I had always wondered how ECM Records funded itself. Its catalog is vast, its production values are extremely high, but the commercial appeal of its artists, even in Europe, is, in the grand scheme of things, limited. Now I think I know - whenever the label needs money, they release another recording by Keith Jarrett, then sit back and watch his rabid fans gobble it up, lining the label's coffers.
I'm really starting to think that Jarrett has managed to attain that enviable position where critics and listeners alike stopped trying at anything resembling objectivity. It doesn't matter what he plays. He achieves instant holiness just by touching the keyboard.
His latest recording is Yesterdays, with his usual trio of Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette. Though released a couple of weeks ago, it was recorded back in 2001, so clearly it is from the vaults. I was initially drawn to it because it was purported to be available on LP - the first new recording ECM has issued on vinyl in fifteen years. Turned out the LP was not officially available in the US, and to get it from Europe would have cost me €30 plus trans-Atlantic shipping. But by the time I found this out, I was convinced, on no basis whatsoever, that I had to hear it. So I got a copy of the CD.
While Yesterdays is not bad per se, it is definitely not essential. Turns out Jarrett's trio has released several other trio records since my last acquisition --1999's Whisper Not. Yesterdays is just another link in a seemingly endless chain. Everything they play here they have played before. The songs are all standards - their stock in trade these days - and while everyone plays competently, and I normally love standards, it is just not that interesting. The band grooves, Peacock plays some tasteful solos, and DeJohnette tosses off some pretty wild stuff now and then without ever losing the beat, but as a whole package it doesn't make me go "wow." I suspect one of the major problems is Jarrett's infamous humming and moaning. I realize that anyone who is going to listen to him in any quantity is going to have to live with it and learn to listen through it. But on Yesterdays it seems louder and far more distracting than on any other record I've heard. I've played the disc all the way through a few times now, both through the speakers and on headphones, and it still grates in a major way.
To give credit where it is due, the last two tracks come a ways towards redeeming the record. "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" is lovingly played, with one of those floating, harmonically ambiguous extended intros that used to be Jarrett's trademark but have not been heard much since he recovered from a major illness in the 1990s. "Stella By Starlight," recorded during a sound check (the rest of the record is live), is more uptempo, but Jarrett is still a bit restrained, not only articulating extremely well (he usually does), but holding back from gratuitously long and fast passages. Download those two from a music source of your choice and forget the rest, I say.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Theodore Dalrymple
Finished Life at the Bottom by Theodore Dalrymple a few days ago. Enjoyed it, if that’s the right word. I read quickly, without taking notes, so I can’t get into too much detail, but here are a few reactions.
Dalrymple is a psychiatrist in Birmingham, where he practices in an inner-city hospital and, part-time, in a prison. The book is a collection of essays originally published in magazines, primarily City Journal, that describe his interactions with his patients and proceed to infer from these interactions certain generalizations about these people’s lives. The subtitle of the book is “The Worldview that Makes the Underclass,” and while the term “underclass” is easier on an English ear than an American one, it does capture Dalrymple’s intent better than any American equivalent could. These people are poor, but only in government’s definition (specifically, England’s essentially socialist government). As measured against history and, more importantly, against current economic conditions in much of the rest of the world, these people’s level of economic comfort, in many cases provided government programs, is far above basic. They are not, in a vast majority of cases, homeless. There is no official policy of discrimination against them the way there was in, say, the Jim Crow American South (often quite the opposite, Dalrymple argues). So perhaps “underclass” is an apt term to capture the general cultural and moral decrepitude he describes.
The book is not prescriptive. It is neither a scientific report nor a policy paper. Dalrymple merely describes his experiences, sometimes citing individual cases, other times describing his observations in the community (to his great credit, he lives among those he studies). His argument is essentially this. The vast majority of the underclass finds itself in the position it is in not through any sort of misfortune, unfairness, or circumstances beyond its control. On the contrary, its predicament is a direct result of specific moral choices. It is enabled – nay, encouraged – to believe that it is acceptable, and even desirable, to make such choices by pervasive government policy that deemphasizes individual responsibility in favor of being provided for by society as a whole in the name of fairness. This policy was, for decades, promulgated by liberal intellectuals, both in academia and politics. The net result is a moral and intellectual collapse that goes far beyond the loss of “traditional values” and permeates one’s very notion of right and wrong.
Some of Dalrymple’s claims and examples do come across as faintly ridiculous. In a chapter dedicated to tattoos, he claims that in his experience, there is a universal correlation between tattoos and criminality. He seems to recognize the silliness of his suggestion – the tone of the essay seems to say, “look, I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t help it – this is what I see in front of me every day” – but a reality check would have still been useful. I personally have an acquaintance who, while tattooed, is a hard worker, a dedicated mother and a loving wife, and another who, while far less tattooed than the first, is a promising scientist and a dedicated researcher. My sample size is smaller than Dalrymple’s, I realize, but it still shows that it pays to slow down now and then when making generalizations.
On balance, however, Dalrymple’s observations are sharp, informative, and successful precisely because while he does, to a point, blames (correctly, I believe) the members of the underclass for making the choices they make, the bulk of his blame is reserved, also correctly in my opinion, for the rotten intellectual climate among the social elite that made these choices possible in the first place.
Dalrymple is a psychiatrist in Birmingham, where he practices in an inner-city hospital and, part-time, in a prison. The book is a collection of essays originally published in magazines, primarily City Journal, that describe his interactions with his patients and proceed to infer from these interactions certain generalizations about these people’s lives. The subtitle of the book is “The Worldview that Makes the Underclass,” and while the term “underclass” is easier on an English ear than an American one, it does capture Dalrymple’s intent better than any American equivalent could. These people are poor, but only in government’s definition (specifically, England’s essentially socialist government). As measured against history and, more importantly, against current economic conditions in much of the rest of the world, these people’s level of economic comfort, in many cases provided government programs, is far above basic. They are not, in a vast majority of cases, homeless. There is no official policy of discrimination against them the way there was in, say, the Jim Crow American South (often quite the opposite, Dalrymple argues). So perhaps “underclass” is an apt term to capture the general cultural and moral decrepitude he describes.
The book is not prescriptive. It is neither a scientific report nor a policy paper. Dalrymple merely describes his experiences, sometimes citing individual cases, other times describing his observations in the community (to his great credit, he lives among those he studies). His argument is essentially this. The vast majority of the underclass finds itself in the position it is in not through any sort of misfortune, unfairness, or circumstances beyond its control. On the contrary, its predicament is a direct result of specific moral choices. It is enabled – nay, encouraged – to believe that it is acceptable, and even desirable, to make such choices by pervasive government policy that deemphasizes individual responsibility in favor of being provided for by society as a whole in the name of fairness. This policy was, for decades, promulgated by liberal intellectuals, both in academia and politics. The net result is a moral and intellectual collapse that goes far beyond the loss of “traditional values” and permeates one’s very notion of right and wrong.
Some of Dalrymple’s claims and examples do come across as faintly ridiculous. In a chapter dedicated to tattoos, he claims that in his experience, there is a universal correlation between tattoos and criminality. He seems to recognize the silliness of his suggestion – the tone of the essay seems to say, “look, I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t help it – this is what I see in front of me every day” – but a reality check would have still been useful. I personally have an acquaintance who, while tattooed, is a hard worker, a dedicated mother and a loving wife, and another who, while far less tattooed than the first, is a promising scientist and a dedicated researcher. My sample size is smaller than Dalrymple’s, I realize, but it still shows that it pays to slow down now and then when making generalizations.
On balance, however, Dalrymple’s observations are sharp, informative, and successful precisely because while he does, to a point, blames (correctly, I believe) the members of the underclass for making the choices they make, the bulk of his blame is reserved, also correctly in my opinion, for the rotten intellectual climate among the social elite that made these choices possible in the first place.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
NSO
I seem to be in permanent catch-up mode these days.
Went to hear the NSO a couple of weeks ago. Interesting program – Stravinsky's Jeu de Cartes, Crumb's A Haunted Landscape and Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto. Stravinsky was fun – great wind parts, especially bassoon, a good horn solo, and an amusing quote from Rossini's Barber of Seville towards the end. It was the Crumb that made the concert worthwhile, though. I have mostly avoided his music, largely on the basis of his reputation for an almost complete lack of structure. Landscape, though, was worth hearing, and it absolutely had to be heard live. The work is a percussionist's wet dream. Every percussion instrument was dragged out for the occasion, including ethnic instruments not normally seen in an orchestra. The structure was predictably lacking, the orchestration sparse in the extreme, and the melodic content equally minimal. The basic pattern was a sequence of short pairwise solos, with one conventional and one percussion instrument in each. It was all about sound in its pure form, and as long as you approached the work with that in mind, it was fascinating. What made hearing it live essential was the fact that we could see the percussionists reach for their next instrument. The stage was partially obscured from our usual perch in the chorister, but we saw enough to build anticipation. Had we been listening on record, the sounds would have seemed random. I don't know that I need to hear the work again – it is too fragmented to serve as ambient music, and too abrasive for repeated active listening, but experiencing it once was definitely worth it.
The second half of the concert was Lief Ove Andsnes playing Rachmaninoff. He played well, at least as far as we could tell. The main distinguishing feature of the work, to me, is the fact that the soloist and the orchestra are almost always playing together, the way they might in a Baroque concerto, as opposed to alternating solo and tutti sections common to Romantic concertos. This is interesting. Unique at the time it was written, in fact. The problem was that from where we were sitting, we could barely hear the piano most of the time, so much of the solo part was lost to us. Still, I had to give it to Rachmaninoff for some gorgeous string parts, which sounded fresh since I haven't heard the concerto in years, even though I have an LP of Horowitz playing it. I wish I had pulled it out – had I been reminded of the mass of sound that it is most of the time, I might have splurged for orchestra seats.
Went to hear the NSO a couple of weeks ago. Interesting program – Stravinsky's Jeu de Cartes, Crumb's A Haunted Landscape and Rachmaninoff's Third Piano Concerto. Stravinsky was fun – great wind parts, especially bassoon, a good horn solo, and an amusing quote from Rossini's Barber of Seville towards the end. It was the Crumb that made the concert worthwhile, though. I have mostly avoided his music, largely on the basis of his reputation for an almost complete lack of structure. Landscape, though, was worth hearing, and it absolutely had to be heard live. The work is a percussionist's wet dream. Every percussion instrument was dragged out for the occasion, including ethnic instruments not normally seen in an orchestra. The structure was predictably lacking, the orchestration sparse in the extreme, and the melodic content equally minimal. The basic pattern was a sequence of short pairwise solos, with one conventional and one percussion instrument in each. It was all about sound in its pure form, and as long as you approached the work with that in mind, it was fascinating. What made hearing it live essential was the fact that we could see the percussionists reach for their next instrument. The stage was partially obscured from our usual perch in the chorister, but we saw enough to build anticipation. Had we been listening on record, the sounds would have seemed random. I don't know that I need to hear the work again – it is too fragmented to serve as ambient music, and too abrasive for repeated active listening, but experiencing it once was definitely worth it.
The second half of the concert was Lief Ove Andsnes playing Rachmaninoff. He played well, at least as far as we could tell. The main distinguishing feature of the work, to me, is the fact that the soloist and the orchestra are almost always playing together, the way they might in a Baroque concerto, as opposed to alternating solo and tutti sections common to Romantic concertos. This is interesting. Unique at the time it was written, in fact. The problem was that from where we were sitting, we could barely hear the piano most of the time, so much of the solo part was lost to us. Still, I had to give it to Rachmaninoff for some gorgeous string parts, which sounded fresh since I haven't heard the concerto in years, even though I have an LP of Horowitz playing it. I wish I had pulled it out – had I been reminded of the mass of sound that it is most of the time, I might have splurged for orchestra seats.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Miscellaneous Beers
Some tasting notes from beers I’ve tried over the last couple of months, but haven’t had a chance to write up until now.
Flying Dog Kerberos Triple
Appearance: Almost orange color. Murky, but noticeably clearer than my reference American Triple – Victory Golden Monkey. No head to speak of.
Nose: Fresh, grassy, slightly metallic. A little caramel in there somewhere.
Palate: Subtle. A little sweetness, but not clying. A touch of hops is noticeable – slightly more than Golden Monkey, especially on the finish.
Comments: The understated Triple. My initial reaction was to be disappointed, but it grew on me. Not very memorable, but pleasant while you’re drinking it.
Flying Dog Dogtoberfest
Appearance: Gorgeous reddish amber color. No head – completely flat.
Nose: Flowers. Slightly sweet. A touch of strawberry? No yeasty smell at all.
Palate: Smooth, slightly metallic mouthfeel. Good balance. Hoppier than classic German Oktoberfests. Long finish.
Comments: Delicious. I could drink way too much of this stuff.
Gouden Carolus Chrismtas Ale 2008
Appearance: Mahogany, very dark amber. Light head with a few medium-sized bubbles.
Nose: Molasses with a bit of smoke. (Mesquite? Maybe it’s all those years in Arizona talking).
Palate: Creamy but not syrupy. Tootsie Roll. Sweet. Can definitely taste the alcohol (ABV is 10%). Vanilla? Complex, deep flavor.
Comments: Definitely a once a year indulgence. Screams for a fireplace.
Weihenstephan Dark Hefeweisen
Appearance: Murky medium brown. Huge foamy head.
Nose: Yeast, unbaked bread, just a touch of barnyardy funk.
Palate: Smooth. Medium weight. A bit dense. Tastes like the wheat beer that it is. Tangier than a regular hefeweisen. A touch of brown sugar?
Comments: Tasty, but not as refreshing as a real hefeweisen.
Flying Dog Kerberos Triple
Appearance: Almost orange color. Murky, but noticeably clearer than my reference American Triple – Victory Golden Monkey. No head to speak of.
Nose: Fresh, grassy, slightly metallic. A little caramel in there somewhere.
Palate: Subtle. A little sweetness, but not clying. A touch of hops is noticeable – slightly more than Golden Monkey, especially on the finish.
Comments: The understated Triple. My initial reaction was to be disappointed, but it grew on me. Not very memorable, but pleasant while you’re drinking it.
Flying Dog Dogtoberfest
Appearance: Gorgeous reddish amber color. No head – completely flat.
Nose: Flowers. Slightly sweet. A touch of strawberry? No yeasty smell at all.
Palate: Smooth, slightly metallic mouthfeel. Good balance. Hoppier than classic German Oktoberfests. Long finish.
Comments: Delicious. I could drink way too much of this stuff.
Gouden Carolus Chrismtas Ale 2008
Appearance: Mahogany, very dark amber. Light head with a few medium-sized bubbles.
Nose: Molasses with a bit of smoke. (Mesquite? Maybe it’s all those years in Arizona talking).
Palate: Creamy but not syrupy. Tootsie Roll. Sweet. Can definitely taste the alcohol (ABV is 10%). Vanilla? Complex, deep flavor.
Comments: Definitely a once a year indulgence. Screams for a fireplace.
Weihenstephan Dark Hefeweisen
Appearance: Murky medium brown. Huge foamy head.
Nose: Yeast, unbaked bread, just a touch of barnyardy funk.
Palate: Smooth. Medium weight. A bit dense. Tastes like the wheat beer that it is. Tangier than a regular hefeweisen. A touch of brown sugar?
Comments: Tasty, but not as refreshing as a real hefeweisen.
Stefan Fatsis
Finished Word Freak: Heatbreak, Triumph, Genius and Obsession in the World of Competitve Scrabble Players by Stefan Fatsis the other day. Excellent, for the most part. Fatsis explores a world most of us are not even aware exists – professional Scrabble. And what a world it is.
Fatsis, who is ordinarily a reporter for the Wall Street Journal, had always been a decent Scrabble player, but had no idea it could be played competitively, until he happened upon some players in Washington Square Park in Manhattan. He started playing more frequently and meeting more and more advanced players, observing them, interviewing them, and researching the history of the game. What made the book possible, however, was that Fatsis got completely obsessed with the game and became one of “them.” He took a leave of absence from his WSJ job and started studying and practicing in earnest and playing tournaments, eventually winning two and reaching a rating of 1733 (out of a possible 2000).
Along the way, Fatsis introduces us to the most colorful characters in competitive Srabble, some of whom he gets to know pretty intimately, and colorful they are. Their extreme eccentricity is not surprising. Any game, especially one that requires the mental pyrotechnics, memory and pattern recognition skills of Scrabble, attracts the extremely dedicated, the obsessed, and the just plain weird at its highest level. Fatsis portrays them well – charitably but fairly. He also expounds on the origins of the game, its inventor Alfred Butts, and the issues raised by Scrabble’s unique position as the only commercial, trademarked game that has a thriving international competitive scene surrounding it.
A large part of the book, however, is dedicated simply to words. Words in their infinite variety, their acceptability (or not) in the game, the various dictionaries and lists that have been used to play the game over the decades, and the differences between US and non-US Scrabble dictionaries (and the fact that the World Championship uses a combination of both). Fatsis spends many pages (too many, some might say), describing the overwhelming numbers of words and letter combinations one must memorize and be able to recognize in a mess of Scrabble tiles to play well, the methods top players use to study them, and their superhuman skills at anagramming. For me, one of the more interesting, and somewhat sad, conclusions that emerges is that being good at Scrabble has little to do with being good at English. If you have any ambition at all to become competitive, you will never have time to learn the definitions of the words you’re studying. You memorize strings of letters and learn to recognize patterns. Hundreds of thousands of them. The official dictionary used in US tournaments – the Official Word List (OWL) – contains no definitions. Many of the world’s top players have minimal command of spoken English.
If I have any complaints about the book at all, it is the fact that Fatsis recounts too many individual games in too much detail. He is obviously really into Scrabble, and is clearly fascinated by every single game. He also brings his experience as a sports writer to bear and does a convincing job of depicting a game of Scrabble the way someone might do with an exciting basketball match or a close car race. But after a while, it got a bit too much for my taste. I do play Scrabble recreationally (and very poorly – I enjoy learning the meanings, etymology and use of new words way too much to learn very many actual words), but after a while all the game descriptions started to sound the same. On balance, however, the book is thoroughly enjoyable, and with just a bit more editing, could have become a non-fiction classic.
Fatsis, who is ordinarily a reporter for the Wall Street Journal, had always been a decent Scrabble player, but had no idea it could be played competitively, until he happened upon some players in Washington Square Park in Manhattan. He started playing more frequently and meeting more and more advanced players, observing them, interviewing them, and researching the history of the game. What made the book possible, however, was that Fatsis got completely obsessed with the game and became one of “them.” He took a leave of absence from his WSJ job and started studying and practicing in earnest and playing tournaments, eventually winning two and reaching a rating of 1733 (out of a possible 2000).
Along the way, Fatsis introduces us to the most colorful characters in competitive Srabble, some of whom he gets to know pretty intimately, and colorful they are. Their extreme eccentricity is not surprising. Any game, especially one that requires the mental pyrotechnics, memory and pattern recognition skills of Scrabble, attracts the extremely dedicated, the obsessed, and the just plain weird at its highest level. Fatsis portrays them well – charitably but fairly. He also expounds on the origins of the game, its inventor Alfred Butts, and the issues raised by Scrabble’s unique position as the only commercial, trademarked game that has a thriving international competitive scene surrounding it.
A large part of the book, however, is dedicated simply to words. Words in their infinite variety, their acceptability (or not) in the game, the various dictionaries and lists that have been used to play the game over the decades, and the differences between US and non-US Scrabble dictionaries (and the fact that the World Championship uses a combination of both). Fatsis spends many pages (too many, some might say), describing the overwhelming numbers of words and letter combinations one must memorize and be able to recognize in a mess of Scrabble tiles to play well, the methods top players use to study them, and their superhuman skills at anagramming. For me, one of the more interesting, and somewhat sad, conclusions that emerges is that being good at Scrabble has little to do with being good at English. If you have any ambition at all to become competitive, you will never have time to learn the definitions of the words you’re studying. You memorize strings of letters and learn to recognize patterns. Hundreds of thousands of them. The official dictionary used in US tournaments – the Official Word List (OWL) – contains no definitions. Many of the world’s top players have minimal command of spoken English.
If I have any complaints about the book at all, it is the fact that Fatsis recounts too many individual games in too much detail. He is obviously really into Scrabble, and is clearly fascinated by every single game. He also brings his experience as a sports writer to bear and does a convincing job of depicting a game of Scrabble the way someone might do with an exciting basketball match or a close car race. But after a while, it got a bit too much for my taste. I do play Scrabble recreationally (and very poorly – I enjoy learning the meanings, etymology and use of new words way too much to learn very many actual words), but after a while all the game descriptions started to sound the same. On balance, however, the book is thoroughly enjoyable, and with just a bit more editing, could have become a non-fiction classic.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Iceland
This is the scary part of the economic crisis. When Eastern Europeans demonstrate and topple their governments, no one bats an eyelash. When our own unemployment rate edges towards ten percent, that's hardly unprecedented. But police in Iceland -- ICELAND, for crying out loud -- tear-gassing protesters?
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Gaza, Slight Return
A reader has recently left an extensive comment on my recent post on the situation in Gaza (as it was at the time of the post). While much of what he said really went well beyond the very limited scope of the original post, I only have myself to blame for having opened that can of worms in the first place, so I feel obligated to respond. Since a proper response would have been too long and unwieldy to leave as another comment, I am doing it in this post instead.
Before I get to the individual points, however, I think it would be useful to remind ourselves of two facts. One is simply that Israel exists. The other is that although Gaza and the West Bank were acquired by force, Israel itself was not. Its founding was certainly enabled by the European colonial powers, but in physical terms, it was largely bought, one plot of land at a time, from local Arabs. With those facts as a backdrop, I will consider my commentator's points one by one.
While I could (and should) challenge some of the terminology, that is not my intent, neither here nor in the original post. Fact is, I agree with this... mostly. If there are any good guys here, it is the ordinary Palestinians trying to live some semblance of a normal life under adverse conditions. Given that Hamas's embrace of reason and reality is not forthcoming, it is they, and only they, who have any chance of changing the situation by taking matters into their own hands. That is really all that I was trying to argue in the original post. Nothing more. I certainly did not set out to propose a comprehensive Middle East policy.
It's simple, really – Israel's tactical aim is to stop the rocket fire, but the strategic one is to topple Hamas. I think we all know this. I personally think that aim is reasonable as long as Hamas refuses to recognize Israel's right to exist. Changing that is fundamental, and a prerequisite to anything else. I know many will disagree, and that's their right, but I really do believe that with respect to Gaza specifically (not the entire Palestinian problem), Hamas must either recognize Israel's right to exist or be eliminated. Both Israel and the West have failed to achieve the former either by negotiation or by isolation; the next step is war. This really opens up a huge topic that I am not prepared to get into here. Suffice it to say that if Hamas provided de facto recognition by stopping 100% of the rocket fire, stopping 100% of the weapons smuggling from Egypt, etc., Israeli tanks would not be rolling into Gaza. Yes, I know that had Israel not conquered Gaza and the West Bank in 1967 in the first place, we would not be where we are right now, but like I said – a whole separate discussion. The facts on the ground are what they are, and both sides need to deal with them as they are.
The Palestinians' decision to elect Hamas, however democratically, was, in my opinion, a grave mistake. I understand why they did so, and can sympathize. But short term gains in basic necessities have carried with them the cost of a long-term threat to their lives. Note that I am not exonerating Israel of anything by making that statement – I am merely pointing out the predicament in which the Palestinians placed themselves. I suppose I am expecting an unreasonable level of political sophistication from an ordinary Palestinian by expecting him to reason as I do. Perhaps.
Yes, of course it would be better if Israel offered all of these things. But the fact is, that is not about to happen, and hoping for it to happen in the short term is naïve in the extreme.
As to the New Republic, I have never read it, so cannot comment.
This seems to equate “Hamas” with “Palestinians” -- an equivalence I am not willing to endorse. I am, in fact, saying to Hamas, give up and recognize Israel, or be eliminated. There is no third permanent solution. What I am saying to the ordinary Palestinian, however, is exactly the opposite – you need to worry more, because no one else will do it for you, not the people you elected, nor their adversaries.
The American Indian analogy still does not make sense to me. As to the last sentence – I am not going to take that bait. Sorry.
Before I get to the individual points, however, I think it would be useful to remind ourselves of two facts. One is simply that Israel exists. The other is that although Gaza and the West Bank were acquired by force, Israel itself was not. Its founding was certainly enabled by the European colonial powers, but in physical terms, it was largely bought, one plot of land at a time, from local Arabs. With those facts as a backdrop, I will consider my commentator's points one by one.
Saying the goal is to "stop the rocket fire" is a very one sided way to look at it. One side fires rockets, and that upsets the other side. The other side, meanwhile, practices its own brand of genocide and terrorism, and that upsets uh... I lost track. There aren't any good guys here.
While I could (and should) challenge some of the terminology, that is not my intent, neither here nor in the original post. Fact is, I agree with this... mostly. If there are any good guys here, it is the ordinary Palestinians trying to live some semblance of a normal life under adverse conditions. Given that Hamas's embrace of reason and reality is not forthcoming, it is they, and only they, who have any chance of changing the situation by taking matters into their own hands. That is really all that I was trying to argue in the original post. Nothing more. I certainly did not set out to propose a comprehensive Middle East policy.
Israel tried this: unilateral withdrawl, but hey we'll keep up the siege, not allow you to leave, and make sure you can't feed or medicate your kids. Hamas responded with what, 98% less rocket fire? Who is being unreasonable here?
It's simple, really – Israel's tactical aim is to stop the rocket fire, but the strategic one is to topple Hamas. I think we all know this. I personally think that aim is reasonable as long as Hamas refuses to recognize Israel's right to exist. Changing that is fundamental, and a prerequisite to anything else. I know many will disagree, and that's their right, but I really do believe that with respect to Gaza specifically (not the entire Palestinian problem), Hamas must either recognize Israel's right to exist or be eliminated. Both Israel and the West have failed to achieve the former either by negotiation or by isolation; the next step is war. This really opens up a huge topic that I am not prepared to get into here. Suffice it to say that if Hamas provided de facto recognition by stopping 100% of the rocket fire, stopping 100% of the weapons smuggling from Egypt, etc., Israeli tanks would not be rolling into Gaza. Yes, I know that had Israel not conquered Gaza and the West Bank in 1967 in the first place, we would not be where we are right now, but like I said – a whole separate discussion. The facts on the ground are what they are, and both sides need to deal with them as they are.
What if Israel offered a real peace solution, like: we'll make you a proper country; you have the right of return; you can leave; you can import food and medicine and we won't even look at it; you can have a real government and we will stop pretending that you aren't legit even if you were democratically elected? Then if Gaza still started firing rockets, I might join in with our friends at the New Republic and say kill 'em all. (disclaimer: I haven't read the trash at the new republic since Michael Kinsley left so maybe its all peace and love over there now...)
The Palestinians' decision to elect Hamas, however democratically, was, in my opinion, a grave mistake. I understand why they did so, and can sympathize. But short term gains in basic necessities have carried with them the cost of a long-term threat to their lives. Note that I am not exonerating Israel of anything by making that statement – I am merely pointing out the predicament in which the Palestinians placed themselves. I suppose I am expecting an unreasonable level of political sophistication from an ordinary Palestinian by expecting him to reason as I do. Perhaps.
Yes, of course it would be better if Israel offered all of these things. But the fact is, that is not about to happen, and hoping for it to happen in the short term is naïve in the extreme.
As to the New Republic, I have never read it, so cannot comment.
What you are saying to Hamas is this: give up, its hopeless, the Israels are much more powerful than you, don't worry so much, and just keep moving west. The problem is that eventually there's an ocean out there, and the Israelis will be perfect happy to drive the Palestinians into it.
This seems to equate “Hamas” with “Palestinians” -- an equivalence I am not willing to endorse. I am, in fact, saying to Hamas, give up and recognize Israel, or be eliminated. There is no third permanent solution. What I am saying to the ordinary Palestinian, however, is exactly the opposite – you need to worry more, because no one else will do it for you, not the people you elected, nor their adversaries.
Its very much like if we took all of the native americans and pushed them into tiny reservations, and then surrounded those reservations and said: you can't leave here, and btw you can't import enough food or medicine either. "Suck. On. That." Or "Don't Fuck With the Jews", or whatever is fashionable in the "mainstream" Amero-Israeli press world these days.
The American Indian analogy still does not make sense to me. As to the last sentence – I am not going to take that bait. Sorry.
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