Michael Yon does not have time to talk to you. There are things going on. The front is ablaze with fire. The sound of gunfire is not distant, but down the block. And yet here he is, sitting down across from you, setting a bottle of scotch on the table, taking off his sunglasses to see straight into your eyes. He is tired, yes, tired of it all – but he has a story to tell you, a story you must hear, and you are damn well going to listen.

“There is a clear battlefield conversion from ink to blood, from blood to ink,” he says. And you understand.

Yon’s new book, Moment of Truth in Iraq, reads as this conversation would: the unflinching staccato of a man who has seen more than almost anyone else of this war, this absolutely necessary but unquestionably mismanaged war, and the men and women who fought and died to win it.

It is the story of Fallujah and Anbar. Deuce Four. The Welsh Warriors, Rorke’s Drift Company. The Holy Hand Grenade. How to Get Killed. Petraeus. The Surge. The Sons of Iraq. The Seven Rules. Farah.

Do not say another word about these things – do not write about them as if you know what you are talking about – until you read this book. Until you set yourself down and talk over scotch and sand as the explosions echo.

You will listen. Again and again, unwise policies devised by diplomats throw new perils upon them. Again and again, Yon heads out with groups of young men, soldiers who do know what awaits them, and yet conquer their fear, set it aside to do what must be done.

He checks the windows first.

If you are going on a combat mission and soldiers have not cleaned all their windows to a sparkle, do not go with them. Soldiers with dirty windows are not watching for tiny wires in the road, nor are they scanning rooftops. They are talking about women, football, and the cars they will buy when they get home. I will not go into combat with soldiers with dirty windows.

Clean windows, so they will see what’s coming. Sometimes they will stop it before it comes. Sometimes they will not. Yon is there for it all. He is determined that these stories – the stories the media at home will not tell you, the stories you must dig to find amidst the latest celebrity marriages, hot new gadget, and Hollywood gossip – will not go unwritten. He will write them himself, in the back of a Humvee, and send them back across the globe. And you will listen.

You cannot read Yon’s book in bed. I found it hard enough to read it sitting down – it rips out tales that will make you frustrated, then angry, then grateful, and then you weep. But clear your reading list. You must read it, because it is the most truth about this war that you will ever read, a tale of blood and sand and heroes and villains – and hidden underneath it all, hope.

The military is at war. America is at the mall…American combat soldiers don’t want pity. They’re ready to fight to the end; they just don’t want it to be for naught. They have been fighting for two nations, one of which didn’t seem to notice. The Iraqis noticed.

Now, you must notice too.

Read the story.

Listen to the podcast.

The November issue of The American Spectator magazine will feature as its cover story the exclusive recounting of a chilling tale of heroism, courage, and loss one morning in Iraq — an article by yours truly, which was only made possible by the fact that I was there at the front lines in Iraq (thanks in large part to your help) to cover it.

Here’s the skinny:

Six weeks ago in Samarra, as a small American sniper team was set upon by dozens of al Qaeda terrorists who had but one goal in mind: to humiliate America in front of the world, only days before General Petraeus’s internationally televised testimony before Congress, by kidnapping and slaughtering these American soldiers.

Four U.S. paratroopers faced impossible odds, against dozens of dedicated enemy fighters.

Not all would survive - but all would become heroes.

So one of the networks ran a package on the spate of recent war movies from Hollywood, most of them of distinctly anti-American thematic content, in which an interview with some film critic or other was introduced this way:

“This is not your father’s Hollywood, is it?”

Answer: “No. In the World War II era, war films were gung-ho patriotic. [blah blah blah]”

The interesting thing here is that they’ve got their generational notions all screwed up. They think themselves vibrant radicals, rebelling against a stale tradition. The reverse is true. In fact “your father’s Hollywood” is now the Hollywood of “Apocalypse Now”, “Full Metal Jacket” and even “Platoon” — very far from “gung-ho patriotic,” in short.

The stale tradition in Hollywood, friends, is anti-Americanism, and these nitwits in Hollywood are utterly innocent of what dreary traditionalist they have become. What would be really radical, really a vigorous revolt against an antique fashion, is unbashed patriotism in a movie.

It’s like that old Chesterton quip: “Defending any of the cardinal virtues today has all the exhilaration of vice.”

Paul sent this note along a few days ago. I’d been thinking about it a lot recently after seeing the starkly divided critical reaction to Peter Berg’s The Kingdom, a quality film that manages to say some important statements while telling what seems, on a surface level, like a typical action story. It bears more than a few similarities to Black Hawk Down, and it’s certainly worth seeing, despite what Anthony Lane said about it.

Somehow, the critics can’t seem to see an action movie that’s at all pro-America - even one that shows America’s leadership on the ground to be flawed and disorganized, one that shows how complex these situations truly are, and one where the true hero of a movie isn’t Jamie Foxx or Jennifer Garner, but a strong and stable Saudi policeman played brilliantly by Ashraf Barhom - without labeling it as jingoistic, or comparing it unfavorably to Rambo. This says a lot more about the critics themselves, I think, than the biases of the film.

Instead, the critics want the unfettered leftist claptrap that you’re going to have ample opportunity to see in the coming months. There’s the two Meryl Streep films (she’s the good liberal journalist in one, evil in the other) Rendition and Lions for Lambs, which previews seem to indicate consist primarily of straw men making ridiculous pro-war statements, only to be rebutted by the wise liberals, or scolded by Robert Redford (who suddenly got really, really old - he could still carry things in Spy Game, but looks worse than Paul Newman now). And then John Cusack will tug at our heartstrings in Grace is Gone, which is less about lecturing than finding inner peace after loss (and I’d bet it’s more successful than either of the others). And after all that, we’ve still got about a half-dozen indie films, followed by Body of Lies with Russell Crowe and Leo DiCaprio next year, another “the CIA screwed us all over and put us in this mess by being anti-communist” movie directed by Ridley Scott.

While I haven’t seen these films yet, the common factor here is simple and easily evident after reading any plot: these are polemical films, intended to preach, not intended to tell stories. It’s as ham-handed and predictable as the afternoon movie on Lifetime. Look, I don’t mind watching the occasional propaganda movie, from the left or right, if they’re actually good or even enjoyable movies. Regardless of the way your creation is judged for political reasons, at least make it good as art.

Of all of these sad attempts, the worst is an adaptation of a tragic true story, with Tommy Lee Jones and Susan Sarandon: In the Valley of Elah is getting the kind of critical praise and angry veteran response that you can expect for all of these other upcoming projects, with the added element of the father who still insists that his son, who after his return from Iraq was stabbed 33 times by fellow soldiers after a night of boozing, was killed for more complex reasons - despite the lack of any hard evidence to that effect.

Davis remains bitter, not only about the loss of his son, but toward the investigators and prosecutors in the case. He’s also a bit perplexed by the direction of the film, particularly when it deals with the four men accused of the crime.

“This wasn’t a case of PTSD,” [the father] insists, referring to post-tramatic stress disorder. “These guys had their motives for killing my son and it had nothing to do with them being kicked out of the Platinum Club.”

He continues to think that his son witnessed an event or events in Iraq that led to his death.

“He had to be silenced,” he said.

It’s sad to see Hollywood playing this game with this father’s emotions, but hey, we all know what gods they worship in that town.
A better question, and one worth asking, is this: What stories did Hollywood used to tell, and what stories does Hollywood deem worthy of telling now?

They tell the heroic story of Jimmy Carter. They tell the courageous story of the Howard Dean campaign, written by an ex-Dean staffer and starring Jake Gyllenhaal on Broadway, now headed to the silver screen with Leo DiCaprio, directed by George Clooney. Oh, and they tell about Charlie Wilson’s War - which sounds on its face like it’s going to be another “anti-communists got us into this” screed - but this one, of course, is about a liberal Democrat, so it’s certainly going to be more fair.

Maybe years from now, when the climate isn’t the way it is, they’ll get around to telling another story, buried in the papers, when the words of the critics have faded away, and the Medal of Honor still stands.

UPDATE: It seems that most people really DON’T want to see this stuff. Try again, Hollywood.

Williams: But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry all, ‘We died at such a place;’ some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeared there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing when blood is their argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the king that led them to it, whom to disobey were against all proportion of subjection. King Henry: So, if a son that is by his father sent about merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a servant, under his master’s command transporting a sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the business of the master the author of the servant’s damnation.But this is not so: the king is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of his servant; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, can carry it out with all unspotted soldiers… if they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of their damnation than he was before guilty of those impieties for the which they are now visited. Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own.

 

Henry V Act IV, Scene 1

This brief debate, held on the muddy ground of France the night before Agincourt between a disguised King Harry and a British soldier, strikes me as a good summation of the two distinct philosophical positions about death and the conscience of a nation. Let’s leave out the intradenominational issues surrounding the process salvation, and focus on the issue of responsibility for a moment.

The soldier’s position grants that there is a judgment made by God concerning the responsibility for death, whether in battle, or in any other context. The soldier points to the King (or the Nation) as the responsible party, and argues that, on the day of judgment, the ghosts of perished soldiers and bereaved wives will point their bloody hands toward the leader who urged them on.

King Harry’s position, on the other hand, states that the ultimate judgment is not made in a corporate manner, but based on the state of the individual. Therefore the King — the Nation — is no more guilty of the sin of causing these deaths in battle than he is of the sins perpetrated off of the battlefield by his fellow citizens. There are only the individual consciences to worry about — no national one.

There are several important questions here, ones that I think can particularly be drawn to bear in the case of our current national dilemma. This is about more than just, can the United States be held responsible for the death of its soldiers in battle — it strikes at the very heart of our attitude toward our public policy.

In the latest interview published by Bob Woodward, the President repeated his articulate defense of a foreign policy based not just on strategic interests, but on humanitarianism. He clearly views the encouragement of new democratic regimes around the globe not just as a shield against terrorism or being in our economic interest, but as an agent of change in favor of increased human rights.

The moral argument that stopping human suffering around the world is one of our reponsibilities as a world power is familiar as an anti-protectionist position favored by neoconservatives. And to some extent, it relies on the broad-based theological teaching of love for our neighbors, defending and supporting widows and orphans, feeding and healing the sick, etc.

I personally have a problem with interpreting Biblical teaching based on individual action as a mandate for corporate (or, in this case, national) action — “Thou shalt not murder” as an individual command appears a few verses away from a command to communally stone to death just about anyone judged to be guilty of adultery, murder, or bestiality. There’s a distinction to be made between God’s personal commands for how we each live our lives and the rule of law in a nation; while we are told to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, Christ does not devote very much time to discussing the proper role of public and foreign policy. But there are also clear indications that, as a nation and a community, we do have moral responsibilities:

“If my people will humbly pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear them. Freely then will I forgive them, and I will heal their land.”
2 Chronicles 7:14

Ultimately, I understand and agree with the idea that theology does have a role to play in the debate over foreign policy, and I believe that America should encourage and support governments that protect human rights for their people. “The Evil Empire” and the “Axis of Evil” both make for good copy and controversy, but they also send the very real and true message that these national governments were acting in a tyrannical way that prohibits religious practice, makes slaves of its citizens, and, in some countries, even restricts the number of children a mother can legally bear.

I would go further than this, though. A foreign policy that is based at least in part on morality makes sense to me — but so does a domestic policy based on morality. And I would argue that the latter is a far larger problem than the former for our nation at this point in time.

I’m not advocating in any way a joining of church and state, but I am saying that our leaders should rely heavily on moral judgment when considering these issues. The conscience of our nation doesn’t just react to whether we protect and promote the human rights of those suffering under communism in North Korea, Cuba, and China, or under the yoke of despots in Iraq and Iran. It also reacts to our internal actions — to crime, to widows and orphans, and especially to abortion and euthanasia.

There are two bumper stickers I used to have on my desk at college. One just said “Pro-Life.” The other said “Free Tibet.” I believe that both of these political statements originate from the same philosophical belief. The basic issue of recognizing and respecting the sanctity of all human life holds true in all cases, whether we are battling tyranny abroad or the culture of death fostered here at home.

“And Joshua said to all the people, “The LORD gave you a land on which you had not labored, and cities which you had not built, and you have lived in them; you are eating of vineyards and olive groves which you did not plant. Now, therefore, fear the LORD and serve Him in sincerity and truth; and put away the gods which your fathers served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the LORD. If it is disagreeable in your sight to serve the LORD, choose for yourselves today whom you will serve: whether the gods which your fathers served which were beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.”
Joshua 24

I believe King Harry was right in his argument with his fellow soldier, but wrong in his theological interpretation of responsibility. While it’s true that we stand before God as individuals when He judges the quick and the dead, this does not mean that we have no responsibilities as a nation to advocate and support moral right. It does matter whether a soldier dies on a battlefield fighting a just or unjust war, a war seeking freedom or seeking genocide. It does matter to our national conscience whether we legalize the murder that goes by the names of euthanasia and abortion. It does matter whether we decide to place our economic interests above the interests of freedom and human rights.

In the end, we must choose who we will serve, as individuals, as families, as communities — and as nations.

(Originally posted by Ben on November 26, 2002)

The die is cast in Iraq - or will be - within the coming weeks. I can’t help but feel that this has been a foregone conclusion since the Joint Resolution last October, and that those who favor unseating Saddam Hussein have successfully pushed their chosen stone to the mountaintop, where it balances even now, waiting for the flap of a bird’s wing or a soft gust of wind to send it flying down the other side.

My opposition to this effort is not borne out of doubt about our military capability. I do not think there is any way that Baghdad will fall without a significant loss of life on both sides, but I believe it will fall. I feel much like Bob Dole did when addressing the Bosnia question in the 1990s: is it a horrid situation? Yes. Does it warrant the loss of American lives? I think not. If the decision is made to act, will you support it - because this will be another example of Americans doing what Americans do, sacrificing and dying for others to try to make the world safer and more just? Yes, I will.

Yet I continue to believe that the wise choice - the justified choice - is that if we are to send Americans off to die for the freedom of others, it should be in Iran, not in Iraq.

Saddam Hussein is a beastly dictator, yes. There is no question in my mind that this is true. And there is no question in my mind that removing him from power would be met with enormous gratitude by the Iraqi people. But at the same time, I still believe that the normal evaluations of the Democratic Peace simply cannot be applied to a potentially Democratic Iraq. In the Middle East today, you have a situation where the anti-Israeli extremes are animated by a powerful motivation - and unlike in most democracies, this motivation toward conflict is shared by a substantial number of people. Substantial enough, I think, that we may regret moving the decision making power from Saddam - who, while ruthless and brutal, at least appears to be a secular, rational actor, contained as he is - and placing it in the hands of the much-debated Arab street. The strategic benefit has a high ceiling, yes - but the floor is extremely low.

My point is just this: assume that all of the nation-building ideas of the Administration are achieved in full, and in record time. Assume that once Saddam’s influence is removed, there are no enormous problems of massive corruption, of famine, of mass migration, of ethnic conflict. Assume that the infrastructure inevitably destroyed by battle can be rebuilt overnight. Assume there is no lasting military resistance holed up in an Iraqi city or underground, or no resentment from civilian populations who will doubtlessly suffer collateral damage. Assume the best of all of these things.

You are still faced with a situation where a great many of the systemic motives that prevent democracies from taking up arms against each other and their neighbors are naturally nonexistent in Iraq. And I doubt very much that they can be imported in time.

On the other hand, we have Iran. Here, I think the strategic incentive is not a matter of debate.

The Islamic Republic of Iran remains the most active state sponsor of terrorism in the world (in fact, it has been judged that by the Department of State for years, and is expected to remain the most active sponsor in 2002 in the report issued next month).

It is the mother of Islamic terrorism, providing funding, training, weapons, and safe haven to laundry list of terrorist groups, including Lebanese Hezbollah, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine-General Command. They have provided safe haven for members of Al Qaeda. And the State Department maintains that Iran is in the process of developing a full-scale nuclear program. Every intelligence estimate we see shows us that Iraq possesses an arsenal of WMDs, or at least the capability to manufacture them on short notice. But the question is not who possesses these weapons, but whether they are likely to be shared with forces of terror. In this case, I think Iran is far more likely to fuel such action.

Yet because the whole world seems focused on Iraq, the Iran consideration is only being advanced by people like Michael Ledeen - who, while I respect him, does not exactly command the political attention he deserves.

But the growing Iranian student revolution deserves our attention. In a country where nearly 70% of the people are under the age of 35, the majority of Iranians today have never known any government other than the tyranny of the mullahs. The Tarrance Group conducted a survey last year which found that 63% of Iranians believe that “fundamental change” in Iran’s system of government is needed to create freedom and economic opportunity, and 71% would support an internationally monitored referendum allowing the people of Iran to decide their system of government. The motivation to end this repressive regime, which harbors terrorists and a government which (unlike Saddam’s) has real connections with Al Qaeda, seems stronger in every way to me. The military sacrifice would probably be greater (unless Saddam uses biological weapons - certainly a strong possibility) if Iran was the target, as opposed to Iraq - but I believe the results would be more beneficial for the interests of the United States on nearly every count.

Terrorist groups cannot survive without the financial and logistical support provided by sympathetic governments. The new terror movement requires the funds, weapons, materials, and protection they need in order to carry out their deadly activities, and if we are to measure who is the greater state sponsor of terror in the Middle East, there is no question it is Iran, not Iraq.

I don’t write about these things much, because my job is known, and while Senator Cornyn has been generous in allowing me to continue blogging, I believe there is a need to avoid public conflict. In this case, though, there is no conflict I think in sharing a bit of a speech I’ve been working on recently, concerning the possibilities for the Iraqi people should the Coalition forces prevail:

We should not kid ourselves that we will see a mirror image of Jeffersonian America circa 1787. The Iraqis will build on their own historical traditions, a history that stretches all the way back to the Code of Hammurabi. And they will build on the strongest elements of their society today - their familial and tribal loyalties. This is a situation that has a great amount of risk.

Despite our relatively short history, America has one of the longest uninterrupted political traditions of any nation in the world. The late Allan Bloom once pointed out that what sets America apart is the unambiguous nature of that tradition: “It’s meaning is articulated in simple, rational speech, that is immediately comprehensible and powerfully persuasive to all normal human beings. America tells one story: the unbroken, ineluctable progress of freedom and equality.”

There are clear differences between American history and Iraqi history - enormous differences. It is fair to say that not just Iraq’s government, but the whole of Iraqi society must undergo a fundamental change if they are to become a democratic entity. Guarantees of basic human rights are the most fundamental demand of that change if we are to hope that the constitution of Iraq, like the constitution of America, will tell one story.

This is the draft. It may not end up this way. History has to play itself out, and the important people have decisions to make. I hope, for our sake, they make the right ones. I hope this can be done.

History says, don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

-Seamus Heaney

(Originally posted by Ben on March 15, 2003)