How I learned to stop worrying and
love chaos By Spengler
It is instructive how the bully boys of US
punditry whine and cringe before the specter of
chaos. In the current Atlantic Monthly, Robert D
Kaplan, who 12 years ago wrote of The Coming
Anarchy, now offers a panegyric to a US Army
brigade in Mosul titled "The coming normalcy?" -
better-armored vehicles, intelligence delivery and
"drinking a lot of chai" with the locals.
The classics scholar and military hobbyist Victor
Davis Hanson denounces conservative critics of the
Bush administration, insisting that the United
States is "close to victory abroad, closer
to
concession at home". At The Belmont
Club, Wretchard pleads, "Iraq is simply
where the West must come to grips with The
Coming Anarchy because it cannot step around
it."
All of them are deep in denial, or,
as the case may be, deep in the Tigris. Like or
not, the US will get chaos, and cannot do anything
to forestall it. My advice to President George W
Bush: When chaos is inevitable, learn to enjoy it.
Take a weekend at Camp David with a case of Jack
Daniels and Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest
(Red harvest in
Iraq, January 27, 2004).
A
tragedy is unfolding whose final curtain never
comes down. Washington must prevent Iran from
acquiring nuclear weapons, because the Ahmadinejad
regime wants an oil empire stretching from the
southeast shore of the Caspian Sea to the
southwest shore of the Persian Gulf (Why the West will attack
Iran, January 24). Reza Pahlavi, son of
the late shah, warned of Iran's imperial
intentions in a Fox News interview on Saturday.
President Mahmud Ahmadinejad cannot abandon Iran's
nuclear ambitions any more than Adolf Hitler could
have kept the peace with Poland in 1939 and remain
in power.
Aerial attacks on Iran's nuclear
capabilities - Washington's only effective option
- will set into play Iranian assets in Iraq,
Lebanon and elsewhere, precipitating a regional
war (War with Iran on the worst
terms, February 14).
America's
triumph after World War II and the Cold War made
pessimism unfashionable, although the outcome is
less cheery than advertised. The US may be a light
unto the nations, but it is not a cookbook.
Americans forget that their country was founded in
despair. The Pilgrim Fathers' decampment to a new
and unknown world (where half their number
perished in the first winter) expressed not only
optimism regarding Divine Providence, but
pessimism about Europe.
Prince Maurice of
Orange had arranged the judicial murder of the
republican leader Johan van Oldenbarneveldt in
1619. Protestant forces had lost the first battles
of the Thirty Years' War (1618-48), and Catholic
Spain was poised to invade Protestant Holland; the
Pilgrim leader William Bradford wrote, "The
Spaniard might prove as cruel as the savages of
America." As it turned out, the next three decades
saw the death of nearly half the population of
Central Europe.
Unlike my namesake, I am
not pessimistic about civilizations in general. I
am pessimistic about some and optimistic about
others. At it turned out, Pilgrim pessimism about
old Europe was well warranted. The United States
of America became the world's only superpower not
by plan, but by default. Like the Gingham Dog and
the Calico Cat, the other powers consumed each
other. A touch of pessimism about the Middle East
is required as an antidote to the delusional
behavior of the present administration.
What compulsion requires the US to wage
"holistic and ideological wars of the past", in
Hanson's words, "such as those waged against
Italians, Germans, Japanese, Koreans, and
Vietnamese, where we not only sought to defeat
entire belief systems, but to stay on and craft a
stable government in the hopes of stamping out
fascism, Nazism, militarism, or communism"? One
can suppress the putrefactive power of chaos, but
it will reassert itself. A fifth to a half of the
constituent nations of the former Soviet Union and
Warsaw Pact will die out by mid-century, about as
many as would have died in all-out nuclear war.
Part of America's impulse is Christian.
"The West cannot endure without faith that a
loving Father dwells beyond the clouds that
obscure his throne. Horror - the perception that
cruelty has no purpose and no end - is lethal to
the West," I wrote in Horror and humiliation in Fallujah
(April 27, 2004). By contrast, "The Islamic
world cannot endure without confidence in victory,
that to 'come to prayer' is the same thing as to
;come to success'. Humiliation - the perception
that the ummah cannot reward those who
submit to it - is beyond its capacity to endure."
The Western god of agape and chesed does not castigate
without reason; the Muslim god of sovereignty and
power does not withhold reward for service
performed without reason.
Christianity, though, calls
the individual out of his nation, into a new
people of God that knows no nationality, for God
counts the nations "as a drop of a bucket, and the
small dust of the balance".
Americans evince a generosity of
spirit elsewhere unknown, as anyone will discover
who travels to the shantytowns of Africa or Latin
America. Christian charities funded by
middle-class Americans offer help to the truly
desperate, whom wealthy locals despise as beasts
of burden. President Bush's adventure in
nation-building, I have maintained throughout,
stems from the same Christian impulses that bring
Americans to tend AIDS victims in Soweto (George W Bush, tragic
character, November 25, 2003).
But the
US is in large measure responsible for the chaos
that overstretches the world from the
Mediterranean Sea to the Indian Ocean. Trade,
information and entrepreneurship have turned the
breakdown of traditional society in the Islamic
world into a lapsed-time version of the Western
experience. The West required the hideous
religious wars of the 16th and 17th centuries, the
Napoleonic Wars of the 18th, the American Civil
War, and the two World Wars of the 20th century to
make its adjustment. To export a prefabricated
democracy to a part of the world whose culture and
religion are far less amenable in the first place
is an act of narcissistic idiocy.
As a
policy, what does the pursuit of chaos entail? In
essence, it means going back to the
instrumentalities of the Cold War: containment,
subversion, proxy wars, military intervention
where required, and a clear distinction between
enemies and friends. Given the absence of a
competing superpower - Russia's diplomatic
embarrassment in the Iranian matter being proof of
the matter - it is a far easier policy to pursue.
It does not necessarily mean "realism" in
the sense of the Kissinger era of diplomacy of the
administration of president George H W Bush,
namely preserving the status quo. When the
administration of president Ronald Reagan set out
to bring down the Soviet Empire, it did not
inquire as to the consequences for Russian or
Ukrainian; its object was to reduce a threat to
the United States.
The first principle is
to reward friends and punish enemies. I hold no
brief for the Kurds as a people, recalling that
their corner of eastern Turkey once was called
Western Armenia. But the Kurds actively seek US
patronage and should be accorded it. Turkey is
ambivalent about its long-standing alliance with
the United States, and Iran needs to be shown that
it will not be permitted to develop nuclear
weapons, nor interfere with its neighbors'
affairs.
Americans do not wish to shed
their citizens' blood for the purpose of
nation-building in countries they do not much care
about. The best solution would be to adopt the
French model, in the form of a Foreign Legion
based offshore. The world still is full of
first-rate soldiers with a Russian or South
African pedigree who are not suited to civilian
life. By extension, Washington might issue Letters
of Marque to private entities to deal with enemies
at arm's length.
The US has the wrong sort
of military to engage the enemies it currently
confronts, for it has the wrong sort of population
whence to recruit soldiers. A hundred years ago
just 3,000 British officers controlled the whole
of the Indian subcontinent, but most of them
commanded local troops in their own language. US
Special Forces, as I observed in reviewing Robert
Kaplan's book Imperial Grunts (Do you call that an empire?
October 4, 2005), display nonpareil technical
skill and valor in the field, but unlike the
officer corps of the Indian Army, did not cut
their teeth on Greek and Latin at school. Of the
old British public-school curriculum, the United
States has taken only one element, namely the
emphasis on games, and ignored the depth of
intellectual training that produced a T E
Lawrence.
The Israeli army can relegate
skilled Arabic translators among its reservists to
routine guard duty because Arabic is compulsory
for Israeli secondary-school students. Americans
lack the cultural depth to manage the welter of
ethnicities and sects of the Middle East. At best
they can stand back and attempt to contain the
damage.
Even at university level, the
defeatist left dominates regional studies (Why America is losing the
intelligence war, November 11, 2003). The
cultural lacuna that cripples US arms cannot be
filled quickly. As a long-term solution, the US
might establish a National Intelligence Academy in
parallel to West Point, Annapolis and Colorado
Springs, and train the sort of intelligence
officers it requires from the outset.
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