Pineland Journal: Smith, Jones, and War on Iraq -- 3
That document is the very scripture of Messianic hegemonism, pure and simple. Jones’s response was paradoxical, or contradictory: dismissing imperialism or messianic hegemonism, he simultaneously gushed with awe at the new strategy’s worldwide sweep. He found its vision thrilling. I frankly found it chilling.
Part of the difference in our reactions, I am convinced, was generational as much as political or even-- though I doubt he would admit to this-- theological: his combat experience came in Panama in 1989, and stints in the little wars of the 90s. To me, the grizzled antiwar veteran shaped and scarred by Vietnam, Jones seemed impossibly young (he’s 38) and idealistic. He hadn’t seen or lived through the experience of watching national hubris shatter not only much of Vietnam but also large sectors of the US Army. I’m sure he’s studied all that at West Point, and is confident he knows how to avoid repeating the mistakes of that generation of generals. Oh yes, I recognize such ardor, though mine came in a different costume and with flowers in its hair; but now it does not fool me. Does that qualify as older and wiser? Older, at least.
When he couldn’t make headway with us by praising the new imperial vision, Jones fell back to the hard-nosed soldier’s mantra that war was necessary because (pointing at me): "There are some very dangerous people out there who hate you and are determined to kill YOU." And he was ready to lead the charge to kill them first; which was, he knew, the only possible and moral response.
At which point the student moderator asked the standard, and entirely reasonable question, "But why do they hate us so much?"
When one of the faculty members started to talk about the US propping up dictators, hogging the oil, and abetting Israeli oppression of Palestinians, Jones quickly pulled the pin on the line that’s supposed to explode all such talk like a concussion grenade: This is Hate-America stuff, he charged, which excuses and even supports terrorism.
But I fired right back, citing my work with Dr. King in Selma, Alabama as evidence that figuring out why people hate each other, and how to address this nonviolently can and does work, and benefits rather than threatens America. As evidence, I contrasted the success of the 1965 nonviolent campaign there in bringing "democracy" to the Black Belt with the failure of the Union Army to achieve any comparable result in an 1865 assault, despite its military "victory" in Selma and the South.
This response seemed to catch him off guard, I suppose because it wasn’t a familiar sound bite. Further, I was speaking from first-hand experience, as real as his parachuting into Panama with guns blazing. On reflection it seems clear that the "hate-America" canard can be effectively countered by assertive statements of alternative approaches, especially with something to back them up.
(I would now add an analogy to disease research: we don’t accuse cancer researchers of "siding with the disease" when they seek to understand why and how carcinomas start and grow; such understanding is crucial to overcoming it. For that matter, Jones’s charge doesn’t pass the hypocrisy test, because the military has battalions of intelligence staff analyzing every bit of available data about Iraqi and other terrorists, trying to "understand" them for military purposes.)
These were only debating sallies, though, and however well I and others may have blunted them in the discussion, Jones still had the trump cards, which he gladly showed when a young woman asked when he thought the attack would start. Disclaiming any "inside information," Jones nonetheless opined that he expected the bombing to begin late in February, shortly after the Hajj in Mecca concluded, with a ground invasion to follow in short order. And he thought it would all be over quickly.
I couldn’t argue with most of this scenario; all the evidence points to it. And I want to acknowledge the integrity of Jones’s advocacy: unlike the chickenhawks and draft-dodgers at the top, he will put himself in harm’s way for this adopted vision. But I’m still doubtful about the last part: will it all be over quickly, the way 1991's Desert Storm (but not the dying of Iraqi civilians) ended after a few days?
As this debate proceeded, an eerie sense of role reversal crept over me: gone was my radical persona of the Sixties. That night, on that panel, Jones was the radical – nay an outright, unashamed revolutionary–while I was the querulous conservative: warning against unintended consequences and the hazards of social engineering, lamenting the erosion of constitutional traditions, arguing for limits and incremental rather than drastic change in Iraq. How did it happen, I wondered, that it was me waving a page from the Wall Street Journal, quoting Republican CEOs, generals, and Jesus?
So it goes. And after the debate, the countdown to war continued unabated.
Heading home, two quotes came to me, as supplements to the Clausewitz Jones cited so regularly. The first is from Robert E. Lee at the battle of Fredericksburg in 1862: "It is well that war is so terrible," he told James Longstreet, "or we should grow too fond of it." Is Jones too fond of it? As far as the fire to be visited upon Iraq, I fear the answer is yes.
The other is from the sociologist Peter Berger, in a 1970 book called Movement and Revolution: "When it comes to revolutionaries," he wrote, "only trust the sad ones. The enthusiastic ones are the oppressors of tomorrow–or else they are only kidding."
That night Jones was surely not kidding; but perhaps I was melancholy enough for both of us.
Postscript from the New Yorker, February 10, 2003: "The other day, Secretary of State Colin Powell was reminded that his boss is in bed by ten and sleeps like a baby. Powell reportedly replied, "I sleep like a baby too--every two hours I wake up screaming."