Sofa samurais
Taki
Gstaad
It seems obscene to be sunning oneself in the Alps while brave men on both sides are dying in Iraq, so I will dispense with the High life, My friend Charlie Glass rang me from Suleimanyia, in northern Iraq, where the bombing has just started. I write this on Tuesday, 25 March, Greek Independence Day. Charlie has informed me that my Iranian visa has just come through, so I hope to get there sometime next week, drive to the Kurdish border, and then into that hell-hole. Mind you, it might be all over by then.
The miracle of modern communications never ceases to amaze. Here was Charlie, 25 miles away from Mosul, and according to him it felt like an earthquake. The Americans were dropping heavy loads on Iraqi units, and Charlie's car was dancing like Fred Astaire. One thing I know for sure from the safety of Gstaad: both sides are doing an Alastair Campbell, spinning, lying, inventing, anything to keep public opinion on their side. This is a political war.
In retrospect, it was always going to be one big lie. The Iraqis were supposed to lie down after the first shot, the Shiites were supposed to throw flowers over the conquering heroes on live television, and Saddam was supposed to flee into the night and on to Libya, or somewhere similar. Well, yes, except the Shiites failed to read the neo-con script. The scenario was good for Murdoch's television network in Washington, and the fools that watch and believe it, but real life does not always play by the rules of Fox News, The Americans are hated by the southern Iraqis because they betrayed them rather badly in 1991. After encouraging them to revolt against Saddam, they failed to protect them in the massacre that followed. Then they indirectly killed close to 500,000 of their children by embargoing food and medicine. Now they expected garlands and kisses. Someone's been on LSD in the Pentagon.
If I sound angry, I am. Very angry. When I was young I was pro-war. No longer. I read that ministers of Tony Baloney are concerned about his health. Poor dear, he's weary and doesn't look so hot, He's struggling to shake off a cold. My heart bleeds. This lunch-bucket pilferer, with only a nodding acquaintance with the truth, is suddenly turning into a hero because of his lonely stand for what he believes in'. Some stand. Some hero. Having done away with crime in British
cities, having fixed the Health Service and the transport system, having lowered taxes and made education the best in Europe, he now has time to concentrate on creating an Iraqi utopia. What utter crap. This guy had no other way to go. He was elected to fix Britain and, having utterly failed to do so, he has now decided to fix Iraq. Talk about finding a way to rally the country behind him. Nasser used to do that, as did every other tin-pot dictator of the Third World.
America will win this war — can a sixfoot eight, 300-pound martial arts expert lose to a five foot, 90-pound weakling'? Only in the movies — and Blair will get his kudos, but he will be judged by history not for fighting a senseless war against a weak enemy, but for not fighting a war against violent lawlessness in Britain and for failing to improve public services. Once Baloney's spin machine ceases to spout lies and disinformation, the dumbed-down people of Britain might wake up to the fact that Mr Baloney has taken their money, poured it down a black hole, only to declare himself Baron Baloney of Baghdad. If it weren't for the dead — and the civilian count will reach the thousands before it's over I'd be laughing my head off.
The other 'funny' thing in this tragic war was the American concern last week in identifying Saddam's body through DNA. It seems they had no 'reference specimen' containing DNA to match it with the ogre's remains. The only trouble being that they missed him. Oh well, putting the cart ahead of the horse should have been this war's slogan, like Desert Storm was for the last one. I am obviously on the AngloAmerican side — just — but I've got to hand it to the Iraqi soldiers. Without any air cover whatsoever, and having the hell bombed out of them, they continue to resist. Sofa samurais like Richard Perle and Bill Kristol have never been near a shot fired in anger. They dodged the draft during Vietnam a la Bill Clinton, take to their beds whenever they hear a car back fire, yet are gung-ho enough to kill Iraqis from the safety of their living rooms in DC. Jack Straw is no better.
None of the sofa samurais who govern us and form public opinion has ever served in the armed forces. If any of them had, they wouldn't be so bloodthirsty. And furthermore they wouldn't be in power because soldiers do not lie and cheat. But unless one lies and cheats, one does not get elected nowadays. I'm off to the Bagel.
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