Opening:
If you're a liberal, why haven't you joined the antiwar movement? More to the point, why is there no antiwar movement that you'd want to join? Troops and equipment are pouring into the Persian Gulf region in preparation for what could be the largest, riskiest, most controversial American military venture since Vietnam. According to a poll released the first week of December, 40 percent of Democrats oppose a war that has been all but scheduled for sometime in the next two months. So where are the antiwarriors?
In fact, a small, scattered movement is beginning to stir. On Oct. 26, tens of thousands of people turned out in San Francisco, Washington and other cities to protest against a war. Other demonstrations are planned for Jan. 18 and 19. By then an invasion could be under way, and if it gets bogged down around Baghdad with heavy American and Iraqi civilian casualties, or if it sets off a chain reaction of regional conflicts, antiwar protests could grow. But this movement has a serious liability, one that will just about guarantee its impotence: it's controlled by the furthest reaches of the American left. Speakers at the demonstrations voice unnuanced slogans like "No Sanctions, No Bombing" and "No Blood for Oil." As for what should be done to keep this mass murderer and his weapons in check, they have nothing to say at all. This is not a constructive liberal antiwar movement.
So let me rephrase the question. Why there is no organized liberal opposition to the war?
...adding, that this very serious person's article profiled some very serious "liberals," each with a very serious descriptor.
"The Theorist" was Michael Walzer, described as an "ambivalent opponent of war."
"The Romantic" was Christopher Hitchens.
"The Skeptic" was David Rieff, who did actually oppose the war.
"The Secularist" was Wieseltier, whose tremendous contribution to the field of advanced wankery must be documented here;
Wieseltier says he believes that Saddam's weapons and fondness for using them will probably necessitate a war, but unlike some other editors at The New Republic, he is not eager to start one. "We will certainly win," Wieseltier says, "but it is a war in which we are truly playing with fire."
"The Idealist" was Paul Berman, who wanted war but not George Bush's war.
Then the last panelist spoke. He was an Iraqi dissident named Kanan Makiya, and he said, "I'm afraid I'm going to strike a discordant note." He pointed out that Iraqis, who will pay the highest price in the event of an invasion, "overwhelmingly want this war." He outlined a vision of postwar Iraq as a secular democracy with equal rights for all of its citizens. This vision would be new to the Arab world. "It can be encouraged, or it can be crushed just like that. But think about what you're doing if you crush it." Makiya's voice rose as he came to an end. "I rest my moral case on the following: if there's a sliver of a chance of it happening, a 5 to 10 percent chance, you have a moral obligation, I say, to do it."
The effect was electrifying. The room, which just minutes earlier had settled into a sober and comfortable rejection of war, exploded in applause. The other panelists looked startled, and their reasonable arguments suddenly lay deflated on the table before them.
Michael Walzer, who was on the panel, smiled wanly. "It's very hard to respond," he said.
It was hard, I thought, because Makiya had spoken the language beloved by liberal hawks. He had met their hope of avoiding a war with an even greater hope. He had given the people in the room an image of their own ideals.