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Politics : Stockman Scott's Political Debate Porch -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: portage who wrote (20896)6/24/2003 12:29:13 AM
From: stockman_scott  Respond to of 89467
 
Denial and Deception

_____________________________

By PAUL KRUGMAN
OP-ED COLUMNIST
THE NEW YORK TIMES
June 24, 2003

Politics is full of ironies. On the White House Web site, George W. Bush's speech from Oct. 7, 2002 — in which he made the case for war with Iraq — bears the headline "Denial and Deception." Indeed.

There is no longer any serious doubt that Bush administration officials deceived us into war. The key question now is why so many influential people are in denial, unwilling to admit the obvious.

About the deception: Leaks from professional intelligence analysts, who are furious over the way their work was abused, have given us a far more complete picture of how America went to war. Thanks to reporting by my colleague Nicholas Kristof, other reports in The New York Times and The Washington Post, and a magisterial article by John Judis and Spencer Ackerman in The New Republic, we now know that top officials, including Mr. Bush, sought to convey an impression about the Iraqi threat that was not supported by actual intelligence reports.

In particular, there was never any evidence linking Saddam Hussein to Al Qaeda; yet administration officials repeatedly suggested the existence of a link. Supposed evidence of an active Iraqi nuclear program was thoroughly debunked by the administration's own experts; yet administration officials continued to cite that evidence and warn of Iraq's nuclear threat.

And yet the political and media establishment is in denial, finding excuses for the administration's efforts to mislead both Congress and the public.

For example, some commentators have suggested that Mr. Bush should be let off the hook as long as there is some interpretation of his prewar statements that is technically true. Really? We're not talking about a business dispute that hinges on the fine print of the contract; we're talking about the most solemn decision a nation can make. If Mr. Bush's speeches gave the nation a misleading impression about the case for war, close textual analysis showing that he didn't literally say what he seemed to be saying is no excuse. On the contrary, it suggests that he knew that his case couldn't stand close scrutiny.

Consider, for example, what Mr. Bush said in his "denial and deception" speech about the supposed Saddam-Osama link: that there were "high-level contacts that go back a decade." In fact, intelligence agencies knew of tentative contacts between Saddam and an infant Al Qaeda in the early 1990's, but found no good evidence of a continuing relationship. So Mr. Bush made what sounded like an assertion of an ongoing relationship between Iraq and Al Qaeda, but phrased it cagily — suggesting that he or his speechwriter knew full well that his case was shaky.

Other commentators suggest that Mr. Bush may have sincerely believed, despite the lack of evidence, that Saddam was working with Osama and developing nuclear weapons. Actually, that's unlikely: why did he use such evasive wording if he didn't know that he was improving on the truth? In any case, however, somebody was at fault. If top administration officials somehow failed to apprise Mr. Bush of intelligence reports refuting key pieces of his case against Iraq, they weren't doing their jobs. And Mr. Bush should be the first person to demand their resignations.

So why are so many people making excuses for Mr. Bush and his officials?

Part of the answer, of course, is raw partisanship. One important difference between our current scandal and the Watergate affair is that it's almost impossible now to imagine a Republican senator asking, "What did the president know, and when did he know it?"

But even people who aren't partisan Republicans shy away from confronting the administration's dishonest case for war, because they don't want to face the implications.

After all, suppose that a politician — or a journalist — admits to himself that Mr. Bush bamboozled the nation into war. Well, launching a war on false pretenses is, to say the least, a breach of trust. So if you admit to yourself that such a thing happened, you have a moral obligation to demand accountability — and to do so in the face not only of a powerful, ruthless political machine but in the face of a country not yet ready to believe that its leaders have exploited 9/11 for political gain. It's a scary prospect.

Yet if we can't find people willing to take the risk — to face the truth and act on it — what will happen to our democracy?

nytimes.com



To: portage who wrote (20896)6/28/2003 8:20:13 PM
From: stockman_scott  Respond to of 89467
 
'Rogue Nation' and 'At War With Ourselves': Does Not Play Well With Others

By BILL KELLER
New York Times Book Review
June 22, 2003

Rogue Nation American Unilateralism and
the Failure of Good Intentions.
By Clyde Prestowitz
328 pp. New York:
Basic Books

EXCERPT:

" Americans make lousy imperialists. Our hulking military and economic
might make the Roman Empire seem inconsequential by comparison, but
our hearts are not in conquest. We want to be liked, and are surprised when
we're not. We are inward-looking, a little complacent, and we have been, at
least since Vietnam, more than a little risk averse. When we do go
to war we go to win, but we don't stick around. America put the hedge in
hegemon.
.................

"At least, that's the way we see ourselves. It is increasingly not the
impression held by the rest of the world. The Bush administration, provoked by
those September blows to the heart, has set about persuading America
to step up to its imperial potential. In the 30 months of the Bush era,
America has led posses of its own choosing into two wars,
withdrawn from international arrangements that we considered confining, adopted a
with-us-or-against-us rhetorical style and declared as a matter of national purpose
that we will allow no rival to grow into our weight class."

If you want to know how the American colossus looks
to the rest of the world, ''Rogue Nation,'' by Clyde Prestowitz,
is your book -- an unsparing but
unhysterical catalog of American behavior that has made
the world see us as self-centered and hypocritical. The counts in the indictment are
familiar: We preach fair trade but underwrite American cotton farmers
at such high prices that we keep African farmers in poverty. We guzzle
petroleum, and then need a foreign policy that overemphasizes
one region of the globe. We preach democracy and dance with tyrants. ''Rogue
Nation'' could serve as an appendix to this month's global poll
by the Pew Research Center, which shows a balloning fear and mistrust of the United
States around the world.

Prestowitz is president of the Economic Strategy Institute
in Washington and a former trade negotiator. (His 1988 book, ''Trading Places,'' was a
mildly alarmist look at the competitive threat of Japan.) He is at his
best translating the forbidding details of international commerce into lucid
narrative. How American indifference contributed to the Asian economic
crisis of 1997, for example, and how world currencies came to be pegged to
the dollar -- a kind of monetary unilateralism that enables us
to export our economic problems -- are explained with welcome clarity, and without a
trace of antiglobalist cant. Likewise, his recounting of the dispute over the
Kyoto treaty on global warming is fair-minded. He acknowledges the
weaknesses of the treaty and the culpability of the European greens,
frustrated leftists who hijacked the cause of environmentalism, but he
concludes that in the end what was lost was much more than an inadequate treaty.
He is sometimes glib on the politics -- his conclusion that the
United States should impose a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,
for example, and his somewhat idealized notion of a unified Europe.

While he focuses his opprobrium on the Bush administration, Prestowitz
understands that America has long been an outlier, a feet-and-Fahrenheit
power in a metric world, gripped by an assumption that the rest
of the world should conform to us as the benchmark of normal civilized values.
''Indeed, the chief reason Americans are blind to their own empire is their
implicit belief that every human being is a potential American, and that
his or her present national or cultural affiliations are an unfortunate but reversible accident.''

And the solution? Essentially, spontaneous enlightenment. Americans
should wise up, throw out unilateralist politicians, treat the world with
respect and generally be just a little less . . . American. While we're at it,
I propose that we eat right, floss daily, tithe generously and stop
watching mindless TV shows. "

(Page 2 of 2)

Michael Hirsh's ''At War With Ourselves'' is a more introspective look at America, particularly the America of Bill Clinton and George W. Bush, which Hirsh followed in his jobs as foreign editor and chief diplomatic correspondent for Newsweek. Although the book is enlivened by reporting trips he has taken, it is written from inside the intellectual bubble of the Council on Foreign Relations. Hirsh drizzles the text so liberally with bylines from the world of scholarly punditry that the prose often becomes sodden with attribution. Someone should have advised him to put his sources in the footnotes and trust his own judgment.

For his judgment is fundamentally sound. His book is well informed, historically literate, nonideological common sense. That may sound like faint praise, but in an America that sometimes seems poised between reckless adventure and helpless inertia, centrist common sense is something to be treasured. By ''centrist,'' I mean Hirsh is a liberal internationalist who has come to see the value, as well as the inevitability, of applying American muscle to the world's problems, up to a point.

Where, exactly, that point is, the reader may have trouble telling. Hirsh is a hawk on the Balkan wars (who isn't, these days?), and he confesses to having been badly wrong in anticipating that our ouster of the Taliban would turn out disastrously. On a harder test -- Iraq -- he ducks. Both of these books apparently went to press on the cusp of the war, so the authors knew whatever they said would be overtaken by events. Prestowitz nonetheless plunges in; he says that ''at this point there is little choice but for the United States and whatever partners it can gather to overthrow Saddam and occupy Iraq. The cost of not doing so is now greater than that of doing so.'' Hirsh does not quite say what he would do, though he gives the impression he would not have supported an invasion without United Nations sanction.

Poor, maligned, unsexy multilateralism has, for all its faults, historically been the default position of American foreign policy, and Hirsh does a powerful job of reminding us why. He demonstrates that the ''international community'' we often disparage as feckless, corrupt and inhospitable (Condoleezza Rice called it ''illusory'') is in fact an instrument we built, one that most often serves as an extension of American power, and one that we desperately need.

Even the United Nations, despite its noisy membership of pipsqueak tyrants and volatile states, serves a variety of useful functions, most importantly co-opting potential adversaries like China and Russia. As for other international bodies, ''the W.T.O. is the world's rule-setter; the I.M.F. its credit union; and the World Bank its principal charity,'' he writes. America dominates all of these organizations, and can use them to ''take the raw edge off American hegemony.''

More than useful instruments, Hirsh argues, these agencies have become, bit by bit, better advocates of the values we profess -- the freedoms of marketplace and voting booth, the rule of law. We need these imperfect surrogates because America has a serious credibility problem peddling values on its own. Hirsh calls this ''ideological blowback.'' For example, we cherish democracy in principle, just not in Pakistan, not right now.

Hirsh is good on the subtleties of how, as countries develop the wherewithal to challenge us, they become inexorably entangled in the global order -- the way, for example, the manager of a privatized Chinese enterprise quickly develops ''a kind of dual citizenship'' as he learns to anticipate the needs of his foreign customers. And America is inescapably entangled, too. Even our defense industry, once the domain of sheltered, single-client weapons manufacturers, has shifted more and more to global suppliers of technology whose health depends on the rules of free trade.

Hirsh outlines a sensible basis for detente between the warring hegemonists and internationalists, an America that leads without bullying. That is an accomplishment to be congratulated, even if you do not entirely share his optimism that this consensus is emerging before our eyes.

nytimes.com

Bill Keller is a Times columnist and a senior writer for The Times Magazine.

Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company