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A Second Opinion: The Aftermath of George's First Dream
Sometimes our dreams will stay with us through our morning routine. Sometimes they leave us by the time we get vertical. Sometimes, if we concentrate really hard, we can trace back to the place in our brain that stores our dreams and retrieve more and more details from a particularly interesting dream. Other times, we sense that we have dreamed something profound, but the trail is quickly lost in the tangled brambles of the mind. Once in a great while, certain people (for not everyone is possessed with this manifestation) have dreams of such vividness, such detail, and such clarity, that they may cease to be thought of as dreams and begin to take on the guise of visions or prophecy. Indeed, many of the most revered spiritual and religious figures throughout all of recorded history were on the receiving end of life-changing dreams. Accounts are numerous of ordinary humans going to sleep knowing one set of things, and waking up with a new volume of information. Sometimes information gleaned in dreams or visions like these can change the course of history, as it did with the Prophet Mohammed.
George W. Bush was a practical man. He wasn't a particularly deep thinker, but he wasn't stupid. Many people underestimated his intelligence because he was lacking in verbal eloquence. Certain concepts, especially things he had no interest in, threw him for a loop, but at other times he displayed a quick, agile mind. There was no doubt, though, that he was a concrete thinker. He didn't mull, ponder, or contemplate. He didn't muse, deliberate, or ruminate. He wasn't profound, abstruse, or mysterious. He didn't ask complex questions and he didn't like complex answers. He liked to "cut to the chase," and was often impatient with his more long-winded advisors.
He was, in sum, exactly not the kind of person to be completely knocked off his stride by an overwhelming dream experience. The idea of a vision or a prophecy was not completely foreign to him; his Bible had many examples of both. But the idea of such a thing happening to him, especially outside of a religious experience, was profoundly unsettling. All through his morning exercise and shower he ran through the incredible details of his nocturnal reverie, improbably remembering all of it. The thing that most fascinated him–and scared him–was that he seemed to possess information this morning that he didn't have last night. How did this happen? What was he supposed to do with it? Who was going to believe him? He was the President of the United States and Abraham Lincoln had just told him things that he hadn't already known. As had George Armstrong Custer. As had General George McClellan, whom he had only vaguely ever heard of. Railsplitter! The President laughed out loud in the shower.
Being a religious man, George W. Bush instinctively defaulted to the idea that God was trying to tell him something. This was the lens through which he would have to interpret this information. Otherwise, it was just too crazy, too... fantastic. All right, then, God, what are You tryin' to tell me? Lincoln said, 'Bring in your worst critic and let him have at you'. Easier said than done, Abe. 'Let some people who disagree with you have some time with you.' This seems to be the message, God. That and not bein' so darn sure of myself. Gotta ask more questions. Probe deeper.
The President marched through the side door of his office saying hello to the Secret Service detail by the door and called his Chief of Staff Andy Card, National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice, and his personal aide, Blake Gottesman, into the Oval Office. He had decided on the way over that he would be careful at first how he revealed his dream, even with his closest aides. He would take it slowly, see how they reacted. He couldn't afford to let anyone even begin to think he was losing his marbles. But his nature was to be direct. That was who he was.
His staff sat down in front of his Oval Office desk. George W. Bush liked to sit on the edge of the desk at moments like this. "Listen, uh, this might sound a little off-center to you all, but I, uh, I... oh, what the heck–I had an amazing dream last night. It was intense, and I can remember it all sure as I'm sittin' here. I met Abraham Lincoln in my dream last night. I mean, I just didn't meet him, I talked with him for the better part of an hour. And not only that, but he brought along General George Custer and General George McClellan to talk with me, too. Actually, to talk to me. I didn't do much talkin', I mainly listened. To the generals, that is. I could tell you everything they said, I could tell you what they were wearing–we were in the Sitting Room just down the hall from our bedroom—the one with the fireplace? Anyway, lemme get to the point–there's a couple of things I believe that I need to do based on my conversation with Lincoln–he wanted me to call him Lincoln–he doesn't like to be called Abe, heh-heh-heh... it's crazy, I know..." The three advisors were all in various states of pretending to take notes, each casting sideways glances at the other and privately wondering where this could possibly be heading.
"Condi, you know anything about Sunnis and Shias? Anyways, what I need from you is a comprehensive study on the differences between the Sunnis and the Shi'as, and you might as well throw the Kurds in there while you're at it. I want to know 'em like an expert by the time I'm done reading, okay? And I'd like it ASAP."
"Sure, Mr. President. There is a professor at Georgetown–Dr. Abdul ibn Waziz–he's a friend and an expert in Islamic Studies. I will see what he has. I'm sure there are people at State who could be helpful, as well."
"Oh, and how 'bout a brief history of Iraq?"
"Fortunately, that's the only kind of history there is on Iraq, because the history of Iraq is brief–it's only really been in this configuration since 1920. I'll get you something on that."
"Good. Andy, I want to set up a roundtable meeting."
"Okay, just give me names–"
"Naw, lemme finish. I want to set up a roundtable-like forum with some of my harshest critics. I mean, the people that go after me, disagree with everything we do. Now, I'm not talkin' about the Neanderthals or freaks, but the best of the other side, you know, like Krugman at the Times, or Al Sharpton–"
"Al Sharpton?!?"
"Well maybe not him, but, tell you what–you put together a list of fifteen or twenty names, maybe twenty-five, and we'll whittle it down to ten or so and we'll invite 'em over to Camp David for a chat."
"Is this... part of your dream, sir?" Andy Card was just trying to piece it all together.
"Yeah, well, yes. Look, I know you all are gonna find this hard to swallow right now, but you're gonna have to trust your fearless leader on this okay? I'm lettin' you in on this because I know I can trust you, too. This stays in here. If this got out... well Lord only knows the press would have a field day. Anyway, Andy, can you get me that list soon? Should be able to throw a rock outside the window and hit a dozen people that can't stand me."
"Yes, Mr. President. I mean, yes on the list."
"Oh, and all three of you... I don't want anybody to know about this yet. That means anybody. Oh, and Blakie, hang back for a minute, would’ya please?"
"Sir?" The President's aide remained behind after Andy Card and Condoleezza Rice had exited the room.
"I need you to try and find Morris Levison for me. That's just between me and you, okay buddy?"
***
Two evenings later, while George W. Bush was working on a pasta salad and reading through Albert Hourani's A History of the Arab Peoples, Andy Card brought a list of possible roundtable candidates to the President that was the size of a small telephone book. The President, flipping the pages between mouthfuls, realized how large the list actually was. "Geez, Andy, how many names are on here? I said twenty or twenty-five; there must be, what, five hundred names? What does it say in the Bible? 'A prophet hath no honor in his own country.'"
"Sorry, Mr. President, I just got started, and, well, the list kept flowing, and... there's a lot of people out there who..."
"Spit it out, Andy," said the President, chuckling.
"Who frankly don't care for what we're doing right now."
"Well I know that! That's not stunning news to me! But whoa, this is a who's who of liberalocracy." The President was flipping back and forth through the list, taking note of the ones he knew. "Where's Colmes? I don't see Alan Colmes on here. He's a liberal."
"Well, two problems there, sir. First of all, he likes you, and second, he's a Fox liberal, not a real liberal."
"A Fox liberal? What the heck is a Fox liberal, Andy?"
"Well, a Fox liberal is actually a moderate centrist that FoxNews puts on to balance out the conservatives. You'll find that most of the people on the list you're holding have never actually been on Fox."
"Is that so? Well, in any event, I knew there was something I liked about Colmes. Now look Andy, we've got to get this list down to a manageable size. I mean, you've got... Fidel Castro? and... Hugo Chavez?–
"That was a joke, sir."
"I see... what other jokes are on here?"
"Well, George Bernard Shaw died many years ago, and of course, Frederick Engels—"
"Who's he?"
"The lesser known half of Karl Marx and... Engels."
"You're too much."
"And then there's my personal favorite, Rosa Luxemberg."
"And she is?"
"A German Socialist gal from around World War I. Things didn't end well for her. She was killed by the Conservatives."
"Serves her right, heh-heh-heh... now let's go to work whittling this thing down."
For the next hour or so, the President and his Chief of Staff worked their way through the roll until they had come up with a short list. It was at the beginning of this process that George W. Bush noticed Mo Levison's name for the first time. The President put the paper down and bit on the end of his pen. "Morris Levison... interesting... where'dya get him from?"
"Nexis-Lexis search–he's written quite a few critical articles about you."
"I'll bet he has...you know we were college roommates?"
"No, I didn't. That a good thing or a bad thing? I'll bet it was interesting."
"No, it was a good thing, believe me. I wouldn't've made it through Yale without Mo Levison. He saved my butt many times."
"What happened after college? Did you two go your separate ways?"
"No...well, yes, but we remained close for a long time..." The President was staring at a pattern on the rug.
"Care to tell me what happened?"
"Well, when I was Governor of Texas he and I disagreed over some death-penalty case. He's a, some kind of human rights lawyer, and a darn good one, and actually, he disagreed with my decisions not to review a bunch of cases, and it got pretty ugly, and, well, we haven't spoken in over five years. But I've been meaning to call him, so this might be just the thing."
"So he's on the list?"
"Yeah...Mo's definitely on the list." George W. Bush immediately saw that this presented the opportunity to effect a rapprochement with Mo Levison. "And listen, Andy–I want to call Mo myself okay? Don't worry about him."
After chewing through the list for about an hour, the President and Andy Card had finally culled it down to the twenty-five names that the President had requested to begin with. Now began the hard choices.
"I just can't see having a former president at this thing–too much protocol we have to deal with. Let's give ol' Jimmy Carter the axe."
"Carter gone," replied Card. "We've still got four New York Times people on here... I think it's overkill."
"How are we on the 'political correctness' meter? I mean, if we're gonna have a bunch of liberals together in one place we better make sure the PC police are happy. We got...how many women? Minority representation? God, I so don't want to be on the other end of a Jesse Jackson sermon!"
"Yeah, but Mr. President, think of what he'll be like if he's not invited."
"You've got a point, there, Andy. He stays, painfully."
"I think we have plenty of women to choose from. You've got Amy Goodman from Democracy Now!, Arianna Huffington, Arundhati Roy, Molly Ivins from—"
"Oh, I know Molly all too well. She's from Texas and she's been hating on me for a long time. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't with her, but I kinda like her in spite of herself. I can't stand Arianna Huffington and I don't know the other two–"
"Well, let's cross Huffington off, that would make me happy, too, and we really don't need Amy Goodman, she's more of an MC, but I would recommend you swallow hard and take Arundhati Roy. She's an extremely bright and well thought-of Indian radical who knows a great deal about the Arab struggle and would speak eloquently if... forcefully about whatever is on her mind. The same could be said for Edward Said, who is probably the Palestinians' most eloquent advocate but is likely to give you an earful about Israel."
"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get an earful from whoever's on this list. I wanna hear from the best of the opposition, so let's have 'em and I'll wear protective gear," chuckled George W. Bush. "But let's get rid of Nader He's just..."
"Yeah, I get it. Can I just say no to Michael Moore? I mean–"
"Gone. He's a buffoon. Daniel Schorr? What's he, about 90? Too old–gone."
"You know, as smart and well-respected as Noam Chomsky is, in a room full of long-winded liberals in love with themselves, he's liable to dominate the whole thing to the extent that you won't be able to shut him up. I heard him on an interview program one time and the interviewers just had to break into his responses to ask him another question because he literally never stopped talking. So I would say cut him." Andy Card looked at the President, who nodded, and MIT professor Noam Chomsky was gone.
And so, after further editing, the list of liberals that would sit at the roundtable at Camp David ended at this:
Bill Moyers—Former LBJ staffer and now well-known erudite TV host and pundit.
Howard Zinn—Liberal elder statesman and highly regarded radical historian, author of A People's History of America.
Robert Fisk—Longtime foreign correspondent from the British newspaper The Independent; based in Beirut and expert in Middle Eastern affairs.
James Carroll—Columnist for the Boston Globe and author of several books; former Jesuit priest whose father served in the Pentagon as DIA Director.
Rabbi Michael Lerner—Founder of Tikkun Magazine and author of books seeking equitable treatment of Palestinians by Israel.
Reverend Jim Wallis—Prominent Evangelical minister and founder of Sojourner's Magazine, as well as author of several books.
Arundhati Roy—Indian activist and author, known for her passionate support of the poor and forgotten.
Paul Krugman—New York Times economic and political columnist.
Edward Said—Columbia University Professor and Palestine's most eloquent and passionate advocate.
Jesse Jackson—He's Jesse Jackson.
Molly Ivins—Author, columnist, and political commentator from Austin, Texas, and longtime Bush family basher.
Morris Levison—Prominent civil rights attorney and longtime social activist.
"That's still a few more than might be reasonable, " sighed the President.
"Yeah, but I'd be willing to bet at least a couple won't be able to come for whatever reason," replied Andy Card. "You know, Mr. President, this is an extremely brave thing you're attempting here. I don't think any president has ever done this—to put yourself in the line of fire like this—are you still sure you want to go through with this?"
"You mean no president has ever been stupid enough to do this," laughed the President. "No Andy, I'm gonna do it. Abraham Lincoln did do it. Geez, the stuff he put himself through..." And here George W. Bush turned reflective again. "I'll just grab a helmet and some goggles and we'll let 'er rip and let the pieces fall where they may. I'll be alright. I'm a big boy; I can handle it. But I do think I'm going to ask Condi to be there. And maybe General Powell."
And with that, Andy Card left the President to his reading of Saladin and Mohammed and the ghosts of the Levant.
***
In the week that immediately followed his dream, George W. Bush seemed a different man in Cabinet meetings and especially in the National Security Council group that was meeting regularly to discuss preparations for the upcoming Iraq invasion. With the exception of the day after the dream, when the President appeared remote and distracted, the principals in the Council saw an inquiring and engaged man, probing each council member for information that heretofore had not been the subject of any more than the President's passing attention. Of special interest was the question of Sunni-Shi'a relations, an issue that had been glossed over, skipped, forgotten, and rendered a moot point in turn by Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld, CIA Director Tenet, and Vice President Cheney. Until this time, the President had, through his own ignorance, conceded to let the matter lay fallow, but now he pressed the topic. In this matter, he had allies in Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice. The Vice President, on the other hand, was increasingly impatient with the subject and looked constantly as if he were chewing on a canker sore.
"Don, I've been researching the matter," offered the President, "and I've come to believe that we're going to have tougher time than we think keeping the Shi'as from the Sunnis' throats after we get rid of Saddam. For starters, these people have a blood feud that's been goin' on a heck of a lot longer than the Hatfields and McCoys. The other thing is, the minority Sunnis have had their thumbs on the majority Shi'as for the last fifty years and it's gonna be payback time when the Big Fella's gone. It doesn't seem to me like we have enough soldiers in the plan to take care of this if it blows up, does it?"
Rumsfeld, taken by surprise at the President's sudden interest in ethno-religious matters, sought to parry the question with questions. "Mr. President, what we have to ascertain is who is going to carry the ball for the Sunnis? What about the Kurds? What are the wildcards here? Is Ahmed Chalabi truly the leader we think he is?"
"Uhh, you think he is, Don," interjected Colin Powell.
"Now, Colin, Dr. Chalabi is a fine man, and we all know it," said Dick Cheney. "Even George Washington had his enemies and detractors during our nation's crucible."
"I believe there is going to be a hell of a lot more pent-up religious fervor that will break loose when Sadaam is deposed than Chalabi expects, or than we've been planning for, and it's probably because we've been listening to that... snake-oil salesman," replied Powell.
"Well, I'm tending to agree with General Powell," said George W. Bush, again surprising the majority of people around the table. "George, what does CIA know about the aftermath of the invasion? What are your people on the ground in Iraq telling you?"
George Tenet, an increasingly paranoid and defensive man after September the 11th, seemed startled. "What? Umm, we followed...the airports...but I didn't, uh, we don't exactly have... people per se on the ground in Iraq. We have a couple of agents...in Kurdistan and oh yeah...uhh, several Iraqi defectors, especially a guy the Germans have in custody with the code name 'Curveball'. But, in all honesty, our shoes on the ground in Baghdad are...uhh, pretty empty at the present time."
"Pretty empty, huh? I wanna know how do we know we're not walkin' into a great big mess of tribal warfare after we cut off the head—Sadaam Hussein—the only person ruthless enough to be capable of holding that country together." The President's newfound confidence was unsettling.
Donald Rumsfeld took the challenge. "Mr. President, there are known knowns. Those are the things we know we know. And then there are known unknowns. Those are the things that we know we don't know. And lastly there unknown unknowns. These are things that we don't know we don't know. In this case—"
"Don, none of us has had a logic class since college. You mind cutting out the bullshit and getting to the point?" Dick Cheney was an equal opportunity sourpuss.
"The point is, we don't know!" snapped Colin Powell. "We don't have any human intelligence, and we're relying on a curveball and a screwball to lead us into making such a momentous decision. The whole world thinks we're crazy, and I'm starting to agree with them!"
George Tenet slunk farther down in his seat, humming a tune and absent-mindedly flipping a coin.
"Well, Secretary Powell, if you can't go along with the program, frankly it might be time for you to find work in the private sector," said the Vice President. "The networks will be needing military analysts when the war begins."
"I'll be the judge of that, Dick," responded the President. "It's my opinion that we have spent so much time on the war, that we haven't properly considered the peace. I want a serious review of what's gonna happen from the day after Saddam's gone, including the possibility of adding more troops to the plan."
"But Mr. President, we're way down the line here. It's a little late to be completely upsetting the apple cart," pleaded Donald Rumsfeld.
"It's never too late if it may save American soldiers' lives and Iraqi civilians' lives. Never. If the end game can't be properly explained to me then it can't be properly explained to the American people–that means it's no good."
***
"HE DID WHAT?!?" It was doubtful that the Vice President would be kept
out of the loop for long. The news was brought to Dick Cheney by his Chief of Staff, Scooter Libby. "That's got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard of !! And it's not gonna happen, mark my words, READ MY LIPS! What in the fuck does he think he's trying to pull? Does he want to commit political suicide halfway through his first term?" Scooter Libby nodded and shook his head in quiet affirmation of his boss's diatribe as Dick Cheney looked over the list. "Jesse Jackson...Molly Ivins? I'm surprised Jane Fonda isn't on here!"
"Oh, she was, boss. Along with Hugo Chavez and Fidel Castro! They apparently didn't make the final cut."
"HUGO CHAV–is the man going crazy?!? This is the Lefty Lunatic Society and he's having them up for brunch at Camp David!! This has got to be another Karl Rove idiot idea. Get him on the phone and tell him to meet me in the Oval Office STAT!"
The sound of 250 pounds of anger announced Vice President Dick Cheney's entrance into the Oval Office. The President, alone at his desk reading Dr. Abdul ibn Waziz's book Understanding Islam: The Bridge Across the Sunni/Shi'a Divide, had been anticipating this moment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!?" yelled the Vice President, waving the list at George W. Bush.
"It's nice to see you, too, Dick," replied the president calmly.
"You've invited the entire 'Hate America First' crowd up to Camp David to...to... WHAT? What could you possibly be thinking? Or is this Karl's–" As if on cue, Karl Rove came into the room.
"I heard my name. What can I do for you two?" asked the pale, flabby political advisor.
"What you can do is explain this!" The Vice President waved the list at Rove.
"You'll have to let me look at it before–"
"Karl has nothing to do with it, Dick. He doesn't even know about it."
"Know about what? Should I know about something?"
"Karl, I was gonna tell you–and you too, Dick. I, uh, just thought it would be a good idea for the President of the United States to get a broader sampling of opinion on some of the important issues that confront us. So I invited a few folks up to Camp David for a little informal chat, that's all."
Karl Rove was confused. "Is this like the Mrs. Miller thing, Mr. President? Why didn't you tell me? I could've–"
"This will make you long for the days of Mrs. Miller, Karl. The President has invited the entire Comintern up to Camp David–"
"Now let's not go overboard, Dick. Just a few folks who have opinions different than ours. I'm just gonna listen, that's all. And if we're right like I think we are, then what's the harm?"
Karl Rove was just about to agree with the President when he saw Morris Levison's name on the list. "Morris Levison? The man is bad news, Mr. President. What is he doing on this list? I thought you and he–"
"Good God, who is Morris Levison?" asked Dick Cheney. "He's the only one I didn't recognize. What's he infamous for?"
"He's on there because I want to get his opinion on things, just like the others on the list," replied the President.
"Would you please excuse us now, Karl? I need to speak with the President privately."
"Uh, sure," said the President's political advisor, handing the list back to Cheney. "Let me know if you need me to handle anything on this, Mr. President." Karl Rove left the room.
Alone again, the Vice President continued his attack. "I don't know what you hope to gain from this, George, but if you ever–"
"I'm the President the last time I checked, Dick."
"You're the President because we put you there!!" screamed Cheney.
"There's forty-somethin' million people that might beg to differ with that statement," countered the President.
"Why you son-of-a-bitch! You think you can go off the reservation, do you? You will regret this, I guarantee. You are a lame duck walking!" Dick Cheney turned around and stormed out of the room.
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