Friday, December 30, 2005
The Great Raid.
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Pride and Prejudice.
Walk the Line.
Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
The Brothers Grimm. Unwatchable. The only movie I've walked out of in memory.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
One of the hallmarks of great art is that it appeals to people from many belief systems. Like everyone, I have always loved Frank Capra's It's A Wonderful Life--I remember first becoming disenchanted with a longtime girlfriend after she told me she "preferred the Marlo Thomas version." (I should interject here that I really can't take people who make value judgements about people solely based on their choices in movies, music, etc. But Marlo Thomas? Good Lord!), and I've always thought it a more or less apolitical work of art. It has Capra's trademark liberal populism, but its essential values are the small-town American virtues that the Left hates passionately. I've always thought that these two political viewpoints essentially cancelled each other out, leaving It's a Wonderful Life as that rare thing, a politics-proof film.
Except when the Left won't leave it alone. I'm not exaggerating. Here's Gary Kamiya in Salon, amplifying my point about the Left's intolerance of Life's small-town values:
The gauzy Currier-and-Ives veil Capra drapes over Bedford Falls has prevented viewers from grasping what a tiresome and, frankly, toxic environment it is. When Marx penned his immortal words about "the idiocy of rural life," he probably had Bedford Falls in mind. ("Pottersville Rocks!")
The point the film is making here is that cultures can be changed by the smallest things. Looking slightly into the future, we notice that only a few years separate the Manhattan of, say, Breakfast at Tiffany's from the Manhattan of Taxi Driver and its squalid, degenerate, Pottersville-made-real landscape.
Pottersville is pre-Giuliani New York, and I can't imagine any sane person preferring it.
David Mamet hated the film for its endorsement of "good capitalism" in the form of George Bailey, as opposed the the "bad capitalist" Potter.
And this, it seems, is as close as Hollywood can get to the notion of an equitable distribution of wealth: the reliance upon a person of character in a position usually occupied by the heartless....the American ethos of accumulation, agglomeration, merger, all in the name of freedom of the individual (unrestrained capitalism, individual choice, lack of government intervention, etc) ensures that labour must be oppressed. And it was in those Reagan years that It's a Wonderful Life replaced Casablanca (1942) as the unofficial Favourite Film of America - the fantasy of the compassionate conservative. the last line dealing with the plot, is George's brother's toast. Upon restoration of order, George is saved by the intervention of a rich friend. He is apprised of the community's love, and his brother Harry toasts him: "To my brother George, the richest man in town."
We are, of course, to understand the toast as metaphor, but we should perhaps note our unremarked acceptance of the metaphor of happiness as wealth.
This kind of shrill, humorless imprecation is a hallmark of the Left, and is greatly revealing. The materialist cannot understand the concept of "Man does not live by bread alone." And a metaphor of "wealth" that would be obvious to a child is, to the materialist, a "gotcha" moment.
Randall Fallows attacks the film for its conservative gender roles. He observes that in the alternate universe's final reveal, the audience (perhaps recalling the final reveal in Dickens's Christmas Carol, the terrifying Ghost of Christmas Future)anticipates something truly awful involving George's wife Mary:
We are expecting a horrible revelation. After all, Clarence readily shows George that without him his brother would be dead, his uncle would be committed, and his former employer a homeless beggar; yet he is supposed to shield George from what happens to Mary, as though her "old maid" status is far worse than the other misfortunes. George is horror struck when he sees her as a librarian, dressed in gray, with no makeup, and wearing glasses for the first time in the film, a caricature of the career woman - asexual, drab, without humor or compassion. In short, Mary's life has no meaning outside of the role that he can provide for her.
I hardly know how to respond to this, except to observe that there is absolutely no area that the Left won't inject identity politics into.
I eagerly await the Muslim fundamentalist interpretation of the film, which would likely feature very different criticisms. I can't watch the high-school dance scene early in the film without thinking of Sayyid Qutb (the father of modern Islamic fundamentalism) and his horror at watching a church dance in Colorado in 1949. ("They danced to the tune of the gramophone...The atmosphere was full of desire.") The Islamist, ever terrified of female sexuality ("The American girl is well acquainted with her body's seductive capacity," noted Qutb) would have hated Pottersville, but would have approved of the asexual alternate-universe Mary (with the addition of the proper head scarf, of course).
All of this forces me to make some notes as to a political interpretation.
More than anything, the movie is an essay on the transformative power of individual human life, and you can't get around that. Now obviously, George is saved at the end by the collective action of the townspeople, but that's hardly the point. The money, which is such an obsession to Mamet and the other lefty critics of the film, doesn't matter at all to George: "I'm going to jail. Isn't it wonderful?" The point is that life matters.
George, at heart, is an Ayn Rand superman:
"I know what I'm going to do tomorrow and the next day and the next year after that. I'm shaking the dust of this insignificant town off my feet and I'm going to see the world. Italy, Greece, the Parthenon, the Coliseum. Then I'm coming back to college and see what they know . . . and then I'm gonna build things. I'm gonna build airfields. I'm gonna build skyscrapers a hundred stories high. I'm gonna build bridges a mile long."
One can easily imagine Howard Roark from Rand's The Fountainhead saying these lines. But Capra is interested in what happens when this sort of belief is mugged by reality. Rand's great flaw is the relentless materialism she shares with the leftists she hates, and It's A Wonderful Life is, Mamet's criticisms notwithstanding, strongly and passionately anti-materialistic. The choices George makes are less important than the lives he touches and improves, without trying to, simply by being alive. It's the sheer, overarching optimism driving this film--its final line is "We'll drink a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne"--that drives lefty critics insane.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
EVERYONE KNOWS: IRAQ AND THE ARGUMENT FROM OMNISCIENCE
An MHQ article by Ted Morgan from a few years ago titled “When the Maquis Stood and Fought” described the metastasizing legend of a rare pitched battle in early 1944 between a French Resistance force and a German Alpine division at the Glieres Plateau in which the Germans suffered six KIA, versus 43 plus 180 prisoners for the French (who had held the high ground at the beginning of the battle). That was the reality.
London radio turned the Glieres battle into a propaganda victory: The maquis had fought off 12,000 Germans for two weeks, inflicting, on a single German battalion, losses of 400 dead and 300 wounded. This would have amounted to a 99 percent casualty rate, since a battalion in Pflaum’s division consisted of 708 men....By 1973, when Andre Malraux, a resistance hero himself, came to the Glieres Plateau to inaugurate a monument to the memory of the fallen, the 12,000 Germans had grown to 20,000. “It took 20,000 Germans to dislodge 300 Frenchmen from this plateau,” Malraux said, “where…these men directly affronted Hitler’s army.”
Stories like this one—and WW2 has many of them—tell us two important things about irregular warfare.
First, that more often than not, irregular fighters come out very badly in stand-up fights against regular troops. There are exceptions that come to mind—Afghanistan, first Grozny, Dienbienphu—but they require horribly-trained and/or horribly-commanded and/or horribly-outnumbered regular troops. By and large, the value of insurgent warfare is indirect: Interdicting supply lines, tying up forces needed elsewhere, etc. Without regular armies complementing them, Insurgencies are almost never decisive.
And, second, that irregular fighters’ exploits are often romanticized and exaggerated. They are the underdog of underdogs, and it’s understandable that we tend to love the very idea of them.
This has gone on for a long time, at least as far back as the Revolutionary War, with its colorful Swamp Foxes and Green Mountain Boys. But even at the time George Washington—in spite of his reliance on local militias as necessity required—saw them “only as light troops to be scattered in the woods and plague rather than do serious injury to the enemy,” and belittled partisan warfare as “petite guerre.” The caustic remarks about militias that the movie The Patriot puts into the mouth of General Nathanael Greene were apparently an accurate expression of the feelings of Washington and those around him.
General Sherman thought so little of the insurgent cavalry bands that harassed his armies (like many insurgents, they often crossed the line that separates guerillas from criminal gangs) that he saw them as a net positive:
I don’t want those rebel bands captured. They are doing us excellent service. They are disgusting the minds of Southern people with Confederate government.
The appearance of mass electronic media in the twentieth century only made things worse. Romanticized images of Soviet partisans literally danced their way across the screen in Hollywood films like Song of Russia (“A pleasant musical romance,” as Louis B. Mayer called it in his testimony before HUAC) and The North Star.
Vietnam (and roughly contemporaneously with it, Algeria) brought us something new: Segments of society openly cheering on the guerillas fighting against the society’s own military. This is something only possible in highly-developed democracies where people have both the freedom and the abundant leisure time to cultivate a rooting interest in the success of their enemies. And because of the successes—public-relations successes at least as much as military ones—of the Vietnamese insurgency, the Vietnam War became, for certain segments of Western society, a template. Or, as we call it today, a meme.
The next step in the evolution of the meme was the current Iraq insurgency, an insurgency whose goals appear not to be military at all. The London Times reported the statement of one pro-insurgent Iraqi on the day of the parliamentary elections on December 15, 2005: “Because of the resistance the Democratic Party in America has started calling to withdraw US troops from Iraq,” he said, smiling. “That’s what the resistance has achieved.” Instead of anticipating military victories, the insurgency anticipates political triumphs. Bing West, in his No True Glory: A Frontline Account of the Battle for Fallujah, tells the story of the American Marines’ discovery of one of Abu-Musab al-Zarqawi’s hideouts during the second battle for that city. Would this be some new Berchtesgaden, bursting with situation maps and strategy documents and war plans?
Well, not exactly. What the Marines found was…
…a film studio with the green and black flag of Zarqawi’s terrorist gang, Al Ansar, on the wall, and black blood on the floor where Nicholas Berg had been decapitated in May…In the next room were two computers, klieg lights, a CD burner, two video cameras, VHS tapes, a television, a VCR , and a recording schedule typed in English. The schedule included what time a prisoner was to be brought out and washed up, when his confession had to be taped, when the execution had to be done, how long it would take to digitize the video and make copies and when to leave Fallujah in order to deliver the tape to the al Jazeera studio in Baghdad to be shown in prime time.
But we must give the Iraq insurgency the credit it deserves. It was able to persuade Western elites—who, admittedly, were eager to be persuaded—that it was defeating Coalition forces on the field of battle.
The apogee of the “insurgents are winning” movement came with a Newsweek article in the October 31, 2004 issue, just before Second Fallujah, a Salon digest of which made it around the Internet at veritable light-speed:
Colin Powell believes U.S. is losing Iraq war (Newsweek)
Secretary of State Colin Powell has privately confided to friends in recent weeks that the Iraqi insurgents are winning the war, according to Newsweek....This is a particularly troubling development for the U.S. military, as it prepares to launch an all-out assault on the insurgent strongholds of Fallujah and Ramadi...If the Fallujah offensive fails, Newsweek grimly predicts, "then the American president will find himself in a deepening quagmire on Inauguration Day."
And by that time, the smart money—informed by the Newsweek report and the reporting of Dexter Filkins and Edward “The guerilla movement has a seemingly endless supply of men” Wong in the New York Times—was on the insurgency. Spencer Ackerman in The New Republic’s blog 11/10/04: “By every strategic indication, the insurgents are winning the battle.” And elsewhere: “The insurgency is winning, and is doing so geometrically.” “The insurgents are winning the war. The insurgents know it. Our military knows it. The whole world knows it.” Blogger Steve Gillard went into depth:
What Bush doesn’t realize is that the guerrillas not only control the pace of operations, but read the newspapers about them. They know exactly how to stymie US tactics and will do so…the Iraqis are lavishly equipped. No bolt action rifles here. Just AK's and RPG's…The US would need like a 10-1 advantage to take Fallujah and we can't even come close.
Students of debate may begin to recognize this for what it is: The Argument From Omniscience. Related to the argumentum ad numerum of classical forensics, The Argument From Omniscience asserts its own indisputability based on an implied universal consensus. It works as rhetorical hyperbole...if there is in fact general agreement as to its truth.
“Everyone knows the insurgents are winning” was a younger and weaker brother of the much better known and much more successful formulation “Everyone knows there never were any weapons of mass destruction.” This latter, with not one but two absolutes in one sentence, has problems of its own in terms of pure argument, but its narrative is straightforward and easily understood, and it works much better. Given the facts, an actual victory by the insurgents is much harder to imagine.
Melvin Laird pointed out in a recent Foreign Affairs that, while the number of Communist forces in Vietnam surpassed one million, the Iraqi insurgents numbered in the thousands. Blogger Wretchard observed that the International Brigades in the Spanish Civil War numbered some 30,000, but the total number of Saudi jihadists in Iraq was less than a tenth of that. There was no military basis for any realistic expectation of an insurgent victory, only a political one; and here the insurgents and those in the West who believed them were forgetting their Chairman Mao, the man who literally wrote the book on insurgency: Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.
And the rest is on record: Second Fallujah was a crushing, overwhelming victory for Coalition forces—I recommend West’s very balanced volume, which also unflinchingly reports the strategic and political failures that marked First Fallujah. Following in its wake in 2005 were the devastating Tal Afar offensive, and the Euphrates campaigns (Iron Fist and Steel Curtain) against the insurgency’s supply lines, as well as three successful elections which sucked much of the political life out of the insurgency.
If you filter a Nexis search by dates, you’ll notice that phrases containing variations of the statement “the insurgents are winning” show a significant decline after Second Fallujah, which now seems to have been some sort of turning point. Even Zarqawi couldn’t spin Second Fallujah, and could only rant furiously against pro-government Sunni clerics: "Hundreds of thousands of the nation's sons are being slaughtered at the hands of the infidels because of your silence."
Margaret Friedenauer, an embedded journalist in Iraq from an Alaska paper, wrote shortly after her arrival in 2005:
I’m a journalist. I read the news everyday, from several sources. I have the luxury of reading stuff newspapers don’t always have room to print. I read every tidbit I could on Iraq and the war before coming.
Everything I thought I knew was wrong.
All of which is another reason gaming is important. Any story, any information, any interaction between human beings can be spun, but gaming, to its credit, can only be spun to its detriment. In simulation gaming there isn’t a “version” of a battle, only an as-realistic-as-possible simulation of it. I imagine that one could create an alternate Iraq insurgency game corresponding to the war coverage on Al Jazeera and in the Guardian and the New York Times, where tanks flee from fearless insurgents and American snipers apparently spend their time looking for toddlers to shoot.
But it would be a lie. And everyone knows it.
Monday, December 12, 2005
- Not long ago we in America had a “Daddy” and a “Mommy” party. They didn’t always get along; what Daddy and Mommy do? After all, one is from Mars and the other from Venus.
They each had their strengths, the Daddy party (Republican) was focused on keeping the family safe and the finances secure, while the Mommy party (Democrat) cared more about “nurturing” issues rightly called “domestic.”
I am saddened to tell you: Mommy is no longer with us. The Republican Party is now a single parent. Today there is only the Grown-up party and the kiddie party.
To understand the Democratic Party, all one needs to do is think of sullen teenagers, angry adolescents, and spoiled babies. Understand that this is what they are and you understand their policies, their anger at their parents--both G-d and Republican-led government--their desperation to be popular with other nations, and their incessant tantrums.
Understand this and you get why the Democrat so adores welfare. After all, what is welfare if not an allowance? And why they keep asking “are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” when it comes to the end of the war in Iraq.
I’ll say to the Democrats the same thing I’d say to an annoying child in the backseat of the car: “We have a destination. Sometimes it rains. Sometimes there’s traffic. Sometimes you get a flat tire. We’ll get there when we get there. Now, take a nap.”
Like children who will ram a spike through their tongue because it’s the latest fad, the Democrats will cause themselves (America) irreparable harm to do whatever it takes to be liked by the cheerleaders: France and the United Nations. Like children, they think the louder they yell and the more times they repeat something the more true that something becomes.
What do children find amusing? Poo-poo and pee-pee and wee-wees. What do Democrats find amusing? “Puppetry of the Penis,” “The Vagina Monologues,” and “Urinetown.”
Anger an infant and, incapable of formulating the right words, he might well take his “doody” and smear it on the wall. Anger a Democrat and, incapable of formulating the right words, he might well take elephant dung and smear it on a painting of the Virgin Mary or drench a cross in “pee-pee.”
I’m not alone in recognizing that today’s Democrats are kids. Even Democrats, themselves, know they’re children.
Why do you think Jesse Jackson talks to them in rhyme? After all, Jackson knows, it takes an adult to understand the writings of a Dr. Bennett and a Dr. Rice, but even a five-year-old can understand what a Dr. Seuss is trying to say.
It’s why the folks at Air America didn’t think they were doing anything wrong when they stole nearly a million dollars from the Gloria Wise Boys and Girls Clubs. After all, the money was intended for “underprivileged children” like Al Franken.
What was the Clinton administration? It was the teenage sex romp, “Risky Business” where--when the grown-ups went away--the kids ran around the house in their underwear, using the spare bedroom to make some extra money for themselves and their friends.
It’s why my friend Richie Miller grew up to call himself “Rich” or sometimes “Richard,” and folks known as Joey when they’re five, grow up to be “Joe” or Joseph” by the time they’re ten or fifteen. But Jimmy Carter is, was, and always will be little “Jimmy” because that’s what he is.
And the rest of the world knows that the Democrats are children. Bullies pick on the weak and the ones they know won’t fight back. So, with the kiddies in the White House, suddenly even skinny little Ayatollahs became big bullies, taking our citizens hostage knowing that “little Jimmy” was a scared little baby. They played “got you citizens” with little Jimmy Carter the way an annoying uncle plays “got your nose” with an infant.
And “little Jimmy” responded in the same way as the child. “Give them back, give them back” he yelled, finally going to the United Nations, the Democrat’s version of “I’m telling on you!”
And when the Soviet Union--a truly evil empire--saw that it was “little Jimmy” running the White House, they invaded Afghanistan. Why not? What was “little Jimmy” going to do? Oh, he’d puff up his chest, or hold his breath till he turned blue, but what could he do? After all, Jimmy was a child.
That’s not really fair. If you recall, he did tell the Soviets that we weren’t going to participate in the Olympics that year. In essences little Jimmy’s big plan to stop the spread of the most murderous regime in human history was to tell them “if you don’t stop trying to take over the world, we’re not going to play with you!”
As soon as the grown-ups return, quite literally to the second in the case of the Ayatollahs, the bullies all turn into Eddie Haskells, saying “Here are your citizens, Mr. Reagan. You must have been looking all over for them. I don’t know HOW they could have gotten here . And, gee, don’t you look lovely, Mrs. Reagan!”
And as soon as the grown-ups returned, just a stern word from President Ronald (not “Ronnie”) Reagan and the Soviet Union was no more. The grown ups returned, said “Tear down that wall,” and the Soviets turned into Eddie Haskell. “Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir. I have no idea how that wall could have gotten there. And, gee, don’t you look lovely, Mrs. Reagan.”
And this is why it is vital that the grown-ups stay in control and maintain their parental veto. You know the parental veto. It’s four words: “Because I said so.” The grown-ups would love to include the other party in the debates but children do not discuss, they throw tantrums, and when a child is throwing a tantrum you just have to say “because I said so.”
We’d like the other party’s input--to have grown-ups with their own ideas to contribute. But when the kiddie party screams and yells “He’s the worst person in the history of the world!” the grown-up just has to say “John Bolton’s going to be our ambassador to the United Nations--because I said so.” And when they spit and lie and get hysterical about the war that has liberated twenty-five million human beings from rape, torture, and genocide, the grown-ups just have to say “We’re staying the course--because I said so.”
I am not happy being a single parent. And I’m disappointed to be dealing with such spoiled, sullen children. I’m sure someday the Republicans will have another grownup partner in what had once been the Mommy party. Until then, Democrats, we’ll handle things here. You? You’re getting cranky, again. Must be time for Ted Kennedy’s bottle.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
Saddam's Outbursts Well-Received by Some
BAGHDAD, Iraq - Watching the Saddam Hussein trial at home on television, Jinan Mushrif said she got chills of pride Monday when she saw the ousted leader and a co-defendant chant, "Long live Iraq, long live the Arab state."
"These are the real men of Iraq, not those who hide behind their bodyguards," the 49-year-old Baghdad housewife said with a laugh.
Saddam's repeated outbursts at the third session of his trial on charges of mass murder found a receptive audience among some Sunni Arabs, tapping into Sunni resentment of the new order in Iraq, in which their once-ruling minority community is now dominated by the Shiite Muslim majority and the Kurds.
As Hugh Hewitt and other bloggers have noted: Can you imagine WW2-era American journalism giving such sympathetic coverage to the Nuremberg defendants and their fans? "Unreconstructed Nazis cheered by Goering defiance." "Resistance of lynching defendants heartens Klan rank and file."