I’ve been going back and forth with myself for the past few weeks about why the assassination bothers me so much. Especially as someone who has reconciled himself, however unhappily, to the reality that in some instances state sanctioned violence will be a necessary evil in combating certain geo-political players.

One can’t deny how controlled and contained the whole thing was. As Andrew himself said in his original post on the matter,

In fighting murderous Jihadist terrorists, I have to say I find this kind of surgical execution, however awful, to be morally superior to the collateral deaths of so many innocent children and civilians, as occurred in the Gaza war under the rules of conduct the IDF allowed. It’s also morally more defensible than the US drone attacks in Pakistan and Afghanistan, where civilian casualties are both morally deeply troubling and strategically terrible in a war that I continue to believe is essentially unwinnable.

I can’t disagree with Andrew on any of that, per se. I mean, I’m not prepared to completely forgo the conclusion that this man deserved to die and that the Mossad, if they did indeed carry out the operation, were the right people to make that happen. I can’t disagree with the idea that a method avoiding civilian casualties, innocent children amongst them, is preferable to one that does not.

But it is precisely the “surgical execution” of this operation that gives me pause and makes me shudder. Though I think it is sometimes necessary to use precisely this kind of state sanctioned violence towards certain ends, I correspondingly think that we have a moral obligation to reckon in an unflinching manner with the ramifications of our decision. I believe that no matter what form it happens to take, the use of state sanctioned violence is an ugly thing that ought to cause us grief no matter the seeming righteousness of our cause.

The ugliness of military activity, whether it is in Gaza, Afghanistan, Iraq, or elsewhere, is always easy to spot. It is, essentially, inescapable. These more traditional forms of military might and use of force are honest insofar as they force us to grapple with the implications of our decision.

But the cool and almost bloodless efficacy of this type of operation — and assassination of this kind — it seems almost designed to lull us into a false consciousness of complacency about the tactics we choose to engage in dealing with, admittedly, unavoidable conflict. And in providing such a respite from the penetrating eyes of innocent children, we morally short change ourselves and others by willfully choosing a path of cognitive and ethical blindness and dissonance.

The natural outcome of such cowardice is a kind of self-serving bravado that cultivates slogans like, “Don’t Mess with the Mossad” and Marty Peretz’s borrowed line,

The Mossad did it. And, as Carly Simon sang about James Bond, “nobody does it better.”

Bravado of the like isn’t just offensive in the cavalier dismissiveness of its attitude, it is, in fact, anathema to the character, disposition, and fortitude required to actually bring an end to the generations old warring into which it faces. Bravado of this variety isn’t ultimately aimed at ending one of the world’s most horrific conflicts; indeed, it not so subtly feeds into it, prolongs it, sustains it.

And those penetrating eyes, we don’t lift them from our conscience, nor scrub their blood from our hands. Deep down we all know that, at best, we put them off to another day.

Reading both Andrew’s comments on the Atlantic’s site re-design and Ta-Nehisi Coates, I am reminded again of the importance of creating something personal with new media, that blogging is not journalism exactly, and that bloggers themselves are more rightly the “brand” in question than the publications they write for (though, in all honesty, there is and should be a mix – Coates and the Atlantic are in some sense a dual-brand, neither one the same without the other.  Same goes for all the Atlantic bloggers.)  As Andrew notes,

[A] blog is inherently a live process and conversation and anyone who actually understands blogging’s intimate relationship to its readership – and the critical importance of conversation to the endeavor – would never have dreamed of turning it into a series of headlines. That’s what worries me deeply. Not the inevitable transitional glitches but the philosophy behind it.

I think this cuts to the heart of the matter, and cuts directly to why so many people – myself included – really dislike the re-design at the Atlantic.  It’s not the aesthetic that I find so bothersome – and indeed, I don’t notice much of a change at all at Andrew’s digs – but the transformation of the other blogs into essentially archives, subsumed into the larger “channels” and thus stripped, to some degree, of their personalities.  Since the draw of these ‘voices’ has always been one of the Atlantic online’s strongest features, I find this disappointing to say the least – but like Andrew notes, it is the philosophy behind it that is most troubling.  This passage from Coates is worth reading also:

For my part, you have to understand that, to a large extent, whatever beautiful things have happened here, over the past two years, were, essentially, a fortunate mistake. What you’ve gotten is me hopping online and rather carelessly deciding to be myself, to talk to you, as much as possible, in the same way I talk to the people I know. And then basically curating the comments, banning people, deleting, and coaxing until there was a comments section that I, personally, loved reading.

It wasn’t market-tested. When I first got here, we didn’t even really have a web editor, and none of us expected this to grow into what became. We didn’t discuss whether it would be a good idea to have a post about Barry Sanders, next to a post about the Real Housewives of Atlanta, next to a series about the Civil War. We didn’t discuss commenting policy. We just kinda liked each other (me and my editors here) and decided to try something.

In short, none of this was intentional. It was all intuitive. And it’s fucked up, but it’s only as I’m writing this that I’m actually getting that that really is the point, and a big part of the draw. I kind of knew that, but it’s only in the absence of a coherent thing that I’m really seeing that.

This unintentional process is important.  There is something spontaneous and personal about blogging that is a serious if intangible change from traditional journalism. It is also, I think, the most important thing about a successful blogger – this ability for readers to connect and empathize with them. Similarly the community created around a blogger or a project is vitally important.  Jaybird has likened our own humble digs to a bar where we can all sit around and talk politics and culture and whatever over beers.  I have adopted this analogy in how I think about The League.  Indeed, I have come to think of The League as more than just a site, more than just a cadre of writers, but as a community unto itself, with all our commenters as part of the larger project.  The place would not be the same without the many commenters who liven up the threads – from Jaybird to Bob Cheeks to Michael Drew to North to greginak and so on and so forth – the list is too long to name you all. 

One of my great struggles writing elsewhere has been the lack of this relationship.  (New technical limitations have limited my own ability to respond to comments here in a timely fashion, but I do read each and every one.)  Indeed, though I am paid to write at True/Slant, I find myself devoting more time and energy to my writing here – and not just because it is a project that I helped start and continue to help shape, but because of this ongoing conversation we have gotten ourselves into – I can only frequent so many bars, I suppose, and this is my bar of choice.  (I know there is some crossover between commenters here and at True/Slant, but to be honest the comment system there is somewhat inhospitable.  And I dislike, perhaps, being just one of several hundred writers, whereas here I feel like I am part of a team, or at least a band of misfits…)  There is something organic about it that I enjoy.  I can anticipate who will be sitting where and drinking what, and who will storm out angry and who will chuckle at the antics and so forth.   And part of this is the site design, how we have worked to make the comments an integral part of this site, how we have kept the site fairly clean and ad-free, and so forth.  Perhaps it is also human nature to seek out communities (and bars) which we feel comfortable in. 

However, one of our original intentions with this site was to create a place where sustained, internal dialogue between writers, commenters, and guest-writers could be nurtured and grow into something rather unlike anything else on the interwebs.  I think, to some degree, in our push to increase traffic, to link to (and be linked by in return) Really Important Bloggers, we have let that part of our mission fall to the wayside.  I know others here have expressed a similar sense that this is the case.  Whether this has been an inevitable side-effect to creating a successful site, or to simply running out of things to talk to each other about is hard to say.  For my own part, I know that I focused a great deal on increasing traffic, on making the site as good as possible – and I admit to feeling a bit of a rush when I’d pick up a link from the Dish or get a good response from Larison or other bloggers who I had read and admired.

Either way, I wonder how the readers and commenters feel about this (not that the two groups, I hope, are mutually exclusive).  After just over a year, it’s incredible to see how far this blog has come.  We have gained and lost bloggers.  We are still (I hope, and believe) producing good, interesting, and relatively unique content.  We are still ad-free and entirely self-funded or funded by the generosity of the best damn commenters on the internet.  But have we lost some of that original vision?  Some of that original intent?  I would be interested to hear from both writers here and commenters on how, if at all, we could right the ship, reorient to bring back some of the conversational aspects of the original mission.  Make the site even better and more lasting.  We ditched the “series” function, but perhaps went too far in ditching the concept of series altogether.

In other words, this is a space to talk about blogging, this blog in particular, how it is doing things right and how it is doing things wrong, and so forth.  Thanks.

For what it’s worth, I’m not. And for what it’s worth, I beg you not to be.

With a couple days perspective under his belt, Andrew offers the following analysis (emphasis mine),

My sense is that Obama understands that his core responsibility as president is not being a partisan figure. That’s what he ran against in many ways. And I think he sees all this in terms of eight years. He is gambling on democracy working over time, on the president setting the general direction but allowing the Congress and the public to decide how fast and how specific they want to get. He always said he wanted to be the president of the red states and the blue states. His major problems right now are a) an apoplectic and incoherent opposition that feels it is doing something by randomly harnessing populist frustration in a recession and playing the Rovian politics which is all they know and b) a useless bunch of disorganized morons and cowards who make up the Congressional Democrats.

But he’s still by far the best thing we have going for us. And this struggle has just begun. Politics is not magic; it’s not a one-off event. It’s a process of grueling argument, tussling and debate. And the deeper truth is: many Independents who are ornery right now like Obama. His decency and civility and reason are plain to see. And so this is his moment as well. To be the anchor in a turbulent time and to keep making the arguments for necessary reform.

I’m with Andrew  in terms of rejecting the notion of “politics as magic”, but I can’t help feeling like his own unwavering belief in Obama is, to some degree, underwriting the very, “I’m done” defeatism he begs his readers not to give in to. [Read more →]

The problem with the noble savage cliche is that it is demonstrably untrue. The people who inhabited North America before the arrival of Europeans warred, died for lack of medicine, sometimes killed animal herds so unsustainably that they faced starvation — so despite the manifold wrongs done by the Europeans to indigenous peoples, it is inaccurate and simplistic to screen stories where savage Europeans war with noble natives living in utter harmony with nature.

James Cameron isn’t portraying native people of our world. His alien protagonists aren’t intended as stand-ins for the Navajos or the Aztecs or the Cherokee. In his different world, the native people really are in communion with nature. Were his purpose to comment on European history, this would be a terrible choice, but in fact Avatar is a film whose purpose is allowing humanity to reflect on its circumstances and fallen nature in a novel way. That is why I approve of the decision to portray the kinds of natives that were shown.

Conor is off the mark here.  Cameron’s Na’vi were the noblest of noble savages – hands down the least complicated, least dynamic, most shallow savages written into a major film in – I don’t know – decades?  Years?  A really long time.  And Cameron was commenting on European/American history.  Science fiction is always about history.

The movie theatre I saw this in was packed, and about half the audience were Navajos.  My home town is mostly white, but the second largest racial demographic is Native American – mostly Navajo and some Hopi.  In college, pretty much all my lit classes were on multi-cultural themes, but the vast bulk of time was spent on Native American literature in particular.  I have spent more hours than I care to count thinking about these issues – about Native American rights, land rights, the various myths and religious themes which surround Native American culture, and the ways in which popular culture (and Hollywood) has portrayed native peoples in America.  I have a number of friends (past  and present) who are Navajo (or Diné, as they prefer to be called).  We even have a public elementary school here which teaches one third of all its material in the Navajo language (and one third in Spanish).

So, whether the Na’vi are simple “stand-ins for the Navajos” or whether Cameron was trying to write his very own native-from-scratch is immaterial.  Surely Conor has heard the term “extended metaphor” before.  Cameron’s alien moon, Pandora, may not be the American frontier, and the Na’vi may not be the Diné, but the parallels are obvious and purposeful.  And the real problem is not that such parallels exist but that Cameron’s handling of his Pandoran tribal people is so one-dimensional.

Why not rip off The Last of the Mohicans and have some bad Na’vi thrown into the mix?  That would at the very least be more interesting, and certainly more honest.  A film wherein the natives are not only exploited but turned against one another – whose weaknesses are exploited as well – would be more complex and realistic.  Or Cameron could have taken some pages from the The Mission - a film which took seriously the questions of colonization, religious colonization and the indigenous response, and the merits of passive resistance. [Read more →]

Given the kerfuffle happening at The Daily Dish over Patrick Appel and Chris Bodenner’s involvement in the production of the blog, I thought this interview would both be timely and of interest. I had originally planned to present the interview as a profile piece on Patrick himself, who I have understood for some time as playing a key role in the production of the Daily Dish but who, for obvious reasons, tends not to receive a ton of public acknowledgment for that work. The interview was intended as an insider look at how The Daily Dish, arguably the most popular political blog currently active, is updated on a day-to-day basis.

As it turns out, Andrew’s recent break and an off-the-cuff comment by Patrick brought the blog’s operation into focus. As such, I decided to scrap my plans for a profile piece over the holiday break and post the answers Patrick had kindly provided  as a straightforward interview. I’m doing so because Patrick went into a fair amount of detail about the production of The Daily Dish as well as his own involvement with the  blog. Anyone who has taken an interest in how Andrew is personally involved in the blog and to what degree Chris and Patrick are involved would do well to take ten minutes to read through the interview. Many questions are, I think, clarified as a result.

It’s worth noting that Patrick agreed to do the interview back in late August and the email correspondence that forms the interview took place between mid-September and mid-October, a good two months before this blogospheric controversy took shape. Patrick mentions this once or twice, but I will re-emphasize that he does not speak for Andrew Sullivan in any way throughout the course of the interview. Patrick offers insights into Andrew’s style of blogging and what it is like to be intimately involved in his blog, but the perspective offered is his own.

Finally, I’d like to take one more opportunity to thank Patrick for corresponding with me over the course of a month despite one of the blogosphere’s most harrowing schedules – his participation was both engaging and appreciated. [Read more →]

Enjoy…

Scott: So, out of curiosity, I decided to run the numbers and of the 23 posts at the Dish today (November 17 @ 2:24pm MST), 13 are about Palin. That just seems creepy to me.

Erik: Totally creepy.

Mark: No doubt. Then again, the entire blogosphere seems to have an unhealthy obsession with Palin. Check out memeorandum. I count no fewer than 14 Palin-related headlines at the moment, and I think it was even more yesterday. Sully’s just the worst among equals it would seem.

(Sadly, Mark couldn’t participate after this due to professional obligations. Next time!)

Scott: Palinmania is the most morbidly fascinating phenomenon to hit US politics since Monica Lewinski. It’s like a train wreck that is dying to be seen as culturally significant by all of it’s true believers who are going down with the flames. The question is whether it is a sincere movement or just a novel blip. Andrew could be helping to determine that quandary, instead he’s simply muddying the waters by not just believing, but hyping the hype.

Oh, for a William F. Buckley of the twenty-first century…

Erik: It’s symptomatic of our current political discourse. On the one hand, many typically thoughtful conservatives like Reihan Salam and Ross Douthat almost had to support her in order to remain part of the conservative movement (whereas truly dissident conservatives like Larison took a very different approach). Meanwhile, liberals can use her to their advantage since even the most thoughtful of their intellectual opponents have to at least mildly support her for now. It’s just personality politics taken to its monstrous conclusion.

Scott: Which prompts the question: is politics inherently glib?

[Read more →]

“Since the Dish has tried to be rigorous and careful in analyzing Palin’s unhinged grip on reality from the very beginning – specifically her fantastic story of her fifth pregnancy -  we feel it’s vital that we grapple with this new data as fairly and as rigorously as possible. That takes time to get right. And it is so complicated we simply cannot focus on anything else.” ~ Andrew Sullivan, on why The Dish has “gone silent” today.

I was appalled by the anti-Semitism buried within ANSWER – the left-wing equivalent of the Tea Party peeps – their paranoia and their ad Hitlerum daffiness. I railed against “the intolerant, extremist and reactionary forces behind an unhealthy amount of the anti-war movement.” I argued that they were not offering any serious proposals to address the actual problem – Saddam’s WMDs. In many ways, my critique of the far left then is identical to my critique of the far right today. And the critiques both come from a small-c conservative perspective.

Andrew posted what I consider to be an uncharacteristically stark comment yesterday about Obama’s intention to go to a Human Rights Campaign fundraiser and his corresponding support for gay equality,

If Obama wants to support gay equality, he knows what to do. If Pelosi and Reid want to support gay equality, they know what to do. If HRC believes in gay equality, they also know what to do.

So spare us the schmoozing and the sweet-talking and do it. Until then, Mr president, why don’t you have a nice steaming cup of shut-the-fuck-up?

Whether you agree with Andrew or not, I think it is fairly evident that the above comment is “uncharacteristically stark” when compared to Andrew’s previous sanguine approach to Obama’s tactics,

In an ideal world, I’d favor a Sarkozy style carbon tax, an end to employer subsidies for health insurance, a swift departure from Afghanistan. I’d also like marriage equality in Alabama, an end to agricultural subsidies and a flat tax.

…

In this, the tone of his discourse is critical. He would lose it all if he followed MoDo’s advice. He needs to stay bipartisan, reasoned, and centrist to succeed. Despite the fulminations of an unhinged GOP, he is doing all of that.

Many of us supported him not to revive a right-left war, but to try to move past that divide. He has kept that promise. We need to reward him with our support.

No doubt, Andrew’s vehemence is  born out of a combination of his well-documented disdain for HRC and the personal fashion in which this particular issue affects Andrew’s life. And, you know, I get Andrew’s frustration. From my own perspective, I continue to find the kind of discrimination that gay men and women experience in a variety of of foray as fundamentally mind boggling and incomprehensible.

But in this particular instance, I’m inclined to avoid frothing at the mouth and see this move by Obama for what it is: prioritizing. [Read more →]

Ta Nehisi started off by saying,

I don’t want to be led by people who think that “getting angry” is a actual political strategy. I want to be led by a killer. A cold, unemotional, professional killer.

I keep meeting lefties who tell me Obama’s “too soft” with these guys, and I keep looking at them like they’re crazy. I am going to go out on a limb and say that there is something deeper at work here, something beyond the policy fights. I think a lot of us don’t just want Obama to be effective, we want him to exact some measure of revenge. It’s smart to understand the difference between the two, and moreover, how the desire for one can undermine the other.

Then Andrew followed up, noting,

I repeat my belief in the core attraction of Obama’s candidacy and presidency: that he is not engaging in Rove-Morris daily politicking, or descending into the cable news muck. The whole point of the Obama candidacy, in my view, was to help us get past that to a substantive discussion of practical policy decisions which America simply has to face.

And, you know, I get where both are coming from. Certainly part of the promise of Obama’s presidency was to get away from the vicious partisanship of Rovian politics as Andrew points out. But I can’t help wondering whether Obama isn’t overplaying this card a bit to the point that it is hurting him on multiple fronts. [Read more →]