start."

"So, you were right," he said, a little bit of anger now creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I was right, and I knew I had to be right from the beginning, in 2002 and 2003," I said, with not a trace of false modesty - or any other kind.

"Okay," he rapidly wiped his lips with a napkin. "You know, a stopped watch is right twice a day."

"True," I said, "but I wasn't a stopped watch about Iraq."

Eyes blinked, but he didn't skip a beat.

"Okay, you were right. I 'll grant you that. You were right when the rest of us were wrong..."

"Well, actually..." I was trying to tell him that in fact the majority of the world opposed the invasion and I was simply in the majority, but I couldn't. He was angry and unstoppable.

"No, no, let me ask you a question. How come you, a musician, maybe a good one, maybe a well-read one, but a musician with no training in affairs of state - how come you of all people were right about Iraq but the most respected, most experienced, most intelligent, most serious thinkers in the United States got it wrong?"

"That is a question I ask myself every day, because it scares the daylights out of me," I replied.

My eyes started to tear up and the winter of 02/03 raced through my head. That awful sense of dissociation watching every American media outlet try to outdo its rivals by printing lies, the unspeakable dread as I watched my country willingly go over the abyss. The shock of realizing that nearly everyone I knew had bought the myth of the Good War and that nothing I could say or do, nothing anyone could say or do could change their mind. It was too late.

I tried to say more, but I couldn't, and then the subject changed and the dinner went on.

[Update: Link added to the great Gillian Welch's album, Time (The Revelator), and my shameful misspelling of her name corrected. ]

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