Rolling Stone Revelations

Of the many troubling observations offered by Michael Hastings in his Rolling Stone piece about the Afghan war, two sentences stand out: "Even those closest to [General] McChrystal know that the rising anti-war sentiment at home doesn't begin to reflect how deeply fucked up things are in Afghanistan," he writes. "'If Americans pulled back and started paying attention to this war, it would become even less popular,’ a senior adviser to McChrystal says."

When the advisers themselves start advising the rest of us to pay attention, so we should.

We have been at war with Afghanistan for nine years, making this the longest war in American history, as Hastings points out. We’ve spent hundreds of billions of dollars, he writes, "on the fifth-poorest country on earth [and have] failed to win over the civilian population, whose attitude toward U.S. troops ranges from intensely wary to openly hostile."

Moreover, we have allowed General McChrystal to use Afghanistan as a testing ground for the military’s counterinsurgency strategy, COIN. As Hastings describes it, "COIN calls for sending huge numbers of ground troops to not only destroy the enemy, but to live among the civilian population and slowly rebuild, or build from scratch, another nation's government – a process that even its staunchest advocates admit requires years, if not decades, to achieve."

That we should invest in such a process in Afghanistan is bizarre. That we expect our military to die for this senseless cause is immoral. We have too many problems in our own country to pour money into a sinkhole. I’m afraid the emperor is wearing no clothes.

Speaking of whom, President Obama must acknowledge that a change of clothes isn’t all that’s needed. While General Petraeus can restore respectability to the mission, he can’t work miracles.

It’s time to end this war and bring our troops home.

McChrystal Mother Goose

It’s hard to understand Stanley McChrystal’s bizarre decision to allow an interview with Rolling Stone. Somehow, Mother Goose comes to mind:

Bye-Bye Stanley
(From “Baa, Baa Black Sheep”)

Bye-bye, Stanley,
Did you lose your brain?
What you did
Was just so lame.

V P Biden disagreed with you,
Clownish Jones did so, too.
So you spoke to Rolling Stone,
Let your staff piss and moan.

Bye-bye, Stanley,
Now you’re on your way.
You’ve been sacked
Because you had your say.

Stanley McChrystal
(From “Little Jack Horner”)

Stanley McChrystal
Sat on his pistol,
Talking to Rolling Stone.

He put in some words,
About all those nerds,
And forgot
He was simply on loan.

Stanley, Stanley Biden Biter
(From “Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater”)

Stanley, Stanley, Biden biter,
Had a plan but couldn’t keep her,
Thought he’d save Afghanistan,
But landed in the frying pan.

Stanley Put the Pressure On
(From “Polly, Put the Kettle On”)

Stanley put the pressure on,
Stanley put the pressure on,
Stanley put the pressure on,
Barack blew his top.

Stanley took it off again,
Stanley took it off again,
Stanley took it off again,
Barack let him drop.

The Jury is Out

Some of The New York Times columnists that I especially like—Frank Rich, Maureen Dowd, and Charles Blow—have hammered President Obama this week over his management of the Gulf oil spill. As much as I usually agree with them, I’m not yet ready to condemn the president. I’d like to wait and see if he gets a substantial energy bill passed before I decide that he’s botched this catastrophe not of his making.

Though I was unhappy about his seemingly lackadaisical approach to health care, in the end President Obama achieved ground-breaking legislation that had eluded multiple presidents. Those of us with adult children unlikely to secure health insurance now rest assured that our kids are covered on our plans. Those of us who are self-employed now know that, within a few years, we will be able to afford a decent plan. And those of us plagued by pre-existing conditions can no longer be discriminated against by insurance companies. All of this, and more, under President Obama’s leadership.

In his speech last week, the president said that he would not accept legislative inaction as a result of the oil spill. Let’s hold him—and Congress—to his word. And remember that years of regulatory lapses under the previous administration led to the calamity which Obama now inherits.

Diplomacy as Metaphor

In his speech to the nation on Tuesday night, President Obama declared war on the oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico, drawing on a familiar metaphor in American culture. Presidents have declared war many times in recent history: President Johnson’s war on poverty, President Nixon’s war on cancer, and President Reagan’s war on drugs.

The trouble is, these wars—and perhaps all wars—never really work. All of the scourges listed above—poverty, cancer, and drugs—remain as strong, if not stronger, than they were when war was first declared.

I don’t blame President Obama for his use of the metaphor. In fact, I think he and his speechwriters realize the need to use this language. Because Obama is a cerebral leader who takes his time weighing options and thoughtfully arriving at conclusions, he is perceived as weak by many in our saber-rattling culture.

Nonetheless, wishing we could move to a different metaphor, I propose the word “diplomacy.” It’s true that in diplomacy you negotiate and talk to the other side, and we really can’t do either with the oil leak. But implicit in diplomacy is understanding: understanding why poverty is so prevalent, understanding what causes cancer, and understanding how drugs invade entire communities.

In much of the President’s speech, he actually drew on diplomacy rather than on war as a model for action. Appointing an independent group to determine compensation for workers and businesses in the Gulf is an act of diplomacy. Commissioning a long-term Gulf Coast Restoration Plan is an act of diplomacy. Insisting that we understand the facts about deepwater drilling and the concomitant risks to workers and the environment is an act of diplomacy. And calling on members of both parties to propose ideas to end our country’s dependence on fossil fuels is an act of diplomacy.

President Obama understands and applies diplomacy more than he gets credit for. Or perhaps it’s that diplomacy is held in low esteem. In any case, don’t let the war metaphor fool you; it’s required shorthand that I hope will become obsolete someday.

Lessons from the Scripps Spelling Bee

Watching the finals of the Scripps Spelling Bee earlier this month was frustrating—not because the contest was poorly run or because the competitors weren’t engaging or bright. But because the ABC commentators wouldn’t shut up.

The pronouncer would pose a word to one of the students, and we would listen blissfully (as I realized later) to the contestants ask for the word’s definition, its pronunciation, its origin, and its use in a sentence. These exchanges were fascinating, as we observed the students processing each word.

But as soon as one of the kids asked a repeat question, the commentators felt free to let loose and tell us their observations and their thoughts, making it impossible for us to hear the students. Each time this happened, the spell of the bee was broken.

Talking heads of every sort—whether in sports, news, or the bee—rob listeners of the pleasure of puzzling out something alone. Maybe we want to watch the spectacular catch at home base in silence. Maybe we want to think about what we think about the oil spill. Maybe we want to hear the origin of the word one more time.

Unfiltered experience is hard to come by these days with so much non-stop talk. A little silence now and then, with room for our own reflections and ideas, might make for more thoughtful responses. By minimizing the role of knee-jerk talking heads, we could create a less predictable, less polarized society with a more informed populace.

The result? A new and improved C-O-M-M-O-N-W-E-A-L.

A Dog's Life: Serenity

I asked my family to look at this picture of Sundance and give me adjectives that came to mind. Here’s what they said:

Peaceful
Cozy
Heavenly
Serene
Fluffy
Trusting
Adorable
Plush
Secure

These say it all, I think, the hallmarks of a good life. Not just for dogs, but for all of us.

The Birds of the Gulf

Of all the images and information coming from the oil spill, the ones that sadden me the most are the pictures of oil-laden birds struggling to survive. More than the loss of livelihood, of income, or tourism, I feel saddest about the birds.

Evidently others do, too. MoveOn.org sent to its membership one of the most upsetting pictures to surface so far of a bird in Louisiana. With the subject line “Heartbreaking,” the email called on members to protest America’s dependence on oil. MoveOn could have sent a video of angry, frustrated Gulf residents or pictures of the oil plume itself, but instead its organizers chose the bird.

And what about the deaths of the 11 rig workers, which heralded the start of the disaster? Even these losses don’t seem to supersede the loss and degradation of marine life felt so keenly by so many.

Sometimes I think our complicated, uneasy relationship with animals all goes back to Genesis, where we were given “dominion” over all of the fish and birds and every creeping creature on the earth. What did God mean by dominion? When I checked to see if the translators might have had it wrong all these years, I learned that, indeed, the Hebrew word radah means to rule, to have dominion, dominate, tread down.

So the translation is right, but maybe it’s the interpretation that’s wrong. Maybe the intention is that we are to rule benevolently, as caretakers rather than as dominators.

Or maybe it’s that God got it wrong altogether, or that the writer of Genesis misunderstood. Maybe we are to steward the earth jointly with the animals and plants that share our time here together. We don’t seem to be doing such a great job by ourselves. Maybe we need to pay more attention to the clues that the animals are giving us.

The canary in the coal mine takes on more and more meaning as we destroy more of our planet. When birds are covered in oil, they can’t live very well, if at all. The message is this: neither can we.

The Appeal of Silly Bandz

What a refreshing fad this latest craze is. Colored rubber bands in the shapes of trombones, stars, castles, and ice cream cones—to name a few—they’re worn on the wrist like some elaborate, ancient bracelet. One pack of 12 costs $ 3.00, so you can sport a stylish look without losing too much money. Or, as is the case at my daughter’s school, those who have share with those who don’t, so everybody has at least a few. Silly Bandz elicit generosity where it’s sometimes hard to come by.

They also appeal to girls and boys alike. After years of resisting products marketed separately to each gender—brown and violent action figures for boys and pink and gentle dolls for girls—we can finally buy something that obliterates gender. Silly Bandz let kids be kids, rather than forcing boys to be boys and girls to be girls.

Perhaps the most fun of all, they are traded each day on an open market, housed on the playground or school bus. Trade a dragon for a duck. Trade a mermaid for a minotaur. Trade two figures for a phoenix, the most desired Silly Band of all, or hold out for an IPod. Each day brings something new.

Silly Bandz: simple fun in the midst of complicated times.