All change
Taki
New York Election nights in the Bagel were always spent at 73 East 73rd Street, in Bill and Pat Buckley’s house, more often than not described as palatial by eager-to-please gossip columnists. In reality it was a fine New York maisonette, better suited for entertainment rather than cosy living, the latter reserved for their tiny and warm Connecticut house. Alas, both Bill and Pat are now gone, so I had to fend for myself, liberal and politically minded New Yorkers not eager to entertain someone who found Palin sexy and appreciated McCain’s service to his country. Actually, it felt strange on election night not to be rubbing elbows with the likes of Norman Podhoretz — watching him squirm at my presence, rather — or listening to the delightfully accented English of Henry Kissinger. But rubbing elbows was fun these past 40 years chez Bill and Pat. People like Tom and Sheila Wolfe, Tom always in his white suit, always impeccably polite with his southern manners, Jay Nordlinger, his expertise of classical music and culture matched only by his friendliness and lack of pomposity, and my old proprietor Conrad Black, a fountain of knowledge about elections past, so much so, in fact, that I once accused him of having read up on them the night before. (He had not.) In 1968 we watched as Richard Nixon’s southern strategy won him the White House, and in 1980 Reagan’s landslide had us cheering early on. Then came 1988, and the good Bush victory over a Greek, to be followed by the two draft-dodger victories which gave me an excuse to drown my sorrows in public and rather messily. In 2004, having founded the American Conservative, I was asked by Dr K which candidate I had backed. My choice was an obscure professor, who headed an even more obscure party, whose name I had momentarily forgotten. ‘You mean you don’t even know his name?’ said Professor Hank, for once looking very surprised. This year I had a Catholic priest, Father Ramsey, my good friend Willy von Raab, and a few friends around. It was a sombre party and it got more sombre as the night wore on. Going to a friend’s election-night party later on I watched as Noo Yawkers came out in droves, cheering and blasting their horns. They all seemed synchronised and united, and all I can say is I hope they enjoy it while they can. The honeymoon will last — the media are for Obama and the media rule American public opinion — but the gargantuan messes that Bush and his neocon cronies got us into will be around for a very long time. I only hope that those of us who think Obama is an empty suit and an unreconstructed leftist will be proved wrong. But even on the upper east side of Manhattan, Third World nationalities were out in force hooting it up. I was under the weather so I didn’t bother to ask how many of them were over here legally. Black Americans, in the meantime, were celebrating in Harlem and downtown, but where I live it was mostly Hispanics who were tripping the light fantastic. I found that very strange.
Almost as strange as Obama’s selection of Rahm Emanuel to be his chief of staff. Emanuel is known as a foul-mouthed ruffian with sharp elbows who volunteered for the Israeli army during the first Gulf war, and whose father has been linked to a once-militant Jewish nationalist group. His brother is known as one of the most abrasive agents in Hollywood, a rather impressive accomplishment in a place known for the brashness of its denizens. But my problem with this appointment is neither his father nor his sibling. It’s the conflict of loyalty. Dual loyalty in very high and sensitive places is a no-no, and Obama is showing great naivety in this particular appointment.
And speaking of Israel, Einstein’s definition of a madman is somebody who keeps doing the same thing over and over while hoping for different results. Despite repeated pledges to dismantle illegal settlements, the Israeli government is still abetting them. And this is an Olmert government supposedly sympathetic to the Palestinian plight. If the crazed Zionist Netanyahu wins next spring, kiss the West Bank goodbye. Militant settlers have recently announced that any removal by the government of illegal settlements will be matched by the removal by dynamite of Palestinian houses in the vicinity. In other words, what an Israeli government does to me I will do to the Palestinians.
When I was in Gstaad last, I dined with a Palestinian teacher who had been invited by a friend for a fund raiser. Having lived in Arab lands, I am familiar with Arab hyperbole and imagination. What struck me was the lack of exaggeration on his part. The daily humiliation of going to work, the horrors he faces each day as the water and electricity is cut off, the boys he has lost to the call of the militants has taken its toll. He reminded me of some faces I had seen in Hue two years after the 1968 communist takeover. There was no anger there, just sadness. I wish the 44th President all the luck in the world, but naming Emanuel chief of staff is not change, it’s pure and simple ‘plus ça change... ’ ❑
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