[Replay of a Replay] Remembering: Kneeling At The Corner Of Church And Liberty

9.11.09: I forgot that on this date last year both Barack Obama and John McCain visited Ground Zero together. Interesting. I wonder if they will be at Ground Zero today commemorating the 8th anniversary of the date's tragic events. Regardless, I post what I wrote both last year on this day in history and what I wrote a few years before. Peace. BG

_____________________

[It is another cloudless morning here in New England, just like the morning seven years ago. Back then, two planes were already in the morning sky; observers on the ground might have seen them from Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont or New York. There would be a different flight plan that day.

Today, 9/11/08, both John McCain and Barack Obama will visit Ground Zero. In honor of that visit, and in honor of that infamous and painful day, I repost a reflection I wrote several years after 9/11/01. Tomorrow, I will offer another reflection, I think, if I feel so moved.]

Yesterday morning, Friday, July 1, I walked west on Liberty Street and came to a slow stop. It was my first time to visit the World Trade Center since it became Ground Zero. I could see the wide-open 16-acre crater left in downtown Manhattan. But it was not the view that stopped me, but something much smaller. For there, in the southeast corner of Ground Zero, stood a street sign that, for me, was full of symbolic irony. I was at the corner of Church and Liberty.

I noted the irony, perhaps with bitterness touching my heart. And then I walked into the open space, tears filling my eyes, sobs erupting from deep within.

I had not expected this. I had not expected to want to fall to my knees, to wail on the ground, to daven before a new sort of Wailing Wall. I had not expected to feel that I could never leave this place; that I could never go back to something simple, safe, tidy, even naive. I had not expected to want to keep this hole in my heart; this hole from which people leapt and fell through tumult and smoke and confusion.

There was no surprise, however, at the enormity. I had always understood that; had felt it; had known its significance. I always understood the mechanics and the engineering; the aerodynamics and the flight paths. I had already stood on the ledge of a broken window; I had fallen. I had huddled with my child in the back of a plane; felt the pressure change in my ears and the turbulence of a bad pilot; I had seen the sparkling Hudson and the September blue; the smoke ahead; and I had felt the tipping of the wings as the engines were throttled full. I had waited for death to come in 3,000 different ways; and yet my imagination remained intact enough to remind me that I had not died even once.

What I had not expected were the tears. I thought that I had passed through that. I thought that I was, if not insouciant, so to speak, I was at least through with all the grief. But I was not. And clearly neither were many of the others walking by me, slowly, each pausing at various signs, reading them, performing a sort of Stations of the Cross along a postmodern Via Dolorosa. An old man, huddled against the massive, imposing fence, his long white hair and flowing beard tangled around his weary face, played an old silver flute, its dulcet tones reaching out and up, Amazing Grace trembling in my ears. He was crying in each breath.

I became quietly indignant (I was too humbled to be truly self-righteous) at those tourists from "far-away" who posed for digital cameras. And I was miffed, though only mildly, by the hawker silently moving through the crowd with a photo album, 9/11 pictures for sale, though numerous postings declared that such sacrilege was strictly forbidden. But I could forgive all this, for grief and horror do strange things to people. The abundance of cameras reminded me of a funeral I went to last spring, where the family of the 39-year-old father killed in a tragic accident gathered at the funeral parlor before the burial so that portraits could be taken around the open casket. My friend, the owner of the parlor, told me that it "happens all the time." Grief does strange things indeed.

I strolled north, stopping frequently. A young woman next to me, her back to the scene as she waited to cross Church - heading toward the Millenium Hilton - blurted into her cell phone, "I am going to get SO f***ed up tonight!" I moved away from her and closer to the fence, admitting to myself, a little sadly perhaps, that the world is indeed a very diverse place. The brown-haired woman to my right stared in disbelief westward, her lips trembling, tears on her cheeks. She wasn't thinking about getting "f***ed up." She was grieving for those who no longer could.

But there was one thing that was physically surprising to me, and beyond the scope of my imagination. It was that, with all the buildings surrounding the site, with the highest to the north, east and south, it was if I was INSIDE something, like a temple, cathedral or sanctuary. What happened on September 11 in New York was literally IN New York; with walls echoing sounds like the Whispering Gallery in St. Paul's Cathedral. I could see the Twin Towers, their heads poking through the ceiling of New York, and I could hear sounds. Sounds unbearable.

Later, I spoke with a woman who witnessed nearly everything on September 11. She told me that she was in the shower of her 23rd floor apartment on Liberty (the southwest corner) when the first plane smashed into the North Tower. She confessed that that she didn't realize what was happening until she was drying herself off. She said she heard a roar of jet engines overhead (the second plane), and then, echoing throughout her house, the sound of thousands of people screaming. (I think I can hear that sound right now.) And I know it was one of the sounds I could still hear trembling in the faint murmurs of the buildings surrounding Ground Zero. The walls do speak. And they speak sorrowfully. (The woman, a Manhattan lawyer I fortuitously met on the train home, told me that she was never able to return to her apartment after closing the door to it just before the towers fell. It was essentially uninhabitable, at least for her. And she told me her entire harrowing story: the dust-cloud filled with glass particles; the people screaming and pressing in the dark, the leaping into a boat on the Hudson, a thrown puppy, the vomiting, the uncertainty about more attacks, and so much more.)

But at the end of my too-short visit to Ground Zero, I could not shake from my mind the street sign, Church and Liberty. For Osama bin Laden attacked America - at least according to his own fatwa - because of its "Christian" infidelity (and its support and alliance with infidel Jews) and the liberty both synagogue and church provide. And it was America's liberties, our very freedoms, he turned against each of us: our freedom of travel, our easy borders, our freedom to build, and work in, tall buildings; our freedom to believe in God and liberty, or not. This is our vacant lot: that our virtues were turned against us by a man and men too impotent to build a nation, too weak to fill it with soldiers and weapons and wealth and commerce and hope; and too poor to attack us with something created by the superiority of their own vision. No, they attacked us with our own virtues, turned into weapons against us. They did not attack us with their virtues, but with their own spiteful vice. And for a moment, we staggered.

This morning, though far from New York, I still stand at the corner of Church and Liberty. I look up and understand: This is the World Trade Center. And I ask myself, "What world are you willing to trade?" My enemy has already asked that question, and he has shown me his answer. And now I give him mine: I am not trading.

Yesterday I walked through New York wearing a T-Shirt my wife gave to me two years ago. It reads on the front, in small print, "July 4, 1776: Remember Why." On the back, in quiet letters, it reads, "Live Free." I was amazed at how many people looked at my simple message as I passed through subway lines or strolled The Mall in Central Park. It is a good message.

Remember why.

Contratimes

©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.

Technorati tags: Ground Zero, World Trade Center, wtc, Fourth of July, Independence day, Liberty, Osama bin Laden, 9/11, New York City, Manhattan

The Audacity Of Fear: Playing Anxiety Politics

If one were inclined to rewrite holy writ for political advantage, perhaps the first thing one might pen is “Be anxious for everything.” No doubt this revision will offend certain Christians comforted by St. Paul’s exhortation to “be anxious for nothing,” but such Christians, generally, do not run for President of the United States. In fact, such a candidacy would be impossible: it simply is not possible to win votes without exploiting anxiety and fear. “Trust in God” will impress few voters as a campaign slogan, but “Fear Everything” has a chance at winning the White House.

Readers may scoff; I invite them to jeer and sneer. But the facts are evident: electoral politics is about fear – and nothing but fear. Yes, we all know the “playing the politics of fear” canard so well it has become a mere cliché, appropriate to the bumper sticker-set rather than the more reflective wing of the body politic. Ironically, nowhere is that cliché more popular than in Democratic Party condemnations of all things Republican, and – more specifically – all things Bush. Bush scared Americans into war, into torturing and incarcerating a quasi-mythic threat; into Gitmo and surveillance and civil rights erosions, solely because he was so effective at selling fear. The irony is in the telling fact that Democrats, if they do anything, at least exploit the fear of fear. And yet they do far more than that.

In Tuesday night’s Democratic debate in Nevada telecast on MSNBC (see YouTube clip here [00:25 min.]), Barack Obama perfectly executed the Democratic fear play:

“There is no doubt we’ve been dominated by a politics of fear since 9/11… But I have to say that when Sen. Clinton uses the specter of a terrorist attack … during a campaign, I think that it is part and parcel with what we have seen, the use of the fear of terrorism in scoring political points, and I think that’s a mistake. Now, I don’t want to perpetuate that. I think that’s part of why we ended up going into Iraq and made a big strategic error that has made us less safe. Resources that could have been spent on homeland security have been spent in Baghdad. Resources that could have been spent hunting down bin Laden, have been diverted to Iraq, and that’s what happens when your judgment is clouded, and what I intend to do as President of the United States is to be honest and straightforward with the American people about how I am going to implement all the 9/11 Commission Report findings, make sure that we are hunting down bin Laden, getting out of Iraq so we can re-focus our attention on building the networks and alliances that are required to reduce terrorism around the world. That’s going to be my priority and that’s part of the reason I am running for President of the United States.” [Emphasis added]

That Mr. Obama’s contradiction – I will not perpetuate fear but we are less safe than ever -- will be overlooked by his charmed supporters is unarguable; that his position is nearly identical with everyone else in his party is equally unassailable. His entire statement could be reasonably construed as a reformation – at least in spirit – of the “Bush lied, people died” mantra.

But I am not here to quibble about the genesis of the war, especially with those who find the roots of war in Genesis. My complaint is that Mr. Obama and his party are also peddling fear; Mr. Obama – and Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Edwards – are fear-mongers. “We are less safe” is hardly the only dire warning Democrats voice. There is a whole litany of warnings issued by Democrats at every turn. And hardly a soul challenges those party-faithful who serve as prophets of doom. Below is a short list of examples (not direct quotes) that capture the essence of Democratic fear-baiting.

On economics:

“We are in recession. People are insecure.”

“The gap between rich and poor is growing.”

“There have never been so many foreclosures.”

"We must rebuild the middle class."

On international relations:

“America’s reputation in the world has never been so tarnished.”

“We must restore our image in the sight of the Europeans.”

“Neo-conservatives have pushed America into colonial expansionism.”

On domestic issues:

“Republicans want to rob women of the right to choose, and due access to health care.”

“Republicans don’t care about those of you without proper health care. We need universal care now.”

“The Republican Party has no qualms denying to all -- regardless of gender identity -- the right to marry. ”

On energy:

“We MUST free ourselves of our dependence on foreign oil.”

“The profits of BIG OIL are unfair!”

“We must work to end global warming today, before it is too late!”

On the war:

“The war on terror is a failure.”

“Iraq was a mistake.”

“We must reallocate our resources and redeploy our troops so we can capture Osama bin Laden. He’s still out there!”

On EVERYTHING:

“Republicans are playing the fear card!”

Of course, I admit that Republicans do play the fear card; I also admit that I am not really singling out Mr. Obama. All candidates exploit fear. Candidates even issue warnings about other candidates. But Mr. Obama himself has opened the door to my criticism largely for his sophistry quoted above. Even the title of his book, The Audacity of Hope, is rooted in fear: we are doomed without audacious hope in the face of our problems. (Is he the Deliverer we MUST have to lead us out of our many difficulties?)

As I said, there is irony to be found when Democrats refer to right-wing fear-mongering. I don’t know if the irony is in that they don’t know they themselves are also peddling fear; perhaps they do. But if they do, there is something really disconcerting about it all.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Ground Null Set: A Memorial Poem

We know the date well. We know the hour, even if this morning it passed on the very edge of dulled nerves. Anxiety is a phone call, a FoxNews alert, a broadcast interruption, that drags the heart toward the basement, where people and dreams were crushed in the old inertia that shook a runway in Boston, or a turnstile in Maine.

Today is also Tuesday, just like then.

In honor of this day, I post a poem I wrote nearly a year after 9/11. I have many 9/11 poems; this one addresses the pain of being a survivor.

We can't forget those who were left behind. They are many.

new york times in ridgewood, nj

the milk has turned bad in the frigidaire
your start to the day, cold, shaped in glass
the english muffins, green, wet and matted
in the plastic bag clipped tight, moldy mass

dirty socks, draped over the rim of jogging
shoes, stiff, and I’ll be damned if I pick them
up for you, or the ladder on the house, leaning
like a tower, windows dirty from inside fogging

the mailbox overdue, fully gestated, delivery
to be induced, or they will
force a caesarean, though i think miscarriage
or abortion and of the NYTs bundled on the path
you won't carry in your arms, though

the press has pressed itself against the patio
doors and through the phone lines and traipsed
into your favorite part of the yard, at night
talking about all of you - like friends - on the radio

while i sleep vertically, looking over where you slept
(the perfect mattress we jumped on in Mattress World
from the ledge of our dreams where hope was kept
and the weight of your arms around my waist, curled)

my feet anchored against attacks on the upper parts
of my fatiguing structure, swaying breathing
the injury like a spear in the side bleeding glass
and i fight not to collapse in a heap of fallen hearts

lights on in the night, all night, doggy-dog licking
the wounds on the back of the kitchen door
whining search for a walksy through the once present ever
after, the battery dead in the hallway clock unticking

i hung up on what you last spoke, and on the white house
and every other dismembered voice
best wishes still on the answering machine blinking
winking thinking shrinking sinking;
sinking;
sinking

8.07.02
©Bill Gnade/Contratimes 2007. All Rights Reserved.

On Politics: When The Man Deceives: A Video For Destruction (Part 1)

A couple of weeks ago, during a conversation I was having with someone I love, I completely caved in: I crumbled under peer pressure. It is not the sort of thing I confess lightly; there is an element of shame to it all. But confess it I must, because I was lying, not only to my interlocutor, but to myself. 

The topic was Mr. Al Gore. I had made the point that Mr. Gore has built something of a mythology around his life's work: he has pointed out dangers that threaten us all, and yet he, blithely and blindly, is part of those very dangers. If Al Gore warns us of global warming, he does so from the Cannes Film Festival, the yacht-littered theater orgy of the world's richest and most indulgent polluters. If he warns us of corporate control of information, he does so without telling us that he sits† on the boards of Google and CurrentTV, both of which "control" more information in an hour than Rupert Murdoch "controls" in a month or perhaps even in a decade. And if he warns us of the great threat that unreason has on our culture, he does so in a manner that can only be described as fallacious. 

In short, Mr. Gore is a dangerous man. 

But it was exactly that assertion which I denied. I had made a fairly decent case about Mr. Gore's hypocrisy without once referring to his negative and harmful influence on the culture at large; but those listening to me construed that I was averring that Mr. Gore was a man capable of doing much harm. Alas, as quickly as a cocksure disciple slinking past an accuser in a Jerusalem street, I denounced my own convictions. 

Surely, there is no pride in such cowardice. 

Mr. Gore, 1992, Waxing Eloquent About Saddam Hussein

Contratimes readers will know that I have spent much time pointing out that the current war in Iraq is not four-and-a-half years old. It is at least 16 years old. There has not been one second since Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait that the United States has not been in political and military strife with Iraq. Moreover, easily forgotten is that it was the Clinton administration that ramped up sanctions and military operations against Saddam Hussein from 1992 through January 2001 (when Messrs. Clinton and Gore left Washington). Lastly, it was during the Clinton administration, and due to Mr. Clinton's perceived abuses of Iraq, that Osama bin Laden issued his infamous 1998 fatwa, the one that led to the 9/11 atrocities. And the media, by and large, are silent about these issues: the media, nearly all of whom are, to some degree, Clinton fans and Gore idolizers, will not permit themselves to see what they helped create.

Now comes an incredible video from YouTube (originally broadcast on C-Span). The time is September 1992. Mr. Gore is the Democratic nominee for vice president; he's on the campaign trail. The video captures him at his pedantic, professorial, condescending best. But what is the topic? That's right: George H. W. Bush, Bush the First, was NOT TAKING SADDAM HUSSEIN SERIOUSLY ENOUGH. Bush the First was capitulating; Bush was weak and duplicitous; Bush was trying to appease a terrorist.

Of course, Al Gore and Bill Clinton would be tough and bold; they would sanction and subdue Saddam Hussein; they would finish the job that should have been completed in the First Gulf War.

In other words, Bill Clinton and Al Gore would stir up a hornet's nest.

I beg you: Watch the video yourself, and then write to me of my cowardly denials. And then write to the world, and tell them that you do not know Al Gore. 

Peace.

†Google is not merely a search engine: Google is also GMAIL, Google News, Blogger and YouTube. Mr. Gore also serves the board of Apple Inc.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved. 

Rosie Sheen Sheehan

Rosie O'Donnell's view has been obscured by the top brass at ABC, and now she will have to find a different vista from which she can divine truth, and dispense her happy bromides. Curiously, a Rosie cohort, Charlie Sheen, is apparently seeing some sort of light at the end of his nose: He admits he might be wrong about the conspiracy-laden 9/11 film, "Loose Change." The good news is that he might have doubts; the bad news is that Rosie, who has also touted the film, has not had such doubts. Change comes slow, no doubt, and change, like wits, can even sometimes come loose.

Stepping into the news to eclipse all this is Cindy Sheehan, the indefatigable anti-war protester who has, apparently, finally tired out. She is heading back to California to reconnect with her remaining children. News has it that she is selling her land (Camp Casey, named for her fallen son) near President Bush's ranch in Crawford, Texas.

It is hard not to pity Ms. Sheehan. Her own words (found here in her "resignation letter"), which are very much worth reading, are filled with pain. Perhaps the most telling line is the one about her son, who died -- freely -- while serving the American armed forces in Iraq. Ms. Sheehan writes simply, "I failed my boy and that hurts the most." [emphasis mine]

Ms. Sheehan has admitted something to us all in her resignation letter posted at The Daily Kos. She has admitted that the most painful thing is not the Iraq War or partisan duplicity or partisan betrayal. The most painful thing is not even the death of her son. The most painful thing is that she feels she let him down by buying "into the [American] system."

One can only grieve for Ms. Sheehan, for it seems she has not yet had the chance to really grieve. Her cause, her passion, and her many minions kept her, or so I believe, from truly addressing her deepest sorrows. Today, she is finally returning to California to try to restore relations with her surviving children, to try to regain the things she has lost. But what things are those, one might ask, if not the very things that are most valued in the system known as America?

If I was a friend of Ms. Sheehan's and I received a letter from her like the one she posted at The Daily Kos, I would be concerned that my friend was contemplating suicide. I am not her friend, and yet I am still concerned. For it is clear that she feels she failed. If her greatest pain comes when she considers that her failures led to her son's death, then she is not really blaming America or war or Iraq or Democrats or Republicans or even Casey for his death, she's blaming herself.

That is too much for any mother to bear.

Ms. Sheehan strikes me as exhausted and disoriented. Someone needs to get her home, hide her from the world, and give her lots of silence. She should stay away from TVs and radios and newspapers and the Internet; she should be given lots of love, hot tea, and pampering. She needs a long holiday from the world and, perhaps most importantly, her own persona needs to be exorcized. Her resignation letter proves that she teeters on the edge of sanity. Her words are those of a martyred messiah, a snubbed prophet. She sees things better than the rest of us; she knows more than America. That sort of inflated sense of self is not healthy. It is the very stuff of craziness. It is the sound of exhaustion, of collapse.

May God give her the healing and peace she seeks. Let us all pray.

Peace to you.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

(A related Contratimes essay, "Weapons of Miss Direction", which addresses Ms. Sheehan's quasi-gnosticism, can be found here.)

Better An Honest Grief

It is not writer's block. That sort of thing assumes a writer has something to say, to pass along. The metaphor implies obstruction of an otherwise glorious flow of verbiage; it implies a log jam interrupting the normal flow of a sure and powerful river.

What is it called when the river itself is empty, dried up? Writer's drought? What if there is nothing to block, no flow to impede? Or what if the writer's well is filled with dust? What do we call that?

I have nothing to say. At least, I feel like I have nothing to say. The Virginia Tech shootings were my last real reason to craft anything resembling an essay, a poem, something literary. How sad that I should only find a muse in grief. But is that even true? Did I find inspiration in sorrow and tragedy?

Perhaps. But today I've found something else in my gnawing gut; I've a belly full of disgust. I am sickened by the transitions. We humans, or most of us, seem to move from issue to issue, tragedy to tragedy, searching for smooth segues from bit to bit, from pod to pod (as news/documentary items are called on "Current TV"): We want something. We move from pod to pod like rats from switch to switch; we will electrocute ourselves for a new bit of bitter cheese. And I recoil at the thought that we are DONE with Virginia Tech, or Don Imus, or 9/11. That we have "moved on," emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. That we are hunting for the next big distraction, the next Beltway sniper or car chase or racial slur or outrageous political misstep. We look through blogs and news feeds; we grope about, snickering as we dismiss x and y and z; we take hold of A, and we write or film or opine in harried insistence that we have to say something, we have to move the debate, to push the national conversation. We must have A, we must shape it just so; and we shape it so we can have, as quickly as possible, B.

I walk through bookstores, I scroll through blogs and search engines; I sift through news pages and flip through YouTube clips or newsreels and I see nothing but words: words and words and words. We jam words into every void, every crevice. Windbag thinkers tell us that bad speech is fought with more speech; advertisers jam words into scoreboards and dashboards and every readable surface on the planet. We have so many words offered as answers we cannot see that words serve as cataracts to our eyes: we cannot make out the form of the questions that we ever even asked. There is just a dull, hazy light, double, triple vision: two moons in the night sky in our waning, aging light.

What is the solution to Don Imus' alleged racial slurs? Words. What is the solution to Seung-Hui Cho? More words. What to do with Iraq, Harry Reid, Rosie O'Donnell, Bill O'Reilly, Randi Rhodes, poverty? Words and more words. What is the solution to the estrangement of man's existence from his essence? Words. Declarative statements. No question marks.

My word.

Immediately after 9/11, TV networks went days and days without running any advertisements. Why? What purpose did that serve? Did it suggest that to hawk one's wares in sight of thousands of dead people was too tawdry, too decadent and heartless and rapacious and mercenary? How many dead people DOES it take for the networks to stop advertising, two, three? Why 5,000, 4,000, 3,000? What is the magic number necessary for a nation to stop and grieve properly? Who sets that number? What number tells us we can move on?

And how long must I wait before I can write about anything other than all that has preceded this moment? How long, really, do I have to forget the martyrdom of Peter or the destruction of Jerusalem or the Black Plague or the desolation of the American Indian or the savagery of the fur trade or the decapitation of infidels or the garroting of babies or gunshots in a classroom, before I can call myself au courant?

Yesterday I wept at a funeral for one of my dearest friends. Afterwards, as I approached my friend's now-empty house where a luncheon was to be held in her honor, I stopped to talk to Barbara, another friend who had moments earlier eulogized (so boldly, so elegantly) our dead friend. In the midst of our gentle, teary conversation, I said, "Better an honest grief than a dishonest joy." I shocked myself with the sentence, having no idea where it came from, or why exactly I had said it. But in a moment's pause both Barbara and I knew that it fit the moment perfectly; it was the very summation of her wonderful eulogy and what we were searching for on the shoulder of Lookout Hill Road.

Better an honest grief than a dishonest joy.

It is the sort of sentence one might find in Bartlett's, if only its author were noteworthy. It is also made up of mere words. It is more words, words that blind like tears, the cataracts of grief flowing over cheeks, pouring from the dulled eyes that search for a friend who is now a question mark.

Sometimes the only word we want to hear is not a word at all.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Watch Out For The Death Blow!

A simple truck driver did more than disturb -- and distort -- this morning's commute in Oakland, California. He dealt a fatal blow to those 9/11 conspiracy theorists who believe that fires in the World Trade Center could not have "melted" steel.

That such foolishness is contradicted by countless blacksmiths everyday does not stop such theorists' wild fantasies. But maybe James Mosqueda's close scrape with death will quench the flames burning in the hearts and minds of far too many souls who stubbornly refuse to believe the simple truth, namely, 9/11 happened exactly the way they saw it happen. When Mr. Mosqueda and his 8,600-gallon gasoline tanker crashed beneath an overpass in Oakland, the result was the undeniable melting of massive steel girders and the collapse of one of Oakland's vital thoroughfares.

Not that the steel actually melted; it just weakened enough to lose its strength and collapse after three hours of raging fury. Which is, of course, identical to the official statement regarding the WTC towers: the fires, along with the brutality of two planes traveling hundreds of miles an hour slicing through both buildings, weakened the structures enough to render them incapable of supporting their own weight.

But, as I said, we only needed to talk to a blacksmith about steel to come to conclusions the 9/11 theorists could not, in all their scientific inquiries, discover for themselves.

Perhaps we will now learn that Mr. Mosqueda wasn't driving at all; witnesses saw a grey-headed middle-aged man from Texas leap from the tanker into what looked like a Washington, D.C. motorcade. It is reported that three hours later, using a reconfigured cell-phone from inside Air Force One, some person called another phone at the Oakland underpass, which triggered a series of thermite bombs to detonate.

It's all just to throw the conspiracy theorists off the trail.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

On 9/11: Rosie O'Donnell and Building 7, Imploding

It may very well be true that we in fact battle against those in high and lofty places, but it is clearly not true that those who sit in such esteemed heights are one whit lofty. Take Rosie O'Donnell, for example. There is nothing particularly outstanding about this woman; there is nothing that would lead any of us to think that she is even particularly gifted. When I think of Rosie, I think of luck more than I think of brains, talent, or even brawn. One wonders where Ms. O'Donnell might be without her connection to Madonna, that diva known widely around the world for her nice, tight, erudite acumen.

In the truest expression of the spirit of this age, Ms. O'Donnell brings to us her perspective on the World Trade Center "attacks" of September 11, 2001: the buildings did not fall according to the laws of physics (or something like that). Instead, it appears that the buildings were felled by internally-placed explosive devices (not that Ms. O'Donnell knows much about internally-placed explosive devices [Sorry. Dreadful joke].) But we can at least find humor in the seriousness of this comedienne; the court jester is earnest. Of course we all know what trouble there is in being earnest, but we shall leave that for another time.

At issue, or so Ms. O'Donnell points out in her blog entry, wtc7, is the curiously aberrant collapse of World Trade Center Building 7. Conspiracy theorists and other 9/11 "scholars," you see, have pointed out that the building could not have collapsed on its own footprint because the fires afflicting it, which have been officially cited as cause of the collapse, were not symmetrical. In other words, for a structure like Building 7 to collapse so perfectly into itself by fire, the fire would have to be evenly distributed throughout the steel-framed building.

Also at issue are assertions that fires of the sort that ripped through the building could not melt steel framing. Add to this reports that witnesses saw plumes of smoke billowing out from the building during collapse, plumes allegedly compatible with detonations, and then blend in some emergency radio comments transmitted during the day, and, well, you've got a major conspiracy.

I will not venture into the science here, though it seems that even a lay person could come up with some pretty compelling explanations. What I would like to focus on is the simple fact that the building collapsed at 5:30 pm, more than eight hours after the very first whiff of jet fuel wafted over Church and Liberty.

And I also want to point out, if but for a second, that not a single person was killed -- or even reported injured -- when that building finally fell.

_________________
What Manner Of Conspiracy Is This?

Let us ignore the fact that if 9/11 occurred at all like it is suggested in the paranoid internet documentary, Loose Change, (see this, or this) then we're dealing with a conspiracy that included hundreds, if not thousands, of people. This requires us to suspend our adherence to what we know to be the cardinal law of crime: If you want secrecy, do your dastardly deeds alone. I think we would all agree that if O. J. Simpson had 1,000 accomplices assisting him with his wife's beheading, he would be serving time in San Quentin right this minute.

We can suspend or accept all the truisms and facts we want, but we cannot suspend the very real fact that this conspiracy proves only one thing: What a lousy conspiracy this is.

Let me ask you: If you have rigged a building with bombs intent on killing and maiming as many people as possible, why would you choose to detonate those bombs when everyone was safely away from that building? How is it that you could only manage to generate a great cloud of dust and a silly conspiracy theory? Why, pray tell, would you not drop the building when its occupants were spilling onto the streets, or when tens of thousands of people stood on the pavement looking skyward? How, too, do you broadcast your intent so blatantly; how is it that the fire department was able to declare that the building was going to collapse and that everyone should clear the area? And how do you manage to drop the building when nary a newscaster had his or her camera trained on the area?

Ah, perhaps there is a reason for such bungling. Perhaps the charges failed to go off at the proper time; perhaps there was a problem. Fair enough, we might conclude, but then we have to ask how it was that the bombs could be later detonated so sequentially, if, as everyone knows, ALL THE ELECTRICAL POWER was shut off for hundreds of city blocks.† Did some stealthy crew spool out wire disguised as a fire hose; did a crew spend some 8 hours (climbing over rubble, too!) reconfiguring the schematics -- and the scheme -- so that the buildings could be plunged down manually?

Really, the view from Rosie's high seat is breathtaking.

__________________
Let us ignore the fact that over 210 acres of debris fell from the sky that September morning. Let us forget that when those first buildings fell in Manhattan, they did so with such force that seismographs moved in Maine. Let us forget that the World Trade Center plaza was built on fill; let us forget that the entire plaza was built over six floors of malls, restaurants, garages, and subway tunnels; let us forget that the ground moved like jelly. Let us forget that each of the buildings was designed to implode by architects who knew that someday the buildings might need to be removed. Let us forget that jet fuel burns away nearly instantly; that fires burned bright that day from gases released from countless carpet fibers, sheets of paper, plastics and woods and varnishes; that fires, drawing torrents of rushing air through narrow passages like elevator shafts, will generate heat aplenty, heat like a blowtorch, local and lethal to flesh, bone, and steel.

Let us forget all this and ask the simple question: Why drop Building 7 at all, and why at 5 o'clock at night?

_______________
Why, Of Course! (Or is that "way off course?")

According to Ms. O'Donnell, there is an answer to our question: the collapse of Building 7 was meant not to destroy people. It was meant to destroy evidence. You know, papers, files, tapes, you know the deal. Come on, you know! Data was destroyed, data that would NOT AT ALL BE DESTROYED IN A COLLAPSE!

Isn't it the case that FIRE destroys the very things Ms. O'Donnell would have you believe were ruined in an intentional implosion (one that could have easily smothered the very fires that would be most effective in destroying incriminating evidence)? It seems obviously true that fire is a vandal's best friend. Why implode? Ah, we'll never know.

And, lastly, who is it that is (most likely) responsible for this great conspiracy? That's right. George W. Bush.

(Alas, not that anyone has ever wondered if the Clinton Administration could have orchestrated 9/11. I mean, it is clear at the very least that the 9/11 attacks were being planned well before George W. Bush stole the presidency. Clinton minion Sandy Berger scooted off with what from the National Archives?! Never mind.)

Here's the fact about 4 planes crashing on the American landscape that fateful day in 2001, written in language Ms. O'Donnell will understand: Bush flied, people died.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

†Perhaps the building was rigged with bombs set to trigger with a mere cell phone call, or some other remote device. That cell coverage was gone in Lower Manhattan is well-known, so we'll have to rule that out. But even if the building was detonated via remote switches, we must ask how it is that the master-minds would have been comfortable with their plan: In the fiery chaos of 9/11, a series of linked bombs could have been -- and surely must've been -- compromised. This problem remains even if we accept the idea that the bombs were on a timer: surely some part of the layout of bombs had to be damaged by fire and debris. But if we admit this, then we admit that if only some bombs detonated, they would have done so asymmetrically. If that is the case, how could asymmetrical detonations cause a building to fall straight down if we have already concluded that only symmetrical explosions could have that effect?

Jamie Glazov & Dinesh D'Souza On Islam, 9/11, And The Radical Left (Updated)

We all hear a lot about "dialogue" and "debate"; about talking together through difficult issues. Currently we are hearing this sort of rhetoric coming from the "new" US Congress; some of us Episcopalians in New Hampshire are STILL waiting for the great dialogue promised three years ago by our controversial bishop.

I must say that the sort of dialogue exemplified between Jamie Glazov and Dinesh D'Souza in their two-part conversation at FrontPageMag is reassuring and inspiring: here are two thinkers, conservative and academic, who disagree profoundly. And yet there is a gentlemanly quailty that prevails throughout; and there is no shortage of interesting parries and thrusts. Both men score points; and I give the win to Mr. Glazov. Part of that small victory, unfortunately, comes as a result of Mr. Glazov slipping into a monologue for which, it appears, Mr. D'Souza is absent. But that hardly matters, since Glazov is amazing on his own.

This really is an excellent series. Take time to read it if you are at all interested in Mr. D'Souza's thesis that it is American liberalism, the radical leftist sort, that led to 9/11 and America's current standoff with Islam. Mr. Glazov issues a very serious and compelling challenge; Mr. D'Souza makes a few worthy rebuffs. Part 1 is here, and Part 2 is found here. From Abu Ghraib to sexual immorality, from Moses to Muhammed, this series offers key insights.

And make sure you take time to read Mr. David Forsmark's challenging review of Mr. D'Souza's new book, The Enemy at Home: The Cultural Left And Its Responsibility For 9/11.

Peace.

BG

More Awards; The Empty Keg Award For Story Of The Year, 2006

In keeping with my promise that I shall list my awards for best and worst of 2006 (categories determined on a whim), I would like to announce the winner of the monumental -- and very first -- 2006 Empty Keg Award for Story of the Year. It is a simple award, and it is thoroughly a disappointing one. After all, what could be more disappointing than an empty keg?

Sadly, I have no idea to whom I should give this fine honor. For it has two distinct winners, and yet both stand at opposite ends of the story. On the one end is the main stream media in America (and its European counterpart), while on the other is the Bush Administration. The former deserves accolades for wresting away and gaining control of the most important story of our time; and the latter deserves the award for letting the media get away with it. The story? Well, that is simple: The story is the genesis of the Iraq Conflict. And the Empty Keg goes to all those who repackaged history, who accepted that history, and permitted that history to become normative. Just read this clip from a recent CBS News/60 Minutes interview with President George W. Bush (the president was interviewed by reporter Scott Pelley at Camp David):

PELLEY: You know better than I do that many Americans feel that your administration has not been straight with the country, has not been honest. To those people you say what?

BUSH: On what issue?

PELLEY: Well, sir . . .

BUSH: Like the weapons of mass destruction?

PELLEY: No weapons of mass destruction.

BUSH: Yeah.

PELLEY: No credible connection between 9/11 and Iraq.

BUSH: Yeah.

PELLEY: The Office of Management and Budget said this war would cost somewhere between $50 billion and $60 billion and now we're over 400.

BUSH: I gotcha. I gotcha. I gotcha.

The sentence in bold is highlighted as a perfect exemplar of the Great Revision. To which, incredibly, the president says, "Yeah."

For sheer fun, for the jolly folly of it all, let me remind readers that A) there was not one minute from 1991 to March 2003 that the United States was not in military conflict with Iraq; B) that President Bill Clinton received during his term in office news of a fatwa - drafted by Osama bin Laden in 1998 - which called for death to Americans everywhere; C) that the fatwa placed America's continued oppression -- directed by President Clinton -- of Iraq and the Iraqi people as the primary reason Americans should be killed; D) that in 1998 President Bill Clinton signed into law the Iraq Liberation Act calling for "regime change" in that tired country; E) and that the United States was attacked by Osama bin Laden in 2001 as a direct result of its bellicose posture towards Iraq (throughout the 1990's, the Clinton Administration bombed Iraq nearly every other day).

Thus, two things: The Iraq/September 11 connection is a causal one; and is so utterly credible it is incredible that anyone could be ignorant of this fact; and secondly, it is despicable that these historic facts have been permitted to drift into oblivion by the press and the president. And these are not the only facts in the case!

Nevertheless, because we at Contratimes have been wide-eyed and unblinking as we watched propaganda attain the status of absolute truth, we can with clarity of mind and soul pronounce that the 2006 Empty Keg Award for Story of the Year is well-deserved by many who walk this planet. I think the Empty Keg Award should be passed around like the Stanley Cup: first, it should go to the editorial offices of the New York Times, then to Keith Olbermann, and then to the White House. And I am sure Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi and Howard Dean will want to share it with their many fellow revisionists.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

For some further commentary regarding Iraq, 9/11, and the 9/11 Commission Report, go here. Then there is my incomparable "Adam and Eve Must Have Been Neo-Cons."

The Hole In Brown Ground

Perhaps it was an act of quiet protest. Who knows? But instead of packing myself into a theater to see The Da Vinci Code Friday night, struggling for elbow space with people dressed like Mona Lisa, I went to a rather empty theater to see United 93, the riveting film about the 9/11 flight that crashed into a Pennsylvania field. Perhaps it is wrong of me to note that there are many people who believe that The Da Vinci Code is real and that 9/11 was not. But that this surprises any of us is alarming, as most of us pride ourselves at not being shocked by the crazies among us. But the crazies are out: 9/11 was the result of nefarious American military operations and the Church has been hiding the fact that Jesus had children (and that I am one of his descendants).

If you want reason to slit your wrists and bleed out in a Da Vinci Code chalice (soon to be made available with McDonald's Happy Meals, I think), then check out any number of 9/11 conspiracy media, particularly the brooding "documentary" Loose Change. But I warn you: with headphones on (and several one-hitters on your Cheech and Chong bong) you will not only doubt that 9/11 happened as you KNOW IT DID, you will doubt whether bleeding yourself to death is the best way to silence your outrage. (Seriously, I warn you: Loose Change is disturbing, not because it is at all right, but because it does not offer you alternative explanations.) But if you don't want to watch something, you can read hundreds of webpages that will prove that 9/11 was a conspiracy pulled off by literally thousands of people (which proves that miracles DO occur). I am sure that the next thing we will find out is that those who "died" in 9/11, especially those passengers on the four deadly planes, are actually alive and well, held for re-assimilation in Guantánamo Bay (affectionately known as Club Re-med, or so say the voices in my head). By the way, if you do watch Loose Change and you need to regain a foothold on the world, go here for help.

United 93 is a powerful, frank, straightforward tale. But it is not as powerful as one's imagination, especially if one has a strong imagination and is at all familiar with flying in commercial planes. Reality is far worse than the film could depict, which is not to say that the film flinched at realism but rather to admit that film, any film, is limiting. Irrespective of this film's limitations, I wept (which I am wont to do at such movies) during many of the film's scenes. And one line struck me as significant: "We have a real world situation here." Real world indeed.
______________

When I used to paint houses (on the side, pun intended) I became pretty good friends with Bob, the man who worked the counter at the paint store. Bob Peterson was a simple man in the good sense of the word; he surely was not a simpleton. His simplicity was more Thoreau than Forrest Gump; and yet he was far more St. Francis than he ever was that recluse on Walden Pond. Bob also was a Christian, and he wore his faith beautifully, but not on his sleeve; he wore it in his every word and deed. He was an exemplar of everything Christ might be as a husband, father, paint store clerk. And yet Bob no doubt could have been more, more like his brother, a man who attended MIT and Harvard and later became the president of a major company. For Bob, his calling was far less lofty.

Bob told me about his brother several times. The most poignant tale was right after the first anniversary of 9/11 when Bob and his family traveled to Pennsylvania to meet President Bush, to hold hands with others in ceremony, to cry and weep and pray on a quiet tract of land. Bob told me that before the ceremony, a firefighter was assiduously looking for members of the Peterson family. Finally finding them, the firefighter specifically spoke to Bob's nephew. The fireman shared how he was one of the first people to arrive at the scene of the plane crash one year earlier. He said that as he got near the crater left by the plane's horrific impact, the very first thing he found was a lightly scorched Bible. Apparently it still smelled of jet fuel.

The Bible belonged to Bob's brother, Don Peterson. Don and his wife, Jean, sat in Row 14 on September 11, 2001.
_______________

I think of conspiracy theories, and I think of how cruel they are. The 9/11 theorists, to me, are committing a gross form of spiritual and emotional abuse, even battery. To read (and see) suggestions that Don Peterson's Bible was scorched not by the evil acts of terrorists (and the heroic feats of the United 93 passengers) but by a missile, or some other outside violence, is hard to countenance without anger. It is even harder to countenance without being wounded. 9/11's effects have been monstrous, with not only the collapse of common sense but the collapse of common decency being the most obvious.

The mythology of The Da Vinci Code may indeed lead some people to hell or some sort of apostasy. But the conspiracy theorists scavenging on fear and uncertainty in the wake of a truly awful tragedy are already in hell, the hell of a well-repudiated delusion.

There remains a gaping hole in the earth, with all sorts of things crawling forth.

Remember 9/11.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2006/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.

Technorati tags: The Da Vinci Code, Don Peterson, United 93, Conspiracy Theories, Loose Change, 9/11

The Most Important Question: Epilogue

In parts I and II of this series, I mentioned a belief in inevitability that runs through Islam; a theological concept of predestination. This article of belief is known as al-Qadar. Marxist- Communist doctrine is similar, claiming that the proletariat struggle against the bourgeoisie (with the proletariat's eventual overthrow of that bourgeoisie and the socializing of the means of production) is an inevitable process of history. Of course, this Marxist idea is a religious idea, as there are no logical or scientific proofs to Marxist idealism.

I was a bit heavy-handed, I think, in attributing by innuendo to all Muslims that all Muslims are quiet about terrorism, or are supportive of or comfortable with al-Qadar. There are problems in Islamic theological discourse between Muslim clerics, with sundry divisions, in ways familiar to those of us attuned to divisions in Christian theology. No one group is ever completely homogeneous.

Let me direct you to this interesting condemnation of Islam's old infatuation with suicide bombings. It is delivered by a Muslim cleric. Please take the time to read this speech reprinted at MEMRI. It is revealing (though there are problems with it). [Thanks to Frontpagemag.com for citing it.]

I will end my comments with this curious syllogism found at Answering Islam.org:

• (1) If A, then B. If Allah endorses Islam, then it should expand endlessly.
• (2) Not-B. But it is not expanding endlessly (see this analysis).
• (3) Therefore, not-A. Therefore, Allah does not endorse Islam.

In a technical sense, this is a valid syllogism, a modus tollens, though I find such syllogisms faulty. For this could be an equally valid modus tollens:

1. If my dog is home, the front door will be locked.
2. The front door is not locked.
3. Therefore my dog is not home.

But the syllogism about Islam raises an interesting point. If there is a God, and that God has established a religion, one would think that that religion would expand and not contract. Of course, Christianity's earliest writings predict a great apostasy in "the last days" from its own folds, but I do not believe Islam makes similar claims of itself. Islam is much more concerned about earthly terrority and holy sites than is Christendom: Visitation to such sites is one of the Five Pillars of Islam (Hajj). Much of Islam is fixed on earthly dominance and expansion, and thus is much more vulnerable to the problem raised in the syllogism printed above.

IRAQ CONSTITUTION

As you know by now, the deadline has passed in Iraq, and the Iraqis have not agreed upon a constitution. This news is only disappointing in the most superficial analysis. To me, the news is heartening and exciting. That one Iraqi lawmaker said that the constitution thus far drafted has been drafted "by the powerful people, and not by the people," is beautiful, for it reveals the depth of understanding some if not all Iraqis possess about the drafting of a constitution. Even some lawmakers have recommended that parts of the constitution be sent to the Iraqi people in a referendum. In that way, perhaps, the seminal elements of democracy will be fertilized even more. But what is heartening is that the process is taking time; even lots of time. Which proves, at the very least, that people are taking this process seriously, and are not rushing off pell-mell to take control of an ancient and vulnerable culture.

©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.

The Most Important Question: On Inevitability And The War On Terror, Part II

In Part I of this series (which is a prerequisite for understanding what follows), I argued that the Islamic article of belief – al-Qadar – the sixth of six such articles, must lead us who reside in the West to this important question: Has Allah willed the destruction – or the submission – of the West?

As I have shown, al-Qadar is the will of Allah; that all that comes to pass has been willed by him. Thus, as the towers imploded at Ground Zero, Muslims submitted to Allah's will – the towers were willed down by Allah's fiat. There is therefore no real condemnation of the act of terror: Since it happened, it was meant to happen. There is no denying Allah's hand.

Of course, this teaching is fraught with difficulty, as many Muslim scholars admit. Where is human free will in Allah's sovereignty? Does Allah will evil and sinfulness? How does a Muslim understand devastating personal or military defeat? (For some analysis of the problems such questions raise, follow the links in Part 1.)

Irrespective of the difficulty of al-Qadar, the fact remains that most if not all practicing Muslims are reluctant to either condemn or reject this article of belief. Why? Because it is fundamental to that faith, and to the very essence of Islam, a word which means "to submit" or "surrender". Allah must be sovereign. He can not be surprised; he cannot have other wills competing against his own; he cannot NOT know everything. Otherwise, he would not be all-powerful or all-knowing. In short, he would not be Allah.

THE WAR ON TERROR AND AL-QADAR

In Tuesday's Wall Street Journal, an Israeli army major reservist wrote about his role in removing his fellow citizens from Gaza, a painful and harrowing ordeal. Michael B. Oren writes about how he felt prior to that dreadful eviction:

"My feelings were, at best, ambivalent. I wanted to end Israel's occupation of Gaza's 1.4 million Palestinians and preserve Israel's Jewish majority, but feared abetting the terrorists' claim that Israel had fled under fire." [emphasis added]

(see Page A10, August 23, 2005)

What is important to see in Oren's comments is what I've highlighted in bold: He feared that Israel's withdrawal would fuel the terrorists' belief that Israel was routed by superior force. Why is that important? Because it supports the Islamic belief that, if a thing happens, Allah wanted it to happen. Israel's withdrawal from Gaza proves the supremacy of Allah's will, and the supremacy of his Lordship over even other gods. After all, there is no other God but Allah. The Jewish God is no match at all.

Remember Osama bin Laden's celebration over the surprising (to him) collapse of the World Trade Center towers? The collapses proved his faith in Allah; Allah was on his side. Similarly, when the mujahideen pushed back the Soviet invaders in Afghanistan, this success was proof that Allah was against the greatest Western super-power in Europe and Asia. And the retreat of American troops in Somalia proved more of the same.

So Israel's "retreat" is seen as a defeat, and a sign that Allah is on the move.

WHAT ARE OUR OPTIONS IN THE MIDDLE EAST?

For a moment, let us countenance the foreign policy of someone like Cindy Sheehan, the grieving mother of a fallen soldier camped out at "Camp Casey" in Crawford, TX. Let us agree that America should begin an immediate and systematic withdrawal of all American troops from Iraq and even Afghanistan. What would those actions do to Islamic religious beliefs about its holy war against Western infidels?

Answer: It would fuel confidence that Allah was in fact supreme, and supremely interested in defeating the infidel West. It would vindicate the insurgents' attacks along countless roadsides. It would be cause for celebration. What will be was MEANT to be. Meant by Allah.

Thus, retreat and withdrawal from the Middle East is an act of concession on a religious scale, and not a military one.

In Part 1, I asserted that the West, particularly the United States, might want to rethink its military strategy in Iraq or withdraw. Clearly, withdrawal is not an option. But its current military strategy may in fact be as ineffective and dangerous as withdrawal. Why?

If in fact al-Qadar infuses all of Islam, or most of it, then perhaps the only military strategy effective in dealing with Islamic militants is profound military superiority. And I mean profound. (Please note: I am not advocating this, only analyzing what is before us.) If, for instance, the West were to destroy all Islamic holy sites, making them in fact uninhabitable and unrecognizable; if the West obliterated every alleged Allah-backed stronghold, the Islamic faith in Allah would be sorely shaken, and may perhaps never recover. In fact, Islam might even be destroyed, or reformed into something hardly recognizable to its current form.

Again, I am not advocating this, nor am I wishing this. I am merely suggesting what may be the only viable military option to confront those Muslims committed to Allah's victory over alleged Western infidelity.

There is, of course, another way. We could do what I said yesterday: We could let the theologians fight the battle.

"CONVERT THEM TO CHRISTIANITY"

Recall what Ann Coulter said shortly after 9/11: The West should, among other things, invade Islamic countries and "convert them to Christianity". In a way, her remarks were brilliantly on point. For what we need to do is win the propaganda war with radical Islam: We need to show the most aggressive corners of Islam that the religious idea of Allah's sovereignty is not intellectually viable. In other words, we should not be launching sorties of bombs on Muslim strongholds, but sorties of brochures pointing out the weakness of a deity that wills everything. (Of course, this would violate Church/State or Mosque/State separation requirements. But what must America do if indeed the war on terror consists of a religion battling a secular state. Should that secular state ignore religion altogether? Should it be mute about it? Or should it engage its opponents in a battle of wits?)

What? Have I lost my mind? No. What I am saying is this: Any deity deemed to be all-powerful is not a deity if he (or she) WILLS everything. Willing EVERYTHING is a sign of weakness, not strength. Really, who is stronger, that Being which MAKES everything turn out his way, or that Being which permits things to happen randomly and yet nonetheless conform to his will?

Think of it this way (I'll try not to be too theological here). Imagine two men in an adventurer's race from New York City to Katamandu. One racer maps out every step; makes plans to the final minute; mapping out every runway and highway and airport escalator. The other racer plans nothing other than a willful first step. And with that first step he is carried in a whirlwind of events: he is hit by a car, taken to hospital, blown out a window by a tornado, lands in a ship, shipwrecks at sea, swims to shore, is offered a bicycle ride by a one-legged man. The racer with the plan and the map is making great headway, and yet, at the finish line, is amazed to find that his opponent is buying fabric in a Katamandu market. Which of these racers is really the more adventurous, and even the more powerful? Is the man who plans and controls every step powerful, or the one who finds his way through chaos?

But we are not talking about men here, we are talking of gods. And if there is a God, it would seem to me that He must be so all-powerful that His will would still cosmically prevail without His needing to decree every single instant. (As theologian Karl Barth said of the Christian Incarnation, God is so omnipotent He can be impotent and still be God. God has the power to be powerless.) Moreover, His Will is not some sort of preconceived outcome, like decreeing that Jerusalem is the seat of Utopia. His Will is not a quantity but a quality: It is not that the end of all things is defined by the walls of a perfected state. The end is defined by whether the end of all things is LOVING. Hence, God's will is more about His heart than His head. He does not have a PLAN. The creation is enfused with His nature, and thus, no matter how creation unfolds, through myriad accidents and trials and seemingly random events, it will end up according to God's nature. The paths to the end may be infinite; but the end will always be the same: God's will crosses the finish line first, and the prize is love and gentleness and prodigal generosity. The prize is not a better government or a better nation-state or caliphate.

It is this sort of argument that needs to be dropped on the "fatalists" at war with us. What is needed is the sowing of healthy doubt. What is needed is to make people, no matter who they are, doubt themselves enough to wonder if they in fact "might be wrong." What we need ultimately is the destruction of certainty; religious certainty.

Who are the most gentle, easy people with whom to debate religion? Is it that person who KNOWS they are right about God? Is it that person who is certain you are wrong for believing in Christ? Is it that arrogant agnostic certain of his doubt? Or is it that person who is health-fully doubtful, recognizing the role of faith in all knowledge; recognizing that our certainties are often the worse thing about us? In short, are not the best dialogues on religion between those who are genuinely (not feignedly) humble about their beliefs, admitting their vulnerabilities and doubts?

There are only a few ways to fight the War on Terror: As an all out flexing of muscularity and blustering of machismo; a turning heel and running scared; a half-hearted display of strength; a reasoned, calculated blend of force and diplomacy. America may in fact be involved in the shrewdest type of warfare ever seen: superior firepower blended with conviviality and fraternity and patient restraint. But unless the War on Terror includes a better bomb for the mind and heart – the religious mind and heart – the war will continue on its perennial, 4000-year-old course.

This is a religious battle over the nature of God. I am, I think, certain of it. But I could be wrong.

Peace to you.

(Here is Part III, the epilogue.)

©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved

We Are All Londoners

Today London grieves, only 24 hours after celebrating its winning bid to host the 2012 Summer Olympics. Terrorists have reportedly brought a different torch to that city, igniting a different cauldron. Shame on them.

According to reports, Islamic extremists are now warning Denmark and Italy to consider their own fates; and to bow before the almighty sword of Allah.

Yes, the G8 summit is occurring now, in Scotland. The summit's focus is on aid to Africa and global environmental issues. But the G8 agenda, important as it is, is meaningless in a world where the environment is polluted by people who perform acts of unconscionable terror with cheer. Moreover, why worry about air pollution when there are people who aim to prevent us from breathing at all?

And by us, I mean the Euro-, Anglo-, American-centric West. I am talking about the people who read this essay; who live and move about in the civilized world. We are, as this blog repeatedly reminds us, targets. And we are targets because of who we are, not merely, or even largely, because of what we do.

The difference between the West and our Muslim accusers is simple to define: We do not flood the streets in celebration upon a military victory. Does anyone think that the Americans are going to flood Ground Zero, guns raised, effigies burning, if Osama bin Laden is captured? Do you think we Western "crusaders" delight in burning people alive, dragging them through streets, and hanging their scorched corpses on bridges and then, for sheer fun, posing for pictures with the smell of burned flesh on our hands? Does the American military post on the web declarations of celebration every time a cruise missle finds its mark, telling the world, as terrorists did this morning, that our enemies should burn "with fear and terror, from north to south, east to west"?

This is what was found on the web this morning, posted, allegedly, by the London attackers:

"Rejoice, Islamic nation. Rejoice, Arab world. The time has come for vengeance against the Zionist crusader government of Britain in response to the massacres Britain committed in Iraq and Afghanistan ... The heroic mujahedeen carried out a blessed attack in London, and now Britain is burning with fear and terror, from north to south, east to west."

Nice!

I will say this: The worst thing the Islamic extremists can do is turn Europe against Islam. I mean that. It is the worst thing they can do. And they are just about to do it.

London and the rest of us have an Olympian task before us, simple in theory, but difficult in practice. We need to show our resolve, yes, but what we need to show is the superiority of our world. We need to win the propaganda war, proving that Osama bin Laden and his derivatives are pathetic, snivelling critics dripping with envy, and quivering with an unsated lust for power. We need to show that the world Osama bin Laden sought to trade at the World Trade Center is not a world that is worth a thing. We need to show the foolishness of terrorism, not by denouncing its violence, but declaring its impotence.

What more demonstrative proof of weakness has ever been shown to the world than 9/11? For on that day the West was attacked by airplanes created and sustained by the West; in a country so free even its enemies can walk through airports without so much as a question; on a day when travel was as easy as picking up the phone. Where are the Islamic plane-builders? And why, if Osama bin Laden is so strong, could he not attack with weapons his own superior world built for itself? Why steal ours, if not in admission of his abject impotency? Damn it, I guarantee you that every piece of technology used in London this morning was created by a Westerner. I know it in my bones. There is thus nothing strong in an ideology that is so weak it cannot fend for itself; or offend for itself.

But the Arabic world did indeed bring ONE thing to 9/11, and if you think about it, it makes one tremble. For there was a time, deep beneath Arabian sand, that the very oil used to thrust the jet engines into the Twin Towers once sat cool in the prehistoric darkness. In short, the oil of Arabia did start the whole thing tumbling down.

My liberal friends are right: THE WAR IS ALL ABOUT OIL -- the very oil that fell down on New Yorkers, scorching (as it did) horror-struck faces turned upward, mouths agape at the face of impotent evil.

Oil: the residue of dead carbon-based life forms. The residual blood of countless organisms, decayed beyond the millennia. Perhaps it's the blood of the Garden of Eden, long since dead.

Today, we are all Londoners. But London is not burning, and it is not falling down. It is a stalwart city in a stalwart nation, of historic resolve. It may quake, but it will not tumble.

I pray for London, just as I pray for peace in a world where peace refuses to come easy.

Contratimes

©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes