AUDIO: Mark Danner, The Secret Way to War:
http://www.apfn.net/pogo/L001I060730-booktv-mark-danner.MP3
Mark Danner, longtime staff writer at The New Yorker,
frequent contributor to The New York Review of Books,
and professor at Berkeley and at Bard, writes about
foreign affairs and American politics, including
Latin America, Haiti, the Balkans and the Middle East.
He speaks and debates widely about America's role
in the world.
http://markdanner.com/
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http://www.atimes.com/atimes/Middle_East/GE17Ak02.html
In the United States, on the other hand, the Downing
Street memorandum has attracted little attention. As I
write, no American newspaper has published it and few
writers have bothered to comment on it. The war
continues, and Americans have grown weary of it; few
seem much interested now in discussing how it began, and
why their country came to fight a war in the cause of
destroying weapons that turned out not to exist. For
those who want answers, the Bush administration has
followed a simple and heretofore largely successful
policy: blame the intelligence agencies. Since "the
intelligence and facts were being fixed around the
policy" as early as July 2002 (as "C", the head of
British intelligence, reported upon his return from
Washington), it seems a matter of remarkable hubris,
even for this administration, that its officials now
explain their misjudgments in going to war by blaming
them on "intelligence failures" - that is, on the
intelligence that they themselves politicized. Still,
for the most part, Congress has cooperated. Though the
Senate Intelligence Committee investigated the failures
of the CIA and other agencies before the war, a promised
second report that was to take up the administration's
political use of intelligence - which is, after all, the
critical issue - was postponed until after the 2004
elections, then quietly abandoned.
In the end, the Downing Street memo, and Americans' lack
of interest in what it shows, has to do with a certain
attitude about facts, or rather about where the line
should be drawn between facts and political opinion. It
calls to mind an interesting observation that an unnamed
"senior adviser" to President Bush made to a New York
Times Magazine reporter last fall:
"The aide said that guys like me [ie, reporters and
commentators] were 'in what we call the reality-based
community', which he defined as people who 'believe that
solutions emerge from your judicious study of
discernible reality'. I nodded and murmured something
about enlightenment principles and empiricism. He cut me
off. 'That's not the way the world really works
anymore,' he continued. 'We're an empire now, and when
we act, we create our own reality. And while you're
studying that reality - judiciously, as you will - we'll
act again, creating other new realities, which you can
study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're
history's actors ... and you, all of you, will be left
to just study what we do.'"
Though this seems on its face to be a disquisition on
religion and faith, it is of course an argument about
power, and its influence on truth. Power, the argument
runs, can shape truth: power, in the end, can determine
reality, or at least the reality that most people accept
- a critical point, for the administration has been
singularly effective in its recognition that what is
most politically important is not what readers of the
New York Times believe but what most Americans are
willing to believe. The last century's most innovative
authority on power and truth, Joseph Goebbels, made the
same point but rather more directly.
"There was no point in seeking to convert the
intellectuals. For intellectuals would never be
converted and would anyway always yield to the stronger,
and this will always be 'the man in the street'.
Arguments must therefore be crude, clear and forcible,
and appeal to emotions and instincts, not the intellect.
Truth was unimportant and entirely subordinate to
tactics and psychology."
I thought of this quotation when I first read the
Downing Street memorandum; but I had first looked it up
several months earlier, on December 14, 2004, after I
had seen the images of the newly re-elected President
George W Bush awarding the Medal of Freedom, the highest
civilian honor the United States can bestow, to George
Tenet, the former director of central intelligence; L
Paul Bremer, the former head of the Coalition
Provisional Authority in Iraq; and General (ret) Tommy
Franks, the commander who had led American forces during
the first phase of the Iraq war. Tenet, of course, would
be known to history as the intelligence director who had
failed to detect and prevent the attacks of September
11, 2001, and the man who had assured President Bush
that the case for Saddam's possession of weapons of mass
destruction was "a slam dunk". Franks had allowed the
looting of Baghdad and had generally done little to
prepare for what would come after the taking of Baghdad.
("There was little discussion in Washington," as "C"
told Prime Minister Blair on July 23, "of the aftermath
after military action".) Bremer had dissolved the Iraqi
army and the Iraqi police and thereby created 400,000 or
so available recruits for the insurgency. One might
debate their ultimate responsibility for these grave
errors, but it is difficult to argue that these
officials merited the highest recognition the country
could offer.
Of course truth, as the master propagandist said, is
"unimportant and entirely subordinate to tactics and
psychology". He, of course, would have instantly grasped
the psychological tactic embodied in that White House
ceremony, which was one more effort to reassure
Americans that the war the administration launched
against Iraq has been a success and was worth fighting.
That barely four Americans in ten are still willing to
believe this suggests that as time goes on and the gap
grows between what Americans see and what they are told,
membership in the "reality-based community" may grow
along with it. We will see.
Still, for those interested in the question of how our
leaders persuaded the country to become embroiled in a
counterinsurgency war in Iraq, the Downing Street
memorandum offers one more confirmation of the truth.
For those, that is, who want to hear it.
Notes
[1] The latter charge might have been given as a reason
for intervention in 1988, for example, when the Iraqi
regime was carrying out its Anfal campaign against the
Kurds; at that time, though, the Ronald Reagan
administration - comprising many of the same officials
who would later lead the invasion of Iraq - was
supporting Saddam in his war against Iran and kept
largely silent. The second major killing campaign of the
Saddam regime came in 1991, when Iraqi troops attacked
Shi'ites in the south who had rebelled against the
regime in the wake of Saddam's defeat in the Gulf War;
the first Bush administration, despite president George
H W Bush's urging Iraqis to "rise up against the
dictator, Saddam Hussein", and despite the presence of
hundreds of thousands of American troops within miles of
the killing, stood by and did nothing. See Ken Roth,
"War in Iraq: Not a Humanitarian Intervention" (Human
Rights Watch, January 2004).
[2] See Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (Simon and
Schuster, 2004), p 162.
[3] See Woodward, Plan of Attack, pp 177–178.
[4] See "Chirac Makes His Case on Iraq," an interview
with Christiane Amanpour, CBS News; March 16, 2003.
[5] See Hans Blix, Disarming Iraq (Pantheon, 2004), p
86.
Mark Danner, a longtime New Yorker Staff writer, is
Professor of Journalism at the University of California
at Berkeley and Henry R Luce Professor at Bard College.
His most recent book is Torture and Truth: America, Abu
Ghraib, and the War on Terror, which collects his pieces
on torture and Iraq that first appeared in the New York
Review of Books. His work can be found at
HTTP://markdanner.com
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Mark Danner, staff writer for The New Yorker, is at work
on an extended series of articles on the war in the
former Yugoslavia. The articles - which began with
Danner's cover piece, "The US and the Yugoslav
Catastrophe," in the New York Review of Books of
November 20, 1997, and now (with "Kosovo: The Meaning of
Victory," New York Review, July 15, 1999) number eleven
- were recently recognized by the Overseas Press Club as
the "Best Reporting From Abroad of 1998." Next year
Pantheon will publish an adaptation of these pieces in a
volume entitled, The Saddest Story: America, the Balkans
and the Post-Cold War World.
http://journalism.berkeley.edu/faculty/markdanner/