A Study in Senility

Well, what did we expect?

At least the Iraq Study Group (ISG) showed some courage. They decided to drop a bomb of surrender on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. It takes chutzpah for the Unserious to do something like that, and it helped turn the evening news into the most bizarre show around: a clip of ISG members saying the US should go to thug regimes Iran and Syria with hat in hand, begging for help, followed by a clip of Roosevelt saying he was going to open up a can of whup-ass on the Japanese.

No coalition of the willing for Roosevelt. Back then, there wasn't much talk of making sure Tonga's security council vote would allow Americans to defeat their enemies. Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Midway, Leyte Gulf, Solomon Islands. Not too many Polish and French (they'd already surrendered) running around during those battles. It was all red, white, and blue. A Japanese admiral said the Americans were filled with a 'terrible resolve,' a resolve which took them all the way to final victory.

65 years on, it would seem that many Americans still have a terrible resolve, though not in the way that Yamamoto meant it. When he said those words, he knew a determined enemy was advancing constantly, and wouldn't give up until they'd won the day. He had little doubt that within a couple of years, Roosevelt's boot would be up his ass. He was wrong. It was Truman's.

No, the resolve today is terrible because there isn't any. The 79 articles that these ISG has-beens came up with is a recipe to do nothing on the one hand, and to appease dictators on the other. It is a shameful, embarrassing document (you can find it on Jim Baker's website; I'd give you the address, but I don't want to help his counter go up).

When former Secretary of State and ISG-man Lawrence Eagleburger was asked today what he thought of the New York Post (good for you, Post) calling them a bunch of "Surrender Monkeys," he replied with a stern, "That was probably thought up by some 20-year-old punk."

Maybe. But does that mean the punk's wrong?

You were a 20-year-old punk yourself once, Larry. At least, I hope so. Being a punk means taking a stand and sticking it to the man once in a while. Punkness takes heft and attitude. Punkness requires, oh, not asking the President of your nation to go to an Axis of Evil country four years later and beg them for help when you know damn well that they're the ones behind this insurgency in Iraq. You're not a punk anymore, Larry, you're just a regular, arrogant coward.

Arrogant, because you think you know it all and can toss others off with one-liners involving the word 'punk.' Coward, because the only new issues in the document you signed involve running away as fast as possible, screwing Israel over by making this a Palestine question, and having a meeting of minds with a dictatorship that hangs people for being gay. (And Larry, nobody uses 'punk' anymore. Just how many times beyond 79 do you have to prove that you are out of it?)

His next flippant comment on Fox News proved what an old fool he is. When asked what he would do if the President didn't take action on even one of the ISG's recommendations, Larry said it was the President's decision. For his part, Old Larry would return to his stamp collection and come back to chat with Fox News once in a while if they wanted him to, hardee-har-har.

That's great. Thanks for your service, Larry. You worked nine months on a report to the US President, and you now place it's importance somewhere behind your stamp collection and being a hack for the cable news networks. Please, Larry. Go back to collecting stamps. Mail someone a letter that contains your last original thought, before it dies of loneliness.

I didn't hold out much hope for the ISG. It sounded pathetic to begin with, the way 'study group' sounded lame whenever a university professor made me go over to a homely girl's apartment on a Saturday to compare notes. There we'd be, the such-and-such study group, put together by a prof who went around the room repeating one through five over and over, until all the ones had to meet at John's, all the twos at Jenny's, etc.

I detested study groups. Every time a professor said the magic words, "Let's split up into groups," I wanted to do a header off the fifth floor of the social science building.

Most of my study groups were garden variety. A couple of gay guys, the homely girl who served Doritoes and owned a lot of teddy bears, a token feminist or two, and me. We'd chat for a few hours about our homework, I'd say a couple of things to piss off the feminists, and then I'd try to get to the bar by last call. Point is, every study group I've seen has been a joke. People walk in with their beliefs firmly in place, and they walk out with them a couple of hours later.

Nobody changes their minds during a study group. Certainly no one learns very much. In fact, I only ever agreed to sign any study group's papers because I knew it was a waste of time to argue a point and, as said, I wanted to make last call. Besides, it wasn't like I was concerned with not getting a good grade. If you had a gay guy and a couple of feminists on your team, there wasn't a chance in hell the prof would give you less than a B+.

A couple of hours of study group pretty much ensured that I would sign anything put in front of me. After nine months, I'm not the least bit surprised that these 10 old-timers found a consensus. Nine months? My God, after nine months of study group, I would have signed away my heterosexuality, told you I wore ladies underwear, and sang 'I Feel Pretty' from the top of my university residence. I'm amazed these old buffoons lasted so long. When a stamp collector is one of your heavy hitters on foreign policy, you begin to wonder who gave them the code to get out of the old folks home in the first place.

By now you're thinking that I'm ripping on the elderly too much. You're right. I am. And they deserve it. Look at it this way: all of that old thinking is long gone. It's over. Those rules of foreign policy and diplomacy are out the window. For one, it is pretty hard to practice diplomacy when the groups you are talking to don't have any diplomats. For another, these terrorists and Islamic fascists don't care what Baker and Eagleburger say.

When Baker was talking to the Russians, he knew they were full of crap, but at least they pretended to listen. Today, the Islamic fascists say, "You want peace? To hell with you. Die, infidel scum!" And we go running to the evening news for analysis of what the terrorist meant by that. Well, he means he wants you to die. Olive branches extended in their direction end up buried in your throat.

In Baker and Eagleburger's day, foreign policy meant two things: Communism and the United States. That was it. The rest was merely details. Name me one important conflict that took place post-WWII that didn't involve some influence of the US and USSR. Name one. (Sorry, British guys, the Falklands don't count. Be real).

Don't cheat by handing me Israel and the Arabs. They were both being supplied by the big boys, and the big boys had a vested interest in which side won, lost, or stayed static. Korea and Vietnam? Wrong. Just because the soldiers didn't speak Russian doesn't mean they weren't partnered up with the Russkies behind the bedroom curtain. Do you think those cute AK-47s were grown in the rice paddies?

The members of the ISG are old, and they are out of their league. This game is faster, younger, and far more uncertain. When Eagleburger was making the rounds, the world spun very slowly. If he talked to a Russian ambassador, the Russian ambassador would get back to him in months with nothing new to say. If the talks went badly, well, we'll have more talks next year. And hey, if those talks don't work out, no big deal. The chances of us ever attacking each other face to face are extremely remote. One thing about the Cold War, there weren't too many American or Russian civilians being killed by the other side.

The ISG group proved their irrationality by talking about the conditions in Iraq getting worse and worse, spiraling out of control. Okay, fine. But tell me, lead foot, exactly what is your definition of 'spiral'? Because you didn't seem to be too quick in getting that report onto the President's desk.

The old boys' diplomacy network is over. We don't have time for nine month reports, conferences next summer, Pan-Arab talks. I'm sorry, Larry and Jim, if you miss the good old days of flying around and rubbing elbows with other guys in expensive suits. I apologize if you miss chatting with your foreign policy buddies over caviar and champagne. You can't drag your old methods into this fight. It distracts us, and it weakens us. Like you, the guys we're fighting while you're collecting stamps also wear pricey vests to wedding parties, except theirs explode and wipe out entire families.

Today's enemy doesn't talk. They blow things up. There is no evidence that they want to hear from us unless it is to accept our conversion to Islam and a capitulation to their terms. To treat them as Eagleburger and Baker treated past foreign dignitaries is lunacy.

The Iraq Study Group was another lesson, and it was a good one. It's time to kiss the old-timers good-bye. They're past their foreign policy prime, seeing a diplomatic world they used to see, living in the dreamland of lost memories. Listening to them is as foolish as it is dangerous.

Say good-night, Larry.