born live love die

My neighbor, a member of the NRA, has a bumper sticker on his car that says “I have guns and I vote”.  I have often wondered if he understands the cognitive dissonance present in that statement.  Having guns and voting are not mutually exclusive, but the implication is that the ownership of guns influences his voting.  The question not asked is if he would use them to influence someone else’s vote.

Philip Carter, back from Iraq, gets to the point about democracy in Iraq.

In yesterday’s Wall Street Journal, former Sen. Bob Kerrey opined that America needs to persevere in Iraq because we have vital interests which demand it. I thought it was an important argument, because it assumed that our democratic experiment had failed, but still argued for our perseverance. But in making that argument, he proceeded from a very questionable premise regarding force and the establishment of democracy.

Carter quotes Kerrey, who talked about how democracy was imposed at the point of a gun in some countries after World War II, e.g., Germany.  Kerrey ignores the fact that Germany had a long history of democratic impulses and the parts of English Common Law that are derived from the Northern Germanic culture.  Burke’s ruminations on the consent of the governed don’t come from Latinate sources, but from Germanic ones.  All of that is missing from the history of Iraq.  Before there were lineal kings in Germanic countries, there were kings elected by voice vote.  There has never been a popularly elected ruler in Iraq (even now, as Maliki governs as an extension of al-Sadr.)
Read Carter’s four points.

Cindy Sheehan has resigned her role as a public face in the anti-war movement.

The most devastating conclusion that I reached this morning, however, was that Casey did indeed die for nothing. His precious lifeblood drained out in a country far away from his family who loves him, killed by his own country which is beholden to and run by a war machine that even controls what we think. I have tried every since he died to make his sacrifice meaningful. Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives. It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years and Casey paid the price for that allegiance. I failed my boy and that hurts the most.

I don’t know how the parents of the fallen deal with the superficial pursuits of our generation.  I think I would be like her if one of my children volunteered to serve, was sent to a war of choice and nobody here saw that sacrifice.

We Americans are not a people, we are a political idea. The disservice that has been done to that idea by the current residents of the seats of government causes an ache in my heart. Ed Husain grew up in England and became radicalized. He traveled to Saudia Arabia and became militant. He broke with that and returned to England.

Do you think the radical Muslim experience in Britain is similar to that in America?
No. Americans are lucky in that they have a very strong national identity. I have met hundreds of Muslims who are very proud Americans. Here in Britain, native Brits squirm about Britishness, no one can define what it means. When natives can’t define it, for the children of immigrants it becomes extremely difficult to enter into mainstream Britain. Also, Americans were also very blunt post 9/11. There are very few centers now in the States that will openly call for an Islamist state or a jihad or openly distribute [extremist] Wahhabi literature. They have clamped down heavily, maybe too much, but they have kept the lid on the problem. Here we are too sensitive, we are too liberal, we are too politically correct, and that’s our weakness.

I don’t know if it is a weakness or not. Husain speaks out of fear. We can not go further in establishing this idea if we are afraid for it. Either we have the right ideas or we don’t. If we have the right ideas, we must trust them to prevail.

SIFF has the Werner Herzog film, “Rescue Dawn“. It stars Christian Bale as Dieter Dengler, a pilot shot down on his first mission in Vietnam. It was a rather conventional movie; I didn’t know that Werner Herzog knew how to make those.

I have seen many Werner Herzog films over the years, and he seems to make his role that of someone who is outside the mainstream looking in. I think that was an easy pose to make, as he has had to raise development money from many sources. He has made narrative fictional films, but they were often about him (and his battles with Klaus Kinski) as much as the films were about their subjects.

Perhaps because of budgetary constraints, Herzog had been making lyrical documentaries, films that looked objective on the surface, but were composed, much like a photographer may use models against a realistic backdrop to try to achieve an iconic look. “Glocken aus der Tiefe - Glaube und Aberglaube in Rußland” (”Bells from the Deep: Faith and Superstition in Russia”) is an example of such a movie. Herzog and a small crew went to Russia to record the rebirth of faith and superstition in Russia following the fall of Communism. The film shows many people resurrecting nativist beliefs to fill the vacuum left in their lives. One person was a dreamy young man who avoided saying anything directly about himself. He was dressed in an Orthodox monk’s garb, with a whispy beard. He implied that he was Jesus incarnated. During the Q & A after the film, Herzog said that this was just one of about 600 people known to be claiming the incarnation of Jesus.

Herzog filmed this story about Dieter Dengler before. He filmed it as a documentary in 1997 as “Little Dieter Needs to Fly“. Dieter Dengler was born in Germany in 1938. He witnessed the destruction of Germany during World War II. But he fell in love with airplanes and flying. He came to America at 18 and enlisted in the Air Force. After two years in the Air Force (spent doing menial work), he got out, got a degree by going to school at night and became a citizen. He joined the Navy to learn to fly and was sent to Vietnam. On his first mission, an interdiction flight into Laos, he was shot down, was eventually captured, tortured and sent to a prison camp. He escaped the camp and made his way through the Laotian jungle toward Thailand. He was eventually rescued. Herzog’s initial film, which I have not seen, took Dengler back to South East Asia. At one point, Dengler was bound with ropes the way he had been bound in captivity. Evidently, Herzog finds pushing people past their boundaries to be an uplifting experience.

Herzog’s narrative fiction movie, “Rescue Dawn”, tells the story of Lt. Dengler leaving the air craft carrier, getting shot down, being captured, being tortured, inspiring his jail mates to escape, escaping, evading capture, being rescued in a very straight forward way. There are no cliches, no easy hand holds, in this film. It is claustrophobic. There were times that I felt crushed while watching this movie. I wanted to flee the theater. In that sense, Herzog did his job of delivering the vicarious goods. After Lt. Dengler is returned to his ship, he gets a microphone shoved in his face and is expected to say something profound and uplifting. He can not. He says something that while appearing trite and superficial, is probably keeping in the way that people who endure great hard ship express themselves.

Christian Bale, as Dieter Dengler, continues to grow. I didn’t know that he was in the film (I picked it because of Herzog and schedule considerations) and was delighted to see his name in the opening credits. I don’t know how many audience members were aware of Bale’s first major motion picture, “Empire of the Sun“. That was not far from my mind as watched this movie. He has been in some high profile movies, e.g., “Batman Begins”, “Shaft”, “American Psycho”, but I have like the other films more, e.g., “Metroland”, “Velvet Goldmine”, and one of the best from the last ten years, “Laurel Canyon“. (I see that he has been cast opposite Russell Crowe in a remake of “3.10 to Yuma”, a classic revisionist Western. The original was filled with Elmore Leonard’s Christ imagery; I don’t know what they plan to do for a remake.)

In the roles I most liked, Christian Bale, like Joaquin Phoenix, saves the fireworks for when it counts. In “Laurel Canyon”, we get a palpable sense of the inner conflict that rages in him. When it finally releases, we are ready for it, and it is a controlled release. The film closes with some images that show the still unresolved boy in the man, still looking for the love that he didn’t get from his mother, and his mother’s visceral but hapless indifference to his need.

In this film, Bale gives us some hints of the stranger-in-a-strange-land that Dengler must have experienced. When Dengler came to America in 1956, we were still in love with our victory over Germany in World War II. How strange it must have been for young Dengler to see movies showing ruthless Germans and the morally superior Everyman GI, vouchsafed merely by being an American. War is not like that; soldiers are not like that. He was aided, no doubt, by the direction of Herzog, who revels in that stranger-strangeland feel, and seeks to create it wherever he goes.

The movie does not dwell on the feeling of being tested that Dengler must have felt. This is a staple of movies about military themes, but Herzog doesn’t go there. This is a very internal thing, being tested, and there are no easy ways of showing it. Movies are about showing. What Herzog does show us is the brotherhood the pilots feel and gives us one of their preflight rituals. When you are all alone in combat, I think that is one of the things you remember, the brotherhood rituals.

Dengler is shot down. We don’t know that much about his life to this point, so trying to arc back to his childhood in Germany wouldn’t work. Other films do that, but this one doesn’t. There are not talismans from the childhood village that make the trip to a jungle in Laos, pulled out and caressed to show this arc. Maudlin is missing.

After a lot of torture, Dengler ends up in a small prison camp where his principal interactions are with Eugene, from Eugene, Oregon, a slightly mad captive, played superbly by Jeremy Davies (unrecognizable as Upham of “Saving Private Ryan”), and Duane Martin, played well by Steve Zahn. Duane has his weaknesses and Zahn delivers them, along with his strengths.  Playing weak is always harder than playing strong, and Davies and Zahn are great at it in this film.
When Dengler arrives at the camp, he is in good health and has not had his spirit broken. It is not clear just how much spirit the other captives have left, and Dengler must find out. He is initially dismayed by the lack of hope in his fellow prisoners. The narrative questions that often arise in this kind of movie are “Will someone snitch? How will he keep his edge and not give in?” These questions are created by screenwriters who are trying to create conflict and lack imagination into what really happens in a prisoner of war camp. Herzog, as the screenwriter, gives us instead images of Dengler that illustrate his perseverance and inventiveness in the face of abject power.
The main dramatic conflict in the movie happens in the camp, where Dengler must convince his co-captives to escape. In many movies, this would be the whole movie, with abortive escapes, a lesson learned and then a final escape. But the men must wait for monsoon season to arrive so that they can get water to drink. They wait. Dengler gains the trust of his co-captives by easing their plight, and it is clear that he is a sparkplug for this combustion.

The combustion, when it happens, is predictable, but it fits the story. Dengler escapes and we follow the path of Dengler and Duane. We get a sense of the love that can exist between two men, described by Philip Caputo in “A Rumor Of War” as being closer than that of lovers, for it is a bond that is truly broken only by death. Dengler nurses Duane along as Duane, already weakened before the escape, slips further and further.

This is a movie on linear narrative rails, and that is not a bad thing. Herzog has stripped the sentimentality from this kind of film, and Bale delivers a controlled portrayal of hope and perseverance.

“Jack Daniels. A little water.”
He spoke with a slight drawl. Watuh.
The barmaid with spider web tattoos up her left arm and a studded belt put the drink in front of him. He had put some money on the bar. He leaned in. “Keep a dollar for yourself.” Dollah. Yossef.
He took the change with a small hand, parchment skin stretched over blue veins, ghostly tendons and knobby white knuckles. His nose was broken, really broken. I put him at 80.
I finished my burger, wiped my hands and gestured at the baseball game playing on the large screen across from us. “Follow sports much?”
“They don’t mean nothing to me.” The eyes on either side of his broken nose followed me, looking for a reaction. “That’s layin’ it out there.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s laying it out there, sayin’ what I mean.”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“These sports don’t mean nothing. I was a prizefighter. Fought 122 fights. Was a contender. I’ve lived it. These sports today don’t mean nothing.”
I was thinking that he could be interesting to talk to.

“I had the first television in the world.” Really?
“When was that?”
“1920.”

I think the first television broadcast was in 1926. He had a TV before that?
He chattered on about a couple of things. I’m doing the math, if he is 80, then he was borh in 1927.
“Did you fight in World War II?”
He talked about being on island campaigns in the Pacific. He talked with a lower tone and I couldnt follow everything he said. He pulled a picture from his wallet that showed a soldier and a Chinese soldier. He said it was from China in 1947.
He talked about televisions, when he owned them, and how big they were.
“You have a good evening, sir.”
I wasn’t ready to leave. I hadn’t paid my tab. I let it ride.
We had more fits and starts of conversation. He would end each one with “You have a good evening sir.” I had a little beer left and drank in in my own good time.
The size of the television changed from 4 to 10 inches and back to seven. He was 83 years old. He had fought in battles, been hurt in the prize ring. The barmaid with all the tattoos kept her distance. I know she would be back to try to sell him another drink later.
I left him to his memories.

A thousand years ago, various Christian churches fought wars over holy relics, i.e., bones of dead apostles. Now? Not so much. We don’t need relics, we have CGI.

At the Creation Museum, a fanciful Eden rises from the void. Adam appears, bearded and handsome, if slightly waxen. Eve emerges from his rib with luxuriant hair and a kindly expression. Trees blossom and creatures frolic, evidence that all started well in God’s perfect world.

Elsewhere, as the story develops, Cain stands over his slain brother, Abel; life-size workmen build a replica of Noah’s ark, and Methuselah intones: “With each passing day, judgment draws nearer. . . . I can tell you, whatever God says is true.”

These churches spawn tax free businesses the way Adam spawned Eve.

The Creation Museum, a project of the socially conservative religious organization Answers in Genesis, mocks evolutionary science and invites visitors to find faith and truth in God. It welcomes its first paying guests — $19.95 for adults, $9.95 for children, not counting discounts for joining a mailing list — just weeks after three Republican presidential candidates said they do not believe in evolution.

Mitt Romney said that we need a man of faith to lead the country. I’ve had faith. I’ll go for reason next time.

Bookzilla wanted a play date with several friends and then a sleepover with one of them.  I gave the okay.  It turned out that only Sacha and Glide could make it.  I call one of them Sacha because she was born in Russia but emigrated to the US by way of Singapore.  She has slept over before but was reticent when I tried to lead the conversation to her story of coming to America.  Glide is a grade behind Bookzilla.  I call her glide because she doesn’t so much as run as glide.  She is tall for her age, lean, muscular.

All of these girls are in the accelerated program, and they are fun to watch at school.  Their class lines up near the other classes.  I look over at the other fifth and sixth grade classes and the girls are all cliqued up and the boys are into dominance games with each other.  The girls in the accelerated class are talking openly and freely with each other.  I walk up to Bookzilla to give her a hug and wish her well for the day, and a boy, call him Beetle, because you just can’t put your finger on him and hold him down, screeches, “How do you put up with her?  She is crazy!”  I think Beetle has a crush on Bookzilla.

Bookzilla and her friends are Pokemaniacs.  The purpose of the get together was to play Pokemon games on their Nintendo game players.  JMan tries to keep up with them, but he is giving up three years to them.  He is always the tail on this dog.  They play for a while and I notice the energy that Glide brings to the day.  When Bookzilla first asked to have her over, I had her confused with another girl, Stillwater, a quiet girl, smallish for her age, with long brown hair and bangs down to her eyebrows.  Bookzilla and Glide got into a lot of trouble last year as they tended to hit critical mass in nervous energy when they were in close proximity, say, in the same room.  Glide could probably excell in athletics if she chose to pursue it.  I had one of those matryoshka moments when I could see her chasing down a backhand like Steffi Graf.  But she glides over to the sofa and drapes herself across it, to see the game being played by JMan on the PS2.  I can also see her as a limp and boneless teenager, the way only teenagers can be.

At some point, Bookzilla began to demand chocolate, a cry taken up by the lot of them.  I got a big bar of chocolate at Trader Joes and parcel it out as treats.At first I was concerned about giving in to their demands, (what impression would that leave?) when the artfulness of their demands overcame me and I cracked up.  I don’t know what the future holds for these talented girls, but they could make a killing in government lobbying.

Soon after that, the pillow fight started.  The object of the pillow fight was to bash Daddy.  I adopted a ninja like stance, using my back as a guard and pivoted to fend off the blows when they came.  I could sometimes grab a pillow and hold it in place, using the wielder as a shield.  Glide proved difficult to use in this way because she was fast.  She could dart in and land a blow before I could get ready to grab the pillow.  This worked them all into a lather - JMan’s t-shirt was damp with sweat - before they collapsed on the sofa again.

There were the moments I call matryoshka moments, moments when I could see them as little girls, as older girls, like matryoshka, Russian stacking dolls.  I thought about a colleague whose daughter was an athlete in high school in college, competed and won competitions in gymnastics, and who developed a brain chemistry disorder while in her mid-20’s.  She now exhibits schizophrenia.  We just never know what the future holds, so I’ll take the moments that happen now.

I’m not religious, but George Bush is.  I hope there is a special place in Hell for him.  See this photo essay in the Washington Post.  In the last picture, a woman, identified as Mary Duffman, places flowers on her husband’s grave.

Grief is a knife that cut open the heart in ways that it can’t be put back.  That last picture has it in abundance.

I caught some of the testimony of our esteemed Attorney General and it seemed more like a crime boss was testifying than not.  He didn’t directly answer questions, but very carefully threaded through a minefield of past utterances, avoiding potential perjury traps.

Eugene Robinson recaps the night of March 10, 2004.

It just gets worse and worse. We already knew that Alberto Gonzales — who, unbelievably, remains our attorney general — was willing to construe the Constitution and the Geneva Conventions however George W. Bush and Dick Cheney wanted. We knew he was willing to politicize the Justice Department, if that was what the White House wanted. Now we learn that Gonzales also was willing to accost a seriously ill man in his hospital room to get his signature on a dodgy justification for unprecedented domestic surveillance.

The man Gonzales harried on his sickbed was his predecessor as attorney general, John Ashcroft. The episode– recounted this week in congressional testimony by Ashcroft’s former deputy, James Comey — sounds like something from Hollywood, not Washington. It’s hard not to think of that scene in “The Godfather” when Don Corleone is left alone in his hospital bed, vulnerable to his enemies, and Michael has to save him.

See how easy it is to place this in a crime milieu?  Eugene has an image and passes it on.

The image I can’t get out of my head is of Alberto Gonzales carrying a document for Ashcroft’s signature into the man’s hospital room, attempting a sneaky end-run around the deputy whom Ashcroft left in charge of the department, knowing full well that Ashcroft was seriously ill and almost certainly medicated. What did he intend to do, guide the man’s hand?

This is the attorney general of the United States, ladies and gentlemen. Heaven help us.

Good luck with that heaven part.  In so far as God has anything to do with this, he has probably washed his hands with us already.

Two retired generals tell it straight.

Fear can be a strong motivator. It led Franklin Roosevelt to intern tens of thousands of innocent U.S. citizens during World War II; it led to Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunt, which ruined the lives of hundreds of Americans. And it led the United States to adopt a policy at the highest levels that condoned and even authorized torture of prisoners in our custody.

Fear is the justification offered for this policy by former CIA director George Tenet as he promotes his new book. Tenet oversaw the secret CIA interrogation program in which torture techniques euphemistically called “waterboarding,” “sensory deprivation,” “sleep deprivation” and “stress positions” — conduct we used to call war crimes — were used. In defending these abuses, Tenet revealed: “Everybody forgets one central context of what we lived through: the palpable fear that we felt on the basis of the fact that there was so much we did not know.”

Yes, they are war crimes.  Lord, we don’t need no war crimes.

Former defense secretary Donald Rumsfeld once wondered aloud whether we were creating more terrorists than we were killing. In counterinsurgency doctrine, that is precisely the right question. Victory in this kind of war comes when the enemy loses legitimacy in the society from which it seeks recruits and thus loses its “recuperative power.”

The torture methods that Tenet defends have nurtured the recuperative power of the enemy. This war will be won or lost not on the battlefield but in the minds of potential supporters who have not yet thrown in their lot with the enemy. If we forfeit our values by signaling that they are negotiable in situations of grave or imminent danger, we drive those undecideds into the arms of the enemy. This way lies defeat, and we are well down the road to it.

Tell it, brother!

This is not just a lesson for history. Right now, White House lawyers are working up new rules that will govern what CIA interrogators can do to prisoners in secret. Those rules will set the standard not only for the CIA but also for what kind of treatment captured American soldiers can expect from their captors, now and in future wars. Before the president once again approves a policy of official cruelty, he should reflect on that.

It is time for us to remember who we are and approach this enemy with energy, judgment and confidence that we will prevail. That is the path to security, and back to ourselves.

Amen, amen, amen, amen.