I think this small slice of poetry from Geoffrey Hill (the greatest English-language poet alive, I think) might offer some idea of what it is I value, and what I seek to write about in both political and cultural matters:
"Of the personality as a mask;of character as self-founded, self-founding;and of the sacredness of the person.Of licence and exorbitance, of schemeand fidelity; of custom and the want of custom;of dissimulation; of envyand detraction. Of bare preservation,of obligation to mutual love; and of our covenants with languagecontra tyrannos. "These words could of course be applied to plenty of things in matters cultural and political. You could say I'm above all concerned with what Hill (a man whose sensibility is essentially religious, though mine is not) calls "the sacredness of the person." I'm an unapologetic humanist, and so I oppose any policy that degrades humankind, that "devalues the person" as Saul Bellow's Herzog might say.
The grinding and horrible truth though, is that politics rarely offers such a simple choice between policies and actions that enhance human dignity, freedom, and potential and policies and actions that belittle and destroy those things. Politics isn't about keeping your soul pure; more often than not it's about making difficult decisions. And we all degrade ourselves in the process, though sometimes our messy, bloody decisions result in good things, an increase in human dignity, etc...
Which brings me to current affairs. In many positions I've taken recently, I could be called a member of the "pro-war left" or the "liberal hawks" or whatever you wish to call them. The likes of Christopher Hitchens, Nick Cohen, David Aaronovitch, Norman Geras, and the folks at Harry's Place should give you a much better idea of where I'm coming from.
I basically agreed with them about invading Afghanistan and Iraq, and like Tony Blair I thought any any argument for toppling Saddam Hussein was better than none, and I was convinced that a liberal, secular democracy would spring up rather quickly after the invasion. Of course we all know now how ridiculous and naive that last expectation was. The occupation of Iraq has been a disaster, partially due to the fumbling idiocy of the Bush administration and partially due to the fact that the Iraqi people have been brutalized and their tribal and sectarian hostilities exacerbated by a century of imperial meddling, then Ba'athist genocide and torture and tyranny, then a suicidal war with Iran, and then the supreme indignity of more than a decade of sanctions and starvation presided over by Saddam.
Michael Ignatieff has written perceptively about what happens when an artificially-constructed nation comprised of different ethnicites and tribes (like Yugoslavia) held together by a strongman tyrant and police-military apparatus with a monopoly on violence (like Tito and the Communist Party) dissolves into chaos precisely because that monopoly on violence--for whatever reasons--disappears. Saddam's secret police had a monopoly on violence in Iraq for decades; when other groups tried their hand at violence and revolt, like the Kurds in the late 80s or the Shias in the immediate aftermath of the 1991 war, they were bloodily and decisively suppressed. That is, they were murdered and their grievances were erased. The disappearance of Saddam's monopoly on all violence in Iraq has left a massive power vaccuum, and different factions are battling for supremacy. There is nothing mystical or perplexing about this. What's happening in Iraq right now is a power struggle, pure and simple, and it has little to do with religion. It's more about dominance.
The terrorist demolition of the gobsmackingly beautiful mosque in Samarra, and the subsequent calm and dignified response from most of Iraq's Shia population, does illustrate something important about this power stuggle, however. There is of course a real danger of Iraq sliding into a sectarian civil war, but I think reports from those on the ground suggest that most of the violence in Iraq is coming from various groups that associate themselves with the large Sunni minority that Saddam hailed from and used to "represent" in some perverse way. Some of them are Wahhabist jihadis led by Zarqawi (as they always usefully remind us in the small snuff-film industry they've set up), some are the remnants of Saddam's Ba'ath Party that can't get over their fall from power, and others are just Sunni folks who are acting out 1) their tribe prejudices, and 2) their hatred of the American-British occupation.
It is these Wahhabist and Ba'athist forces that murder children, behead hostages from human rights and peace organizations, destroy gorgeous centuries-old mosques, and fire on Shia funeral processions. Whatever one makes of the decision to go to war in the first place, it seems beyond contention that the Wahhabist-Baathist forces are serious criminals and reactionaries. To romanticize them as some kind of Third World national liberation front, or to celebrate them as "the resistance," or to explain away their actual motives and characteristics the way most of the centre-left press does today, is worse than fatuous.
Such a mentality lends legitimacy to these fascists, and effectively endorses the murder of Shias, Kurds, liberal Iraqis everywhere, and humans rights workers from countries that aren't even a part of the Coalition. Much of what the good folks at the Guardian and the Independent have to say about these noble "insurgents" amounts to a glib abuse of language. It's a shattering of what Geoffrey Hill might call "our covenants with language/ contra tyrannos." People who make their living by thinking, speaking, and writing should have more respect for precision, truth, and nuance than they appear to have. Speaking in lazy and easy shorthand is so much easier than actually taking a cold, hard look at the realities of Iraq and making judgements based on a real consideration. Most of our media prefer to draw readymade phrases and explanations out of a comfortable ideological line.
The cheapening and degradation of language--the breaking of our covenants with it--is of course the most effective tool of tyrants and demagogues. Which is why I'm just as virulently opposed to the Bush regime's grim sophistry over torture and detention-without-trial as to the Islington and Manhattan coteries' brainless appeasement of fascist tactics in the Sunni Triangle. Torture, it seems to me, can hardly ever be justifed. It's a moral absolute with me, I must confess. I'm like the country preacher who can't permit himself the thought of alcohol and rock music being okay: torture is just ALWAYS WRONG. The Bush administration's behavior has been a case of 'licence and exorbitance' of power, and that is always something to be militantly contested.
Which is why I'm puzzled that the bien-pensant left can't bring itself to make a big fuss about torture and mass murder in China, Sudan, Egypt, Iran, and elswhere when it seems perfectly capable of a good self-righteous, chest-beating tizzy over Guantanamo Bay. I suppose it has something to do with universal values...
As many people who read these kinds of blogs know, George Orwell wrote about what Geoffrey Hill calls "our covenants with language/ contra tyrannos." Orwell understood language as a way of apprehending and comprehending reality, and as a currency of common understanding and communication. It must be used precisely and clearly, and its ability to express difficult, complex realities that elude easy categorizations of media and politicians must be respected. It is an insult to language to use it as an easy shorthand. Doing so can be a lazy or pernicious evasion of its relationship to truth, and it conscripts our currency of words and insights into the service of a narrow creed or ideology. Orwell and Hill, in their very different ways, offer an alternative way of handling language, something quite removed from the serial abuse and cheapening that goes on in our newspapers, television, and political speeches.
I'll cut this post off here. Not all of my posts on this blog will be this long (most of them will be much shorter in fact), but thanks for reading if you've stuck with my rambling. I'll end it this way: that poem of Hill's comes from his recent book "Scenes from Comus," based on a masque by John Milton. In the midst of the Puritans' assault on free expression in print and theatre during the Commonwealth (of which he was a supporter, being anti-monarchist) Milton wrote this in his bracing defense of press freedom, the Areopagitica:
And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play on the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open encounter?Two words: Danish cartoons.