(9)
The Camp David Roundtable
Mr. President, I got it!"
"Got what, Blake?"
"The uh, {cough} thing you asked me to get."
"Oh, well geez, Blake, it's not like I'm askin' for a hooker! Bring it in!"
In the extraordinarily busy day of an American president, finding the time to make even a ten-minute personal phone call can be a daunting task. George W. Bush was a determined fellow on that day, and he shooed everyone out of his office so he could call Mo Levison. Now watch him not even answer the dang phone. He had already decided that the best way to break the ice was by being funny. George W. Bush had always had a completely disarming sense of humor. He had worked hard on cleaning it up when he became president, except when alone with staffers–then he was right back in the frat house. Foreigners in particular were thrown by the President's uniquely American brand of humor, and staffers were always on the alert to bail their boss out when a joke or a gag went awry during the visit of a foreign dignitary. At a cookout at the Crawford Ranch for Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah, staffers cringed when the President told this one to the Crown Prince and his aides: "Hey, Prince Abdullah, what do you get when you cross a penis with a potato?" The translation took a moment. "A dick-tator! Heh-heh-heh."
But George W. Bush knew Mo Levison and Mo Levison knew George W. Their relationship was based on a strong foundation of humor, so even after a five-year estrangement, humor would be first remedy the President would use.
"Hello?"
The President cupped his hand over the receiver and lowered his tone. "Mr. Levison, this is the President of the United States."
"Who is this?"
"President of the United States calling Mr. Morris Levison."
"C'mon, c'mon. Who is this?"
"Mr. Levison, we have reliable information that you have been cavorting with all sorts of homosexual liberal communist atheist agitators and we here at the White House just want to say... HOW THE HECK ARE YA, MO??" The President dropped the pretense with the last sentence.
"Geo–Mr. President?"
"That's right, Mo, this is your President. But you can call me Mr. President."
"Listen, I–"
"Now Mo, you don't have to apologize, or nothing. I take full responsibility for the breach."
"I wasn–"
"I got busy with stuff and I'm sorry. I should've written you or called or something."
"That's al–"
"Now Mo, listen to me. I need you. I need you to come to Washington as soon as you can. We're going to have a little, uh, pre-Christmas meeting at Camp David–a roundtable with some of your friends. I want you to be there and I want you to give me an honest assessment, or a critique of my administration's policies. Can you do that? And then, after that, I want you to stay for awhile."
"Uh, lemme–"
"Your President needs you, Mo. How soon can you let me know?"
"Well, I gotta few thi–"
"You just wrap up whatever you got goin' and get down to Camp David as fast as you can. I can send a plane to get you. Where am I callin'?"
"I'm at home in Connecticut, but–"
"Well, just hang on the line and Blake'll get your info and we'll see you soon, okay? Oh, and Mo, this has got to be on the down low if you catch my drift heh-heh-heh. Folks around here may not take too kindly to you bein' here and all, so after the Camp David thing when you get to the White House you're gonna have to come in around the back, and you can't tell anyone you're comin', okay?"
"Okay, but–"
"You can stay here. Pack well, mi amigo; you might be here for a while. Well, it's great talkin' with you, Mo. I really missed it, and again, it's on me. Take care and I'll see ya soon! Here's Blake."
After Mo Levison talked to Blake Gottesman for a minute about logistics (he semi-lied that he needed about a week to finish what he was working on because he simply couldn't think straight), he flipped his phone closed and tried to figure out what in the hell just happened.
He had thought a great deal about George W. Bush since September 11th, 2001. In the days and weeks following the disaster he had been deeply moved by the President's eloquence and determination under the greatest pressure imaginable. He thought he had seen and heard some things that gave him a sense of optimism both for his country and for his friend the President. He still considered George W. Bush his friend, and thought they might resume their friendship after the President left office.
However, personally, he had not been well since 9/11. The loss of Rachael, the one great love of his life that had gotten away, and to a lesser extent, his cousin Lenny had had a greater impact on him than he could have imagined. For the first time in his life he was feeling his age. An event like September 11th should have propelled him into a flurry of righteous activity, but somehow, it ended up having the opposite effect. He became paralyzed by options. At the same time, people who believed as he did–that great care should be taken when formulating the American response to 9/11–were being labeled unpatriotic or worse and were completely marginalized.
Of late, he had become increasingly disturbed by the President's ratcheting up of his macho, cowboy rhetoric, the "dead or alive," "smoke 'em out of their cave" spiel. This was the hothead, overcompensating George W. that Mo knew too well from the times that he had to rescue his friend from doing some kind of damage to himself or his family's reputation. He recognized the swagger, the deepening of the Texas twang, and sensed that it spelled trouble. George W. was picking a fight again. Funny how people don't really change. This time, he had the United States military behind him. But what was he doing provoking a fight with Iraq? Other than he could win the fight–but why? What did this have to do with his War on Terror? Not being privy to inside information, all Mo Levison could do was read what everybody else was reading and come to his own conclusions. His conclusions weren't good. This was a catastrophe in the making. But Mo Levison felt particularly helpless about his country's foreign policy. The holding of prisoners without charges or representation in Afghanistan and Guantanamo particularly galled him. Enemy combatants? What the hell was that?
Once the best of friends with the President, he was now, on top of his personal rift with George W. Bush, persona non grata at the White House. He was never made to feel welcome around the President's staff when Bush was the Governor in Austin, Texas. Karl Rove in particular could barely hide his contempt, and the feeling was mutual.
Now, he was suddenly being summoned by the President of the United States to do... what? Was he to be used as some sort of bi-partisan prop? He really wasn't famous enough to be that. What did the President mean when he asked Mo to critique his administration? This seemed like a group of people that was unable to accept any sort of criticism and a president who never thought he could possibly do anything wrong. Also, the President knew that the last thing Mo Levison was going to be was anybody's tool. Was he going to be sent on some sort of mission of goodwill? This made some sense, as he did have good relations with many individuals in foreign governments and NGOs, and could theoretically be used to carry a message that might be better received coming from him rather than the Bush administration. Still, what prompted this now? Mo Levison sat at the kitchen table, staring out at the overcast Connecticut sky, unable to move.
George W. Bush, on the other hand, was energized. The Camp David Roundtable was coming together. Despite flak from the right-wing media, who had come down hard on the President when they got wind of his plan, he was feeling more and more like it was the right thing to do. Skepticism of the meeting wasn't confined to the Right. Liberal columnists, especially those who weren't invited, suspected a PR trap for those who were. It seemed so out of character for this president to be honestly seeking out the advice of the opposition that no one accepted the Camp David Roundtable at face value. So far, the inner-palace turmoil was limited to Grand Vizier Cheney, whose relationship with the President had turned frosty, and Karl Rove, who remained upset that he had been kept out of the loop of such an important event, even if he disagreed with its premise.
More importantly, the second dream had convinced the President that he was being sent some sort of vision. Having Bill Clinton as the bearer of that vision was something that he himself had a hard time swallowing, much less telling anybody else about it. But the clarity, the details, having a conversation with Martin Luther King! Together with his first dream, it just all added up to something transformative, and he knew that he had to honor the fact that he had been given this portal into the thoughts of these great men. The Camp David Roundtable was to be the first concrete manifestation of the change that had come over George W. Bush.
***
Camp David was made for the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It was a beautiful, rustic setting, and felt a million miles away from the White House, even though it was just a fairly short helicopter ride from the bustle of Washington D.C. Located in Catoctin Mountain Park in Maryland and closed to the public, the Camp David area, teeming with deer and raccoon, blue jays and snowbirds, has provided Presidents a spot for total seclusion since 1942.
Perhaps lured by the close proximity of a sitting president, and the unprecedented opportunity to give this president an educated piece of their minds, all of the invited guests except one accepted the invitation to the Roundtable. New York Times columnist Paul Krugman was a late scratch due to an illness in his family. The President and his wife Laura played the perfect hosts, having a dinner on Friday evening with the assembled group plus Secretary of State Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, and Andrew Card. Secretary Powell had enthusiastically responded to the President's initiative, viewing it as a golden opportunity for the President to hear something other than the neo-conservative point of view so prevalent in this administration.
Jesse Jackson and Molly Ivins were in fine form, telling stories during dinner that made the President tear up from laughing. After the meal, Condi Rice and Arundhati Roy were holed up on a corner couch in earnest conversation. Mo Levison was renewing his friendship with old front-line Civil Rights stalwarts Rabbi Michael Lerner and Reverend Jim Wallis, while Colin Powell was having a quiet chat with Edward Said. George W. Bush had taken a hardy group of participants on a delightful nighttime walk through the grounds, while wife Laura and Molly Ivins sat next to the fireplace in the main cabin and drank tea. The Roundtable had gotten off to a splendid start. The President and Mo Levison had, perhaps by intuition, agreed to put off a serious reunion until after the Roundtable. One would have thought by their body language towards each other that they were mere acquaintances.
The weather on the morning of the Roundtable was blustery and on the verge of stormy. President Bush, dressed in a long-sleeved sport shirt and a woolen sweater-vest, was seated in the middle of an oval table, as he would at a Cabinet or NSC meeting, with Secretary Powell on his right and Condoleezza Rice on his left. The participants, with name placards in front of their seats, were arrayed around the table. The President, as if anticipating reticence in the group to speak candidly, opened the Roundtable with reassuring humor.
"I'd like to welcome you all to this unusual event. It shouldn't be unusual, but unfortunately it is. I'm aiming to change that. It was a lovely dinner last night, and I appreciated the chance to renew some old friendships, Molly," said the President to a chuckle from the guests, "Oh–Molly and I go way back, heh-heh-heh," and there was more laughter, "and to be introduced to some of you whom I have never met. You may be wondering why you're here, heh-heh-heh. I would. This is probably the last place you all figured you'd be spendin' your holiday. You're probably also wondering how honest you can be; you might even think I want you to tell me what I want to hear. Although with this crowd, I don't think there's too big of a chance of that!" There was laughter all around.
"But seriously, I think it's obvious looking around the table that by inviting you all here I am not looking for a bunch of compliments and affirmations, although if you wanna stick a few in, I'd be much obliged. I feel that, given the serious issues confronting the nation at this important time in our history, I need to hear from all sides of the debate to get a fuller picture, not just the views of my own party and advisors. As you probably know, I've already taken some hits from my side for even having you all up here. So go easy on me okay? Just kiddin', really! I would prefer you not go easy on me, within the boundaries of tasteful decorum, of course," said the President to a small chuckle. "I want to take the measure of the opposition, face-to-face, and for me to do that, you need to feel like you can speak to me, Secretary of State Powell, or National Security Advisor Rice with all candor. Especially General Powell here–send all complaints care of him courtesy of the State Department, and he's agreed to answer each and every one of 'em personally, heh-heh-heh."
"We'll have time for some brief opening statements. Now I know how hard that'll be on most of you, especially the fine members of the clergy here," the President nodding at the Reverends Jackson and Wallis, and Rabbi Lerner to more laughter, "followed by some give and take. So, if you'll just pardon me a moment while I..." –and here the President pulled one of his patented practical jokes, reaching down and putting on a military helmet and paintball goggles–"put these on, we'll get goin'." And with a final burst of laughter and some applause, thus began one of the most interesting four hours of George W. Bush's life.
Reverend Jim Wallis spoke first. Smallish and rounded, with white hair and a perpetual twinkle in his eye, Wallis reminded some of an elf. As an evangelical Christian, his religious foundation had a lot in common with the President's. It was therefore significant that Wallis devoted most of his time to Just War Theory. The reverend, like so many in his vocation, was blessed with a deep, rich, baritone voice, and it resounded clear and strong in the Camp David conference room. "Mr. President, church opposition to a possible war with Iraq is both widespread and clear–from Roman Catholics, Protestant denominations, Evangelicals, Pentecostals, black churches, and Orthodox. These churches understand that Sadaam Hussein is an evil dictator but they refuse to accept war as the best response. They oppose this war because they have concluded that it does not meet the standards of a 'just war.'"
Wallis then went on to lay out a devastating case why war with Iraq would not meet most of the criteria of Just War Theory. "It is not too late for the United States to return to the path of restraint that marked the first weeks of our response to the attacks of September the 11th. In those weeks, Mr. President, you and your team wisely built an international coalition against terrorism and developed a strategy to root out its sources through diplomatic, economic, political, intelligence and security means. The most effective and morally defensible strategy now would be one focused clearly on feeding starving people, and bringing the terrorists to justice."
He ended with a stirring call for the President to invest the tens of billions of dollars that would go towards destroying and then rebuilding Iraq, into schools, housing, and work programs for the poor and disadvantaged in America. Wallis concluded by saying, "Mr. President, you have often cited Martin Luther King's teaching that 'The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state.' As a war with Iraq seems to be fast approaching, the churches are fulfilling that vocation. The question is: Are you listening?"
"Well, that's why you're here, Reverend Wallis, and I thank you for your comments," said George W. Bush, whose mind had become flooded with his latest dream. He had a feeling that it wouldn't be the last time he heard the name and the words of Martin Luther King, and he was right. It was particularly disconcerting to hear of so much opposition within the ecumenical body at large, but he had to remind himself, for what would be the first of many times that day, that this report, Christian as it may be, was coming from the Left.
Edward Said and Michael Lerner took the unusual step of presenting their views in tandem. The exiled Palestinian professor and the Berkeley rabbi were as different in physical description as their views were complementary. Said was tall, thin, and urbane; Lerner, short, rumpled, and earthy. Both spoke passionately about the intractable and tragic dilemma that was the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict.
Lerner initiated his portion by empathizing with the President. "Like you, Mr. President, I have taken a great deal of flak from members of my own ethnic and faith communities for having the audacity to take a fair approach to the 'other' side, that being in my case the terrible predicament of the Palestinians. I have been called a 'self-hating Jew,' and even an anti-Semite. In earning these epithets, all I have tried to do is to frame the Israeli-Palestinian struggle with the right language and the proper ethical and moral understanding." Many around the table, including Said, nodded in agreement. "My hope for you, Mr. President, is that you resist the overwhelming pressure to take sides in this conflict, and instead reserve for yourself and this nation the role of a true mediator for peace. This can only be done by deeply investing in a true understanding of the root causes of the violence on both sides, and by not surrendering our legitimacy to the interests of any well-financed lobby."
Edward Said struck the first dissonant chord of the day. "I must admit to you, Mr. President, that I can't help but feel like a prop, your reassuring comments to the contrary. But I suppose the chance to speak to you face-to-face is an opportunity too crucial at his time to decline." Then Said, staring at the President acidly, went right for the jugular. "The illegal so-called pre-emptive war with Iraq contemplated by Britain and the United States and its tragic aftermath is truly awful to consider. This is all part of what is supposed to be an unending clash of civilizations. I wish I could say that in the US, general understanding of the Middle East, the Arabs and Islam has improved, but it really hasn't. What American leaders seem incapable of accepting is that history cannot be swept clean like a blackboard, so that 'we' might write our own future there and impress our own forms of life for these lesser people to follow. I often hear high officials in Washington and elsewhere speak of changing the map of the Middle East, as if ancient societies and numerous peoples can be shaken up like so many peanuts in a jar. How easily we forget that such notions as modernity, enlightenment, and democracy are by no means simple and agreed-upon concepts that one either does or does not find like Easter eggs in the back yard. Every single empire has officially said that it is not like all the others, that its circumstances are special, that it has a mission to enlighten, civilize, bring order and democracy, and that it uses force only as a last resort. Ours, lamentably, is no different."
Said stopped long enough to take a sip of water. George W. Bush took the moment to steal a glance at Powell and Rice. "It will be ranked as one of the intellectual catastrophes of history," Said continued, "that an imperialist war originated by a small group of unelected US officials is to be waged against a devastated third world dictatorship on ideological grounds having to do with world dominance, security control and oil. The major influences on your Pentagon and National Security Council, Mr. President and Dr. Rice, are scholars such as Bernard Lewis and Fouad Ajami, so-called experts on the Arab and Islamic world who helped the American hawks to think about such marvels as the Arab mind and the centuries-old Islamic decline which only Western power could reverse."
The President had a habit of blinking in excess when he was unsure or uncomfortable. He was blinking as Said went on. "Today, bookstores in America are filled with tawdry screeds shouting wrenching headlines about Islam and terror, all of them written by polemicists who have supposedly penetrated to the heart of these strange oriental peoples. CNN and Fox, plus the usual evangelical and rightwing radio hosts, have recycled the same unverifiable fictions and vast generalizations so as to stir up America against the foreign devil."
If the President and his cohorts thought they were going to get off relatively easy based on the first two speakers, at this point they had no further illusions. All George W. Bush could manage at the end of the professor's discourse was a thank you and weak attempt at humor. "Why don't you stop beatin' around the bush, no pun intended, and tell us what's really on your mind, Professor?"
Jesse Jackson followed with what basically amounted to a stump speech, causing the President's knee to start jiggling and his eyes to wander. Jackson implored the President to "turn swords into plowshares" and "guns into butter". Geez, is it possible to string together two more overused metaphors? Andy Card, sensing George W. Bush's impatience and possible mental fatigue, scribbled a note advising a break after Reverend Jackson and surreptitiously handed it to the President. Just then, though, a very strange thing happened. As George W. Bush's gaze returned to Jesse Jackson, and Jackson started to quote Martin Luther King, the President saw Jackson turn into King. He shook his head and blinked his eyes almost imperceptibly, not wanting to appear out of place or rude. But there, seated where Jesse Jackson was just sitting, was the Reverend King. As if to put a point on it, the President noticed King give him a slight nod. He quickly surveyed the room to see if anyone else looked shocked, but all seemed normal. Now the President was all ears, as his visions had entered the realm of daytime consciousness.
Looking straight at George W. Bush, King said this: "The world now demands a wisdom of America, Mr. President, that we may not be able to realize." Echoing Edward Said, he continued, "The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not fair. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social benefit is approaching spiritual death. We can no longer afford to worship the god of hatred or bow before the altar of retaliation. The oceans of history are made chaotic by the ever-rising tides of hate. History is littered with the wreckage of nations and individuals that pursued this masochistic path of hate. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy will read 'Iraq.' We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now."
And just as assuredly as Jackson became King, King turned back into Jackson, just in time for Jesse to say, "Mr. President, please, do the right thing. Thank you."
Andy Card called for a fifteen-minute break and walked outside with the President. The wind was whipping leaves and twigs around and the sky looked like it was going to let loose at any moment. George W. Bush, alone with his Chief of Staff, confided, "Andy, I truly think I'm losing my mind. But it's extremely interesting, and actually kind of fun. Just to make sure, did you hear Jesse Jackson say anything about autopsies and Iraq?"
"No, Mr. President, I didn't. But I must admit I was drifting a bit there towards the end."
"Okay, well I was drifting, too–into some other dimension, I think."
The truth was, George W. Bush was scared. He either was having extraordinary visions or suffering from some sort of mental illness. Either way, the fact that it was happening to the most powerful man in the world certainly magnified the ramifications. He resolved to talk to Laura that evening about his visions. She knew him best, and would tell him the truth.
Meanwhile, Molly Ivins, who unbeknownst to everyone present was suffering from a recurrence of the breast cancer that would take her life less than five years later, begged out of the rest of the roundtable and went back to her cabin to rest.
When the participants returned from the break, it was Bill Moyer's turn to speak. His quiet, elegant manner dusted with a light Texas drawl belied a strong conscience and firm opinion. Moyers was a popular figure in television journalism, and was one of the few people at the Roundtable that George W. Bush visually recognized.
Moyers leaned back in his chair and spoke without any notes. "Mr. President, I've learned a few things in my 67 years. One thing I've learned is that the kingdom of the human heart is large. In addition to hate, it contains courage. In response to the sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, our parents' generation¬–your own father–waged and won a great war, then came home to establish a more prosperous and just America. I inherited the benefits of their courage. So did you. The ordeal was great but prevail they did. On the other hand, I worked for a president, Lyndon Johnson, whose whole legacy was derailed by a war in which he neither understood nor knew how to put back in the bottle once the terrible genie was unleashed."
There it is again. It's absolutely uncanny.
"In the wake of September 11th," continued Moyers, "there was a heartening change in how Americans viewed their government. For the first time in more than thirty years a majority of people said we trust the Federal Government to do the right thing. It's as if the clock had been rolled back to the early sixties, before Vietnam and Watergate took such a toll on the national psychology. But what, Mr. President are we doing now? How did we get from there to here? I suppose we are in what educators would call a 'teachable moment.' What's at stake is democracy. Do we want to send the terrorists a message? Go for conservation. Go for clean, homegrown energy. Don't throw billions upon billions of dollars down an endless rat-hole of a war that I'm afraid you will regret for the rest of your life. I saw, up close and personal, a war ruin a man in your shoes. Please, Mr. President, heed the warning."
Howard Zinn, the elder statesman among left-wing historians, was more interested in talking about terrorism in general and the methods we used in Afghanistan. Eighty years-old, with a great shock of white hair to complete his professorial air, Zinn was the author of the popular and controversial book, A People's History of the United States. He was not a man to pull his punches. He also spoke without notes.
"Mr. President, the war against terrorism has become a war against innocent men, women, and children, who are in no way responsible for the terrorist attack on New York. Two moral judgments can be made about the present 'war': The September 11th attack constitutes a crime against humanity and cannot be justified, and the bombing of Afghanistan is also a crime, which cannot be justified. How can a war be truly just when it involves the constant killing of civilians? Terrorism and war have something in common. They both involve the killing of innocent people to achieve what the perpetrators believe is a good end. The absurdity of claiming innocence in such cases becomes obvious when the death tolls from 'collateral damage' reach figures much greater than those from even the most awful act of terrorism."
Maybe it was the repetition that was doing it, but for the first time, George W. Bush was seeing his War on Terror through a completely different lens. He had stopped blinking, and was intently chewing on his pen, focusing on what Zinn had to say.
Howard Zinn, on the other hand, was not the least bit intimidated by speaking directly to the leader of the free world. "Look, to get at the roots of terrorism is complicated. Dropping bombs is simple. It is an old response to what everyone acknowledges is a very new situation. At the core of unspeakable and unjustifiable acts of terrorism are justified grievances felt by millions of people who would not themselves engage in terrorism but from whose ranks terrorists spring. Those grievances are of two kinds: the existence of profound misery–hunger, illness in much of the world, contrasted to the wealth and luxury of the West, especially the United States; and the presence of American military power everywhere in the world, propping up oppressive regimes and repeatedly intervening with force to maintain U.S. hegemony. Mr. President, instead of using two planes a day to drop food on Afghanistan and 100 planes to drop bombs, why don't we use 102 planes to bring food? Take the money allocated for our huge military machine and use it to combat starvation and disease around the world. I do believe that if people could see the consequences of the bombing campaign as vividly as we were all confronted with the horrifying photos in the wake of September 11, if they saw on television night after night the blinded and maimed children, the weeping parents of Afghanistan, they might ask: Is this the way to combat terrorism? Surely it is time, half a century after Hiroshima, to embrace a universal morality, to think of all children, everywhere, as our own."
Colin Powell and Condoleezza Rice had been taking notes on and off, perhaps to better formulate a response to a particular point or an idea. George W. Bush wasn't even pretending to write, but he was listening more attentively to this procession of speakers than even he knew he was capable of. It was like he was hearing a fascinating new type of music for the first time. It felt like a guilty pleasure, or forbidden fruit.
George W. Bush was an extremely impressionable guy. It's just that the impressions he had been given over his lifetime all came from roughly the same canvas. He had grown up and lived his entire adult life around wealthy conservatives, both businessmen and politicians. Later on, as he embraced evangelical Christianity, conservative religious leaders began to hold sway over him. The neo-conservatives came later, as an outgrowth of the relationships made through his faith. His ongoing friendship with Morris Levison, which might have been a place where he gleaned an impression of a different sort, was bereft of political discussion except at the most superficial level. So, a lot of what the President was hearing on this blustery December day was new to him, at least in the way it was presented. He had heard many of these points bandied about before this, but almost always in a deprecating, dismissive fashion by those using these ideas, often incorrectly, to contrast their own. For the first time in his life, he was getting the undiluted, unedited version of liberal ideology, articulated by the finest intellectuals in the field. Much of it was like a foreign language. Many of the ideas were reflexively subversive to him. But he found himself drawn in.
The next speaker, author and columnist James Carroll, had a unique perspective to bring to the discussion. The former Jesuit priest grew up around the corridors of power in Washington, D.C., at the height of the Cold War.
"Mr. President, my father was the head of the Defense Intelligence Agency, or DIA, during the Eisenhower administration. Before that, he headed up the OSI, or the Air Force's intelligence wing. As a result, I spent a good deal of my childhood around the Pentagon. Indeed, I played hide-and-seek in its corridors. So it was with a very heavy heart that I saw what the terrorists had done to that building–my father's former office was in the path of destruction. I have devoted a great deal of my adult life to understanding the culture of the Pentagon, its power, its enormous influence over the economy and its power over politicians."
Carroll had a gentle, soothing quality to his voice that made his critique go down easy. "We in America don't spend a lot of time on self-criticism, or the lessons of history. Thus we are forever innocent and quick to see those who disagree with us as evil. If we behave with the right intentions, it is enough. That our good intentions have often gone wrong in the past is forgotten. Because the September attacks were the first immense violence suffered in the continental United States since the Civil War, they left us uncertain and afraid. But elsewhere in the world, the devastations of war are all too common. To us they remain abstract."
"I have a few questions that I hope you will ponder upon, Mr. President." George W. Bush's expression and posture seemed to be inviting Carroll to continue. "When did America redefine itself so completely around war? In less than a year we have reinvented ourselves as the most belligerent people on Earth. When America could have used its unprecedented power to lead the world away from war, what will it reveal about our national character that we did the opposite? Having lived with Saddam Hussein as a mortal enemy for more than a decade, is the urgency of replacing him now a result less of real evidence of increased threat than of the ''us versus them'' mind-set that drives the war on terrorism? And if al-Qaeda grew out of the humiliations attached to the Gulf War, what would grow out of the new humiliation of a massive US imposition on Iraq, including the necessity of a long-term occupation by the United States? Is war no longer a last resort, taken in self-defense, but a routine method of getting our way, since no one can stop us? While it is certainly true that no power will compete with us for world dominance, other nations will inevitably respond to this unprecedented American swagger exactly by pursuing nuclear capability–if only to force Washington to treat them with respect. The American mode of 'dead-or-alive,' adopted with gusto by Israel's Ariel Sharon, has already led to a disastrous breakdown in the Middle East and promises nothing but further catastrophe."
"I would like to thank you, Mr. President, for taking the time to listen to me, and to all of the distinguished people here today. I hope something you hear today will be helpful to you as you continue on your path."
"Thank you, Mr. Carroll, it already has, believe me, it already has," replied the chastened President.
Robert Fisk, a British native and Middle East foreign correspondent for the Independent, was a particular lightning rod for conservative bloggers, to the point where his name had become a verb: 'fisking' is refuting a column, blog, or opinion piece line-by-line by commenting between the lines. The weathered-looking Fisk gave the President his bonafides: "Briefly, I have spent most of my professional life covering the nations and peoples of the Middle East. I was in Beirut during the Lebanese Civil War, covered the Iran-Iraq War from both sides, and I have spent a great deal of time in Afghanistan, first covering the war between the Mujahadeen and the Soviet Union, and then the current conflict. I have interviewed Osama bin Laden on numerous occasions, and may know him better than any Western journalist.
"A number of my colleagues have spoken eloquently on the Western lack of true knowledge of whom it is we are going to war with, and of the people of the region in general. This is sadly demonstrated in the case of Ariel Sharon, the Israeli Prime Minister held personally responsible by Israel's own inquiry for the Sabra and Shatila massacre of 1,700 Palestinians in Beirut in 1982, considered by you, Mr. President, 'a man of peace.' Indeed, when the Israeli army goes on a shooting spree in the refugee camps and kills 16 Palestinians, among them two children, the US calls for 'restraint'. When a Palestinian suicide bomber murders a crowd of Israelis in Jerusalem, including two babies and a 10-year old, the US boldly blames Yasser Arafat for not 'stopping terrorism' by locking up the bad guys. And Ariel Sharon? Why, he's busy destroying the police stations and prisons to make sure Mr. Arafat can't do what he's been ordered to do.
"Now, sir, everyone is cashing in on the 'war against terror.' When Macedonian cops gun down seven Arabs, they announce that they are participating in the global 'war on terror.' When Russians massacre Chechens, they are now prosecuting the 'war on terror.' When Israel fires at Arafat's headquarters, it says it is participating in the 'war on terror.' Must we all be hijacked into America's dangerous self-absorption with the crimes of September the 11th? Must this vile war between Palestinians and Israelis be distorted in so dishonest a way?
"The fact is, the suicide-hijackers came principally from Saudi Arabia, with one from Egypt and another from Lebanon. Yet the Saudis are going to have no problems entering the US under your new security rules, while our two nations embark upon a war against... Iraq. The intelligence men of the United States are not going to beat their real enemies because they will not be allowed to do what any crime-fighting organization does to ensures success–to search for a motive for the crime. They are not going to be allowed to ask the 'why' question. Only the 'who' and 'how.' Because if this is a war against evil, against 'people who hate democracy,' then any attempt to discover the real reasons for this hatred of America–the deaths of tens of thousands of children in Iraq, perhaps, or the Israeli-Palestinian bloodbath, or the presence of thousands of US troops in Saudi Arabia–will touch far too sensitively upon US foreign policy, indeed upon the very relationships that bind America to the Israeli Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, and to a raft of Arab dictators."
Many Liberals are accused of being in love with the sound of their own voice, and Fisk was not looking to be the exception. "In September of this year, on the first anniversary of the attacks, you told us, Mr. President, that America had commemorated an attack that had 'brought grief to my country.' But you didn't mention Osama bin Laden, not once. It was Saddam Hussein to whom we had to be reintroduced—you used Saddam's name seven times in this address, with countless references to the 'Iraqi regime.' When your Secretary of Defense, Donald Rumsfeld, can claim so outrageously–as he did when asked for proof of Iraq's nuclear potential—that the 'absence of evidence doesn't mean the evidence of absence,' we might as well end all moral debate. I'm beginning to suspect that September 11th is turning into a curse far greater than the original bloodbath of that day, that America's absorption with that terrible event is in danger of distorting our morality. Is the anarchy of Afghanistan, the continuing slaughter in the Middle East, and the coming war in Iraq really to be the memorial for the thousands who died on September 11th?"
And then Robert Fisk paused dramatically, and ended on this cautious note: "Mark my words, Mr. President–civil war will follow any American invasion of Iraq. That is my best, professional judgment from someone who has lived in the region longer than I lived in the country of my birth. To those who live and breathe the air of the Middle East, this is the logical and obvious conclusion. Wake up, Mr. President, before it is too late."
The President leaned over to Colin Powell and said in a stage whisper, "Well, he didn't pull his punches, did he?" to a slightly nervous laughter in the room. Small attempt at humor or not, the message was getting through. It was almost an unheard of assault on a sitting president, and there were still two participants left.
Andy Card called for another short break and everyone stood and stretched their legs. The President, bouncing on his toes, took Condoleezza Rice aside and asked, "So, Condi, whaddya think? We're gettin' pretty beat up in there."
The President's National Security Advisor had so many thoughts that it became a perplexing question. She was aware that her impressionable president was being... impressed. "Well, Mr. President, I don't know what else you would have expected. There are... many interesting ideas here... not a lot that's new necessarily... but, on the whole, it's fascinating to get such a concentrated take on the opposition's thinking," stammered Rice.
"A lotta smart folks here, huh?"
"There certainly are, Mr. President. Just keep in mind that it's far easier to criticize anything from the outside looking in..."
When everyone settled back into their seats, it was Mo Levison's turn. He had struggled probably more than anyone else over how direct and how critical he should really be. He had finally decided to err on the side of caution; but after hearing Edward Said and Robert Fisk, he threw away his notes. "Mr. President, you may not be surprised that I want to talk today about human rights."
"And goat ropers rope goats!" said the President to general laughter.
"Yes, that's true," said the suddenly nervous Levison, fumbling with his glasses. "Umm, after World War II, the United States was the instrumental party in setting up the Nuremberg Trials, which established the precedence for a great deal of international law as it pertains to war. A few years later, the Geneva Conventions, which once again, the United States was instrumental in bringing to bear, established the fair treatment of all enemy combatants in any conflict." Levison found himself speaking too quickly. He took a breath, calmed himself, and proceeded at a better pace. "I believe your own chief counsel was quoted as calling these conventions 'quaint'. I must say, these quaint conventions have protected American prisoners-of-war and the abrogation or nullification of the Geneva Conventions opens up a Pandora's Box of trouble for American soldiers around the world. What is to keep enemy interrogators from torturing American service personnel if we no longer hold to these conventions? Indeed, what is our Constitution worth if we can discard the parts we don't like when it's convenient? The whole idea of holding prisoners in a legal black hole in a nebulous territory or turning them over to countries that will torture them is a disgrace to the very ideals that our soldiers fight and die for. It is a shameful excuse to say, 'We must fight the way they fight', or 'This is the only way they will talk'. Are we, then, to turn into the devil to defeat the devil?"
Here Levison had hit his stride and it was obvious that George W. Bush was moved, for these were almost the exact terms that had been used to argue for harsh interrogation techniques. "These men at Guantanamo–many of them have been there for months, and they haven't been charged with anything, haven't been told why they're there, haven't been allowed representation of any kind, haven't been allowed to speak with anyone–this is American justice? This is not the country that I was born in! The attacks on 9/11 were a horrible monstrous act of evil, but it is playing right into the hands of the perpetrators to respond in ways that threaten the moral fiber that our country is bound by. For what is truly exceptional about America? It is our legacy of freedom and liberty, the things I hear you talking so eloquently about, Mr. President. But they are worse than empty words if we as a nation treat human beings in this way, no matter what they may have done. That is the beauty of our way of justice. All men are equal before the law. I appeal to the better angels of your nature, Mr. President. Thank you for listening."
For the first time all day, George W. Bush was choked up. He knew listening to Mo Levison would be tough, and it was. He simply nodded at his friend and shuffled the sheets of paper in front of him.
Nothing that day, however, had prepared him for the passion of Arundhati Roy. The beautiful Indian novelist and activist, managing to marry her native Indian attire with a high-fashion model's sense of style, was the last speaker of the day, the only woman to speak, and as it turned out, she was breathing fire.
"It was Herman Goering, that old Nazi, who said, 'People can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders... All you have to do is tell them they’re being attacked and denounce the pacifists for a lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country.' He’s right. It’s dead easy. People rarely win wars, governments rarely lose them. People get killed. Mr. President, when you announced the air strikes on Afghanistan, you said: 'We're a peaceful nation.' Tony Blair, prime minister of the UK, echoed you: 'We're a peaceful people.' So now we know. Pigs are horses. Girls are boys. Love is hate, north is south, and war is peace. Nothing can excuse or justify an act of terrorism, whether it is committed by religious fundamentalists, private militia, people's resistance movements–or whether it's dressed up as a war of retribution by a recognized government. The bombing of Afghanistan is not revenge for New York and Washington. It is yet another act of terror against the people of the world. Each innocent person that is killed must be added to, not set off against, the grisly toll of civilians who died in New York and Washington."
George W. Bush was starting to blink again, and began shifting in his seat. "A few days later, Mr. President, you said, 'This is our calling. This is the calling of the United States of America. The freest nation in the world. A nation built on fundamental values that rejects hate, rejects violence, rejects murderers and rejects evil. We will not tire.' What freedoms do you uphold? Within your borders, the freedoms of speech, religion, thought; of artistic expression, food habits, sexual preferences (well, to some extent) and many other exemplary, wonderful things. Outside your borders, the freedom to dominate, humiliate and subjugate–usually in the service of America's real religion, the 'free market.' Democracy has become Empire’s euphemism for neo-liberal capitalism. There is as little chance that the people of the world can all become middle-class consumers as there is that they will all embrace any one particular religion."
Arundhati Roy was just warming up. "Your Attorney General John Ashcroft recently declared that US freedoms are 'not the grant of any government or document, but... our endowment from God.' So why bother with the United Nations when God himself is on hand? Now, here we are, the people of the world, confronted with an Empire armed with a mandate from heaven and, as added insurance, the most formidable arsenal of weapons of mass destruction in history. With all due respect to you, President Bush, the people of the world do not have to choose between the Taliban and the US government, or Saddam Hussein and the United States. All the beauty of human civilization–our art, our music, our literature–lies beyond these fundamentalist, ideological poles. The issue is not about good versus evil, or Islam versus Christianity, as much as it is about space. About how to accommodate diversity, how to contain the impulse towards domination–every kind of domination, be it economic, military, linguistic, religious or cultural. Having one superpower in charge of the whole world is like putting a plastic bag over the earth, and preventing it from breathing."
The President instinctively loosened his collar while Arundhati Roy continued. "Eventually, it will be torn open. Far from stamping it out, igniting this kind of rage is what creates terrorism. Hate and retribution don't go back into the box once you've let them out. For every 'terrorist' or his 'supporter' that is killed, hundreds of innocent people are being killed too. And for every hundred innocent people killed, there is a good chance that several future terrorists will be created. People who live in societies ravaged by religious or communal bigotry know that every religious text–from the Bible to the Bhagavad Gita to the Koran–can be mined and misinterpreted to justify anything, from nuclear war to genocide to corporate globalization. This is not to suggest that the terrorists who perpetrated the outrage on September 11th should not be hunted down and brought to justice. They must be. But is war the best way to track them down? Will burning the haystack find you the needle? Or will it escalate the anger and make the world a living hell for all of us? Put your ear to the ground in my part of the world, Mr. President, and you can hear the thrumming, the deadly drumbeat of burgeoning anger. Please. Please, stop the war now. Enough people have died. The smart missiles are just not smart enough."
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