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During the long months of post-September 11 presidential invincibility,
no member of Congress climbed further out on the what-did-Bush-know-when
limb than Representative Cynthia McKinney. "We know there were numerous
warnings of the events to come on September 11," the Georgia Democrat
said in March. "What did this Administration know and when did it know
it, about the events of September 11? Who else knew, and why did they
not warn the innocent people of New York who were needlessly murdered?"

The disclosure that President Bush was warned in August that Al Qaeda
was seeking to hijack domestic aircraft did not confirm all McKinney's
intimations--which extended to talk about how the Bush family might have
profited from the attacks. Yet she was freed to stake a claim of
vindication. "It now becomes clear why the Bush Administration has been
vigorously opposing Congressional hearings. The Bush Administration has
been engaged in a conspiracy of silence. If committed and patriotic
people had not been pushing for disclosure, today's revelations would
have been hidden by the White House."

McKinney's initial calls for an investigation of what Bush knew prompted
a storm of criticism. "McKinney has made herself too easy a target for
mockery," Atlanta Journal-Constitution editorial page editor
Cynthia Tucker announced in April. "She no longer deserves serious
analysis." After Bush aides condemned McKinney's "ludicrous, baseless
views," National Review Online editor Jonah Goldberg diagnosed
her as suffering from "paranoid, America-hating, crypto-Marxist
conspiratorial delusions." Barely a month after the McKinney-bashing
peaked, however, the Journal-Constitution headline read: "Bush
warned by US intelligence before 9/11 of possible bin Laden plot to
hijack planes," while Senate Intelligence Committee vice chairman
Richard Shelby, an Alabama Republican, said, "I believe, and others
believe, if [information on threats] had been acted on properly, we may
have had a different situation on September 11."

There were no apologies to McKinney. Brushing aside complaints from
Atlanta civil rights activists, Georgia Senator Zell Miller continued to
characterize his fellow Democrat as "loony." McKinney's critics kept
exploiting the opening she gave them with her unfounded rumination on
the prospect that something other than ineptness might explain the
Administration's failure to warn Americans about terrorist threats. But
her willingness to go after the Administration when few Democrats dared
earned her folk-hero status among dissenters from the
Bush-can-do-no-wrong mantra: The popular democrats.com website now
greets visitors with a We Believe Cynthia icon.

In Georgia, where McKinney faces a July primary challenge from a former
judge who labels her "off-the-wall and unproductive," a recent
Journal-Constitution headline read, "Revelations Give Boost to
McKinney." Letters to the editor, even from former critics, hail her
prescience. And Georgia Democratic Representative John Lewis, who once
steered clear of McKinney's call for an investigation, says, "I hate to
put it in this vein, but she may have the last laugh."

There is a difference it used to make,

seeing three swans in this versus four in that

quadrant of sky. I am not imagining. It was very large, as its

effects were. Declarations of war, the timing fixed upon for a
sea-departure; or,

about love, a sudden decision not to, to pretend instead to a kind

of choice. It was dramatic, as it should be. Without drama,

what is ritual? I look for omens everywhere, because they are everywhere

to be found. They come to me like strays, like the damaged,

something that could know better, and should, therefore--but does not:

a form of faith, you've said. I call it sacrifice--an instinct for it,
or a habit at first, that

becomes required, the way art can become, eventually, all we have

of what was true. You shouldn't look at me like that. Like one of those
saints

on whom the birds once settled freely.

Perhaps there's a limit to female masochism after all. To the great
astonishment of the New York Times, which put the story on page
one, Creating a Life, Sylvia Ann Hewlett's book deploring the
failure of female professionals to have as many children as she thinks
they need to be happy, is a big commercial flop ("The Talk of the Book
World Still Can't Sell," May 20). Out of a 30,000-copy first printing,
perhaps 8,000 have sold, despite a publicity campaign from heaven:
Time cover story, 60 Minutes, Oprah, Today,
wall-to-wall radio. The UK edition, Baby Hunger (Hewlett's
original choice of title--gag me with a spoon!), is also piling up in
warehouses.

The Times quotes numerous bewildered publishing people--could it
be the cover? women's "deep level of anxiety"?--but it's no big mystery
why the book isn't selling. Except when right-wing foundations buy up
truckloads of copies, antifeminist tracts usually do poorly despite
heavy attention. The media love them--this week's newsstand features
New York with "Baby Panic" and Us with "Will They Ever
Have Babies?" in which Jennifer Aniston and other nulliparous stars
bemoan their lot--but book buyers don't bite. Hewlett follows in the
steps of Katie Roiphe, who got great press but few readers for The
Morning After
, which argued that date rape was just "bad sex."
Partly the reason is that these books tend to be so flimsy that the
media campaign gives away their entire contents, but the main reason is
that nobody but women buy books about women--and women who buy hardcover
books are mostly feminists. They know date rape isn't bad sex, and they
don't need Hewlett to tell them their biological clocks are ticking.
(Apparently not as fast as Ms. Hewlett claims, though. Dr. Alan
DeCherney told the Times a woman's chances of getting pregnant at
40 are better than Hewlett makes out.) Why buy a book that tells you to
smile, settle and rattle those pots and pans? That's what your relatives
are for.

By the way, my friend Judith Friedlander, coiner of the immortal phrase
"a creeping nonchoice," was surprised to find herself on Hewlett's list
of tearful women whose careers got in the way of childbearing. "I've had
a great life," she told me, "with no regrets, and I spent a long time
telling Hewlett just that."

* * *

What if a woman ran for President who had great progressive politics
except for one thing--she believed that any man accused of rape or
sexual harassment should be castrated without a trial? How many
progressive men would say to themselves, Oh well, she's got great
positions on unions, the environment, the death penalty, and all the
rest, and besides, women really like her, so she gets my vote! Ten men?
three? two?

Of course, no progressive woman would ever put this crazy notion
forward. Our hypothetical candidate would understand all too well that
she couldn't propose to kick men in the collective teeth and expect them
to vote for her. Back in the real world, however, this is precisely what
some progressives apparently expect women to do for Dennis Kucinich,
whose anti-choice voting record was the subject of my last column.
Besides numerous e-mails thanking me for "outing" him and two or three
upholding the "human rights" of the "itty bitty zygote," I heard from a
few readers like Michael Sherrard, who urged "liberals" to "get over
their single-issue abortion orthodoxy." Instead of asking women to give
up their rights, why not pressure Kucinich to support them? To get that
"broad based multi-issue progressive movement" Sherrard wants, Kucinich
is the one who needs to get real, to face the demographic truth that
without the votes, dollars and volunteer labor of pro-choice women and
men, no Democrat can win the White House. His anti-choice votes may suit
his socially conservative Cleveland constituents, as his supporters
claim, but America isn't the 10th Congressional District of Ohio writ
large.

What Kucinich's fans may not understand is that for pro-choice women,
abortion is not just another item on the list. It goes straight to the
soul. It is about whether society sees you as fully human or as a vessel
for whom no plan or hope or possibility or circumstance, however
desperate, matters more than being a nest for that "itty bitty zygote."
As I've written before, despite the claims of "pro-life feminists" and
"seamless-garment" Catholics, progressive social policies and abortion
rights tend to go together: Abortion bans flourish where there are
backwardness, poverty, undemocratic government and politically powerful
patriarchal religion, where levels of education, healthcare and social
investment in children are low, and where women have little power.
Instead of asking women to sign over their wombs for the cause,
progressives should demand that "their" politicians add abortion rights
to their agenda. No progressive would vote for someone who opposed
unions or wanted to bring back Jim Crow. Why should women's rights
matter less? It's disgusting that the AFL-CIO supports anti-choice
politicians--as if their members aren't getting (or causing) abortions
in vast numbers--and it backfires, too. In Pennsylvania's Democratic
gubernatorial primary, pro-choice centrist Democrat Ed Rendell trounced
anti-choice labor-endorsed Bob Casey Jr., 56 to 44 percent.

* * *

A French committee is promoting Ahmed Shah Massoud, the assassinated
Northern Alliance commander, for the Nobel Peace Prize (among the
signatories: actress Jane Birkin, Gen. Philippe Morillon and that
inevitable trio of trendy philosophes, Bernard-Henri Levy, Alain
Finkielkraut and André Glucksmann). I know what you're thinking:
If Henry Kissinger could be awarded this honor, why not the
CIA/Russia-backed Tajik warlord who helped set up a fundamentalist
government in 1992, destroyed Kabul by fighting with his erstwhile ally
Gulbuddin Hekmatyar and helped create so much havoc, including
documented massacres of civilians, that Afghans welcomed the Taliban?
Still, there's something repellent about proposing to award Massoud,
thanks in part to whom Afghanistan is riddled with landmines, the same
prize won by anti-landmine activist Jodie Williams in 1997. Maybe they
should call it the Nobel War Prize.

The re-education of former World Bank chief economist Joseph Stiglitz.

As if the back streets of our local city

might dispense with their pyrrhic accumulation of dust and wineful
tonality,

offer a reprise of love itself, a careless love

rendered grand and persuasive

by its own shy handful of hope, some ballast such as this

on a summer afternoon when the air smells of slaughtered chickens,

and other problems, like the estranged spouse of a good friend,

holler from the passageway. It's always conclusive

in the bungled moment after you try to accomplish something irreducible.

So you say as you return empty-handed from the store,

having forgotten everything--your money, the list.

This soon-to-be-classic Ed Sorel cartoon is available only in our print edition. Sorry!

Almost everything that is wrong with Washington Post foreign
editor David Hoffman's new book about Russia's transformation into a
capitalist system, The Oligarchs, can be discerned in one small
and apparently meaningless passage on page 91. In it, the erstwhile
Moscow bureau chief of the Post (1995-2001) describes former
Russian Deputy Prime Minister Anatoly Chubais's reaction when, as a
young man, the future and now infamous "father of Russian privatization"
first read the works of Austrian economist Friedrich von Hayek:

Many years later, Chubais recalled the thrill of reading Hayek and
instantly gave his own example of how Hayek's theory worked in practice
in the United States. "One person is selling hamburgers somewhere in New
York," he told me, "while another person is grazing cows somewhere in
Arkansas to produce meat that will be used to make those hamburgers. But
in order for that person in Arkansas to graze cows, there needs to be a
price for meat, which tells him that he should graze cows."

Now, the reaction a sane person is likely to have when reading a passage
like this is, What kind of maniac experiences a "thrill" when reading
about hamburger distribution? A corollary question that occurred to me,
as I imagined this 20-year-old Soviet dreaming guiltily of Arkansas
cattle, was, Were there no girls at all in the Leningrad of Anatoly
Chubais's youth?

It's a given that the answers to questions like these are not to be
found in the seminal analytical work of one of the Moscow journalism
community's most notoriously humorless foreign correspondents, but this
problem is less inconsequential than you might think. For it is
precisely Hoffman's inability to write honestly and perceptively about
ordinary human experience that makes The Oligarchs miss as badly
as it does in its attempt to describe the changes in Russian society
over the past decade or so.

By the time Hoffman took over as the Post's Moscow bureau chief,
I had been living in Russia for about five years. First as a student and
then as a freelance reporter, I'd watched during that time as Russians
became increasingly disillusioned with democracy and capitalism. Kids
I'd studied with who had brains and talent found themselves working twenty-four-hour
shifts in dingy street kiosks or lugging feminine hygiene products door
to door, while the only people from my class who ended up with money
were morons and thugs who took jobs with local "biznesmen" (read:
mobsters) doing God knows what.

That was the reality for the Russians young and old who had the
misfortune to live through the early 1990s, when the inefficient old
planned economy was dismantled and something--I hesitate to call it
capitalism--was installed in its place. Honest, hard-working people were
impoverished overnight, while swindlers and killers quickly rose to the
top. The insult was exacerbated for Russians when they began to hear
that the rest of the world, America and the American press in
particular, was calling this process progress.

What America called a "painful but necessary transition," most Russians
saw as a simple scam in which Communist functionaries and factory
directors reinvented themselves by swearing oaths to the new democratic
religion and cloaking themselves in fancy new words like "financier" and
"entrepreneur." The only difference from the old system appeared to be
that the villas were now in the south of France instead of on the Black
Sea. The ordinary Russian also noticed that his salary had become
largely fictional and that all his benefits had been taken away--corners
had to be cut somewhere in order to pay for all those new Mercedes in
town.

At the national level, this process was symbolized by the rise of the
oligarchs, a small group of rapacious and mostly bald men who were
handed huge fortunes by their friends in government. Eventually, they
were to take the place of the Politburo as the ruling coterie of the new
elite.

Men like bankers Mikhail Khodorkovsky, Alexander Smolensky and Vladimir
Potanin, industrialist Boris Berezovsky and media magnate Vladimir
Gusinsky became Croesus-rich seemingly overnight in those early years of
the 1990s. By the middle of the decade, they owned or controlled much of
the media and held increasing influence over Boris Yeltsin, a weak
autocrat who had grown dependent on their wealth and power to fend off
his political enemies.

The Oligarchs purports to tell the story of the rise of these
men. It is an exhaustive book, impressive in scope, that contains
extensive interviews with all of the key figures. But it misses because
Hoffman does not know what it is like to sleep in a street kiosk during
a Leningrad winter, nor does he particularly care to know; he writes
like a man trying to describe the dark side of King George from a
trundle bed in a guest room of Windsor palace.

Not that this is surprising. In his tenure as a reporter in Moscow,
Hoffman was notorious for being an unapologetic ideologue, the hardest
of hard-core cold warriors. The basic structure of a David Hoffman
article was generally to lead with a gloomy flashback to some grim
Soviet-era scene and then go on to describe how, with the help of
American aid, the courageous leadership of the democrat Boris Yeltsin
and the heroic efforts of Western-minded reform economists like Chubais,
things had since changed spectacularly for the better.

In other words, lead off with a picture of a groaning, overweight
housewife at the end of a long line to buy shoes that don't fit, and
close with a shot of an apple-cheeked cashier at Pizza Hut using her
salary to buy Nikes. That was Russia Reporting 101 during the 1990s, and
no one was better at it or more devoted to its practice than David
Hoffman.

That said, it is surprising, even shocking, that Hoffman would employ
that technique in this book, given the subject matter. Hoffman begins
his book by focusing on the Soviet-era experiences of a characteristic
"ordinary Russian," a schoolteacher named Irina, and describing her
humiliating search for toilet paper on a summer day in 1985.

Use of these images made a kind of sense in the wake of the collapse of
Communism, but in Hoffman's book, published ten years after the fact,
the decision to spend the entire first chapter (titled "Shadows and
Shortages") describing the hardship of product-deprived Soviets in the
1980s can only mean one thing. Hoffman is setting up his reader to
understand the phenomenon of the oligarchs in terms of their eventual
benefit to society.

That benefit, in Hoffman's view, is clearly a Russia full of available
products and the triumphant building of a "rapacious, unruly
capitalism...on the ashes of Soviet communism."

That the vast majority of Russians could not and cannot afford those
products, or even earn enough to feed and clothe themselves, does not
concern Hoffman. The opening of the book, set in the old USSR, is full
of portraits of ordinary folks grasping for Beatles records and VCRs and
other Western delights (Hoffman even sinks so low as to use the
heavyweight champion of Russia-reporting clichés: the Soviet
citizen sitting despondent at the sight of a full refrigerator in a
Western movie). But those same ordinary people are conspicuously absent
from the middle and later pages, when the cracks in the new system--the
stalled salaries, the collapsed local industries, the crime-- begin to
show.

In one particularly telling section, Hoffman describes Yeltsin's
surprise when he learned in early 1998 that his popularity figures in
poll ratings had dropped below 5 percent. According to the book, media
mogul Gusinsky and some of the other oligarchs discovered that Yeltsin,
kept insulated from the truth by his KGB aides, had no conception of the
depth of his unpopularity:

"Before the meeting, they agreed that someone would try to deliver the
raw truth to Yeltsin that he was no longer popular, a painful
realization that, according to [Yeltsin's chief of staff, Viktor]
Ilyushin, the president had not absorbed."

This passage is ironic because Yeltsin's surprise at this juncture of
the story is nearly identical to that of the uninitiated reader
traveling through Hoffman's book for the first time. Until he informs us
a few sentences later of Yeltsin's meager poll ratings, the pain felt by
the overwhelming majority of Russians during the early reform years is
completely concealed.

When Hoffman first showed us the schoolteacher Irina, she was a Soviet
citizen deprived of toilet paper, and this was apparently worthy of
note. But if she remained a teacher through this Yeltsin poll moment in
the middle of the book, in 1996, Irina also saw her health benefits
taken away, her salary slashed to the equivalent of about $50 a month
(and possibly delayed for months in any case) and funding for her school
cut so severely that she would have to buy chalk out of her own pocket.
This is not considered noteworthy, in Hoffman's estimation.

The determination to keep the telling of the oligarchs' story within the
context of their eventual salutary effect on the country leads Hoffman
into some grievous oversights and contradictions. None of these are more
important than his insistence upon painting his oligarch subjects--in
particular, Khodorkovsky, Potanin and Berezovsky--as self-made
entrepreneurs who bucked the state system to make their fortunes. The
fact that he connects the rise of these men to the encouraging fact of a
Russia full of products on its shelves is even more misleading.

The reality is that none of these men produced anything that Russians
could consume, and all benefited directly from tribute handed down from
the state. Bankers like Smolensky, for instance, made fortunes through a
collusive arrangement with state insiders who gave them exclusive
licenses to trade in hard currency during a time when prices were set to
be abruptly freed. When hyperinflation set in (naturally) and the
population frantically scampered to convert their increasingly worthless
rubles into dollars, the currency-trading licenses became virtual
spigots of cash.

Furthermore, the oligarchs really became a ruling class only after the
"loans for shares" auctions in late 1995, a series of privatizations
that underscored the incestuous relationship between the state and the
new tycoons. The state "lent" huge stakes in giant companies (in
particular oil companies) in return for cash. Implemented and organized
by Minister Chubais, the auctions ended up being one of the great shams
of all time, as in many cases the bidders themselves were allowed to
organize the tenders and even to exclude competitors. In some cases, the
state actually managed to lend the bidders the money to make the bids
through a series of backdoor maneuvers.

Hailed at the time as the death knell of the state-controlled economy
and a great advance of the privatization effort, the auctions were
actually a huge quid pro quo in which bankers were handed billion-dollar
companies for a fraction of their market price (a 78 percent stake in
Yukos, the second-largest oil company in Russia, valued at least at $2
billion, was sold for just $309.1 million to Khodorkovsky's Menatep
Bank) in exchange for support of Yeltsin in the upcoming 1996 election.
Many Russians today consider loans for shares one of the biggest thefts
in the history of mankind. Hoffman, incidentally, didn't bother to cover
loans for shares as a reporter, either.

One final note about Hoffman. Many reviewers have lauded The
Oligarchs
for its "readability." They must have been reading a
different book. If there is a worse descriptive writer in the journalism
world than Hoffman, I have yet to come across him or her. In those
passages in which he goes after the "breezy" conversational style of
David Remnick's Pulitzer Prize-winning Lenin's Tomb (Hoffman's
Remnick inferiority complex is grossly obvious in this book), he
repeatedly breaks down into crass stupidities that reveal his lack of
knowledge about the country he covered for half a decade.

At one point, for instance, he describes the young Chubais as having had
a penchant for driving his Zaporozhets automobile at "terrifying
speeds." As the owner of two such cars, which feature 38-horsepower
engines and can be lifted off the ground by two grown men (or maybe four
Washington Post correspondents), I can testify that terror is not
and has never been in this machine's design profile.

Hoffman's atrocious Russian, a subject of much snickering in the Moscow
press community, also shines through in this book. He consistently
mistranslates Russian expressions and fails to grasp lingual/cultural references. For instance, when he talks about Chubais's habit
of spending long hours in the Publichka, which he says is what
"young scholars fondly called the [public] library," he appears not to
grasp that the "fond" nickname is a play on the term publichniy
dom
, or whorehouse.

This might be because Hoffman is the only American male to have visited
Moscow in the 1990s and escaped without personal knowledge of the term.
Whatever the explanation, it seems clear that Hoffman is not the kind of
person one would normally consider an authority on the nontycoon Russian
experience.

That's particularly true given the ironic fact that prostitution was one
of the few real growth industries during the reign of the oligarchs, the
one feasible financial option for the modern-day Irinas of Russia.
That's modern Russia in a nutshell: plenty of toilet paper for the
asking, but no way to afford it except...the hard way.

If The Oligarchs is simply a wrongheaded book, then Building
Capitalism
, by Carnegie fellow Anders Aslund, is legitimately
insidious. Aslund throughout the 1990s was a key adviser to reform
politicians like Anatoly Chubais and Yegor Gaidar, and as such his
assessment of the success of the privatization era is obviously
self-interested. He claims in the book that "populations have gained
from fast and comprehensive reforms," and that "economic decline and
social hazards have been greatly exaggerated, since people have
forgotten how awful communism was."

This is typical of Western analysis of Russia over the past ten
years--an academic who grew up in Sweden and lives in Washington,
telling Russians that their complaints about reform are groundless
because, unlike Western experts, they do not accurately remember what
life was like under Communism.

Aslund, who helped to design the privatization programs in the middle of
the past decade, goes on in the book to defend those blitzkrieg
liquidations of state industries on the grounds that such formal
privatizations were more equitable than what he calls "spontaneous
privatization."

A major aim of formal privatization was to stop spontaneous
privatization, which was inequitable, slow, and inefficient. Reformers
feared it would arouse a popular political backlash against
privatization and reform, as indeed happened all over. Especially in the
[former Soviet Union], the saying "what is not privatized will be
stolen" suggested the urge for great speed.

It's not clear from this passage to whom this "great speed" idea was
suggested. Those "equitable" formal privatizations Aslund helped design
left billion-dollar companies like Yukos and Norilsk Nickel in the hands
of single individuals (Khodorkovsky and Potanin, respectively) for
pennies on the dollar. They were so corrupt and unfair that for most
Russians--the majority of whom were left impoverished by the
changes--the word "privatization" became synonymous with theft. Indeed,
Russians even coined a new term, prikhvatizatsiya (or
"grabitization"), that perfectly expressed their outrage over the
private commandeering of property they considered public and their own.

It should be admitted that the extent to which one finds success in
Russia's capitalist experiment--and the worth of the oligarchs who
administered it--is largely a matter of opinion.

If you believe that capitalism is about destroying a country's industry,
handing over its wealth to a dozen or so people who will be inclined to
move it instantly to places like Switzerland and Nauru Island, and about
humiliating the general population so completely that they are powerless
to do anything but consume foreign products and long for the "good old
days" of totalitarianism (polls still consistently show that 70 percent
of the population preferred life under Brezhnev to that of today's
Russia), then you have to judge the Russian experiment a success.

But if you believe that people are more than just numerical variables in
some dreary equation found in an Adam Smith reader (or perhaps numbers
lumped together with cows in Anatoly Chubais's dogeared Hayek text) then
you'll have a hard time finding any true capitalism at all in today's
Russia. Or in either of these coldhearted books, for that matter.

Quick, pinch me--am I still living in the same country? Reading and
watching the same media? This "Bob Woodward" fellow who co-wrote a tough
piece in the May 18 Washington Post demonstrating that the
now-famous August 6 presidential daily briefing, contrary to
Administration officials' claims about its contents, actually carried
the heading "Bin Laden determined to strike in U.S."--is this the same
Bob Woodward who co-wrote the Post's infamous "Ten Days in
September" series earlier this year, the ur-document of George W. Bush's
Churchillization? And this "Michael Isikoff," sharing a byline on the
eye-opening May 27 Newsweek cover story that shreds the
Administration's "we did everything we could" line of defense--is this
the Isikoff who four years ago defined national security in terms of
dress stains and cigar probes? One begins to suspect that unbeknownst to
all of us, the terrorists have indeed struck--the Washington, DC, water
supply.

An overstatement, to be sure. But it does seem to be the case that
wherever this potentially incendiary story leads, from fog of
unprovables to hot smoking gun, one change has already taken place
because of it that is well worth marking. For the first time since
September 11--or, arguably, since ever--the press corps appears ready to
expend more effort poking holes in the vaunted Bush Administration spin
operation than admiringly limning it. More to the point, Is a new
skepticism stirring around such heretofore Teflonized officials as
National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice? Before her May 16
damage-control press conference, Rice was probably the Administration's
leading untouchable. After it ("I don't think anybody could have
predicted these people would...use an airplane as a missile," a
statement left bleeding on the floor after a pile of evidence came
forward showing plenty of people were predicting precisely that), her
status has taken a major hit. So, as Professor Harold Hill might put it,
certain wooorrrrdds are creeping into the media vocabulary--words
like "serious credibility gap," in the Newsweek piece.

It's been a long time coming. If anything "un-American" happened after
September 11, it was the triumph of the notion--propounded by the
Bushies, reinforced by the major media and far too readily accepted by
cowardly Democrats--that "patriotism" somehow equals "support the Bush
Administration." CBS's Dan Rather said it recently in an interview with
the BBC: "Patriotism became so strong in the United States after 11
September that it prevented US journalists from asking the toughest of
the tough questions about the war against terrorism," adding, "I do not
except myself from this criticism." The genuflection sometimes reached
levels that we might call comic, except that there's nothing comic about
a "free" press choosing to ape state-owned media, throwing rose petals
at the feet of officials from the most unilateral and secretive
Administration in modern American history ("sixty-nine years old, and
you're America's stud," Meet the Press's Tim Russert once said to
Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld).

One is not quite ready to say, on the evidence of several days' worth of
stories, that this sorry era is over just yet. The New York Times
and the Washington Post both ran editorials on May 17 that were
something short of being full-throated calls for investigation; from the
right-wing papers, the predictable yelping about how it's really
Clinton's fault.

All this will probably continue, but at least now it appears that it
will be offset by some post-post-9/11 aggression. It will be interesting
to watch what leads the media now follow and how far they follow them.
For example, some reports--originating with the BBC but picked up in a
few minor US outlets--indicate that US intelligence agents were told to
back off the bin Laden family and the Saudi royals soon after Bush
became President. Reporters might also look into the way the
Administration declined to continue a process of tightening overseas and
offshore banking regulations begun by the Clinton Administration in an
effort to track down narcotics traffickers and terrorists. The Bush
people acted partly at the behest of Texas Senator Phil Gramm, which
means partly at the behest of Enron--and which may have ended up helping
terrorists.

"Connecting the dots" has become the operative cliché about
whether intelligence officials should have been able to put together the
various pre-9/11 clues they received. Now, maybe the media will start
connecting some dots of their own.

So what's it called if during war you criticize the President for any reason?
Treason.
And how long does this war go on (and this is where this theory's really pretty clever)?
Forever.

haven't done much mental spring cleaning because so much of the last
month has been taken up with brooding and spewing about the crisis in
the Middle East; no doubt the coming months will be much the same. After
putting your mind to this issue for a long time--witness Shimon Peres,
New York Times columnist Tom Friedman and so many others--cobwebs
gather and it becomes hard to see through the accumulated dust. So it
was pleasant to turn to Legal Affairs, the new publication of the
Yale Law School, edited by Lincoln Caplan, which casts an intelligent
eye over a broad and spacious intellectual terrain.

Of course the first item I turned to--obsessively--was an article on
Israel, more specifically on the legendary Supreme Court President
Aharon Barak (no relation), by Emily Bazelon--thankfully the only Middle
East piece in the inaugural issue, or who knows how I might have been
sidetracked. In 1992, from his seat on the Israeli Supreme Court, he
championed the Basic Laws that now serve the country as a kind of de
facto constitution and give Israel one of the most progressive sets of
human rights laws and precepts to govern any nation. But that was just a
first step for this exceptional person.

In May 1998, in a historic pronouncement, he declared (I'm simplifying
here) that torture of Palestinian detainees by the Shin Bet was not
legalized under Israeli codes. This meant that one day there would be no
more shabach--the technique of tying prisoners to kindergarten
chairs, putting their heads in sacks and subjecting them to humiliation
and psychological torture. It meant no more shaking, a favored method
that disorients and injures without leaving visible signs. No more sleep
deprivation. Barak later codified this ruling, when he "unequivocally
declared for a unanimous court that the Shin Bet's methods of
interrogating Palestinians detained without charges violated the rights
to human dignity and freedom." But those were better days in Israel, and
Bazelon points out that current conditions may have allowed the Shin Bet
to violate the ban. The Public Committee Against Torture has filed two
petitions to the court since September 2000, both arguing that the ban
on torture has not been "fully enforced," as Bazelon understates it. One
petition was withdrawn and the other rejected. Like so many of his
generation who hoped to normalize life in Israel, Barak too has been
undermined by the Degeneration of the Situation.

Anyway, Legal Affairs is not all bleakness and Jerusalem drizzle.
Its other lead piece is Brendan Koerner's dazzling narrative of
cyber-intrigue and blackmail that extends from Russia to FBI
headquarters in DC. The magazine also looks at hip-hop music with the
amusing premise that it is all about law enforcement, in a piece that
would be great but for its silly, super-serious tone. Tim Dodd
contributes an excellent article from Jakarta on Syafiuddin
Kartasasmita, the conservative Indonesian judge who was assassinated a
year after leading a three-man panel that found the youngest son of the
dictator Suharto, Tommy, guilty of corruption. A very amusing piece by
Dashka Slater tells you what it's like to spend a working week watching
only court TV (answer: terrific and soporific). A bunch of small
excerpts from Christopher Buckley's latest Washington entertainment
(No Way to Treat a First Lady) are fun, if not terribly
enlightening. And "Silence! Four ways the law keeps poor people from
getting heard in court" should be on the reading list of every legal
reporter and defense attorney in America. There is also a no doubt
valuable piece by Benjamin Wittes on the faulty legal underpinnings of
Kenneth Starr's behavior (but lines like "the attorney general had the
authority to decline to request an independent counsel where a clear
Justice Department policy would preclude an indictment" really harsh my buzz).
Legal Affairs reminds you that the law matters--unlike
American Lawyer, which makes you think the law is a buddy system
for grotesque elites in major urban centers who speak a language the
rest of us cannot understand (except when it's about gigantic salaries
and hourly fees). The new magazine reminds you that the law is the
element in which most of the major stories of our lives take place
(marriages, births, deaths, crimes, real estate closings, divorce), and
that it provides the narrative framework for the unfolding of most
important events.

News From Nowhere

Globalvision News Network has set up an extremely useful website
called The News Not in the News (you can find it at
www.gvnews.net, by subscription). This is where you can see what the
Arab press is really reporting; where you'll find the latest from places
like Kyrgyzstan, where the government has just resigned following unrest
since the May 10 sentencing of Felix Kulov, the foremost leader of the
Kyrgyz (new national adjective!) opposition, to ten years in prison. The
stories are put up without annotation, so that, say, the Kyrgyz
reporting can become convoluted to the uninitiated reader. But you
wouldn't want to miss this story: In his first interview in two
years--conducted along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border in writing and by
messenger, not in person--Mullah Omar (you remember him) tells Asharq
Al-Awsat
, an Arab news agency, that flames will engulf the White
House and that Osama bin Laden is still alive. Of course, for all one
knows, the interviewee could have been an Afghan schoolboy having his
fun, since there is no proof that the reporter's questions were actually
relayed to Omar himself. But that is what is both useful and charming
about this site: It is raw news as it is written and printed in other
lands, as fresh as it can be, and with its edgy myth-making untouched by
American objectivity. "What is important for the US now is to find out
why they did that [the attack on September 11]," says "Omar." "America
should remove the cause that made them do it." If only "Omar" had a
mirror version of The News Not in the News, he could see what a
tempest that very same issue set off in America's own pages not so long
ago. But we wouldn't want to harsh his buzz.


TORTURE 'OFF THE BOOKS'?

Cambridge, Mass.

William Schulz, in his respectful but selectively critical review of
"less than two of [Shouting Fire]'s 550 pages," misses the point
of my proposal regarding torture warrants ["The Torturer's Apprentice,"
May 13]. I am against torture, and I am seeking ways of preventing or
minimizing its use. My argument begins with the empirical claim--not the
moral argument--that if an actual ticking bomb case were ever to arise
in this country, torture would in fact be used. FBI and CIA sources have
virtually acknowledged this. Does Schulz agree or disagree with this
factual assertion? If it is true that torture would in fact be used,
then the following moral question arises: whether it is worse in the
choice of evils for this torture to take place off the books, under the
radar screen and without democratic accountability--or whether it is
worse for this torture to be subjected to democratic accountability by
means of some kind of judicial approval and supervision. This is a
difficult and daunting question, with arguments on all sides. In my
forthcoming book Why Terrorism Works, I devote an entire chapter
to presenting the complexity of this issue, rather than simply proposing
it as a heuristic, as I did in the two pages of Shouting Fire on
which Schulz focuses. Schulz simply avoids this horrible choice of evils
by arguing that it does not exist and by opting for a high road that
will simply not be taken in the event that federal agents believe they
can actually stop a terrorist nuclear or bioterrorist attack by
administering nonlethal torture.

Schulz asks whether I would also favor "brutality warrants,"
"testilying" warrants and prisoner rape warrants. The answer is a
heuristic "yes," if requiring a warrant would subject these horribly
brutal activities to judicial control and political accountability. The
purpose of requiring judicial supervision, as the Framers of our Fourth
Amendment understood better than Schulz does, is to assure
accountability and judicial neutrality. There is another purpose as
well: It forces a democratic country to confront the choice of evils in
an open way. My question back to Schulz is, Do you prefer the current
situation, in which brutality, testilying and prison rape are rampant,
but we close our eyes to these evils?

There is, of course, a downside: legitimating a horrible practice that
we all want to see ended or minimized. Thus we have a triangular
conflict unique to democratic societies: If these horrible practices
continue to operate below the radar screen of accountability, there is
no legitimation, but there is continuing and ever-expanding sub
rosa
employment of the practice. If we try to control the practice
by demanding some kind of accountability, we add a degree of
legitimation to it while perhaps reducing its frequency and severity. If
we do nothing, and a preventable act of nuclear terrorism occurs, then
the public will demand that we constrain liberty even more. There is no
easy answer.

I praise Amnesty International for taking the high road--that is its
job, because it is not responsible for making hard judgments about
choices of evil. Responsible government officials are in a somewhat
different position. Professors have yet a different responsibility: to
provoke debate about issues before they occur and to challenge
absolutes. That is what Shouting Fire is all about.

ALAN DERSHOWITZ


SCHULZ REPLIES

New York City

Neither I nor Amnesty International can be accused of having closed
our eyes to the reality of torture, police brutality or prison rape. Of
course, some authorities may utilize torture under some circumstances,
just as others choose to take bribes. The question is, What is the best
way to eradicate these practices? By regulating them or outlawing them
and enforcing the law? That an evil seems pervasive or even (at the
moment) inevitable is no reason to grant it official approval. We tried
that when it came to slavery, and the result was the Civil War. Had we
applied Professor Dershowitz's approach to child labor, American
10-year-olds would still be sweating in shops.

WILLIAM F. SCHULZ



HITCHENS'S 'CULTURE WAR'

Princeton, N.J.

Christopher Hitchens argues that "suicide murders would increase and
not decrease" if a two-state solution between Israelis and Palestinians
moved closer to reality ["Minority Report," May 13]. This claim seems to
bolster Sharon's cataclysmic "war on terror" in the occupied
territories: If terrorists seek to destroy peace and only feed on
Israel's generosity and sincerity, surely Sharon is correct to eliminate
"terror" as a precondition for negotiations?

In fact, the Oslo process has moved the Palestinians further from the
goal of a viable state, and the Israeli left's best offers to date (at
Camp David and Taba) envisage the annexation of the vast majority of
settlers to Israel in perpetuity along with blocs of land, which would
fatally compromise a nascent Palestine. As for Hitchens's observation
that the first suicide bombings coincided with the Rabin/Peres
government: How does this undermine the explanation that Israel's
prolonged oppression has created and fueled the bombers? Rabin and Peres
imposed a curfew on Palestinians rather than Israeli settlers after the
murder of twenty-nine Arabs by Baruch Goldstein in Hebron early in 1994
(the first suicide bombing was in response to this); they sent death
squads into the West Bank and Gaza to kill militants and those who
happened to be in their vicinity (the wave of suicide bombings in the
spring of 1996 followed one such assassination); and they greatly
expanded the settlements, contributing their share to the broader trend
of illegal settlement expansion that's doubled the number of Israelis
living across the Green Line since 1992.

Hitchens's promotion of a "culture war" between religious extremists and
secular opponents of "thuggery and tribalism" obfuscates the reality of
Israel's prolonged and enduring oppression of Palestinians. His argument
that a more generous Israeli policy would lead to more Palestinian
violence, meanwhile, serves to legitimize Sharon's current tactics. How
did such a clearsighted commentator become so myopic? Perhaps if
Hitchens stopped looking at every situation through the lens of the "war
on terror," he'd regain his former clarity of vision.

NICHOLAS GUYATT



LBJ A RACIST? THINK AGAIN

Washington, DC

I share Eric Alterman's admiration for the work of biographer Robert
Caro ["Stop the Presses," May 6]. But why does Alterman feel compelled
to refer to Lyndon Johnson as a "thoroughgoing racist"? Johnson was a
white man born in 1908 in the most racist region of the most racist
country on earth. He was born in a time and place where racism was
accepted as part of the atmosphere, where lynching was commonplace,
where black people led lives of unimaginable degradation (see Leon
Litwack's Trouble in Mind, a portrait of the early
twentieth-century Jim Crow South, which has to be read to be believed).

Of course, given his background, political ambitions and ineligibility
for sainthood, Johnson used racist language and shared racist
assumptions. Who from that time and place, wanting what he wanted, did
not? But what distinguishes Johnson, at all stages in his public career,
was his relative lack of public racism. Johnson was a New Deal
Congressman from 1937 to '48 who never strayed from loyalty to the
national Democratic Party even though conservative Texas Democrats were
in revolt against it from 1944 onward. Of course, running for the Senate
against a Dixiecrat in 1948 as Southern resistance to civil rights was
beginning to build, he opposed the Truman civil rights program. That was
the minimum required to be elected to Texas statewide office. Given the
pathological ferocity of Johnson's ambition, sticking with Truman for
re-election, as Johnson did, took guts that year. As a senator, Johnson
was never identified as a leader of the Southern bloc or as an enemy of
civil rights. Again, especially in public, he said and did the political
minimum to pay homage to the racist consensus. Caro evidently describes
his involvement in the Civil Rights Act of 1957, the forerunner of all
the other civil rights laws to come. Texas black and Hispanic voters
never doubted that, given the alternatives, LBJ was their man.

Johnson later became the greatest civil rights President in history,
pushing through the epochal changes in the laws, appointing Thurgood
Marshall to the Supreme Court and going so far as to vet prospective
federal judges with the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. Blacks who worked with
him, like Roger Wilkins, remember him fondly while acknowledging his
ancestral racism, which he tried, not always successfully, to transcend.
But if Johnson is a "thoroughgoing racist," where does that leave
Richard Russell, James Eastland or Strom Thurmond--or Richard Nixon, for
that matter? What about Barry Goldwater, who was probably less "racist"
than Johnson but was an opponent of all civil rights legislation and was
the leader of the forces of unrepentant segregation (i.e., racist murder
and oppression) in 1964?

As with Abraham Lincoln, also now under renewed attack on similarly
ahistorical grounds, to describe Johnson as an extreme racist flattens
the historical landscape and renders the fierce conflicts of a past age
meaningless. There is nothing wrong with honestly describing anybody's
racial views, including those of Lincoln or Johnson. But in studying
history, context is everything. And in studying Lincoln or Johnson, what
matters most is not the ways they shared their contemporaries' racial
attitudes but the ways they did not, as reflected in their words and
actions.

PETER M. CONNOLLY


ALTERMAN REPLIES

New York City

There's a bit of hyperbole in Peter Connolly's thoughtful letter, and
I disagree with his point about it taking guts to stick with the
Democratic President, but by and large I think his criticism is on the
mark, and I appreciate it. He is right. Context is everything.
Johnson may have been a racist, but unlike most politicians in his time
and place he was not a "race man." That's an important distinction, and
I wish I had considered it.

ERIC ALTERMAN

The question is not the 1970s cliché, What did the President know and when did he know it? The appropriate query is, What did US intelligence know-and what ...

The United States has a $6 trillion national debt, a growing deficit and is borrowing money from the Social Security Trust Fund in order to fund government services.We can no longer afford to pro

In April, U.S. Rep. Cynthia McKinney, D-Ga., got in a whole heap of trouble after she called for a thorough investigation of what George W. Bush knew before September 11 about the potential for the sort of terrorist attacks that would shake the nation and the world on that fateful day.

McKinney is one of the most outspoken members of the current Congress and her statements were typically blunt. "We know there were numerous warnings of the events to come on September 11th," she told a radio interviewer. "What did this administration know and when did it know it, about the events of September 11th? Who else knew, and why did they not warn the innocent people of New York who were needlessly murdered? . . . What do they have to hide?"

McKinney's call for a real investigation of what Bush knew -- along with her parallel suggestion that it was necessary to conduct a review of possible war profiteering by members of the Bush administration and corporations with close ties to the president -- drew a firestorm from pundits and partisans.

"I stand before you all today with a heavy heart to tell the tales of the endless raging minority cleansing campaign," declared Dwijen Bhattacharjya at the International Conference on Minority Cle

Since September 11, George W. Bush's political team and their Republican allies have used every trick to exploit the tragedy for political advantage.

President Dubya loves to crusade against the "axis of evil" in his war on terrorism--but he formed an unholy alliance with the countries that make up the "axis" to declare war on the condom as a

The essential mystery of the 2000 election has always been this: How in
the world did George W. Bush ever get close enough to invite the
Republican-appointed majority on the Supreme Court to give him his
"victory"?

Of course, he couldn't have done it all by himself. Al Gore ran away
from one of the most successful economic records of any Administration
this century and could not seem to articulate a single compelling reason
that he should be President. Bush was also mightily aided by Ralph
Nader, whose spoiler candidacy commanded just enough support to swing
battleground states for the Republicans while failing to come even
remotely close to the 5 percent, matching-funds goal that was his
professed inspiration. But the biggest piece of the puzzle is still
Bush. He may have "grown" in office, but the fact is he had some of the
skimpiest qualifications for the job of almost any successful candidate
in our history, while Gore's were among the best. Moreover, his
political views were well to the right of most voters on almost
everything, while Gore's were well within the national consensus. By any
conventional calculation, Bush should have lost in a landslide.

The obvious answer to the paradox is that Bush sold his personality, not
his politics. But how? Are people just stupid? Don't they realize that
it doesn't matter if one candidate is a likable cutup and the other one
a superior stiff when it comes to stuff like global warming, a patients'
bills of rights, Social Security, the right to choose, etc.? Well,
that's one answer. But a more compelling one is that the so-called
liberal media, contrary to its nonsensical reputation for favoring
Democrats, failed to inform the public of the two candidates' political
and ideological differences, and the implications those differences held
for the nation's future.

The release of two different kinds of campaign documents--Ambling
Into History
, a book by New York Times reporter Frank Bruni,
and Journeys With George, a film by former NBC News producer
Alexandra Pelosi--shed considerable light on just how the media managed
to spend millions upon millions covering the candidates while reporting
next to nothing of value to voters. Ambling is a memoir of a
love-struck reporter. The journalist charged with covering the campaign
for the newspaper that sets the agenda for most of the elite media
focuses with laserlike intensity on every nod, wink, smile and
profession of alleged "love" that comes his way from the candidate. But
we hear barely a word about the candidate's pollution- and
fat-cat-friendly policies as governor of Texas or his lies and
dissimulations when it came to environmental protection, affirmative
action, issues of corporate responsibility, healthcare policy and the
like. If you want to know the exact number of seconds that George and
Laura Bush danced at every one of their nine Inaugural Balls, then the
intrepid Mr. Bruni is your man. If you have any interest in what Bush
might have been doing at his desk the following morning, well, where did
you get the silly idea that a New York Times reporter should
concern himself with boring stuff like that?

The willingness of the Times bigfoot to treat the election as the
equivalent of a junior high popularity contest signaled to the rest of
the media that contentless coverage would be the order of the day. The
net result, as Pelosi shows us in her fascinating but nauseating
documentary--to be broadcast on HBO in November--is a press corps that
follows its campaign masters like a litter of newborn puppies. They wait
open-mouthed for Karl Rove or Karen Hughes to drop a tender morsel of
warmed-over baloney into their mouths, wagging their tails in
appreciation after every feeding.

The clowning frat boy who plays the Republican presidential candidate in
the Pelosi movie does turn out to be a genuinely congenial fellow. If
you've been wondering why it is that everybody seems to like this
guy--and how he has managed to forge so many lifelong bonds with people
irrespective of his apparent doofus-like qualities--then this movie will
provide a painless seventy-six-minute education. The filmmaker--the
daughter of House Democratic whip Nancy Pelosi--hates Bush's politics
but likes him personally, and so can we. She tells audiences that
Journeys is a documentary about process and that the candidate
himself is unimportant. But that's nonsense. Bush is a star. If Pelosi
had had the misfortune to be assigned to Al Gore's press plane, this
movie would have sucked.

But like Ambling, Journeys is more valuable for what it
shows than what it tells. Over and over we hear the reporters criticize
themselves for the emptiness of their coverage as they express a kind of
wearied contempt for the snowmobile rides and other pseudoevents that
substitute for substance. But over and over again, they submit without
apparent protest. They regurgitate the campaign's baloney sandwiches and
watered-down Kool-Aid--without even bothering to convince themselves
that it's really steak and champagne. In between feedings, they ask the
Man for his autograph, laugh at his jokes and seek, without much
success, to justify the effects of their collective lobotomy to Pelosi's
pitiless focus.

Unlike Bruni, Pelosi demonstrates considerable professional
self-awareness (which is why she felt compelled to quit her job and
leave the field entirely after the campaign). Early on, she gives us
the Financial Times's Richard Wolffe speaking excitedly about
covering "the greatest story in the world...big issues, big stakes; it's
a big game, but it's important." A little later he admits, "Most of our
time is spent doing really stupid things, in stupid places with stupid
people." If you want your mystery summed up in a single sentence, it
would be hard to outdo Wolffe: "The Gore press corps is about how they
didn't like Gore, didn't trust him.... Over here, we were writing only
about the trivial stuff because he charmed the pants off us."

But Bush himself puts it best, just before kissing Pelosi in pursuit of
her (meaningless) vote in the California primary: "If I lose," he
playfully smirks, "you're out of work, baby. You're off the plane."

On Friday, September 15, four days after the terrorist attacks, an
18-year-old Moroccan boy received an unusual request from his school
guidance counselor: Come see me as soon as you can and bring your
passport. On Monday, well before his 8 am class, the boy climbed the
steps to James Monroe High School in Fredericksburg, Virginia, and
handed over papers showing that his visa had expired. A half-hour later
he was waiting anxiously in the school security office. He didn't know
the police were going to handcuff him and take him down to the station.
"I was upset I had already missed the first period, Virginia
Government," said the young man, who spoke on the condition of anonymity
in a phone call with his lawyer listening in.

Officer Jim Shelhorse, public information officer for the Fredericksburg
police, said the police never suspected the boy of terrorist activity.
And the boy's lawyer says that he had a pending application to extend
his visa, which meant that he was free to be here. But such distinctions
were lost on the police and school. And by the time his visa did expire
on December 4, the boy was already imprisoned in an Immigration and
Naturalization Service (INS) detention center in Arlington, Virginia. "I
am treated like a criminal," he said in a phone interview from the
detention center this winter. "I am with drug dealers and gun dealers.
They are not mistreating me but I am not comfortable."

The way the school guidance counselor turned in this student is just one
example of how, post-9/11, ordinary citizens have become watchdogs
policing the gateways to this country. Whereas the INS used to be solely
responsible for enforcement, others now eagerly participate in that
task. In fact, this activity has been encouraged: Weeks after the
terrorist attacks, the Bush Administration asked people to report
suspicious activity at the same time that it announced plans to use
immigration laws to fight terrorism, giving the impression that
immigration is everyone's business. Then, in December, a month after the
Justice Department asked police around the country to track down and
interview some 5,000 Middle Eastern men, the INS announced it was
placing 314,000 immigrants wanted for deportation on an FBI database
used by nearly all police agencies to check criminal charges. Now even a
local police officer writing a traffic ticket can determine that a
violator is subject to a deportation order and presumably make an
arrest. And on January 31 President Bush announced the creation of a
national volunteer agency called Citizen Corps to engage "ordinary
Americans" in reporting suspicious activity to the authorities. The
government will also expand the "Neighborhood Watch" program, in which
people report their neighbors' suspected terrorist connections.

As critics point out, when ordinary citizens or the police and FBI do
the INS's work, they don't know what they are doing. The result is both
inefficiency and discrimination. "It discourages immigrants from
providing information when they are the victims," said Lucas Guttentag,
director of the ACLU's Immigrants' Rights Project. "And it creates this
population that is exploited, denied protections of the law to the
detriment of society as a whole." The problem isn't new. In 1997 the
police in Chandler, Arizona, conducted a sweep of illegal immigrants as
part of an effort to "beautify" the rumpled agricultural town. Working
with the Border Patrol, police approached people on the street based on
the "lack of personal hygiene" and "strong body odor common to illegal
aliens," according to police reports leaked to the press. Police then
asked to see ID and immigration papers. Among the 432 people caught in
the "Operation Restoration" dragnet were scores of US-born Hispanics who
sued the city for discrimination.

Federal immigration officers undergo a seventeen-week residential
program that includes instruction on how to legally arrest someone on
grounds like fraudulent document production. Lacking such training,
police in Chandler often wrongly concluded documents were fakes and
arrested people anyway. "There has to be a reasonable, particularized
suspicion of wrongdoing," said Stephen Montoya, a civil rights lawyer
who represented the Chandler plaintiffs. "It can't just be because you
speak Spanish." In the case of the high school boy, the school guidance
counselor had little reason to ask for papers besides his national
identity. The boy's lawyers have argued that the school had no
jurisdiction to ask for immigration documents, and that a high school
student can't be denied basic education because he is an undocumented
immigrant. But the immigration judge rejected those arguments. (School
officials declined to comment.)

Legally, the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant
Responsibility Act makes it easier for law enforcement to collaborate
with the INS and request information from the government. And though the
law doesn't require schools to report immigration violations, "drawing
the line is very difficult for individual citizens," says Peter Schuck,
a Yale Law School professor. In the past, however, courts have struck
down laws encouraging citizens to become INS snitches. California's
Proposition 187, which attempted to recruit social workers and
government bureaucrats to report immigration violators so they would be
denied access to public services, was declared unconstitutional by
federal courts.

Ironically, some of the post-9/11 policies actually obstruct
antiterrorism efforts by discouraging people from cooperating with
authorities. When the Justice Department asked 5,000 Arab-American men
to come forward, it was unclear whether the men were putting themselves
at risk of being turned in to the INS. "That's not a good law
enforcement strategy," said Ben Johnson, associate director of advocacy
at the American Immigration Lawyers Association.

Perhaps even more disturbing, alerting the government because someone
appears swarthy or wears a turban is now considered acceptable behavior.
"What is wrong with calling the FBI?" said Father James Mueller, a
priest in Queens, New York, when I asked if he had any regrets about
making a report on Rafiq Butt, a 55-year-old Pakistani, after neighbors
saw six Middle Easterners go to an apartment he shared with three other
Pakistani men. Butt died in detention of a heart attack. In another
case, on November 13, FBI agents wearing biohazard gear swooped into the
home of two Pakistani men; their neighbors reportedly suspected them of
manufacturing anthrax after they saw them dumping a cloudy liquid (soapy
water from a clogged sink) and handing over a silver canister (a food
dish for a friend) outside their home. The men said they understood.

The Virginia high school student was similarly charitable. He came to
this country by himself last year trying to escape what he would only
describe as discrimination based on his sexual orientation. A Queens
mosque helped him with a place to stay and he eventually met a friend
who offered him his country house in Fredericksburg while he completed high school. He had only attended the school for three days when
he was arrested. "This happened because of one person," he said. "The
majority of people treated me very good. The students were nice. They
showed me the whole school. They were helpful. The math teacher liked
me. It was Algebra II. I had it when I was in eighth grade. I did the
exercises very fast." At press time he was out on bond, living with a
foster family in Washington, working on getting his GED and waiting for
a July asylum hearing. His future plans are to attend college and major
in finance, perhaps in Canada.

From Padua's Piazza Insurrezione, where I was standing at 11 in the
morning on April 16, the general strike--Italy's first in twenty
years--looked and sounded like a great success. More than 70,000 people
were already jammed inside the mid-sized square along with their broad
union banners and thousands of flags. Three immense vertical
standards--one for each of the labor confederations--loomed over the
crowd. The noise was deafening: drums, horns, gongs, a PA system on the
electronic equivalent of steroids and 70,000 voices cheering each
announcement:

"We're ten million strong! More than half the labor force is striking
against the antidemocratic policies of Silvio Berlusconi's center-right
government! Three-hundred thousand are marching in Florence, two-hundred
thousand in Rome..."

The demonstrators in Padua--a university town forty minutes west of
Venice--weren't just striking, they were celebrating. Gathering together
70,000 adversaries of Berlusconi in the heart of the miracolo del
nord-est
--the economic miracle of Italy's conservative northeast
where small- and mid-scale manufacturers have produced one of Europe's
greatest concentrations of wealth--was a miracle in itself. The union
banners identified the protesters: eyeglass assemblers from Santa Maria
di Salva, carpenters from Iesolo, leather workers from Verona (most of
them African immigrants), poultry processors from San Martino, hospital
workers and schoolteachers from Venice. But students, university
professors, insurance brokers and television producers also carried
union banners. Thousands of others--teenagers, homemakers, young
professionals--marched with family and friends.

The unions called the strike to protest a reform that would undermine
the 1970 Workers' Statute, the key guarantee of labor rights in Italy.
That's why Sabina Tonetto, a 26-year-old software consultant from the
town of San Donà di Piave, said she was in the piazza. Yet the
company she works for doesn't come under the statute's jurisdiction;
it's too small. And with her skills, she said, "I run no risk of being
laid off." She stayed away from work as a matter of principle: "Certain
things"--the Workers' Statute--"must not be touched. All of us have to
do our part."

Just a few blocks away, the stalls in the farmers' market in Piazza
della Frutta and the shops along Via Dante and Corso Garibaldi were open
for business. Well-dressed pedestrians perused the displays of
handcrafted shoes, silk scarves and designer jackets--variations of what
they were already wearing. The espresso bars were serving up sandwiches,
pastries and pricey chocolates. The streets were peaceful. Nothing in
the shoppers' demeanor, nothing in the merchants' conversation,
connected to what was happening nearby. The noise from Piazza
Insurrezione didn't carry. For anyone who wasn't right there, the
general strike might as well not have taken place.

That's Italy today. While much of Europe has been shifting rightward,
Italy tilted somewhat faster and farther and is now precariously poised,
its citizenry both evenly and deeply divided. About half voted
free-marketer Berlusconi into office in May 2001. His supporters include
the business elite and some workers disillusioned with the left, but
most are small and medium-sized manufacturers, store owners,
professionals and self-employed craftspeople. They are numerous in
Italy, prosperous and happy to have Berlusconi as long as he doesn't
raise their taxes. The other half of the citizenry is outraged by a
prime minister who aims to undermine the labor movement, dismantle the
public sector and foil the prosecutors who have indicted him for
corruption.

After nearly a year of collective depression and political paralysis,
anti-Berlusconi citizens are starting to mount a credible opposition,
coalescing around the left wing of the labor movement but reaching
beyond to include intellectuals, students, media figures and ordinary
people who are getting involved for the first time. Since January not a
week has gone by without a rally or march or strike bringing anywhere
from 3,000 to 2 million people into the piazzas. The protests are
uniting generations and social classes. So far they've remained loose
enough to attract independents and broad enough to incorporate both the
center and left.

According to Valentino Castellani, a left Catholic and former mayor of
Turin, "The healthy parts of society are finally saying, 'Enough! This
can't go on.'" For Luciano Gallino, a prominent sociologist, the social
protest movements that have sprung up in the last few months represent
"an awakening of civic passion."

Berlusconi provoked the uprising by refusing to modify a series of
"reforms" custom-designed to protect his vast business empire and shield
him (and several Cabinet members) from prosecution for corruption. The
naked self-interest, the almost outlandish specificity of the
legislation, was too much for many Italians to take. One law (already
passed by Parliament) decriminalized the falsification of financial
statements in the private sector. This let Berlusconi off the hook
because he was under indictment for that crime. A second law, also
enacted, makes it difficult for Italian prosecutors to use "letters
rogatory," the standard instrument for obtaining evidence from another
country. This conveniently sabotaged a case in which Berlusconi was
accused of bribing judges, a case that depended on evidence from Swiss
banks.

Another law, which has passed the Chamber of Deputies, states that
owning a business does not constitute a conflict of interest for a prime
minister as long as he or she does not run the business. Since
Berlusconi has turned over the administration of his enterprises to
members of his immediate family, he would not have to sell any of his
holdings, which include three of Italy's four private television
networks, the nation's largest publishing conglomerate, Mondadori, and
an advertising agency that dominates the national market.

Although the left unions have been fighting Berlusconi's policies from
the start, the spontaneous street protests began in response to a reform
that would allow the government to exert political pressure on the
judiciary. When judges and prosecutors staged a walkout, two professors
at the University of Florence called on citizens nationwide to support
them. The response was overwhelming and persistent. By February a rally
in Milan's Palavobis sports facility, which holds 12,000, drew a crowd
of 40,000. That same month, leftist film director Nanni Moretti (Caro
Diario
, The Son's Room) set off a political revolt when he
spoke to a rally in Rome's Piazza Navona organized by the center-left
Ulivo (Olive Tree) coalition. Instead of making the predictable rally
remarks, Moretti lambasted the coalition leaders, who were standing next
to him, for focusing on petty internal power plays rather than offering
an alternative to Berlusconi. He claimed that he no longer identified
with their politics. The crowd's wild applause and the ensuing debate,
which went on for weeks in the newspapers, embarrassed the Ulivo
leadership into admitting they had lost touch with their constituency.

In March the girotondi ("ring-around-a-rosy protests") began.
Resurrecting a feminist tactic of the 1970s, protesters, holding hands,
circle around a building that figures in one of Berlusconi's reforms. If
they are protesting his control over 90 percent of the airwaves, they
circle around the state broadcasting headquarters; if they are
protesting steps toward privatizing education or healthcare, they circle
around a school or hospital. Girotondi are taking place all over
Italy--often initiated by grassroots groups, announced just a few days
ahead of time, and advertised through leaflets and by word of mouth. In
addition to citizen protests against Berlusconi's reforms, there are
frequent demonstrations against corporate-led globalization and racist
treatment of immigrants.

According to Nicola Tranfaglia, dean of the humanities faculty at the
University of Turin and one of the opposition's prominent intellectuals,
"These movements don't trust the political parties. They are similar in
some ways to 1968, but then it was young people. Today you see people of
all ages."

What anchors this spirited civic engagement is the labor movement--more
precisely, the largest and most left-leaning of the three union
confederations, the Italian General Confederation of Labor, or CGIL. "In
just three months, the CGIL has pushed the center-left so there's a
tougher opposition and greater unity," Tranfaglia said.

If any one issue unites the opposition to Berlusconi, it is the attack
on the Workers' Statute. Berlusconi wants to drop Article 18, which
stipulates that if a judge finds that an employer has fired a worker
unfairly, that worker can choose to go back to his or her job or accept
a money settlement. Italians in the opposition see Berlusconi's move as
an attack on basic individual rights. L'articolo 18 non si tocca
("Article18 cannot be touched") has become the central slogan of the
protest movement.

Berlusconi and his allies in the most powerful business organization,
Confindustria, argue that Article 18 creates labor market rigidity; as
long as it stays on the books, they say, employers will refuse to hire
additional workers, the economy will produce no new jobs and investors
the world over will shun Italy. Sociologist Luciano Gallino thinks this
is nonsense. "Eliminating Article 18 has nothing to do with creating
jobs. It's the first step in labor market deregulation. It would open
the door to creating a class of the working poor"--a phenomenon that
Italians on the left see as typically American. Berlusconi's attack on
Article 18 serves another purpose: "He is trying to split the labor
movement," former Mayor Castellani said. Everyone in the opposition
would agree.

Italy has had three politically diverse and competing union
confederations since the onset of the cold war. Their ability to
cooperate is endlessly fluctuating. The Italian Confederation of Workers
Unions (CISL) is the second-largest confederation, the most willing to
compromise with Berlusconi's government and the least interested in
defending Article 18. The smallest confederation, the Italian Union of
Labor (UIL), was also inclined to bend on Article 18. But Sergio
Cofferati, secretary general of the CGIL, refused to budge an inch. He
ended up rescuing the entire opposition.

Cofferati is the new hero--patron saint says it better--of Italy's left.
When the other two confederations refused to support a protest march to
defend Article 18, Cofferati insisted that the CGIL hold the
demonstration by itself. Over a million people converged on Rome on
March 23 in the largest rally since the Second World War. Cofferati also
called for the general strike on April 16, and his March triumph
embarrassed the other unions into going along. By the time of the April
25 Liberation Day rallies and the May Day rallies, 200,000 people were
showing up wherever he spoke. The crowds chant "Sergio! Sergio!" no
matter who else is standing on the stage, senior citizens break through
the security lines and throw themselves into his arms, teenagers line up
for autographs.

Cofferati's second and, by statute, final term as head of the CGIL ends
in June. The opposition activists are begging him to lead the
center-left coalition of parties. But he has decided to return to
Pirelli, the giant rubber and tire company where he worked as a
technician two decades ago--to do what, he won't say. He claims that he
has no intention of withdrawing from politics. In April, he helped found
"Aprile," a group that will coordinate the work of the large left
faction within the party of the Left Democrats. But he'll make no bid,
yet, to lead the left formally.

Berlusconi may have made a mistake by going after Article 18. Two of the
several parties in his coalition--the National Alliance (the
ex-neo-Fascists) and remnants of the old Christian Democrats--have
criticized his hard line. Whereas Berlusconi considers himself a
conservative in the mold of Britain's Margaret Thatcher, the other two
parties are less ideologically pure free-marketers. It is difficult to
predict Berlusconi's next move. Some Cabinet members hint that he would
like to find a face-saving compromise on Article 18. His labor minister,
however, claims he will fight the unions to the end. If the reform
becomes law, the unions have vowed to collect signatures for a national
referendum. Organizing for a referendum to revoke the law on letters
rogatory has already begun.

With the right and far right in Europe gaining ground, the ongoing
protests in Italy look like a hopeful sign. But Berlusconi still has the
upper hand. He is the first head of government in post-Fascist Italy
ready and able to disregard "the piazza" and impose his will through his
solid majority in Parliament. "Berlusconi is setting up a regime for
himself. He's not a fascist. He's populist and authoritarian. A
Peronist. Liberal democracy in Italy is in danger," Nicola Tranfaglia
said.

On May 26, about 11 million Italians will vote in local and regional
elections. Although these contests do not necessarily mirror public
opinion on national issues, everyone will interpret them as a showdown
between Berlusconi and the opposition. The center-left has a chance to
improve its standing. The far-left Communist Refounding party has agreed
to cooperate with the center-left coalition--something it refused to do
in last year's election, thereby assuring Berlusconi's victory.

In the meantime, citizens are rallying in the piazzas, collecting
signatures and marching around buildings. As a result, most Italian
small-d democrats would agree with Luciano Gallino when he says, "I'm a
little less pessimistic."

As a Russian studies major at Yale in the 1970s, I observed Soviet
"elections" that were conducted more fairly than the 2002 Yale
Corporation's board of trustees election. Why is the Yale Corporation so
threatened by the candidacy of a prominent New Haven pastor who cares
about Yale and its workers?

The last time a prospective trustee was nominated by petition was almost
forty years ago, when William Horowitz became Yale's first elected
Jewish trustee. Back then 250 signatures were required for ballot
qualification; that has since been raised to 3 percent of eligible
alumni--some 3,200 signatures today. The Rev. Dr. W. David Lee, an
African-American pastor of one of New Haven's largest churches and a
graduate of the Yale Divinity School, gathered 4,870 signatures. If
elected, he would be the only New Haven resident other than Yale's
president to sit on the corporation's board.

But he is also supported by Yale's employee unions, and the
university--one of America's great institutions of higher learning--does
not like that. Normally, the Standing Committee for the Nomination of
Alumni Fellows of the Association of Yale Alumni nominates two or three
alumni to stand for election. This year, apparently threatened by Lee's
grassroots efforts, the committee nominated only one, Maya Lin, creator
of the Vietnam War memorial, around whom the Yale Corporation and its
allies could rally.

As an alumnus, I received no fewer than six mailings--from the alumni
organization, from wealthy Yale alumni, from former corporation board
members--all criticizing Lee for failing to identify who paid for his
mailing, for his "aggressive campaign" and for his "ties to special
interests, labor unions."

In a campaign flier (containing no disclosure of who paid for it), the
Association of Yale Alumni quoted comments from Lee critical of the
university. It is not surprising that a minister of a large church at
which many Yale employees worship might at times express substantial
differences with a university that pays many of those workers less than
a living wage.

As if the Yale Corporation had not already made its interests known,
even the ballot package--paid for by the university and sent to all
voters--was slanted in favor of the corporation's candidate. The
official publication intimates support for its favored candidate from
"over 700 alumni," including the Association of Yale Alumni, the
officers of Yale college classes and Yale clubs and other alumni
associations. The other candidate, the Yale Corporation stated in the
ballot package, was "nominated by petition"--(as though Lee's 4,870
signatures did not indicate the support of those alumni).

Reminiscent of elections conducted in one-party states, the corporation
refused to allow an observer to be present when the ballots are counted.
It is not in the Yale bylaws, he was told.

It is unfortunate that Yale, which has produced so many national
leaders, has earned a widespread reputation for its antiunion activities
[see Kim Phillips-Fein, "Yale Bites Unions," July 2, 2001]. To all but
declare war on Yale's workers and its union, and on an outstanding young
New Haven leader, can only exacerbate city-university tensions and roil
Yale's already troubled labor-management waters.

How could one pro-worker candidate who aspires to a lone seat on a board
of nineteen of America's most influential people unleash the fury of an
entire university hierarchy? Why do powerful people--the kind who sit on
Yale's board--feel so threatened by a local minister? Why can't one of
the world's most prestigious universities--with a multibillion-dollar
endowment--pay its workers a living wage?

For God. For Country. For Yale.

Right in the wake of House majority leader Dick Armey's explicit call
for several million Palestinians to be booted out of the West Bank, and
East Jerusalem and Gaza as well, came yet one more of those earnest
articles accusing a vague entity called "the left" of anti-Semitism.

This one was in Salon, by a man called Dennis Fox, identified as
an associate professor of legal studies and psychology at the University
of Illinois. Leaving nothing to chance, Salon titled Fox's
contribution "The shame of the pro-Palestinian left: Ignorance and
anti-Semitism are undercutting the moral legitimacy of Israel's
critics."

Over the past twenty years I've learned there's a quick way of figuring
just how badly Israel is behaving. There's a brisk uptick in the number
of articles accusing "the left" of anti-Semitism. These articles adopt
varying strategies. Particularly intricate, though I think
well-intentioned, was a recent column by Naomi Klein, who wrote that "it
is precisely because anti-Semitism is used by the likes of Mr. Sharon
that the fight against it must be reclaimed." Is Klein saying the global
justice movement has forgotten how to be anti-anti-Semitic? I don't
think it has. Are all denunciations of the government of Israel to be
prefaced by strident assertions of pro-Semitism?

If this is the case, can we not ask that those concerned about the
supposed silence of the left about anti-Semitism demonstrate their own
good faith by denouncing Israel's behavior toward Palestinians? Klein
did, but most don't. In a recent column in the New York Times
Frank Rich managed to write an entire column purportedly about Jewish
overreaction here to news reporting from Israel without even fleeting
reference to the fact that there might be some factual basis to reports
presenting Israel and its leaders in a bad light, even though he found
time for abuse of the "inexcusable" Arafat. Isn't Sharon "inexcusable"
in Rich's book?

So the left gets the rotten eggs, and those tossing the eggs mostly
don't feel it necessary to concede that Israel is a racist state whose
obvious and provable intent is to continue to steal Palestinian land,
oppress Palestinians, herd them into smaller and smaller enclaves, and
in all likelihood ultimately drive them into the sea or Lebanon or
Jordan or Dearborn or the space in Dallas-Fort Worth airport between the
third and fourth runways (the bold Armey plan).

Here's how Fox begins his article for Salon: "'Let's move back,'
my wife insisted when she saw the nearby banner: 'Israel Is a Terrorist
State!' We were at the April 20 Boston march opposing Israel's incursion
into the West Bank. So drop back we did, dragging our friends with us to
wait for an empty space we could put between us and the anti-Israel
sign." Inference by Fox: The banner is grotesque, presumptively
anti-Semitic. But there are plenty of sound arguments that from the
Palestinian point of view Israel is indeed a terrorist state, and
anyway, even if it wasn't, the description would not per se be evidence
of anti-Semitism. Only if the banner had read "All Jews Are Terrorists"
would Fox have a point.

Of course, the rhetorical trick is to conflate "Israel" or "the State of
Israel" with "Jews" and argue that they are synonymous. Ergo, to
criticize Israel is to be anti-Semitic. Leave aside the fact that many
of Israel's most articulate critics are Jews, honorably committed to the
cause of justice for all in the Middle East. Many Jews just don't like
hearing bad things said about Israel, same way they don't like reading
articles about the Jewish lobby here. Mention the lobby and someone like
Fox will rush into print denouncing those who "toy with the old
anti-Semitic canard that the Jews control the press." These days you
can't even say that the New York Times is owned by a Jewish
family without risking charges that you stand in Goebbels's shoes. I
even got accused of anti-Semitism the other day for mentioning that the
Jews founded Hollywood, which they most certainly did, as recounted in a
funny and informative book published in 1988, An Empire of Their Own:
How the Jews Invented Hollywood
, by Neal Gabler.

So cowed are commentators (which is of course the prime motive of those
charges of anti-Semitism) that even after Congress recently voted
full-throated endorsement of Sharon and Israel, with only two senators
and twenty-one reps voting against (I don't count the chickenshit
twenty-nine who voted "present"), you could scarcely find a mainstream
paper prepared to analyze this astounding demonstration of the power of
AIPAC and other Jewish organizations, plus the Christian right and the
military industry, which profits enormously from military aid to Israel,
since Congress has stipulated that 75 percent of such supplies must be
bought from US firms like Raytheon and Lockheed Martin.

The encouraging fact is that despite the efforts of the Southern Poverty
Law Center to drum up funds by hollering that the Nazis are about to
march down Main Street, there's remarkably little anti-Semitism in the
United States, and almost none that I've ever been able to detect on the
American left, which is of course amply stocked with non-self-hating
Jews. It's comical to find the left's assailants trudging all the way
back to LeRoi Jones and the 1960s to dig up the necessary anti-Semitic
gibes. The less encouraging fact is that there's not nearly enough
criticism of Israel's ghastly conduct toward Palestinians, which in its
present phase is testing the waters for reaction here to a major ethnic
cleansing of Palestinians, just as Armey called for.

So why don't people like Fox write about Armey's appalling remarks
(which the White House declared he hadn't made) instead of trying to
change the subject with nonsense about anti-Semitism? It's not
anti-Semitic to denounce ethnic cleansing, a strategy that, according to
recent polls, almost half of Israelis now heartily endorse. In this
instance the left really has nothing to apologize for, but those who
accuse it of anti-Semitism certainly do. They're apologists for policies
put into practice by racists, ethnic cleansers and, in Sharon's case, an
unquestioned war criminal who should be in the dock for his conduct.

As the shock of September 11 fades, courts are standing up for civil
liberties.