All posts by John Wojdylo

Community is not Communism: The new university battleground explained

 

Hyena. Image by Martin Davies. www.daviesart.com

“The new ground for Australian universities has been defined. The situation in academia – the morale, the workloads, the dramatically fallen quality of courses – is still catastrophic and a disgrace to a nation that purports to be an advanced society. But at least now we know that the situation will pick up in 4-5 years, and that the slide in Australian universities has probably bottomed out.” John Wojdylo

John Wojdylo is a physics lecturer and Webdiary columnist. His previous examinations of the crisis in our universites are They wouldn’t hurt a hair of us, they’d only let us die and The intellectual holocaust in our universities has just begun.

 

“Three quarters of a sigh of relief”, a highly-placed source in the AVCC was quoted as saying in the Australian newspaper this weekend (December 6-7).

As also reported in that newspaper, Deryck Schreuder, outgoing head of the Australian Vice-Chancellors’ Committee, said last week that failure of the Nelson reforms to pass through the Senate would lead to a mortal blow to the morale of academic staff at Australian universities. I’m convinced his observation is closer to the truth than the grim picture painted by anti-Nelson-reform doomsayers in the ALP and the academic and student unions, who seem to be saying the opposite: that the mortal blow has now come with the passing of the reforms.

I believe they are wrong. Last Friday’s Senate decision is of momentous importance. It could have been better, but it could also have been much worse. Now, at last, there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

One of the stunning aspects of the public debate was the instances of deliberate misinformation coming from all sides. On the government side, this was often driven by its industrial relations ideology, based on “neo-liberal” (in fact, neo-classical) economic dogma.

The ALP, on the other hand, was too often driven by political opportunism. The ALP should have let the legislation pass and changed it if or when it got into government. Even now, the benefits of the reforms will not have a serious impact until 2007-2008: had the ALP and Democrats succeeded in blocking the package, it’s very likely we would have been waiting until the next decade. Australia cannot wait that long to pick up the pieces of its university system.

On the unions’ side, whenever they went too far, it was driven by the marxist-collectivist utopian delusion that the public purse is there, ready for the taking, if only the general public were “properly educated” through a “proper public debate” on university funding. Tax the rich, and don’t talk to me about capital flight.

Too often, we glimpse a rerun of an old view: the class struggle between the fee-paying class – the innocent “victims” of capitalism – and the management bourgeoisie is raging. If the unions had succeeded, it would have been disastrous for all students at Australian universities, not just for those that can ill afford fees.

On the other hand, if unions had been completely silent, would the HECS repayment threshold have been raised to $35,000?

So, we’ve witnessed a defining characteristic of Australian-style liberal democracy. In our political system, it seems no single group is capable of adequately representing the interests of many. Somehow, too often, self-interest or private preoccupations override the community good. The powerful screw the silent. Consequently, interest groups (including government) vie for influence, we are subjected to cynical or delusory propaganda from all sides, as well as public debate in which even the basic starting points – the common “reality” – are disputed.

Not even the debate’s ground in reality can be agreed upon – let alone what would constitute a favourable outcome for most parties. So differences are irreconcilable: at best, we arrive at uneasy truces. The lack of a common vision for the future might be the cause – it’s certainly at least the symptom – of Australia being a naturally “post-modernist” country in this way.

Nevertheless, last Friday, the political system passed a major test. Four independent senators mustered enough positivity to pass the legislation. The negativity of the rest appears diminished in the afterglow.

Tony Abbott is right: Australia’s major failing is its negativity. Australians knacker themselves.

But he ought to recognise his own contribution to it. By his quasi-religious adherence to neoclassical economic dogma, he creates the conditions of injustice that give Marxist-influenced interest groups a natural role to play in Australian politics. By asserting an extreme that doesn’t contain the good of the community at its centre – a win-win situation that the vast majority can recognise – he also generates its opposite. Australia is like some guy who, every time he wills himself forward, finds that 20 reasons rise up in his head to conspire against it: he stifles himself and goes nowhere.

If Tony Abbott was quoted correctly by Christopher Pearson regarding the strings attached to $400 million of Nelson’s funding model [The Australian, October 4-5, 2003], the government’s main claim with regards to industrial policy was this:

“All we’re asking is that any further collective agreements will not rule out the option of Australian Workplace Agreements if individual members of staff want them.”

Any reasonable-minded person would read this and wonder how on earth the AVCC can claim that the government’s policy is intrusive. All the government wants – we see plainly here – is to give employees a fair choice. So, trusting Christopher Pearson’s journalistic integrity – that he has checked his facts – the reasonable reader is led to question the integrity of the AVCC, one of the major parties in the negotiations. In which case we’re seeing nothing more than a Clayton’s debate. The Mad Monk’s virtue shines through and invites us to have faith in him.

Unfortunately, no media commentator was interested enough in defending the process of public debate to dig up the facts. So the ordinary observer could not have made an informed decision: the debate could only be nonsensical to them, a mass of divided and irreconcilable opinions emanating from parallel universes. Who’s telling the truth? There’s no way to tell.

The facts – or what seems to me to be so – emerged much later, almost in passing, accidentally [The Australian, November 22, 2003]:

“Vice-chancellors would be happy to accept some proposed reforms but are not happy with the current prescriptive recipe,” said Virginia Walsh, executive director of the Group of Eight, the richest sandstone universities.

“The original proposal was for a general statement that AWAs not be precluded, and there was general acceptance. When the workplace requirements were announced months later, we find the Government is proposing to dictate a range of specific elements, including the number of casuals that can be employed, leave conditions and relationships with relevant unions.”

Australian Vice-Chancellors Committee president Deryck Schreuder said he was confident that agreement could be reached.

“Increasingly, the sector is using common law contracts to recognise position and performance on campus,” he said.

“Equally, we believe there would be a way of writing the rules that allows staff to say ‘I want an AWA’.

“I’m on a contract, as all the vice-chancellors are. It’s a contract of appointment, and it’s performance-based.”

Mr Howard said he found it strange that government demands for universities to offer individual workplace agreements had sparked such serious debate.

“I find it very interesting that one of the apparent areas of conflict between the university sector in relation to education reform is the Government’s insistence that if you as an academic employee want to have an individual workplace agreement you should have the right to have it,” he said. “I would have thought that was a given in Australia in 2003.”

Here, John Howard, too, plays the innocent, the virtuous. But the remarks by Virginia Walsh and Deryck Schreuder reveal Howard and Abbott’s ploy. Tony Abbott had been sowing misinformation right from the beginning, and the Australian’s Christopher Pearson was his useful idiot.

In the parallel universe occupied by the Howard ideologues, a contract of appointment that is performance-based is not a true individual workplace agreement. In their view, the real McCoy is a contract existing in a centralised, bureaucratised structure set up by the government and remaining under its control, thus being consecrated by it. Eerily, it is reminiscent of union collective structures: it’s the flip-side, as if one generates the other in the blind passion of reactionary policy. It is against individualism and individual freedom.

The historical dance in Australia between right-wing idealism and left-wing idealism goes on.

The neoclassical ideologues in Howard’s government are reacting to their fear of “collectivity”, probably “communism” too, as driving forces of market inefficiency. But in their industrial policy, they create their own inefficiencies, and anti-individual structures.

To a limited extent, their fears are justified: collective urges are rampant in Australia, and can easily be manipulated to turn into a runaway train, as different sides of a debate become entrenched in their parallel universes, so that not even the basis in reality of the debate can be agreed upon — let alone what would constitute a favourable outcome for most parties.

The latter results in refusal to let go: long after decisions are made, and new conditions are entrenched – bringing the dawn of a new reality – parties refuse to accept the change and harp on about their lost Utopia and the imposed reality that can only be grim in the light of that delusory perfection.

The new ground for Australian universities has been defined. The situation in academia – the morale, the workloads, the dramatically fallen quality of courses – is still catastrophic and a disgrace to a nation that purports to be an advanced society. But at least now we know that the situation will pick up in 4-5 years, and that the slide in Australian universities has probably bottomed out.

***

The title of this piece – “Community is not Communism” – is my invention, my words, not those of the person I interviewed: Professor Deryck Schreuder, outgoing president of the Australian Vice-Chancellors’ Committee. The interview appears below.

In Australia, the notion that universities can be at the centre of a community is viewed as idealism; yet in the United States, it’s commonplace. This points to a major difference between the two societies. Americans can bury their differences and unite behind a vision for the good of their community or, on a larger scale, their country. In Australia, differences fester and become irreconcilable. At the moment, we’re a smaller country, a smaller people. Maybe we can grow.

Can endowments ever play an essential role in the funding of Australian universities? Australian society faces a test over the next ten years: unite behind a vision, overcome your cynical egalitarianism, pick a winner and stick to it. Virtually every OECD country other than Australia sees the knowledge economy, driven by higher education, as a winner, and has put in place programs to nurture it.

Don’t leave funding to “somebody else” – namely, governments and student fees. Embrace your universities and help make them better by supporting them financially.

Certainly (Mark Latham and ALP policy-makers take note!), the tax system has an essential – but by no means the only – role to play in this.

Endowments and the university as a community are two of the main threads that arose in the interview.

After transcribing the interview, I sent a number of comments and further questions, mostly requesting clarification, to Professor Schreuder. I asked for his reaction. He did not reply. This is probably natural, given the length of the transcript, and the lack of time — as well as political sensitivities due to his involvement in negotiations with the government.

Some of my questions were subsequently answered in public press releases, media reports etc. Others remain unanswered and my objections stand. My post-interview comments or questions are in square brackets ([]), or appear in the footnotes. Professor Schreuder, or anybody else, is of course free to respond to Webdiary.

***

Interview with Professor Deryck Schreuder, outgoing president of the AVCC

JW: I’m interested in the big picture…

DS: Sure.

JW: …I’m interested in the historical view, although I’m well aware of the problems with trying to understand the times that one is part of.

Question 1 – is there method in the madness?

The Australian higher education system has undergone great upheaval in the last decade. The Dawkins reforms of the early 1990s paved the way for an enormous increase in Australian participation in higher education, while introducing the principle of user pays as a means of funding the system. Then in 1996, the Howard government drastically reduced funding to universities: between 1995 and 2000, Australia’s public investment in universities declined by 11 percent(more than any other country in the OECD.) Staff numbers and other indicators still haven’t fully recovered from the shock. Was there method in the madness of 1996?

DS: Well, John, I’ll take a leaf out of your book and say that in addressing this we do need that longer perspective, that the best part of Dawkins, and I vividly recall when it came in, I was part of the Australian Research Council at that stage as well as being a professor, and then I came into the system as a vice-chancellor from the middle nineties.

The best part of it was the access, the opening up of the system to a much wider range of Australians, and the recognition that education, knowledge and skilling would really be extraordinarily important for the future. And it was part of that remarkable Hawke-Keating government which brought in the modernisation of the economy, new public policy, micro reform. I think that really was a key time, a watershed time, in our country. Prior to that we’d had a relatively elite system, small number of universities and about a quarter of a million Australians went to university.

JW: What’s the participation rate now?

DS: Well, we’ve doubled the number. We’re at about 540 thousand domestic students, funded places, and we have about 170 thousand international students studying with us – about 130-140 thousand onshore, the rest offshore. So we’ve seen this remarkable growth in both internal participation and also in the overseas students. And the participation has also been particularly commendable if you look at the shape and character of it. It’s not just been a school-leaver participation. That’s been there, and that’s grown, and I think it’s grown in terms of wider social classes, wider regions participating. So that’s all good. But also more mature age people have come back in as a kind of lifelong learning area, and there’s been striking increases in the number of people coming back for masters degrees.

So the Australian community has come to recognise education as opportunity, and I think that’s a big turn-around in our view. University’s not just for toffs, university’s for all of us.

I think that’s something that’s really crucial and it will be vital in the future and we need to continue to support and nurture that.

We reckon that of the school-leaving population, something like 45% of those completing high-school successfully are going on to university. But it still means that less than 20% of Australians have a degree – because of the number of people who don’t complete high school, or previous [statistical] cohorts in the elite days that didn’t get there.

So we need to lift – still need to lift further the access to the universities. And the vice chancellors have recommended in their own submission to ‘Crossroads’ that we should be setting a target of about 60%, which would then bring us into alignment with some of the other major developed economies, societies of the world.

So access is really, really important. I think we also, in diversifying that, we also diversified the teaching methodology. We’ve brought the new technologies in. The campuses have become more multicultural. There are new ways of connecting the universities to the community.

And then on the research side, we’ve seen a remarkable growth: the [Australian] Research Council, the money in the block grant, all of it strong signs that the system has grown in ways I think are even beyond what John Dawkins’s best vision might have been. (John Dawkins is a graduate of our university, so we all take some pride in that.)

I think where it went wrong – and where your questions are heading to – is that what we’ve got is a lag in funding in relationship to both teaching and learning and research. [See Footnote 1.]

And we’ve never got out of that. We created a system and we never fully funded the expansion. And so that’s been a consistent problem right throughout. So from the time when we began to make the big, mass system, in the early nineties, even then you could see, with the new monies, the new places, the new capital works, it was still not on the levels which would have been appropriate for the scale of the expansion. [See Footnote 2.]

To some degree the success ran away from the government, too. The response of the community was so strong, the new universities got going so strongly. The mature age came in, the flexible delivery, the distance learning, all these things which weren’t anticipated. Plus the international program – it was not in the John Dawkins paper. That’s all been part of the transformation.

So that’s the first negative. The resourcing of teaching and learning. Coupled with it is the fact that the resourcing of research has also lagged. The base grant, the block grant we get for research has never kept up sufficiently for us to provide the kind of infrastructure and flexibility we want…

But the world has moved on as well. So you’ll find that as a proportion of GDP expenditure on basic teaching and learning, we’re average or below average in the OECD; in research, we’re average or below average; in R&D, we’re right down towards the bottom.

So the resources have not kept up with the dream and the vision. There’s nothing wrong with the dream and the vision, it’s absolutely right. We just haven’t invested enough in it.

But that’s just one part of it. And shortly, the other part of it that I feel is a real concern is that, as the system has grown – and of course we have had more public commitment of monies, and that’s right. This is fundamentally a public system for a public good…

JW: We’ve had more commitment for money, but most of it’s coming at the end of the decade…

DS: That’s right.

And alongside that we’ve had more and more red tape, if you will, more and more [pressure for] compliance, more and more regulation, more and more intervention, as the government has become more and more interventionist in determining what it sees are the [desirable] outcomes.

JW: But surely since the government provides so much funding, it has a right to expect that it can impose its policies.

DS: Absolutely, John, absolutely. You’re dead right, and we must always be accountable for the money. We must also be accountable for the specific outcomes where particular programs are put in. And in research and development we need to clearly give an account to not just the parliament, but the Australian community as to why this amount of money put into higher education and into our research is appropriately allocated, when health is in need, social services and our defence.

Yes, we’ve got to be always accountable, and to the community we must always be saying – very clearly communicating – what the universities are about. And we need to particularly give a sense of why, world-wide, universities have become the centre of the building of new knowledge economies.

The great American educationist, Frank Rhodes, who was for years the head of Cornell [University] has written a wonderful book on modern universities, and he’s called it, “The Creation of the Future”.

Yes, we must have accountability, but the theme I’d go back to – it’s a soap-box of mine – is, I believe, you need a balance between the accountabilities, which must be absolutely appropriate… and we’re accountable at the state level as well, to the auditors general, as well as to the commonwealth.

You must also recognize the autonomy of the institutions, *and* recognize the fact that these… Australian higher education has shown itself to be remarkably entrepreneurial, very creative in the new technologies we’ve adopted.

The new teaching methods we’ve brought in. The way we’ve developed mixed mode and distance education. The way we’ve in fact built this enormous industry, which is Australian international university exports. And our little company that we’ve started – IDP – has become this enormous success as an agency.

So there’s every sign that the system responds within a frame of accountability. It responds to policy that is flexible, and that allows a kind of bottom up capacity to drive the system.

JW: Will the federal government always be part of the higher education system? Is it a realistic goal that universities will be totally independent of federal funding in Australia?

DS: That might happen in the long term. I don’t think it’ll happen in my lifetime.

But what I do think has happened, and which has not been recognized fully by the community, and certainly not by the governments enough, of all sides, both parties, both major parties, is the degree to which our universities have become hybrids in terms of the funding of the institutions.

On average, only about 50% of the funding comes in a block form to the universities. And many universities are now down to 40, even 30 – my university, along with a few others, we get less than 30% of our block funding – that is, the student place money, from the government. We earn 70% of it in competitive grants, in fees and charges, in monies from industry, and in monies we raise through endowments, or the alumni. About 5 big income streams.

So increasingly, the universities are becoming autonomous agents. And we’re not just agents of the State. We’re about public good. But we’re on mixed resourcing. And somehow we need to convey that to the community and to government.

That’s why we need to be trusted more.

That’s why we need to be given more flexible frameworks.

And we need to have that flexibility so that we produce the diverse types of university that a modern society needs.

You don’t want ‘University Australia’, which is a single model, stamped out like a cookie cutter, run by the federal ministry…

JW: … a centralised bureaucracy…

DS: That’s exactly what we don’t want. And some people say – and I don’t say this ideologically – that if you want to go for mediocrity, you get government to run everything.

I just believe that in our sector, we need to respect the autonomy of the institutions, and have a match between this and public responsibility/accountability… *but* recognising the capacity of the universities to work to different missions. We’ve got 38 universities in the AVCC, 39 universities in Australia. Each one of them is subtly different from the others.

There is certainly a range of types – five or six types of universities, if you can compare us to Europe or the United States. And we should glory in that. We shouldn’t say that this is a hierarchy of the good ones, the less good ones.

We should be saying all 38 universities should be top quality, but with different kinds of missions.

And help them. Fund them appropriately, and recognise that they themselves will also build their budgets. But help them to build from the bottom up. And then they will create the remaining resources.

[JW: Putting it in a nutshell, you’re arguing that university autonomy leads to a public good because it enables a diversity of universities to evolve organically, backed by a spirit of entrepreneurship, a sort of capitalism from below, within a framework of accountability to the general community. Once the organic process is kick-started through appropriate funding and whatever else, it will carry on by itself in a way appropriate for each university. The benefits of better universities then flow on to the country as a whole.]

JW: I’d like to move on to my next theme.

Question 2. Who will think of those that fall by the wayside?

Some disciplines do not have immediate economic value. Examples include elementary particle physics, or classics, music,…

DS: Or languages.

JW: Right.

DS: I think you’re right. It’s both the generic sciences and the generic arts.

Thank you for that, because I think it connects exactly to what we were talking about before. If you get a diverse range of institutions, then you have the opportunity to ensure that you do get the full spectrum of research, say, right across the country.

And then in teaching and learning, I’d say two things. One is, I think some of the comprehensive, traditional universities, such as mine, I do think we have a public responsibility to, in effect, cross-subsidise. And that’s exactly what we do.

And there are many universities in Australia that do exactly that. So that we’re keeping alive fundamental chemistry, as well as fundamental languages.

And we don’t expect in those areas the entrepreneurial capacity, the return, in overseas students, in industry links, in sponsorships. But we bring the money into the totality of the corporate body, which is the university, and we work to an academic profile.

That’s exactly what this university has, and a whole number of other universities do this. But we also have universities that are now more specialised in their approach, and it’s unreasonable to expect all the universities of this country to run – as we do – not only basic chemistry, but also ancient and classical studies. The whole range of languages. No university can run that sufficiently. So that’s a second point.

A third one is that most of our universities, the majority, are in metropolitan centres, because we’re a city-state country.

In Perth, we have 5 universities; other cities have a similar number, either in the metropolitan area or just outside it. Now there you’ve got a real chance of bringing of complementarity, whether it’s in things like languages, or honours programs, or some of the graduate programs. I’m certain we could do more, in that collaborative way.

But that does need recognition by the universities that they have that responsibility, and I think that’s there. And government needs to come to us with the kind of responsible money that assists collaboration in both teaching and research.

We’re increasingly sharing big teaching, big research facilities. Even on a state basis. And I think now there’s a real chance we’ll bring more collaboration into being between universities, CSIRO, other research agencies. And on the teaching front – teaching and learning front – I think there needs to be more of a series of linkages and collaborations.

Because we don’t want to have situation where our country, investing more and more into the universities, in fact comes to the end of the day, and you have a series of universities more or less offering the same, while languages, and some key areas of the sciences, say, actually disappear.

Because there’s no guarantee that any one area will automatically be kept alive. So the AVCC, in its own submission to Crossroads, stressed the importance of this diversity, of institutions, of teaching and learning, of research areas, and we made that one of the major goals of the sector in its responsible work for the community. Because in the end, we’re about serving the society.

JW: So you’re saying that there’s not enough money in Australia to have comprehensive universities teaching, say, fundamental chemistry, elementary particle physics and something like the classics, in every capital city.

DS: No, I think we can do it on that basis, but I don’t think every university can do it.

I think some people have got, in a sense, traditional views of what a university must be. I’ve heard people say, ‘you cannot have a university unless it’s got a philosophy department’. Now, I respect that kind of view, and in my kind of comprehensive university, that is so. It would be inconceivable that my university would not be pursuing philosophy, or basic chemistry or basic physics. That is part of the character of this university.

But each university needs to decide its own academic profile. And then there needs to be the collaborations to ensure that in a big, diverse, regionalised country [such as ours], there is access for students, and there’s access for the society, for all the major research areas, and all the major teaching and learning areas, to be reproduced within a region.

But where you do come down to a very small area of research which might be important but we can only sustain one of them, we should still sustain that in the country.

If a certain language is only offered at one institution, it is still important that we keep that language alive at a time when we’re internationalising in the world.

There should be [at least] one place in Australia where you can go and learn a major language of a neighbour. We shouldn’t allow them to, sort of, drop off every tree, and then we say at the end of the day, “Oh dear, where is Hindi?” “Where is Dutch?” Two languages which have been under threat in recent times.

I think it’s a matter of getting a bit more of a national approach into that. We need to play our part. But government needs to come at us as well and assist and facilitate that process. With the new technologies, you can actually teach a language out of one provider.

JW: What exactly is the mechanism that exists to stop these important, small subjects [i.e. departments] from disappearing? For example, at this university, there’s the �disciplinary group� of classics, ancient history and classical archaeology has 4.3 staff supervising 10 honours students and 12 postgrads, and is teaching undergraduate and postgraduate courses for over 200 students. That’s a staff-student ratio of over 50-to-1. The guy there, Professor Bosworth, says: “I think we�re at the absolute minimum, I think, really, on any rational basis, below the absolute minimum for covering the courses that we do. I think if we lose any more, we�re gone. It�s the old� quoting the poem� �They wouldn�t hurt a hair of us, they�d only let us die.�”

It seems to me that nobody is taking the active role. Somewhere there’s a link broken – or, almost. Nobody is taking the active role to say, “Look, there’s something we want to keep, put some money into there. Help that discipline out.”

DS: Two things I’d say about that. One, you know, naturally, Brian is a great scholar, and we really respect it. This university has the second lowest teaching ratios in the country.

JW: What’s the average, approximately?

DS: We’re at about 16 [to one].

The second point to be made is that we have actually kept alive Classics, as others have not. And the plan through the Faculty of Arts is to ensure that that is there and it grows over the years. So, sure, there are problems in load, and there are pressures, but our arts faculty is the best resourced arts faculty in Australia.

And we have a very high proportion of resources that we put into the library, in terms of the system.

I respect the fact that colleagues feel those pressures, and I understand them all, but we have – it is there, and you can talk to our chemists, it’s there too, the pressure’s on them, those generic areas. [But] we do cross-subsidise, that’s the really important thing. Who keeps…

JW: At what level does that decision-making happen?

DS: It happens at the level of the management group, the executive of the university. Because we have a budget that responds to student demand. We’ve got to do that.

We’ve also got to ensure reasonable equality in the way we distribute staffing load, resourcing, infrastructure. So it comes up through the deans, it’s part of the total load.

Who’s responsible? The vice-chancellor’s senior executive members are responsible, but so too are those in the professions. I’m a historian, I’m a member of the Historical Association, I’m a fellow of the Australian Academy of the Humanities: those are all very important professional pressure groups, which should be there constantly active on behalf of their disciplines or their areas. That’s how you keep it alive.

It doesn’t happen because the State just plans it. We need to get that sort of idea out of our minds.

JW: Question 3. Conditions in academia versus conditions in university administration.

Now, working conditions are not bad in all areas at university. On the contrary: no employee in a university’s administration has to put up with such job insecurity or such a workload, as the average academic does. And in many cases (especially compared to casual academic staff), the administration employee is better paid. Indeed, since 1996, while most academic departments have been relentlessly trimmed, management and administration at each university have been fattened generously. While academic departments such as classics, philosophy and the pure sciences have suffered greatly, and…

DS: I think you’ve got one set of data which is different from my perspective, and after this interview, what I’ll do is ensure we get you the data.

Our administration has not grown like that, we have done major staff work-experience surveys – we’ve done three in the time I’ve been here – and they show a high degree of satisfaction on both sides, the academic and general staff.

[JW: I’m keen to see the data and the survey questions. But I have not seen them yet.]

Recognising that the whole sector is under pressure, we monitor very closely the question of the growth of the professional side compared to the other. We’re very concerned about growth in casualisation. Our university is right at the bottom end of that.

We are particularly concerned with our research-only staff, to ensure they have continuity of employment. And we’ve brought in a number of innovative practices into being. Because in the end, we want to be model employers. We want staff to feel that UWA is a great place to work. And people with that spirit, of course, then perform remarkably well.

They give to the corporate life of the institution, whether they’re teachers, or they’re the professionals, and you produce a first class institution. You want to attract the best staff, you want to develop the best staff, and you want to retain the best staff.

And, John, we’ll give you the data on that which actually shows how this is a very active area with us. And we’ll also show you, with the budget models, how we very carefully adjust budget to both demand and also the academic profile of the university.

We run a whole series of areas which are, in effect, considerable loss leaders to us. But we think that that is the sort of university we’re about.

We’ve got an academic profile, and we actually fund it. This university has initiative monies for new capacity. We have a very flexible series of policies to reward excellence. Loadings, and we have accelerated promotion.

We have a whole series of support mechanisms to ensure that people in our university feel that there’s always an opportunity, a new professional skill that they can acquire to advance themselves.

So – we’re not a very big institution, about three and a half thousand staff. So we feel we actually know our employees. And we have very nuanced policies.

I might sound defensive but I believe we actually can sing a song which is about a workplace where there’s real concern for the conditions, for career opportunities and security.

JW: The fact is, according to the UWA budget – which is published on the internet – the expenditure on “administration” and “student services” together doubled between 1996 and 2000, and have increased further in the two years since then.

DS: But then the balancing side to that is, what are we doing for the faculties, which we don’t do in a devolved way. We devolve certain kinds of academic activities, but we’re a relatively small university. What we can do is put some of that money into some of those faculties, but then what we’ll do is reproduce little administrations all around.

We’ve very carefully delineated the balance between the things we’ve devolved, such as recruitment, the questions of student processing, looking after the overseas students, the research office, providing the IT structure, the support system in the library.

All that is wrapped up in the corporate budget, and that is all put out through the faculties, through the deans. There isn’t a separation in that way. The institution is a matrix, web-like organisation. And we look at what the services are and where they’re delivered.

It’s not reasonable, actually, to pull out what appears to be the central budget as against the faculty budgets, because the faculties are the centre as well. We have a very flat management system in the university.

And the budgeting is done in an absolutely transparent way. We report the budgets to the academic board; we have a planning and budget committee, which consists of all the faculties and representatives from the centres.

I believe we have a good and open way of talking about the research priorities in the university, so people know where we’re putting the money. Those budgets are university budgets, they’re not my budget or the central budget.

JW: OK. I’d like to get onto the next theme.

Question 4. If there is a university crisis now, why is the money promised in the Nelson report only coming towards the end of this decade?

Quite a bit of money has been promised in the Nelson report. Most of this is due to come at about 2007.

DS: It clicks in in 2005, and it’s a 5 year program. We support that approach. Indeed, it was a central part of the proposal we made in the Crossroads review, because we recognized that we do need to have substantial uplift in public commitment of resourcing. And you can’t do it out of one budget. So we have stressed the importance, in teaching and learning, and in research, of having a package.

So the 1.6 billion is spread over a period of time. And the changes are to be brought in over a period of time. And then we’ve argued for a 10-20 year horizon, so there isn’t just one block of money put in to fill a black hole, or fix the thing — that’s not the way. We need, as you’ve indicated, to restore the levels of financing, and we need to have them substantially lifted if we want to be internationally competitive, about 2% of GDP.

We’re only at 1.4, and that includes the student contribution. The Canadians are now putting in about 2.2, and the Americans are already at about 2. We’re talking of getting to that figure over a period of a decade. But that’s because we’re trying to be realistic. We recognise the fact that there are many many calls on the Commonwealth budget.

We’ve also called on the states to play a larger role. We know they’re not first-hand responsible for higher ed. But in a number of areas – whether research and infrastructure, or international programs — the states could play a larger role.

We need a larger commitment over a period of time. The ALP’s “Aim Higher” has picked up that theme as well. We’re delighted. And they have talked about a substantial budget increase, which would pan out over 5 years, with extensions later.

We need to get the notion accepted in our country that each year we actually lift the level of resourcing of higher ed, not say, “We’ve got it right [, so we might as well stop there]”. Because the demands, the international levels, will keep on going up. We seem to accept it in defence. About 1.9% of GDP goes into defence. And it’s constantly adjusted.

In the end, universities – and education – is one of the great defences for the nation. Thomas Jefferson talked about education as the “first defence of the nation”. And that’s the sort of philosophy we need to get into the public funding of universities, but also TAFE and the schools.

JW: Question 5. We seem to be heading towards a higher education system that resembles the American public university system (*not* Harvard etc., which are private universities). But endowments in Australia are almost nonexistent, at least relative to the US. What hope is there that we can emulate the success of the Americans, when a significant component of their success is missing here? If I may continue a bit: There seems to be one great contrast with the United States. And that is the role of endowments in the American system. There are two aspects to this. First, a lot of endowments in the US are absolutely enormous. Second, they come with no strings attached.

DS: Well you could say a couple of things about that. One is that there’s often a view that Australians have harder hearts.

I think the Americans have better tax laws. I think there’s a strong sign that we do have a culture of philanthropy, that’s focussed in certain disciplines, certain cities. So it’s not a void.

And we’ve also seen in recent times that graduates are prepared to come in to assist. A number of universities, including mine, are now beginning to make a considerable advance in a program of [inaudible]. And they don’t uniformly have these large endowments. If you look at it, it’s really concentrated at the top end. The “Chronical of Higher Ed” has had a number of articles recently showing that the real considerable money [i.e. endowments in the US] is in the top 100. And after that it really runs out.

And Australian universities would actually get onto the 100 list.

(JW: I think this is still a poor showing by Australian universities – up till now. The situation will improve – just as it did in the US since a generation or so ago, when public universities there went on an endowments drive.

I want to point out that the top 100 list you mention includes all the so-called “Research One” universities in the United States. There are about 50 of them. These universities aspire to be amongst the world leaders in research, in one field or more, and attract the most talented students, the ones that aspire to knowledge, not just to a vocation, or to getting a degree to improve job opportunities of any sort.

Without having seen the figures, I doubt very much that an Australian university would get into the top 50 on this list. We’ve simply been late in catching onto the endowments thing. Has the AVCC done an analysis and compared Australian universities to that list?]

So it’s a matter of us adjusting, of bringing that into being, as part of what I referred to earlier as the hybrid funding system. We need to build a model of diverse funding.

And we need to explain to our graduates, who already think, “We pay taxes, we go to public universities, why do they still want our money? We’re paying HECS, why are they still pursuing us?” – we need to get the idea that being part of a university is a lifetime community experience.

We need to involve them, we need to give more to our alumni, to explain to them what their role can be in the development of their university.

And if you do that – which is how the Americans do it: it’s not just that they get the big corporate dollar, and they do get that, but the majority of their money comes in in large numbers of small scale, but lifetime givers.

Every year people give. Now we are, John, we are learning that. And I think that is part of the engagement of the universities with our society.

And that will grow. That will be an increasing part of the way we operate. And it’s wonderful money to have because, as you say, it’s untied money – or in many cases it’s reasonably untied, it’s in scholarships. Or it’s in certain research areas. Or it’s attached to a certain facility.

But I think it will be there. Just last night we launched a major initiative for fund-raising – costing about $30 million – in the university to put up a new business school structure, which will mean a whole new faculty structure on the campus.

And we’re relatively confident that we’ll raise that from our alumni – we had 30 years of graduates from the business school there last night – and the corporate community. And we feel relatively confident.

We’ve raised a considerable number of [professorial] chairs in the last few years. We’ve had some big donations for scholarships.

[JW: Can you give some concrete examples? Magnitude, and area of the scholarship? Are they really that big? (No reply.)]

We’ve had some significant donations to the library. So it can be done. But it will not easily produce the sorts of moneys that – people tend to quote the top group. I mean, Harvard could join the United Nations. It’s got something like $20 billion. We’re not going to reproduce that in Australia. We should look more at the public universities of America, and we’ll see that we could catch up.

The Stanford president said to me – and they have an endowment of about $12 billion — he said, “Remember, we didn’t always have this endowment. We’ve built it over a generation.”

He was encouraging us to go into it systematically and build those linkages and draw the alumni in.

JW: I’m sure that a systematic approach over a long period would gradually improve the situation. I think of examples like the University of Cincinnatti, which is not a top American university overall, and they have endowment that makes possible an incredible Classics department.

DS: Well we’ve had several million dollars given to us in recent times by an Italian foundation. We have a chair in Italian humanistic studies in the Classics area. That was the result of an initiative of some of our staff and a gift from the Cassamarca Foundation in Italy. So it can happen.

[JW: I should point out that the Cassamarca professorship is devoted to the promotion of Italian studies overseas, and does nothing to alleviate the teaching load – a student-staff ratio of 50-to-1 – in that disciplinary group. I don’t know of any examples in Australia of a comparably large endowment, coming from an Australian source, in a fundamental science (apart from medicine) or humanities area. (I’d like to know it if there is one!) There’s no getting away from the fact that the endowments situation in Australia is abysmal. Perhaps a fairer assessment is that it is in its infancy. See Footnote 3.]

We’ve had people give us scholarships aimed specifically at the social sciences and humanities. So it’s not just medical research.

It takes time. You’ve got to work at it, you’ve got to find your friends in the community, they’ve got to be assured about what you do with the money. They’ve got to feel part of the success story.

That’s where the Americans have been so good. Bringing the graduates back on campus. Keeping them in touch. Having special occasions. Ensuring that every scholarship recipient and chair recipient writes to the donors, keeps them involved.

We need to do more. And then I believe – well, we’re seeing it already – it will happen. Clearly, I agree that it will happen most easily for the older universities.

…JW: Do you see a gulf emerging in Australia between the sandstone universities and the rest?

DS: Well they’re different anyway. What’s absolutely crucial in the changes being promoted now is that differences be preserved in terms of style, approach and what is being offered, but that there be reasonable resource-basing for all the universities.

That’s been the AVCC’s policy. And we’ve outlined it in very great detail in “Forward from the Crossroads”, in “Access and Equity”, the response to the government document, and now in a document we’re about to publish in response to the ALP’s proposals.

We have suggested ways in which you come to produce a diverse sector, where you lift the base – and there’s a quality base for all institutions – and then you provide resourcing which reflects fitness for purpose and performance.

And if you could do that then we’d have a very good, strong diverse public sector. [Do you mean public higher education system?]

But it does begin with a reasonable base. We do need to restore the resources that are absent, and we need to keep building on them year in and year out.

JW: Professor Schreuder, thank you very much.

DS: My pleasure. You’ve stirred me on a number of [pet issues of mine].

***

Footnotes

Footnote 1.

JW: The main problem is surely the *lack* of funding, not the various kinds of lag that exist.

One example of lag is the following. When a research group in a department or school gets funding, a portion of it is likely to be earmarked for infrastructure for the department or school as a whole. However, the benefits of an infrastructure levy earmarked in 2003 will only arrive in 2005 (50%) and 2006. There’s a time lag of 3 years! Moreover, some types of research funding do not result in any benefit to a school.

We have situation in universities at the moment where individual research groups get up to millions in funding, while the infrastructure (lab equipment etc.) in the schools themselves is old and not maintained to a proper standard.

***

Footnote 2

JW: I don’t think my question has been answered. The system may well have not been properly funded from the outset; nevertheless, undeniably there’s a significant difference in, for example, money available for teaching in the pre-1996 period and post-1996 period.

I believe a fair and normal example to illustrate this is the following. In 1996 (before effects of the 1996 fiscal shock flowed through), the teaching of a particular very large first-year course at a certain Group of Eight university typically involved a lecturer and 18 tutors, with tutorials being held every week for two semesters. In 1999, tutorials in this course were cut back to only one semester – this is still the case – and the number of tutors (and tutorial groups) was halved, while student numbers rose (with a concomitant doubling of the student-staff ratio in tutorials). In some other units of this subject, tutorials were cancelled altogether. The cutbacks were due to lack of money. This was even after many staff had been purged to cut costs.

If I may just harp on about this a little – it’s really about the difference between one’s experiences and observations and what people in some quarters have been claiming about the quality of education in Australia. It seems to me that it just isn’t possible to claim – not that you are! – that the standard of that particular course I mentioned above – without the tutorials that are absolutely necessary to communicate the subject properly – is as high now as it was in 1996. It is certainly not “world’s best practice”, as some would claim. This is just an advertising pitch to attract overseas students. It is still a good course — possibly better than the overseas student would get in their own country – but it isn’t as good as it could be. Of course, with more funding, the situation will certainly improve.

This sort of thing seems to be partly what Ian Macfarlane, of the Reserve Bank of Australia, was referring to earlier this year when he said:

“The Vice-Chancellor of Melbourne University made the assessment that Australia no longer has a university ranking in the world’s top 100. I have no reason to dispute his opinion as I have heard similar views from other academics. It is imperative for all involved in higher education � governments, bureaucrats, academics and their spokespersons, taxpayers and businesses � to tackle this assessment. It may elicit the old catch cry of ‘elitism’; but far better that than a complacency permitting higher education to slip further.”

What I’m saying is this (and I’m not denying what you said, as there may well be two effects occurring simultaneously): the budgetary shock of 1996 was significant, actually, a catastrophe.

I am still no closer to understanding the method in that madness.

I can only speculate. Perhaps the government thought that university departments were becoming too bloated, too wasteful – but in blindly attacking the entire higher ed sector as a bloc, it has had the effect of weakening departments that should be part of the backbone of any comprehensive university, given the economic importance of knowledge in the world these days, as shown by a number of economies, such as the United States, Ireland and South Korea.

Whatever it was that the government had in mind, it has damaged the Australian university system immensely. The fact that some positive results have occurred despite the blow of 1996 does not change this.

Now, all that is largely in the past, and we are in the process of recovering from that. We need to have plans in place for the future – and that’s exactly what groups like the AVCC have. The Nelson plan is a start.

But that past has direct relevance today, for the people who put that excessive policy in place are still among the people you are dealing with now.

I think Brendan Nelson, to his credit, has recognised the problems in the higher education in Australia, and, moreover, has put his plan together despite those people; he isn’t one of them. They have stamped their influence on his plan.

I think this excessiveness is a strong streak in the present federal government – this is its principle weakness. There are people in it – possibly a minority – who don’t believe, as you do, in building a community from the ground level up.

They don’t believe in it even if this construction is complemented, as it has to be, by a top-down process. They are repelled by the idea of – if I may put it this concise way – capitalism from the ground up.

Granted, they certainly have ideas on how the economy should be run, the structures that should be in place to “guarantee freedom”.

But their priorities are different. They confound the nurturing of low-level connections in a community for something that horrifies them. Without the community-building, the low-level view, their policies are guaranteed to be a blunt instrument. We have seen what this blunt instrument did to the Australian higher education system after 1996.

The Liberal Party has lost several elections, both at state and federal level, largely, I believe, because they haven’t recognised this flaw within itself. They’ve caused their own downfall in this way.

In both Britain (Labor Party) and Australia (Liberal Party), the higher ed system – and the society – is evolving towards facilitating individuals to get ahead according to merit: a case of, essentially, every man for himself. But it’s complemented by something essential for the healthy functioning of the community or society: later, or even on the way up, the individual chooses as an independent thinker to give something back to the community that brought him success.

It seems to me that when the elements I mentioned above in the present government observe this process – of community-building, which is carried out by people who know a lot more than they do, who have spent much more time in the system and know it thoroughly – they see the demons of “collective thinking”, cosy communitarianism, or worse; and their instinct is to smash what they see.

Their evangelism has no hope of success, because it is not grounded in the reality of what a university has to be to function. This cannot happen in an environment where the daily struggle for survival of the fittest saps creativity. They impress us with their futility, the destructiveness of their evangelism.

This is, of course, the problem. But we have to focus on solutions. The solution comes with groups like the AVCC convincing those elements that responsible people run universities, and that more trust should be placed in them.

You may or may not wish to comment on the above. [No comment received.]

Footnote 3.

JW: As I said, I tend to agree with you that the general endowments situation in Australia will improve following a systematic attempt to get the ball rolling, as the Stanford president suggested. However, for the really big endowments to come, I think Australian culture will have to change. Or, as you said, the tax laws can make it more attractive to make endowments.

But could it really be something about our present character, after all? At least, what do we have to overcome to achieve higher goals? It seems to me that a deep utilitarian streak runs through Australian society. All too often, gift-giving comes with strings attached. Witness the criticism a month or so ago of outgoing Communication Minister Alston’s suggestion for funding the ABC by subscription. The criticism is probably right: big corporate donors will probably insist on conditions, and the ABC will lose its independence.

Americans are overall more idealistic than Australians. They pump billions into (economically-speaking) “useless” things like the Hubble Space Telescope and particle accelerators and supersymmetric superstring theory. Better tax laws are only part of it: there’s much more money to be made in, say, property than in giving money away to Classics departments as a tax break.

What could be the explanation for this difference between Australians and Americans? Perhaps it’s a kind of envy, or fear, in Australia – fear that if you let your guard down and give something away unconditionally, somebody else will make a profit out of it, and you will lose out – in some sort of imaginary race – or somebody else will be given a free kick when they haven’t earned it. Why should I give somebody else a free kick when I worked bloody hard for what I have?

Perhaps it’s a “superfluity” deficiency. Superfluity is the idea of always having something to spare, so that if the opportunity comes for giving unconditionally, it’s easy to do it. It’s even a pleasure. Of course it exists here, but nothing like as strongly as in societies where hospitality, for example, is a passion, even for poor people. It comes with no strings attached.

Having said that, however, witness the enormous success of Telethons and Appealathons in Australia – per capita, Australians are the most generous in the world. Why this, and not the other? Here, the cause is young children who will get the chance to live a normal life. They’re innocent. Their predicament is nothing to do with anything they chose to do in their lives – they were simply born with disabilities. We gladly, wholeheartedly, give money to people we imagine are innocent, but not to those with ambitions, who have tainted consciences. This is our puritanism.

As soon as debate moves onto more money for universities, the rhetoric becomes sectarian. This is partly driven by awareness of limited resources – and certainly by indecision about national priorities. Therefore, unlike in other OECD countries, whenever a solution overtly favours one section of society over another, it is put down.

A typical attitude is: “There is something almost touching about the naivety of a bloated academic salariat that takes its own services – and their withdrawal – so much more seriously than anyone else could.” [Christopher Pearson, The Australian, Oct. 4-5, 2003.]

I cannot imagine this sort of comment being taken seriously in the US, where the immense benefits of technology and intelligent solutions are taken as a given. In Australia we have absolute egalitarianism: it is as damaging as any absolute. This attitude contends that we’re not allowed to pick winners – even though virtually every other OECD country sees the knowledge economy, driven by higher education, as a winner, and has put in place programs to nurture it.

In my interview with Professor James Gates (coming soon to Webdiary – James Gates is the founding father of a major area of physics), I sensed an astounding difference in attitude towards higher education in the US and in Australia.

Australia has to change. Big business and ordinary individuals need to decide that there is a winner: it’s higher ed.

Individual Australians – the general public, on a grand scale – have to be shown that their contribution can make a difference, on the small scale, the local scale, and that a knowledge-community can be built through their efforts.

I think either the idea to donate doesn’t arise, or when it does, we hesitate. We don’t have a clear picture, or confidence, in what happens with the money. Maybe we’ve been burned in the past by poorly planned schemes or company failures; and in Australia, there have been many. We need to see that machinery has been put in place that will run smoothly and successfully given our input. We need to be given confidence that our money won’t be wasted on frivolity or directors’ salaries.

Loving the farthest

Getting to know another person’s point of view does not mean you agree with them or that you support them. This sounds simple enough. But in minds possessed by the virus of ideology, simple observations about another person become monsters attacking the foundation of one’s existence. There are undoubtedly times when ideology has to be fought with the intellect, with arguments; but there are also times when observations are simply no more than the stuff of reality.

The main point of my Against Human Rights in Iraq was to draw attention to the lack of the Iraqi viewpoint in all of Jack Robertson’s Iraq pieces, which nevertheless express an opinion on what ought to happen in Iraq. He has not “consulted” the Iraqis while presuming to tell them (and all of us) what’s best for them.

As I’ve argued before, this holds, too, for “the people” – those antiwar protesters described in Margo Kingston’s The People’s Instinct on the War. Nothing about seeing the viewpoint of the Iraqi in Iraq necessitates being for the war; but if you’re against the war, and you’re not a scum of a human being, you owe the Iraqis an apology for your choice that this time you cannot support their liberation. “The people” should have apologised to the Iraqis, then been ashamed of themselves.

The elementary fact that getting yourself informed about the Iraqi position does not necessarily mean agreeing with it is what underlies all my recent articles; namely, Why the people’s instinct can be wrongI felt liberated when I saw the bombs falling and That obscure thing called reality. These pieces are therefore neither pro war nor antiwar.

These works are for seeing another person’s reality – this time, that of the Iraqi under Saddam – and for smashing the mental barriers that prevent human beings from seeing other human beings. With these barriers in place – be they rooted in fear or ideology or both – no just future is possible in Australia or anywhere.

In these pieces I’m simply for clarity and truth, and against the obliterating virus of ideology.

I’ve made my case many times over – and Jack proved my point once again in Two letters to the future. His politicised soul insists that ‘Against Human Rights in Iraq’ betrays a political leaning; but in fact he’s hallucinating monsters and goblins, like some medieval religious knave obsessed with grasping onto power no matter what.

In the 21st century so far, two devastating bushfires have swept across the Australian societal landscape, each in turn reinforcing the great Australian inability to imagine in any depth the lot of a stranger, each dividing the world into us and outsiders, whereby what in each case is accepted as “us and ours” is elevated to a special status through heightened familiarity, to the exclusion of the other.

The outsiders are thought of in myth-like ways, images of them are somewhat unreal, because the image of “the other” is a projection of what is necessary for “us” to uphold “our” image of “ourselves”: it has no basis in reality, and its effect is ultimately to falsify and oppress human beings.

In the Tampa and SIEV-X cases, this was called “racism”. It is no different now with the anti-war protests, in the way they shun the Iraqi viewpoint.

I’m saying that when antiwar protesters claim their prejudice is unintentional, they’re not being completely honest: True, they’re not directly intending this consequence, but a destructive intention certainly exists. The viewpoint of the Iraqi seeking liberty – who is supposed to be our kindred spirit, is he not? – is obliterated in the minds of “the people”; for example, by promoting myths such as he or she hates the Americans so much that he or she will fight for Saddam Hussein and not against him.

“The people” naturally believe that Iraqis will willingly fight to save Saddam’s totalitarianism – because if they had it in their mind that Iraqis want to fight with the Americans against Saddam, then they would be confronted with the unsavoury truth that their antiwar protest is denying individual liberty.

Jack Robertson, too, sees Iraqis as an abstraction. He has written so much on Iraq, yet not one word about the Iraqi viewpoint. Not one word of his piece Controil – ostensibly about American Big Oil but it ends up being an antiwar rant on the prophecy that American self-interest is the sole motivation for invading Iraq and that democracy is not worth the risk – sees the situation from the point of view of the Iraqi desiring liberty (as opposed to the apparatchik, and the expatriate conservative Muslim and expatriate socialist/communist, which almost entirely account for Iraqi opposition to the war).

In his letter to me in Two Letters to the Future, Jack admits that he doesn’t have any idea what the Iraqis think. He writes:

I simply don’t know what ‘most’ Iraqis want …. We just don’t know what all the twenty-three million individual Iraqis want, John… there are many Iraqis, here in Australia, around the world, and in Iraq, too, who don’t share your views that we in the West should ‘liberate’ Iraq…

But he’s nevertheless certain that “this debate is dividing Iraqis, just as much as it is dividing the rest of us”.

He projects his image of ourselves onto the Iraqis, as if Saddam’s brutal totalitarian dictatorship makes no difference.

Most striking is that Jack sees no problem with his insinuation that “many Iraqis inside Iraq choose Saddam Hussein’s brutal dictatorship over American liberation”. It’s striking for two reasons:

a) It’s not correct (in any meaningful sense of the word “many”). See ‘I felt liberated…’, ‘Why the people’s instinct…’ and especially ‘That obscure thing called reality’ for the opinion of probably the majority of Iraqis. Also have a look at the open letter from Barham Salih, Prime Minister of Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, in The Age, March 10 (A Plea from the People of Iraq):

No one wants a war in Iraq less than the Iraqi people. But we don’t have the luxury of being anti-war. For the past 35 years, the Baathist regime has been waging war against Iraqis. We know there can be no peace without the military liberation of Iraq. The brutality of Saddam Hussein’s regime leaves Iraqis and the civilised world with no other option.

b) Being capable of taking that insinuation seriously can only mean that despite Jack’s years of doing a lot of good in the Australian community, and years of activism – against Saddam in 1983, as he tells us, too – Saddam’s totalitarian dictatorship is enough of an abstraction in his mind for him to imagine it to be a viable alternative for the Iraqi individual. There’s something making him keep a distance between himself and the reality of totalitarianism. Could it be his ideology?

In ‘I felt liberated when I saw the bombs falling’, I wrote:

Despite knowing tons of information, people don’t have a feel for what a totalitarian dictatorship is – what it actually feels like inside your body, how it makes your body sick (“Hussein is like a cancer eating away at me every moment of the day.”). Often it’s because of preoccupations (eg the obsession with America) – or maybe preoccupations are projections of the mind as it tries to fill the disjointed gaps: a search for meaning.

In summary, Jack has clearly allowed my basic point in ‘Against Human Rights in Iraq’:

Most importantly, and I stress that this is the main point of this Webdiary note, you have failed to consider the viewpoint of the Iraqi people.

Yet he still has the gall to claim:

You’re quite wrong about (Amnesty International), by the way – concentrating on individuals is exactly what our little group does.

But evidently it’s not what he does in the case of Iraq, because he hasn’t bothered to inform himself of what Iraqis think.

I only disclosed my involvement with AI – while making it clear that my views were personal…

So while working for Amnesty in his contact group, Jack suddenly becomes enlightened on the viewpoint of the Iraqi individual? I don’t think so. Ignorance of the meaning of totalitarianism represents a fundamental conflict of interest for Amnesty International workers. Anti-American jaundice is likewise.

This was the point of ‘Against Human Rights in Iraq’. One cannot seriously act for human rights in Iraq if one is ignorant of the Iraqi viewpoint. Moreover, in opposing the war, one is culpable for keeping a dictator in place. One ought to acknowledge that, just as Australians ought to acknowledge that modern Australia is partly founded on the suffering of the Aborigines.

Now, as I wrote above, you do not need to be for or against the war to inform yourself of the Iraqi viewpoint. Getting to know another person’s point of view does not mean you agree with them or that you support them. My recent pieces are neither pro-war nor antiwar.

Despite this, Jack has hallucinated some “monster” of pro-war sentiment in ‘Against Human Rights in Iraq’ – without bothering to read the other three pieces I mentioned above at the start. His phantasms are purely a product of his politicised soul, the cause and symptom of his inability to see what is simply human. He writes:

You’re not the first pro-war ‘Born-Again Human Rights Believer’… pro-invasionists like you get bored by plodding, case-by-case grass-roots work … For all your pompous bluster, none of you war-hawks have a clue what your invasion aim really is … your knee-jerk lefty stereotyping… You warhawks keep wanting to use force to bring stability to the unstable world … I don’t agree with your plans for carpet-bombing Baghdad into freedom; ergo, I must be ‘against Human Rights in Iraq’. … It’s you, I think, who are the real Utopian – vague, assertive, short-sighted, unpractical, seeming to believe that an invasion will magically ‘cure everything’,… You’re blindly hoping for the best, John, and not remotely preparing for the worst. … Do you remotely care…? And my kind of plan is also far, far more likely to achieve a good HR and democracy outcome in Iraq in the long run than yours… You’re the one about to summarily take over the joint, and tell everyone who lives there what ‘free’ and ‘just’ is going to mean to them all, from now on…. What we can’t be so sure of is the ‘big picture’, the ‘sweeping solution’ that people like you – the real Utopians – love so much. … Did you bother to… before you decided to declare me a self-obsessed, Utopian, pro-Saddam ignoramus…? I’m sorry, I’m now all confused again. This is your problem, John.

Oh, is it? I think you still have some growing up to do, Jack. That is your motto, isn’t it? “Leftists must grow up or die.”

It’s extraordinary that Jack has written so many words while completely missing my point. He therefore doesn’t say anything that I need to respond to.

There are, nonetheless, some sentences I will respond to, for various reasons.

Jack writes:

It’s you, I think, who are the real Utopian – vague, assertive, short-sighted, unpractical, seeming to believe that an invasion will magically ‘cure everything’, even if it’s run by, and/or for the partial benefit of, oil ‘parasites’, to use your term.

In fact, I’m reporting the views of Iraqis both inside and outside Iraq. I have taken the time to understand their point of view. Jack’s disdain towards their existence, while making pronouncements about what’s best for their country, is disgraceful.

I think he should now explain to the Iraqis – because I know we have a small audience in northern Iraq – why their desire to be liberated from the most brutal regime on earth is “vague, assertive, short-sighted, unpractical”, despite the effort they’ve put into plans for democracy, and the enormous price the Kurds have paid in creating the freest region in the Middle East.

On a similar note, Jack mentions protesting against Saddam Hussein in 1983. I wonder to what extent Jack was against Saddam Hussein, and to what extent he was raging against Ronald Reagan, and whether obsession with the latter stunted his education about Iraq. (Although Reagan had decided that the US should entice Iraq away from the Soviet Union, it did not come across like this to Reagan haters.)

Jack writes that he lived in Dresden not all that long after the war. I wonder whether – while comprehending in full intensity Allied war crimes in Dresden – he took the opportunity to visit Auschwitz-Birkenau, Mauthausen, Majdanek, Treblinka, Dachau, Sachsenhausen, Warsaw, Krakow, Lodz, or Babi Yar (near Kiev), to name just a few, all of which aren’t that far away from Dresden. It would have been possible, even under the communists.

In any case, let’s get back to Iraq, as these days we’re talking about Saddam’s brand of fascism.

Must I – to prove my (human rights) credentials to your satisfaction – climb heartily aboard your Iraq invasion bandwagon?

Nothing about seeing the viewpoint of the Iraqi in Iraq requires climbing onto any “invasion bandwagon”. This is why I did not mention it. Jack’s claim is just a phantasm inside his head.

But to prove his HR credentials to his own satisfaction, may I suggest he apologise to the Iraqis – thereby acknowledging their existence – for being unable to support their desire for liberation and for taking action whose success would keep Saddam in power, thereby making him partly culpable for the murder of countless Iraqis by Saddam’s henchmen in the years until the fall of his regime.

I don’t agree with your plans for carpet-bombing Baghdad into freedom.

“My” plans? Jack’s hallucinations.

But there’s a worrying slovenliness with the truth in Jack’s sentence, indicative of a wider trend. Stealing certitude they’re not entitled to is completely typical of “the people”. Here is an example of a point I mentioned in ‘Why the people’s instinct can be wrong’.

Even Paul McGeough knows that the Americans are not going to carpet bomb Baghdad. That’s why he’s staying put. See Margo Kingston’s interview with him, Behind the story.

“Carpet bombing” is propaganda. Jack has swallowed it hook line and sinker. Jack uses his army experience – and his family’s involvement in the imminent war – to claim authority on military matters, yet he’s gullible for the most blatant propaganda concerning tactics of war. This particular image of the American invasion seems to dominate his thinking on the issue. Propaganda has obliterated his better sense, and has stopped him from informing himself about the most basic aspects of American tactics.

If there’s any threat of mass destruction, it comes from Saddam Hussein and a possible “Nero” order, a la Hitler, March 1945. (I shall write about this for Webdiary soon).

Saddam Hussein – not the Americans – would be to blame. Jack’s perverse inversion of values would blame the Americans for Saddam’s murder suicide.

Paul McGeough might have got his information on how the Americans intend to minimise civilian casualties from defenselink.

Jack writes:

The first Principle of War is ‘selection and maintenance of the aim’.

Depends on who you read. According to Sun Tsu, it’s something like this:

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

Jack writes:

I spent a good deal of my time in uniform finding practical solutions to real-world problems – floods, bushfires, aerial search-and-rescues, the odd delicate ‘crowd situation’, h/c medical evacuations, and so on.

Good for Jack! Evidently, however, Jack ought to spend less time in the great outdoors and more time reading about what the Iraqis think before presuming to advise them on what’s best for their country.

Did you actually bother to read my alternative plan for the use of the West’s power? (Looking for John Curtin)

Actually, I did. I immediately saw that Jack’s idea is a product of naive wishful thinking. As Iraqi vice president Tarek Aziz stated late in February, Iraq would consider a UN force (or “protection” force as Jack puts it) to oversee weapons inspections as a violation of its sovereignty.

Jack’s plan amounts to an invasion of a sovereign country. You’re back to square one.

The bottom line has always been getting Saddam Hussein to cooperate. Without his cooperation, nothing but war is possible – if you’re serious about imposing United Nations “law”. This is the basic reality Jack’s plan misses.

You can’t democratise a country by imposed force, mate, any more than you can smack a child into adulthood.

This folklore “history” suits Jack’s purpose but doesn’t stand up to scrutiny.

Afghanistan. Kosovo. Serbia. Bosnia. Germany and forced de-Nazification. Japan and forced de-imperialisation. The Marshall Plan. The Vietnamese liberation of the Khmer Republic.

Imposed force was essential in the democratisation of all of these places. Although in some of them the job is still going on, in all of them life is better now than it was.

Echoing de-Nazification in postwar Germany, one prominent Iraqi this week called for “de-Baathification” of Iraq following liberation. I’m not lying, Jack. And this fact has nothing to do with being for or against the war. It’s got everything to do with finding out what Iraqis think before presuming to tell them what’s best for them.

Nobody necessarily has to agree with the Iraqis just because he or she has the courtesy to find out what they think. That Jack has continually accused me of acting otherwise is an indication of the politicisation of his soul. If he’s too far gone then there’s no hope for him – he’ll continue to have a lot of trouble sorting out the spin from the truth.

There’s an undercurrent in Jack’s writing:

You’re supposed to inspire, demonstrate, show, lead by brilliant example.

The Iraqis are not stupid, Jack. Why are you presuming that the Iraqis are incapable of organizing a democracy for themselves? Any reasons? Do you know anything at all about northern Iraq?

Why are the Iraqis a monolithic, unknown entity in your mind?

The fact is that the Iraqi situation is not as familiar to you in your mind as, say, American oil interests. That’s a shame.

In all of your pieces, you haven’t shown any understanding of what the Iraqis are planning in their own country, or acknowledged that they have made serious plans for Iraq’s future. These plans may or may not be realized, there is always risk – but why do you deny in advance that democracy is possible in Iraq?

You’re manifesting complete ignorance of the Iraqi viewpoint – that they are willing to take that risk.

Jack writes further:

Do I whine back at you about much time I spend as Balmain AI co-convener writing letters, articles and appeals, helping run market stalls, collecting furniture, collecting money, collecting members, collecting signatures and advocating on behalf of Iraqi refugees and Iraqi HR-abuse victims…

The question is not how much good you have done in the past, nor whether you once advocated on behalf of Iraqi refugees in Australia. The question is why is the Iraqi viewpoint missing in your present writings – while an obsession with the Americans is manifested clearly.

It’s about time you faced the fact that the same refugees you helped are looking on in horror at your present actions:

On Sunday I watched the peace activists rallying for peace without mentioning my butcher, Hussein.

They marched alongside Hussein’s activists, I saw them very clearly. I watched the Greens seeking votes. I watched Labor seeking leadership. I watched the Democrats trying to save their sinking party. I did not see John Howard marching, but he too is serving his own interests.

I don’t care if this war is for oil or not. I didn’t get any advantage from oil under Hussein and if it goes to the US, who cares?

My only wish is for the sinking ship of Iraq to be saved. We tried very hard to save ourselves but we couldn’t. All the nation rebelled in 1991, but was put down brutally, right before America’s eyes. Hussein has survived more than 20 assassination attempts.

“I looked to the Iraqi opposition groups to unite so they could form a government after an invasion. There is not much hope of that either.

“I don’t care who rules my country after an invasion as long as there are less jails, less killing. (Account of “Adnan Hussan”, Feb 20, The Australian)

Jack writes:

But I simply have to protest that it’s asking a bit much to expect me to cop it sweet when someone like you tries to blame us anti-invasionists for Saddam.

This is populist obfuscation. A cop-out, anti-intellectual laziness. I never made the argument that you claim here. Shame on you. If you succeed in your cause, then you will be helping keep the status quo in Iraq. This may not be your intention, but it is the effect. Doesn’t it bother you that your actions would lead to this if they’re successful?

Now, you’re intelligent enough to know the difference between “culpability” and “blame”. Why are you playing the fool?

If you’re not playing the fool, and you truly don’t care much for the distinction between “culpability” and “blame”, then next time Australian right-wing conservatives bemoan the “black armband view of history”, and refuse to say “sorry” because “it’s asking a bit much to expect me to cop it sweet when someone like you tries to blame us” for the stolen children and the cultural genocide of the 1930s, then I expect you not only to respect their right to express their monstrous inhumanity, but also to support their washing their hands, because that’s what you have done in every piece of yours on Iraq.

Yeah, you’re not the first pro-war ‘Born-Again Human Rights Believer’ who’s berated me over my refusal to support the act of bombing Baghdad into HR submission, John. Nor, no doubt, will you be the last. ‘Against Human Rights in Iraq’. Jesus.

Nothing about seeing the viewpoint of the Iraqi in Iraq necessitates being for the war; but if you’re against the war, and you’re not a scum of a human being, you owe the Iraqis an apology for your choice that this time you cannot support their liberation.

Moreover, your term of abuse betrays your ideology.

Read that again. “In Iraq”. Not “In Australia”. As the Amnesty website says, human rights are indivisible, universal. But it is impossible to claim to be upholding human rights in a country of which you have none of the essential knowledge.

You’re blindly hoping for the best, John, and not remotely preparing for the worst.

On the contrary, in ‘Why the people’s instinct can be wrong’, I wrote:

…these last two years have been an extraordinarily difficult time to be an Australian. Twice already, the 21st century has exposed deep flaws in the Australian character. Of course, Australia is not uniquely afflicted with these problems; but historical, geographical, demographic and other factors conspire to make them particularly pronounced here.

In this period, two devastating bushfires have swept across the Australian societal landscape, each in turn reinforcing the great Australian inability to imagine in any depth the lot of a stranger, each dividing the world into us and outsiders, whereby what in each case is accepted as “us and ours” is elevated to a special status through heightened familiarity, to the exclusion of the other.

The outsiders are thought of in myth-like ways, images of them are somewhat unreal, because the image of “the other” is a projection of what is necessary for “us” to uphold “our” image of “ourselves”: It has no basis in reality, and its effect is ultimately to falsify and oppress human beings.

The first Australian catastrophe was the assertion of State power – feeding and fed by nationalist paranoia – over human decency; the second, as we have now seen, is the assertion of a pose of international solidarity, in a movement of vilification of a figurehead – feeding and fed by self-seeking neurosis ostensibly in the name of justice.

Both are ultimately inward-looking. Both, as George Orwell wrote, are forms of nationalist isolationism, despite the latter’s internationalist pose.

… Like Tampa and SIEV-X, the antiwar marches expose gaps in Australians’ ability to function as moral people, which means as people who can imagine the lot of another and do the right thing of their own free will. There’s room for improvement. Australia’s only hope for the future is if enough people find the will to improve. Otherwise Tampas and concentration camps for asylum seekers will keep recurring.

Preparing for the worst means that in this strange, sick country of ours, seeming so free yet giving only lip service to loving liberty, the overwhelming impression one gets will continue to be the same as that of the Iraqis who watched the antiwar protesters and despaired – those who call Australia “home” and now wonder what sort of society can so passionately ignore the victims of totalitarianism.

Just as Jack Robertson has done once again in his letter to me.

The overwhelming impression one gets of Australia, particularly following the two recent disasters, is a country where reality is obliterated from the mind and replaced with inhuman phantasms generated by the virus of ideology.

Prepare to feel a foreigner in your own country. That is preparing for the worst, for the day when you fall within the sphere of influence of an ideologue, a person in whom distance between human beings is permanently and irredeemably embedded.

I fear that in Australia it’s already the case that this kind of ideologue constitutes the vast majority, and that only a small number of foreigners in their own country are wandering shattered and shell-shocked through the wreckage.

I’ll end by citing a portion of ‘Why the people’s instinct can be wrong’:

It must be emphasised that apart from the neo-nazis, none of the protesters would have wanted Saddam Hussein to win. They do, after all, have a feeling for peace that they were promoting, even if it was expressed as vilification of Bush. Moreover, consideration of the potential victims of the imminent war was certainly a part of their protest, even if their conception ignored the view of the Iraqi seeking liberation.

But it is easy to be appalled at violence, especially when it hasn’t happened yet and everybody fears the worst, … It is much harder for “the people” to come to terms with the dilemma faced by Iraqis who dream of freedom.

Furthermore, the protesters would have been appalled if it were explained to them that their action was subsequently used by the dictator and his henchmen to prop up the totalitarian regime oppressing the Iraqi people – by buying time and waiting for public support in the USA and Britain to collapse, a tactic Saddam announced in an Egyptian newspaper interview back in November. Saddam’s plan has been falling into place ever since.

Saddam’s tactic seems to be working, with extreme pressure recently having been placed by their electorates on the prime ministers of Britain and Spain, Tony Blair and Jose Maria Aznar, following the French and German-led revival of the worldwide antiwar movement.

Nevertheless, protesters that wash their hands of responsibility for handing Saddam the initiative would be acting dishonestly. They would be denying their culpability (ie unintentional causation) in the same way that many Australians, having supported the unscrupulous opportunists on the Tampa and SIEV-X issues, deny responsibility for the self-mutilation of asylum seekers in Australian concentration camps. These denialists think every man is an island. We’re far away from Iraq, why should our actions have any influence there? (Similarly: we’re far from Iraq, why should it be Australia’s problem?) But the distance we imagine between us and Iraq is mirrored in the distance between fellow Australians.

Perhaps Australia’s landscape is a strong influence, embedding distance between human beings. Or perhaps it’s our relatively comfortable existence influences our worldview. The protesters – or, at least, “the people”, because their view is what I have on paper before me – are without doubt morally blameworthy.

The reason lies not in the fact that Saddam Hussein was able to use their protest towards his own goals, but in their wilful promotion of – and wilful neglect in permitting – the long gradual process of forgetting – the “Chinese whispers process” – of the point of view of the Iraqi who thirsts for liberty. “The people” have driven this Iraqi from their mind, so their naive and dreadfully misconceived protest became thinkable. In the end, if Hans Blix does his job well, then it probably won’t matter to Saddam Hussein. But it will always matter to the Iraqis who watched the protesters and despaired – those who call Australia “home”, and now wonder what sort of society can so passionately ignore the victims of totalitarianism who long for freedom.

“The people” have rendered themselves incapable of acting (eg holding a demonstration) in full knowledge of that other human being’s viewpoint.

Worse, that human being’s viewpoint – who is supposed to be our kindred spirit, is he not? – is obliterated in the minds of “the people”; for example, by promoting myths such as he or she hates the Americans so much that he or she will fight for Saddam Hussein and not against him. “The people” naturally believe that Iraqis will willingly fight to save Saddam’s totalitarianism – if they had it in their mind that Iraqis want to fight with the Americans against Saddam, then they would be confronted with the unsavoury truth that their antiwar protest is denying individual liberty.

They would be confronted with the logical consequence of their negative choice: they are the ones responsible for keeping Saddam in power, for the murder of countless Iraqis by his henchmen in the years until the fall of his regime. Whether you agree with the war or not, this is the consequence of the success of the protests’ aims. From being obliterated in the minds of “the people”, the viewpoint of the Iraqi desiring liberty is obliterated in reality.

The antiwar movement in its current form is perpetrating a moral disaster for the world and for Australia. The symptom is that “the people” have not come to terms with the fact that Iraqis can desire liberation; that Iraqis face a horrific dilemma; and that Iraqis can choose war, on the side of the Americans, in full knowledge of the consequences.

The committed leftist and the committed pacifist reel away from the human desires expressed by Iraqis desiring liberty, because here is an implicit blessing for war. But this is what the Iraqi wants – because he knows that alone, the opposition groups are no match for the totalitarian regime.

The diagnosis is that the Iraqi reality is obliterated from the protester’s mind and replaced with phantasms generated by the virus of inhuman ideology.

The prognosis is not good for a just society in Australia, or anywhere.

To save themselves from this plague – and give Australia some hope for her own future – the antiwar protesters ought to apologise to Iraqis and offer their condolences that this time they cannot support liberty in Iraq; that they have chosen to block action that would free Iraqis. Then they should be ashamed of themselves.

That Obscure Thing Called Reality

I’d like to respond to Zainab Al-Badry (Iraqi Australians: War splits a family), first by addressing what she wrote and later by providing some excerpts from articles that include the views of many, many more Iraqis than Zainab and her circle of friends, both inside and outside Iraq.

But first I want to relate an email I received today from northern Iraq:

Dear John,

Thank you for your message. I am answering you by satellite from Sulaimania in northern Iraq. … I would like to say that the overwhelming majority of the people here in Iraq are eagerly awaiting their deliverance from Saddam Hussein. In fact the only anti-American opinion I have encountered has been from the foreign journalists. The reaction of everyone here who saw the marches against disarming Saddam on TV was total dismay that good people around the world would wish to consign the Iraqis to living in the mass concentration camp that Saddam has made this country…

Regards

Ahmed Allawi

Zainab Al-Badry and I have conversed in Webdiary a few times before. Zainab put forward her views in Saddam’s Will to Power and It’s about judgement, not belief, and I thought I’d answered her points pretty definitively in ‘Saddam’s Will to Power’ and Loving Hitler.

One thing I didn’t note then is that Zainab is clearly jaundiced against the Americans, whatever they do and however they go about things, even if it’s with a UN mandate. For example, here’s what Zainab said in An A-Z of War:

I am sure many people will say this is a different situation and we have no choice but to defend our country. I will say this to them, YES we do have choice and that is not blindly following the American path. All that we are going to get out of this war is the dead bodies of our beloved ones. The ends DO NOT justify the means.

Back then, Zainab was writing about the war in Afghanistan, which was sanctioned by the UN, and which liberated the Afghans from the Taliban. Life is undoubtedly better now in Afghanistan, despite the problems.

Nevertheless, Zainab hasn’t changed her tune, and is even using exactly the same words in the Iraq context.

In ‘Loving Hitler’, I explained why Zainab’s blaming the Americans for Saddam’s actions was factually wrong. I included a long excerpt from an eye-witness that demonstrated Saddam’s thinking about the start of the war against Iran. Saddam’s decision had nothing to do with the Americans (least of all the Republicans, which weren’t even in power then), and everything to do with Saddam’s megalomanic dream to control Middle East oil.

Yet Zainab persists with her historical falsification in her latest piece. She wants to remember history as she pleases, because the conspiracy theory suits her worldview. How much more of her view is something that is rationalised and imposed on reality, rather than based on reality?

She is simply against wars fought mainly by Americans, at all cost:

“I have one son and I want to say this: There is absolutely no reason in my mind that justifies sending him to war.” [A-Z of War]

Yet, in ‘It’s about judgement, not belief’, she agrees with me that if we don’t act now it “would give him the power to threaten us with unleashing the Holocaust unless we submit to his will”.

She states it very clearly: “I couldn’t agree more.”

What’s more, Zainab knows that Saddam has WMD and is very dangerous:

“Or maybe the US is absolutely sure that he in fact does not have WMD left. I do not believe this last theory, in fact the most terrifying scenario I could imagine is if Saddam found himself with his back to the wall. He would use whatever was in his hands, regardless of the consequences.” (It’s about judgement, not belief)

Moreover, in ‘Loving Hitler’, I argued very clearly and carefully why a democratic Iraq might be on the horizon if we act now, though the risk of failure exists; but if Saddam Hussein is allowed to win, a democratic Iraq will be impossible for decades.

So, all in all, Zainab seems to believe that all a dictator has to do to succeed in his mad grab for power is to take his entire population hostage, by acquiring WMD and threatening to use them against his own people; that we must submit to any tyranny as long as it is horrific enough; that once the dictator chooses this path, as soon as he threatens us with unleashing the Holocaust, nobody has any choice but to submit to his will.

Zainab’s stance is a formula for every dictator’s success.

What I find most saddening in Zainab’s stance is that she insults the intelligence of the Iraqis who are not like her, who are not free, and want liberty:

“I am fairly sure that most if not all the Iraqi people there see this coming war as their only chance for freedom, but also bear in mind that a sinking person clings to any straw to save his life.”

As if they’re so desperate that they cling to any hope unthinkingly. Zainab condemns any personal judgement they make in advance as a function of their interminable hunger for relief. Rational judgement is out of the question.

Using her analogy, Zainab wants to take the straw away from them and let them die.

But the way they lead their life is their choice, not Zainab’s. They see their choice differently than she sees it, for one reason or another. Zainab writes:

“People in Iraq do not see any of the consequences of this coming war except it might give them their freedom.”

This is not correct. The Kurds in the north understand the risks very well. (See the account of the Kurdish autonomous zone in Saddam Hussein’s Desire for Genocide).

Zainab, why have you ignored finding out what these people think? Why do you trivialise the serious choices that your countrymen are consciously making?

“Their death and the destruction of their country is a side issue for them – they are used to wars, they’ve been living in a continuous war for the last 23 years. Ask any one of them and the most they would say is, ‘What more could happen to us? If I die who cares, death is freedom?'”

“Ask any one of them?” Zainab hasn’t been paying attention to what’s been happening in her home country lately.

Zainab, enough of your countrymen desire liberty through democracy – and not the nihilistic liberty of death – to have made serious plans for Iraq’s future. These plans may or may not be realized, there is always risk – but why do you deny in advance that democracy is possible in Iraq? Are you prejudiced against democracy? Why do you give democracy no chance right from the outset? I have already explained this in ‘Loving Hitler’.

As I explained in ‘Will to Power’ and ‘Loving Hitler’, this view – shared by Noam Chomsky and the SMH’s Paul McKeogh, to name just two – is not an objective view.

Here’s the rub. The core of Zainab’s view is that one may never choose to risk life and property to earn freedom. Perhaps the one ruling influence in this view is fear – a fear that paralyses and allows the status quo to continue.

It’s not just Zainab’s husband that disagrees with her. So do the following prominent Iraqis:

* Khalid Kishtaini, Iraq’s most famous satirical writer: “Don’t these marchers know that the only march possible in Iraq under Saddam Hussein is from the prison to the firing-squad? The Western marchers behave as if the US wanted to invade Switzerland, not Iraq under Saddam Hussein.”

* Awad Nasser, one of Iraq’s most famous modernist poets: “These people are mad. They are actually signing up to sacrifice their lives to protect a tyrant’s death machine.” (Comment about human shields.)

“Are these people ignorant, or are they blinded by hatred of the United States?” (Comment on antiwar marchers in London, who vociferously welcomed Tony Benn onto the podium, the day after he had appeared on TV to tell the Brits that his friend Saddam was standing for “the little people” against “hegemonistic America”)

* Fadel Sultani, president of the National Association of Iraqi authors: “I had a few questions for the marchers. Did they not realize that oppression, torture and massacre of innocent civilians are also forms of war? Are the antiwar marchers only against a war that would liberate Iraq, or do they also oppose the war Saddam has been waging against our people for a generation?”

* Hashem al-Iqabi, one of Iraq’s leading writers and intellectuals: “The death and destruction caused by Saddam in our land is the worst since Nebuchadnezzar. These prosperous, peaceful and fat Europeans are marching in support of evil incarnate.”

He said that, watching the march in London, he felt Nazism was “alive and well and flexing its muscles in Hyde Park”.

* Abdel-Majid Khoi, son of the late Grand Ayatollah Khoi, Iraq’s foremost religious leader for almost 40 years, spoke of the “deep moral pain” he feels when hearing the so-called “antiwar” discourse: “The Iraqi nation is like a man who is kept captive and tortured by a gang of thugs. The proper moral position is to fly to help that man liberate himself and bring the torturers to book. But what we witness in the West is the opposite: support for the torturers and total contempt for the victim.”

Khoi said he would say “ahlan wasahlan” (welcome) to anyone who would liberate Iraq.

* The Iraqi grandmother who was refused the microphone at the London antiwar demonstration. Here’s part of the article by Amir Taheri, an Iranian journalist who also used to write for the Guardian (nationalreview). The authoritarian behaviour of protest organizers is scandalous:

‘Could I have the microphone for one minute to tell the people about my life?’ asked the Iraqi grandmother.

I spent part of last Saturday with the so-called “antiwar” marchers in London in the company of some Iraqi friends. Our aim had been to persuade the organizers to let at least one Iraqi voice to be heard. Soon, however, it became clear that the organizers were as anxious to stifle the voice of the Iraqis in exile as was Saddam Hussein in Iraq.

The Iraqis had come with placards reading “Freedom for Iraq” and “American rule, a hundred thousand times better than Takriti tyranny!”

But the tough guys who supervised the march would have none of that. Only official placards, manufactured in thousands and distributed among the “spontaneous” marchers, were allowed. These read “Bush and Blair, baby-killers,” ” Not in my name,” “Freedom for Palestine” and “Indict Bush and Sharon.”

Not one placard demanded that Saddam should disarm to avoid war.

The goons also confiscated photographs showing the tragedy of Halabja, the Kurdish town where Saddam’s forces gassed 5,000 people to death in 1988.

But the bulk of the crowd consisted of fellow travelers, those innocent citizens who, prompted by idealism or boredom, are always prepared to play the role of “useful idiots,” as Lenin used to call them.

They ignored the fact that the peoples of Iraq are unanimous in their prayers for the war of liberation to come as quickly as possible.

The number of marchers did not impress Salima, the grandmother.

“What is wrong does not become right because many people say it,” she asserted, bidding us farewell while the marchers shouted “Not in my name!”

Let us hope that when Iraq is liberated, as it soon will be, the world will remember that it was not done in the name of Rev. Jackson, Charles Kennedy, Glenda Jackson, Tony Benn and their companions in a march of shame.

***

The following article by Yousif Al-Khoei, director of the Khoei Foundation in London was published by the Institute for War and Peace Reporting (irq).

The Shia Factor

Although previously betrayed by the West, ordinary Iraqis still look for the removal of Saddam Hussein.

For most of Saddam Hussein’s iniquitous rule, the Iraqi people have been caught between a rock and a hard place – the rock of Western support for Saddam, and the hard place of the Arabs’ silence about his atrocities. The West and the Arabs both bear responsibility for Iraq’s suffering. Both bear a measure of responsibility for the current calamity – the likelihood of fresh military action – in face of which the Iraqi people are quite powerless.

As Iraq once again braces itself for war, the mood of many Iraqis – even in Iraq itself – is not the same as the mood in the Arab and Muslim street. The Iraqi people have suffered so much at the hands of Saddam Hussein. They do not have the luxury of saying an unqualified “no” to war.

Nobody likes war. It would surely have been possible, if it were not for Western blunders, to get rid of Saddam without war. Military action will represent the failure of Western diplomacy and the West’s “civilised” institutions. But if Saddam stays in power, if he is let off another time, the damage would be enormous.

Ever since the creation of the modern state of Iraq, the Shias, who form the majority of Iraq’s population, have been marginalised. The marja’iyya – the highest acknowledged authorities of Shias worldwide – enjoy great influence among the Shias of southern Iraq, and in the Baghdad slums where Shias live in appalling conditions, but play no direct part in the running of government.

This has been the exclusive preserve of the Ba’ath party, through which Saddam rose to power, for the past 35 years. After its successful coup in 1968, the Ba’ath moved quickly to secure sole control of the country and lost no time in putting into practice a well-thought-out plan to weaken the Shia establishment. Some tribal leaders were lured with oil money and the infrastructure of Shia theological schools was destroyed. In the first of many blows to the spiritual leadership, Mehdi al-Hakim, son of Grand Ayatollah Mohsen al-Hakim, was accused of being a spy. In the following years, thousands of clerics said to be of Iranian origin were expelled to Iran.

The regime put its hand on Shi’ism’s most significant celebrations. It took vigorous measures to control Ashura, the re-enactment of the martyrdom of the Prophet’s grandson Hussein, by setting up roadblocks that interfered with pilgrims and penalising even government employees who visited the shrines.

In the Iraqi media, which is officially controlled, the Shias were conspicuous only by their absence. You could see a whole programme on Najaf – site of one of the two most famous theological colleges in the Shia world – without seeing a turban. Clerics were edited out of every clip unless they were there to praise the government.

In 1973, the Ba’ath broke new ground in its persecution of the Shias by executing five Shia clerics accused of belonging to al-Da’wa, the largest of the Shias’ underground political organisations. In 1975, the regime closed the handful of private schools owned by Shias in the name of “nationalisation”. Shi’ism has never been recognised in the educational system of Iraq. The national curriculum teaches only Sunni Islam.

Persecution escalated with the Iranian revolution of 1979, reaching a shocking climax with the execution of Ayatollah Mohammed Bakr el-Sadr and his sister, Bint Huda, in 1980. Thousands of Shias were rounded up and any young person going to a mosque was immediately accused of belonging to al-Da’wa. Even Shias who became secular to avoid this persecution were targeted. Some were killed; others were expelled to Iran – among them the virtual entirety of the Shia merchants who dominated Baghdad’s central bazaar.

In the 1980s, Iraqi Shias found themselves fighting their co-religionists across the border in Iraq. When Grand Ayatollah abu al-Qasm al-Khoei refused to lend his support to the war, many of his closest associates were arrested. Saddam’s fight against his own Shias was cleverly confused with the fight against Iran: to oppose the war was unpatriotic, Saddam said, conscripting huge numbers of Shia youth.

After Saddam’s defeat in Kuwait in 1991, the suppression of the popular uprising against the regime in southern Iraq made clear, once and for all, Saddam’s hatred of the Shias. The tanks that crushed the uprising carried the slogan “No Shias after today.” Shia shrines were destroyed and the integrity of the Shia faith questioned. The old town of Kerbala was razed – homes, shops, shrines and religious centres. More than 100 of the Grand Ayatollah’s staff were arrested. The Grand Ayatollah himself was detained, at age 92, and taken by force to military intelligence headquarters in Baghdad.

Three months after the uprising, when calm had been restored, a historic Shia mosque in the northern city of Samarra was bulldozed. Saddam was attempting to erase all traces of Shia identity – in every part of the country.

Today the number of Shia clerics in Iraqi jails almost certainly exceeds the number of clerics of any faith jailed anywhere in the world. More than 200 have been executed since the Ba’ath took power. Yet Saddam depicts himself as an Islamic leader. His son Odey Saddam Hussein, at the time when he was being touted as his father’s successor, went as far as to claim that he himself was Shia, in a transparent attempt to ingratiate himself with this potentially powerful group.

In 1991, President George Bush the father urged the Iraqi people to rise against the tyrant – and they did, both in the Kurdish north and Shia south. But after asking Iraqis to overthrow Saddam, America permitted Saddam to use his helicopters to crush them in the no-fly zone designed to protect them. It allowed him to kill the Marsh Arabs with his tanks after telling him he could not kill them with his planes. It watched, without reacting, the draining of the marshes and the destruction of their unique ecology.

Despite this terrible betrayal, most Iraqis will welcome the removal of Saddam Hussein. The Shias will certainly welcome the chance to play, at last, the role they should be playing in Iraqi national life. The Shias are frustrated and angry, but should not direct any of their anger towards Sunnis: in post-Saddam Iraq, Sunni and Shia must live, and work, together.

In 1991, the Shias showed maturity. They directed their anger not towards other ethnic or religious groups, but towards the regime. They did not kill Sunnis; they killed those who had worked with the regime.

Iraq lies at the very heart of the Arab world. Stability in Iraq is key to stability in the wider region. To this end Iraq needs a Marshall Plan to reconstruct the county and provide economic stability. It also needs to take control of its own political life. Iraq has many talented people and a strong middle class who will keep the country running. America will not be able to control Iraq by military means for long.

We will be grateful for the removal of Saddam Hussein. But our gratitude will not last if America wants to stay long.

***

When the Enemy Is a Liberator

By JOHN F. BURNS

New York Times, February 16, 2003

AMMAN, Jordan – Every day now, a flood of battered cars and buses arrives in this city, bearing migrants from Iraq. Many are men of military age who have driven across the open desert, or paid bribes to Iraqi guards at the border crossing 250 miles east of Amman, to escape being drafted into Saddam Hussein’s battalions. Crowding into lodgings on the hillsides of Amman’s old city, the Iraqis become wanderers in a no-man’s land, emerging by day to look for casual work, staying indoors after dark, all the time fearing Jordanian police patrols that hunt illegal immigrants and return them to the border.

Gathered around kerosene heaters in their tenements, the Iraqi men talk of a coming conflict, and what it will mean for them and their families. Since all gatherings inside Iraq take place in the shadow of Mr. Hussein’s terror, with police spies lurking in every neighbourhood, the talk in Amman offers a chance to discover what at least some Iraqis really think, and what they hope for now.

Almost to a man, these Iraqis said they wanted the Iraqi dictator removed. Better still, they said – and it was a point made again and again – they wanted him dead. The men, some in their teens, some in their 50’s, told of grotesque repression, of relatives and friends tortured, raped and murdered or, as often, arrested and “disappeared.”

But their hatred of Mr. Hussein had an equally potent counterpoint: for them, the country that would rid them of their leader was not at all a bastion of freedom, dispatching its legions across the seas to defend liberty, but a greedy, menacing imperial power.

This America, in the migrants’ telling, has enabled the humiliation of Palestinians by arming Israel; craves control of Iraq’s oil fields; supported Mr. Hussein in the 1980’s and cared not a fig for his brutality then, and grieved for seven lost astronauts even as its forces prepared to use “smart” weapons that, the migrants said, threatened to kill thousands of innocent Iraqis.

The men refused to accept that their image of the United States might be distorted by the rigidly controlled Iraqi news media, which offer as unreal a picture of America as they do of Iraq. But when it was suggested that they could hardly wish to be liberated by a country they distrusted so much – that they might prefer President Bush to extend the United Nations weapons inspections and stand down the armada he has massed on Iraq’s frontiers – they erupted in dismay.

“No, no, no!” one man said excitedly, and he seemed to speak for all. Iraqis, they said, wanted their freedom, and wanted it now. The message for Mr. Bush, they said, was that he should press ahead with war, but on conditions that spared ordinary Iraqis.

The conflict should be short. American bombs and missiles should fall on Mr. Hussein’s palaces and Republican Guards and secret police headquarters, not on civilians. Care should be taken not to obliterate the bridges and power stations and water-pumping plants that were bombed in 1991. And America should know that it would become the enemy of all Iraqis – and Muslims – if it prolonged its military dominion in Iraq beyond the time necessary to dismantle the old regime.

Although these Iraqis may represent a small sector of opinion – they fled their country in terror, after all – the conversations offered powerful clues as to how a war might play out across the wider Arab world. While polls in Europe and Asia show deep opposition to a war against Mr. Hussein, the mood among the 350 million people of the Arab states has been even more critical. Polls alone don’t capture how visceral anti-American feelings have become, spreading beyond traditional centres of hostility – mosques and other strongholds of conservative Islamists, Arab nationalists and others – across the spectrum of Arab society.

For years, mainstream politicians and other Arab leaders have conceded, at least privately, that Mr. Hussein is a monstrous tyrant whose ambition to acquire the most powerful weapons has made him, potentially at least, more of a threat to his neighbours than to Europe and the United States.

Two years ago, an Egyptian editor told a traveller back from Iraq that Mr. Hussein was “Israel’s best friend” in the Arab world, because the Arab failure to isolate and condemn him had the effect of blackening all Arab states in the eyes of the West.

But as the United States has ratcheted up pressure on Baghdad, Arab voices – politicians, intellectuals, businessmen and students – have remained largely silent about the miseries Mr. Hussein has inflicted on his people and the threat his weapons might pose. Instead, condemnation has been mostly reserved for the United States. How vitriolic it has become was clear in the way many newspapers treated the shuttle loss.

Along with militant imams who proclaimed the Columbia disaster to be God’s punishment for America’s “curses” on Muslims, there was this, typically, from a columnist in the Saudi newspaper Al Yaum: “The American view of the world crashed even before the Columbia. America, which sees itself as the symbol of freedom and justice, has become an arsenal of weapons in advance of a military campaign across the entire world. The world has become a map of targets for the American arrows represented by the trinity of war – Bush, Rumsfeld and Condoleezza, and behind them the famous ‘quiet’ man, Dick Cheney.”

On its face, the hostility promises only deeper trouble ahead for the United States. But there is another possibility, one that Arab leaders who are cooperating with the Americans are relying on as Mr. Bush’s moment of decision draws closer. These nations include Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar and Saudi Arabia, which allow American military bases, as well as Jordan, where American troops would man Patriot missiles against missiles Iraq might fire at Israel and mount pilot rescue missions into Iraq.

The leaders of these nations, all monarchies, know that if an American war bogged down, with heavy casualties on both sides, their own legitimacy, never strong, would be challenged by their own people in ways they might not survive. For these rulers, it is crucial that any conflict be short and inflict minimal casualties on Iraq’s civilians.

At least one of the rulers, discussing American war plans with his advisers, has concluded that Mr. Hussein’s regime is apt to collapse quickly as non-elite army units surrender or change sides.

But it is not the rapidity of an American victory alone that sustains the hopes of these Arab rulers. The pro-American Arab leaders are confident of something that invites mockery among the Europeans and Americans who oppose any war: that American troops would arrive in Iraq’s major cities as liberators.

When Gen. Tommy R. Franks, the American commander in the Middle East, visited one Arab palace in recent weeks, Western diplomats reported, the Arab ruler quieted his restive courtiers by predicting that American forces would be met in Baghdad by Iraqis lining the street in celebration.

If that happens, anti-American opinions in the Arab world might swing, these rulers hope. There would then be revelations about the extent of what Mr. Hussein has inflicted on his people in 23 years. Just as the worst abuses of the Taliban and Al Qaeda were revealed after they were chased from Kabul and Kandahar, the full horrors of Mr. Hussein may be known only after his downfall.

That, America’s friends in the Arab world believe, might yet be enough to remake Mr. Bush’s image in places where he is now vilified, as if Iraq’s miseries were his fault more than they have been Mr. Hussein’s.

***

The following excerpt is from a two-year-old article, “Assessing the Iraqi Opposition”, by Faleh A. Jabar, visiting fellow at Birkbeck College, London University (March 23, 2001, merip)

A SILENT MAJORITY?

Perhaps the best available measure of opposition to the regime is the staggering growth in pilgrimage to the Shiite holy shrines. According to official figures, more than two million pilgrims (almost 10 percent of the total population, and around 20 percent of the Shiite population) headed to Karbala to commemorate the martyrdom of Imam Hussein in 1999. These figures should be read against the background of the activities of the late Ayatollah Muhammad al-Sadr, who was assassinated together with his two elder sons in Najaf in 1999. Al-Sadr was a handpicked government appointee, but he grew publicly critical of the Ba’th in his widely attended sermons. For the first time in a generation, a Shiite imam built vast networks of followers among the peasantry and the urban middle classes, and forged an alliance with influential urban merchants and tribal chieftains. Both urban merchants and tribal leaders have gained relative social power from the acute economic polarization that has accompanied ten years of war and sanctions.

***

Here’s another glimpse of what the general Iraqi mood might be. The article was written by Stephen F. Hayes, in The Weekly Standard.

Saddam’s Victims tell Their Stories

March 5, 2003

“Do you know when?” It is the question on all minds these days–those of stockbrokers, journalists, financiers, world leaders, soldiers and their families. When will the United States lead a coalition to end Saddam Hussein’s tyranny over Iraq?

The answer matters most to the tyrant’s subjects–like the man who asked the question of his friend in an early-morning phone conversation on Monday, February 24. The call came from Nasiriyah, in southern Iraq, to the home of an Iraqi exile in suburban Detroit.

It used to be that Iraqis trapped inside their country would speak to each other and to friends outside in veiled language. For years, Saddam’s regime has tapped the phone lines of all those suspected of disloyalty, so an inquiry about the timing of a possible attack would be concealed behind seemingly unrelated questions. On what date will you sell your business? When does school end? When are you expecting your next child?

But few Iraqis speak in puzzles anymore. They ask direct questions. Here is the rest of that Monday morning conversation:

“Do you know when?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. I am coming. We will . . . ”

The second speaker, an Iraqi in Michigan, began to provide details but quickly reconsidered, ending his thought in mid-sentence. He says he was shocked by the candor coming from Iraq. “Never in the history of Iraq do people talk like this,” he said later.

“Why are you silent?”

“I’m afraid that you’ll be in danger.”

“Don’t be afraid. We are not afraid. This time is serious.”

“I am coming with the American Army.”

“Is there a way that we can register our names with the American forces to work with them when they arrive? Will you call my house at the first moment you arrive? I will help.”

For more than a year now, the world has been engaged in an intense debate about what to do with Saddam Hussein. For much of that time, the focus has been on the dictator’s refusal to get rid of his weapons of mass destruction, his sponsorship of terrorism, his serial violations of international law, and his history of aggression.

Those arguments have in common an emphasis on interests, on threats. Absent from this debate–or at best peripheral to it–is the moral case for ending the rule of a tyrant who has terrorized his people for more than two decades. It’s a strange oversight since, by some estimates, Saddam Hussein is responsible for more than 1million Iraqi deaths since he took power in 1979.

Advocates of his overthrow are fond of pointing out that “he gassed his own people,” but this often has the feel of a bulleted talking point, not an argument. Their opponents readily concede that “Saddam is a brutal dictator,” and that “the world would be better off without him.” But they usually grant these things as a rhetorical device, as if to buy credibility on their way to opposing the one step sure to end that brutality–removal by force.

Those who oppose taking action say we can safely ignore Saddam Hussein because he is “in a box.” Even if they were right and Saddam were no longer a threat, they would ignore this other urgent problem: the 23 million Iraqi people who are in the box with him.

No one wants war. “I am a pacifist,” says Ramsey Jiddou, an Iraqi American who has lived in the United States since the late 1970s. “But it will take a war to remove Saddam Hussein, and of course I’m for such a war.”

Iraqi Americans overwhelmingly agree with Jiddou. Many of them are recent arrivals who came here after the Gulf War left Saddam in power in 1991. And many are in regular contact with friends and relatives still trapped in Iraq.

The views of those Iraqis back home “are the same as the Iraqi Americans,” says Peter Antone, an Iraqi-American immigration lawyer in Southfield, Michigan. “They are not free to speak, so we speak for them.”

ONE OF MY HOSTS had another question for me as we walked up to a modest one-story home in Dearborn Heights on the snowy afternoon of Saturday, February 22.

“Do you know the decisionmakers?” asked Abu Muslim al-Haydar, a former University of Baghdad professor and one of three English-speakers in the group of 20 Iraqi Shiites assembling here to talk with a reporter about Iraq. His tone was urgent, almost desperate, as he repeated himself. “Do you know the decisionmakers?”

The Iraqi Americans who live in suburban Detroit, some 150,000 of them, are the largest concentration of Iraqis outside Iraq. That’s saying something, since according to the United Nations, Iraqis are the second-largest group of refugees in the world. Some 4 million of them have left their homes since Saddam Hussein took power–an astonishing 17 percent of the country’s population. Despite the size of the Iraqi-American population, and despite the fact that no one is better acquainted with the ways of Saddam Hussein’s regime, their voices have largely been missing from the national debate. In the course of dozens of interviews over the last two weeks, it became plain that this oversight is a source of endless frustration to this community. Iraqi Americans have a lot to say, and the decisionmakers, in both the media and government, are not listening.

As we approached the house in Dearborn Heights, I told al-Haydar that with luck, some decisionmakers would read my article. On the porch, I added my shoes to a mountain of footwear, which, with a winter storm raging, had taken on the appearance of a snow-capped peak. We stepped inside. The room to the right contained a big-screen television (wired to the satellite dish on the roof) and a sofa. The room on the left was furnished with overlapping oriental rugs and, on the floor along the wall, colorful cushions that would serve as our seats for the next two and a half hours.

The group was all male and all Shiite, primarily from southern Iraq. In other ways, though, it was diverse–ranging from farmers to religious leaders to a former general in Saddam’s Republican Guard. The ages went from early twenties to perhaps eighties. Some came dressed in three-piece suits, some in tribal robes.

I proposed moving clockwise around the room for introductions and brief personal histories, a suggestion that prompted much discussion, all of it in Arabic. In what could be considered a bad omen for a democratic Iraq, my ad hoc translator, a young man named Ahmed Shulaiba, explained that elders and religious leaders generally have the option to speak first. But after more discussion, the introductions proceeded according to the suggested plan.

One elderly man in a flowing brown robe, however, gave up his turn, saying he preferred to speak last and that he wanted to make a statement. When he did, he passed me his Michigan State I.D. card as he began speaking.

“I want to introduce myself and ask a question. Are you ready? I am Mehsin Juad al-Basaid. For many years I was a farmer in Iraq. I was involved in the uprising in 1991. American pilots dropped leaflets telling us to start an uprising against Saddam. And we did. We sacrificed. I lost three family members. Fifteen days later the American Army was removed from the South, and left us to face Saddam alone. Now, I’m willing to go with the American Army. But what happened in 1991 must not happen again.”

Nearly everyone in attendance had spoken of his own involvement in the uprising. It’s worth spending a moment on what happened at the end of the Gulf War, because it influences the way many Iraqis, particularly the Shiite majority, see the United States.

After the devastating U.S. air campaign, American ground forces made quick work of the few Iraqi soldiers who put up a fight. At the same time, the U.S. government dropped leaflets and broadcast radio messages urging all Iraqis to overthrow Saddam. Ahmed, my translator, who was 15 in 1991, told me how he had learned that the Americans wanted Iraqis to revolt.

“I remember George Bush said, ‘There is another way for the bloodshed to stop. It’s for the Iraqi people and the Iraqi military to take matters into their own hands . . . ‘”

I interrupted to ask him if he was quoting the former president.

“Yeah, I remember that’s what he said.”

I interrupted a second time to ask him if he remembered how the message was delivered–radio, leaflets? His response was terse.

“Yes. I’ll tell you after I finish.”

With that, he resumed his word-for-word recitation of the president’s exhortation:

“‘It’s for the Iraqi people and the Iraqi military to take matters into their own hands and force Saddam Hussein, the dictator, to step aside, comply with the United Nations Resolution, and rejoin the family of peace-loving nations.’ That’s what he said.”

Many Iraqis, both in the largely Kurdish north and the Shiite south, took this advice. American pilots bombed Iraqi weapons depots, allowing the rebels to arm themselves. As the Iraqi Army withdrew from Kuwait and retreated towards Baghdad, the rebels made significant gains. The numbers are disputed, but at the height of the uprising, opposition forces may have controlled as many as 14 of Iraq’s 18 provinces.

Just as the pressure on the regime intensified, however, American and Iraqi military leaders met near the Iraq-Kuwait border at Safwan to sign a cease-fire. As the negotiations drew to a close, the Iraqi representative, Lt. Gen. Sultan Hashim Ahmad, had a request, recorded in the official transcript of the meeting. “We have a point, one point. You might very well know the situation of the roads and bridges and communications. We would like to agree that helicopter flights sometimes are needed to carry some of the officials, government officials, or any member that is needed to be transported from one place to another because the roads and bridges are out.”

General Norman Schwarzkopf, representing the United States, playing the generous victor, told his counterpart that so long as no helicopters flew over areas controlled by U.S. troops, they were “absolutely no problem.” He continued: “I want to make sure that’s recorded, that military helicopters can fly over Iraq. Not fighters, not bombers.” Lt. Gen. Ahmad pressed the issue. “So you mean even helicopters that is [sic] armed in the Iraqi skies can fly, but not the fighters?”

“Yeah, I will instruct our Air Force not to shoot at any helicopters that are flying over the territory of Iraq where we are not located,” Schwarzkopf replied, adding that he wanted armed helicopters to be identified with an orange tag.

This moment of magnanimity would prove costly. Saddam’s soldiers used the helicopters to put down the rebellion, spilling the blood of tens of thousands of Iraqis to do so. On the ground, allied troops had reversed course and were now taking weapons from any Iraqis who had them, including the rebels. In the end, it was a massacre, with conservative estimates of 30,000 dead.

“Along Highway 8, the east-west route that ran from An Nasiriyah to Basra, the American soldiers could tell that Saddam Hussein was mercilessly putting down the rebellion,” wrote Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor in The Generals’ War: The Inside Story of the Conflict in the Gulf, considered the definitive account of the war. “The tales at the medical tent had a common theme: indiscriminate fire at men, women and children, the destruction of Islamic holy places, in which the Shiites had taken refuge, helicopter and rocket attacks, threats of chemical weapons attacks.”

The men who gathered that snowy afternoon in Dearborn Heights, many of them from Nasiriyah, were among those attacked by the Iraqi military in 1991. Several spoke of their confusion as they looked up to see Iraqi helicopters strafing the masses of refugees, and above the Iraqi aircraft, American F-15 fighter planes circling in the sky but doing nothing to stop the slaughter. (These images have contributed, perhaps understandably, to numerous conspiracy theories discussed widely in the exile community. One propounds the preposterous notion that American aircraft escorted the Iraqi helicopters responsible for killing Iraqi rebels and ending the uprising. As that hypothesis goes, the United States wanted to keep Saddam Hussein in power as its puppet dictator. Put together American support of Saddam throughout the ’80s with these vivid memories, and from the perspective of the Iraqis on the ground, the theories don’t seem terribly far-fetched.)

When we ended our formal Q and A, one man handed me a photograph of his son, who was killed in the uprising. Others gave me photographs and handwritten, homemade business cards. Someone gave me a plan, in Arabic, for postwar Iraq. Several men passed me their Michigan drivers’ licenses and state ID cards. Six gave me letters or prepared statements, some in Arabic and others in English. Mohammed al-Gased, who speaks only Arabic, must have had help translating his letter:

My name is Mohammed Al Gased, my family and I are refugees in the United States of America. I lost my nephew Haydir Ali Abdulamir Al Gased (the spelling of the name may be different). He was a participant in the 1991 Iraqi Uprising against Saddam. On March 18, 1991, he was wounded in the battle against Saddam’s army. In the same afternoon of the same day, he was transferred to one of the American military units located in Talillehem in the governate of Annasriya in southern Iraq. He was treated there; then was taken by American Military helicopter for a further treatment. The location is still unknown for us. After the fail of the uprising, most of us were forced to flee our homes. When we arrived to Saudi Arabia as refugees. I wrote a letter to the Red Cross asking if they have any information about him, and we got no answer. I also wrote to the Saudi Ministry of Defense. My brother, his father, was tortured by Saddam’s secret police so viciously it caused his death. His mother and the rest of the family are now residing in Sweden as refugees. In the name of humanity, we are asking you to help us find out weather or not he is still alive and where his about.

With the letters and statements and photographs came torrents of additional charges meant to demonstrate the brutality of Saddam’s regime. One man insisted that he knew the precise location of a mass grave, and provided very specific directions. He urged me to give these coordinates to the U.S. government but not to report them, lest Saddam dig up the grave and repair the ground. He said that Iraqis are well aware of these mass graves and predicted they will be found throughout Iraq when the current regime is out of power.

It must be said that many of these claims, including that one, are unverifiable. But they are consistent with Saddam Hussein’s long history of violence. As the U.N. special rapporteur on human rights in Iraq put it: “Extreme and brutal force is threatened and applied without hesitation and with total impunity to control the population.”

Of more immediate concern is the likelihood that Saddam will use civilians as human shields in the event of war, as he did during the first Gulf War. Bush administration officials are well aware of his willingness to sacrifice his own people, and they take seriously reports that he has begun preparations to do so.

One such account comes from Ali al-Sayad, an Iraqi American who reported to Defense Department officials a phone call he received last week from his cousin, a guard at the infamous Abu Ghraib prison. The guard told al-Sayad that on February 11, Saddam’s agents began methodically moving thousands of prisoners from their cells to the dictator’s hometown of Tikrit, where many officials believe Saddam will take refuge when combat begins.

That’s a move that wouldn’t surprise Riadh Abdallah, a former general in Saddam’s Republican Guard. Gen. Abdallah served on Saddam’s personal security detail in Baghdad during the Gulf War. His brother, Abduli Alwishah, a member of the Iraqi parliament from 1984 to 1991 and head of a prominent southern Iraqi tribe, was a leader of the uprising at the end of the war. When Iraqi intelligence reported back to Baghdad that Alwishah had agitated against Saddam, Gen. Abdallah lost his position in the Republican Guard and was put on probation, then transferred to a teaching job and ordered to report to authorities once a week to show his face.

It could have been worse. Five other generals, including Barak Abdallah, a hero from the Iran-Iraq war, were executed for plotting against the regime.

By 1993, Alwishah and his family had left the Saudi refugee camp that they called home for 14 months and had resettled in the United States. That’s when his brother, Gen. Abdallah, was arrested and charged as an anti-Saddam conspirator and sent to a small prison in Baghdad for high-ranking officials accused as traitors. I asked him about the experience.

ABDALLAH: I was in jail for eleven months. There was no judge. They just put you in. If one was to be executed or put in jail, no judge. They put us in the same room as those five generals who were executed. And they were killed with big knives. Those people were killed with big knives hitting them on the neck. And the room had blood everywhere.

SH: Did you think you might be next?

ABDALLAH: Yes. I thought that they would do the same thing to me. Every day they told me that I will be executed.

SH: How long?

ABDALLAH: Eleven months. Intimidation every day. At that time they found out about a conspiracy by another person who was a big general, a doctor actually, from the same town as Saddam. His name was Raji al-Tikriti. It’s a very famous story in Iraq. And they made him a food for dogs.

SH: You were in prison when this happened? You heard about this?

ABDALLAH: They showed me these prisoners that were eaten by wild dogs. They made us–that was one kind of intimidation–they brought all of the generals and officers in the prison to watch it, to intimidate us. . . . They took us from jail and they put some blindfolds on our eyes and they took them off and we saw him. Before the dogs ate him we saw them read the judgment and they said why they were going to kill him. He was the head doctor for all the military, and he was the personal doctor for Saddam Hussein and for former Iraqi president Ahmed Hassan al-Bakr.

SH: Was he killed before this happened?

ABDALLAH: He was alive when these wild dogs . . .

SH: Do you remember what month this was?

ABDALLAH: It was the wintertime, but I can’t remember exactly because for 11 months I didn’t see the sun, nothing–I didn’t know what time. There was only spider webs in the room, so I didn’t know if it’s day or night. [Pause] Probably what you’re hearing is impossible to believe, but that’s what happened. And all that you’re hearing is nothing compared to everything else.

Abdallah later explained that Raji al-Tikriti was dressed in “prison pajamas” with his hands and feet bound when this was done to him. Abdallah and seven other prisoners were forced to watch. The five dogs, he said, “were like big wolves.”

Abdallah returned to teaching after his surprising release from prison. He taught with other senior military officials who, he said, ran terrorist training operations at Salman Pak and Lake Tharthar. The activities at Salman Pak are well known. Satellite images show an airplane, and defectors have revealed extensive training in terrorist operations–including hijacking–that have gone on there for years. Lake Tharthar, however, is new. Abdallah calls it the “Salman Pak of the sea,” where terrorists were instructed in “diving, how to wire, how to put charges on ships, how to storm the ships, commando operations.”

I asked him if the facility was used primarily for military training or terrorist training. “Terrorist. Not for the military. They were not Iraqi. They were all from other countries–maybe just a few Iraqis. And it’s very confidential.”

Tharthar is the largest lake in Iraq, constructed on the site of the Great Dam. That dam regulates a waterway that connects the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Tharthar is also the site of one of the largest of Saddam’s numerous palaces. In 1999, at a celebration of the president’s 62nd birthday, Vice President Taha Yassin Ramadan opened a resort on the lake for the regime’s VIPs. The complex came at a cost estimated at hundreds of millions, and includes luxurious accommodations, several beaches, and an amusement park, complete with a merry-go-round and a ferris wheel.

Saddam Hussein and his allies blame the United States for the “genocide” caused by 13 years of U.N. sanctions. They claim that these sanctions, and the resulting shortages of food and medicine, have led to the deaths of more than 1 million Iraqis. Even leaving aside the vast resources Saddam has used to rebuild and conceal his deadly arsenal, the resort at Lake Tharthar helps put those charges in context. As Taha Ramadan noted at the resort’s ceremonial opening, “This city was built in the age of Saddam Hussein and during this period of sanctions. . . . This shows our ability to build such a beautiful city and to fight as well.”

A resort city, terrorist training camps, and a hungry population–all of this, says Abdallah, makes Saddam Hussein “the father and the grandfather of terrorists.”

THE DAY AFTER my meeting in Dearborn Heights, some 300 Iraqi Americans gathered at the Fairlane Club in suburban Detroit to hear from Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz and, finally, tell their stories in the presence of a high U.S. official. Wolfowitz had been invited by the Iraqi Forum for Democracy, a nonaligned, anti-Saddam, pro-democracy association of Iraqis in America. Television cameras–I counted nearly 20–lined the room. A handful of print reporters were there, too. Signs on the wall declared “Iraq United Will Never Be Divided” and “Saddam Must Go–Iraqis Need Human Rights.”

Wolfowitz is viewed as something of a hero here. Several Iraqi Americans I spoke to were aware that he was wary of Saddam Hussein as far back as the late ’70s, and remained so even as the U.S. government embraced the Iraqi dictator in the ’80s. Others credited Wolfowitz with expediting U.S. rescue operations when the Iraqi government put down the 1991 uprising.

“The U.S. Army had orders to leave Basra,” recalls Ahmed Shulaiba. “We were going to be crushed by the Iraqi Army, and we heard that one man from the press–we don’t know who he is–he called Paul Wolfowitz and told him about 30,000 people will be crushed if the American military leave them. And he [Wolfowitz] called [Secretary of Defense] Dick Cheney and they helped move us to the camp of Rafha [in Saudi Arabia].”

Wolfowitz later confirmed this account, though he downplayed his role. “The rebellion had basically been crushed,” he said. “It was a Sunday afternoon and I got a call at home from a reporter. I think it’s okay to name him, it was Michael Gordon [of the New York Times]. One of my kids answered, told me who it was, and I regretted the day I’d given him my unpublished number at home. I said, ‘Tell him I’m not interested in talking to him.’ My kid, whichever one it was, told me that Gordon was calling from Safwan [Iraq], and he says it’s important.”

Gordon told Wolfowitz that he had been interviewing U.S. troops in southern Iraq. Saddam’s forces were continuing to brutalize the Iraqi people. American soldiers, says Wolfowitz, “had been ordered not to do anything about it. Gordon said it was breaking their hearts.” Wolfowitz called Cheney and, after overcoming some internal resistance, they arranged to have allied forces expedite the refugees’ journey to camps in the Saudi desert.

Now, addressing those gathered in suburban Detroit, Wolfowitz spoke of the coming liberation of their country. It was a well-crafted speech, packed with details about the expected conflict and postwar Iraq (available on the web at http://www.defenselink=.mil/news/Feb2003/t02272003-t0223ifd.ht=ml ). He was interrupted repeatedly by enthusiastic applause, including several standing ovations. At one point, the audience broke into song, in Arabic, to celebrate the imminent end of Saddam’s rule. The Iraqi farmers who the night before had handed me photographs of their dead relatives were dancing with local religious leaders.

When Wolfowitz concluded his remarks, it was the Iraqis’ turn to speak to the world. Some spoke in English, some in Arabic.

“My name is Abu Muslim al-Hayadar. I used to be a university professor back in Iraq, but now I am working in social services to help refugees. I want to assure you and all other people around the world that we suffered so much and we are willing to work towards democracy as we are–most of us want to work in two phases. The liberation phase and the rebuilding phase. So please, please take it seriously, and we want it fast. Fast, as fast as you can. Thank you. Liberate Iraqi people please.”

Moments later, a man named Ahmed al-Tamimi stepped to the front of the stage with a young boy.

“I welcome you here. You are here in Dearborn and next month we welcome you in Baghdad and Iraq.

“In every heart here, in every person here, there is a scar on our hearts. But we can’t show the people in the world our scars on our hearts, but we can show the scars on the face of this young guy. He was, in that time in 1991, just one year. He was a child, and this is the father and his uncle, they participated in the uprising. . . . They beat the father, his father, his mother, and his wife. While they are beating the family they hear the cry of the child and they say who is the child? The wife said this is my child. They start beating him with their boots until the blood was all over and he had brain damage, partly brain damage.

“When [the father] came from Saudi Arabia to America, the first thing he did, he took the phone and talked to his wife and he said I want to talk to my son. And she started to cry. And she told him he is not talking, he is not talking. What happened? She told him, something happen in 1991. I can’t tell you. After that he find out what happened to his son.”

The program ended and the crowd gave Wolfowitz another standing ovation. They rushed to the stage and surrounded the speaker, a former academic unused to being treated like a rock star. It was a moving scene–perhaps a foreshadowing of the greeting American troops will get when Saddam Hussein is gone–but few people saw it.

Although several major newspapers covered the event, television networks mostly took a pass. Why? Certainly the language difficulties made live television coverage all but impossible. But the reactions of a producer for a prominent international broadcast network suggest another possible explanation. She said the event was “weird” and thought the Iraqis seemed “uncomfortable.”

“It was a pre-selected audience,” she inaccurately claimed. “Everyone here agrees with the administration.”

Pro-war propaganda, she concluded–never once considering the possibility that Iraqi Americans might actually be near-unanimous in their desire to get rid of Saddam Hussein.

It should be noted, however, that there were at least two Saddam sympathizers in the crowd. Before the speech, as TV crews checked their microphones and Arabic-speaking Iraqis studied translated copies of Wolfowitz’s prepared remarks, one Iraqi pointed out two men he said were “Saddam’s agents.” Regardless of whether that much is true, they plainly were not enjoying themselves. Each time their fellow Iraqi Americans saluted the dictator’s coming demise, these dour fellows sat expressionless.

After the meeting with Wolfowitz, journalists were asked to leave the room as the Iraqis met privately with representatives from the Pentagon for perhaps an hour. Defense officials explained to the Iraqis the various ways they can participate in the coming conflict. Many will accompany U.S. troops, serving as intermediaries between the Iraqis and their liberators. Others will join something the Pentagon is calling the “Free Iraqi Force,” a unit that will support combat operations inside Iraq. Still others will focus on a post-Saddam Iraq.

Later, Wolfowitz returned to the room and spent another hour talking with individual Iraqi Americans, answering their questions, and most important, listening.

One Iraqi American had a message he hoped protesters would hear:

“If you want to protest that it’s not okay to send your kids to fight, that’s okay. But please don’t claim to speak for the Iraqis. We’ve seen 5 million people protesting, but none of them were Iraqis. They don’t know what’s going on inside Iraq. France and whoever else, please shut up.”

Another, Hawra al-Zuad, is a 16-year-old student at an Islamic academy in suburban Detroit. Her sky blue headscarf seems to coexist comfortably with her marked Detroit accent. Although she doesn’t remember her family’s flight 12 years ago, she is eager to return to her native Iraq. “I’ll go visit right away,” she says. “I want to go see how it is over there. I forgot everything about it. I want to see my house, where I used to live when I was little.”

A good way to spend summer vacation, I suggest. She quickly corrects me.

“Spring break. I hope it’s spring break.”

Against Human Rights in Iraq

According to the Amnesty International website, its core values are:

Amnesty International forms a global community of human rights defenders with the principles of international solidarity, effective action for the individual victim, global coverage, the universality and indivisibility of human rights, impartiality and independence, and democracy and mutual respect.

The webpage also states Amnesty’s policy on women and children:

Children are routinely denied the basic rights that most of us take for granted – … freedom from torture…. Children’s rights are the blocks with which we build a human rights culture in societies and secure human rights for future generations…

Its policy on torture:

We campaign to end torture in all its forms. Our members act immediately to stop torture which is in progress and lobby vigorously for a full investigation into all allegations of torture perpetrated by government agents…

Its policy on political killings and forcible “disappearances”:

…We also lobby for changes in military, security and police actions that may lead to human rights violations….

Its policy on executions:

…no state is ever justified in killing its own citizens. Our members lobby hard… to have individual death sentences commuted. Ultimately, all Amnesty International’s research and campaigning aims to affect the lives of individuals. Their faces, names and stories are at the heart of our work. Amnesty International members campaign for all kinds of victims, under all kinds of governments, everywhere in the world, whether they be in the media’s spotlight or forgotten in a secret prison…

Now some questions to Jack Robertson. In Controil, you explain why oil is strategically important, and assert that this is the only reason for American action worth knowing. But you have not explained why liberating Iraq, as well as stopping Saddam Hussein, which would be byproducts of the war, are not worth knowing, so you haven’t made the case against war.

You’re fixated on American projection of power. But if you believe in human rights – as you should, because of your position as a leading member of Amnesty International in NSW – then you should at least explain why the Iraqis are wrong when they say that the only way to improve human rights in Iraq is by getting rid of Saddam Hussein. The Iraqis want the Americans to invade, and they don’t care if the Americans control the oil afterwards. Why aren’t you putting the human rights of the Iraqis first?

You have said nothing new, except that the discovery of further oil reserves has not changed what Hitler already knew in the 1940s. As I explained in Saddam’s Will to Power, oil is inextricably bound in the problem: It is unavoidable to think of oil when thinking about Saddam Hussein and American strategy against him. The Americans know this, and so do the French oil companies, and so does Saddam Hussein.

Why do you focus on American strategic interests while ignoring the improvement in human rights that eliminating Saddam Hussein’s totalitarian regime would achieve? Or do you doubt the latter? Please state your position clearly.

It seems that you’re jaundiced against explicit projection of power by the Great Satan, or against any achievement of human rights if it would mean some parasites profit from it. Underlying your worldview is nonexistent world – literally, a Utopia – in which human rights for all can be achieved without recourse to power.

But the inability to use power responsibly means that you give the green light for dictators to establish their brutal regimes at will. Most importantly, and I stress that this is the main point of this Webdiary note, you have failed to consider the viewpoint of the Iraqi people. Since when has Amnesty presumed to know better than the people themselves what’s good for them?

Amnesty is supposed to be focussing on the individual, but neither you nor Amnesty are doing this. Instead, you are obsessed by American projection of power, and in so doing split the world into two: human rights for yourself, and human rights for Iraqis. Human rights are evidently divisible, at least in the minds of “the people”.

Iraqis overwhelmingly believe that American projection of power is the only way of getting rid of Saddam Hussein and of improving human rights under all the categories listed on the Amnesty website. Why have you not bothered to find out what the Iraqi people think before involving yourself in actions that would influence their fate?

The truth is that Iraqis seeking liberty have become an abstraction to you – you’re preoccupied with your own concerns, in your self-centred world, despite the lip-service you pay to noble ideals.

Like the antiwar people I wrote about in Why the people’s instinct can be wrong and I felt liberated when I saw the bombs falling, you’re clearly imprisoned by the rationalisations inside your head, by this self-obsession, and have lost the ability to see the world outside, the world of another person – particularly the world of the Iraqi desiring liberty.

In other words, you’ve just provided more proof of my main thesis in those Webdiary pieces.

* * *

I can’t believe the “racism” we’re seeing. In Australia, too. SIEV-X and Tampa all over again. Is this embedded distance somehow programmed into people’s minds?

Maybe the secret underlying all this, particularly in the Australian case, is that Australians don’t have a memory of totalitarianism. We have never had to face the choice of fighting for our liberty at the expense of our innocence. We have had liberty handed to us. It’s all so easy. If we stuff up or not is entirely up to us. We do it to ourselves. We have never had to deal with evil.

The following article is a glimpse outside the prison of the self-obsessed Western mind. A glimpse at what the Iraqi people have to say. Their spirits are flying in expectation of imminent liberation. Why can’t my fellow Australians feel this? Why is liberty so alien to you? The article was written by Stephen F. Hayes, staff writer at The Weekly Standard. And no, the Iraqis were not bought off by Murdoch or by Big Oil. The article describes the way it is, not the scorched earth of leftist rationalisation.

***

Saddam’s Victims tell Their Stories

March 5, 2003

“Do you know when?” It is the question on all minds these days – those of stockbrokers, journalists, financiers, world leaders, soldiers and their families. When will the United States lead a coalition to end Saddam Hussein’s tyranny over Iraq?

The answer matters most to the tyrant’s subjects–like the man who asked the question of his friend in an early-morning phone conversation on Monday, February 24. The call came from Nasiriyah, in southern Iraq, to the home of an Iraqi exile in suburban Detroit.

It used to be that Iraqis trapped inside their country would speak to each other and to friends outside in veiled language. For years, Saddam’s regime has tapped the phone lines of all those suspected of disloyalty, so an inquiry about the timing of a possible attack would be concealed behind seemingly unrelated questions. On what date will you sell your business? When does school end? When are you expecting your next child?

But few Iraqis speak in puzzles anymore. They ask direct questions. Here is the rest of that Monday morning conversation:

“Do you know when?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. I am coming. We will . . . ”

The second speaker, an Iraqi in Michigan, began to provide details but quickly reconsidered, ending his thought in mid-sentence. He says he was shocked by the candor coming from Iraq. “Never in the history of Iraq do people talk like this,” he said later.

“Why are you silent?”

“I’m afraid that you’ll be in danger.”

“Don’t be afraid. We are not afraid. This time is serious.”

“I am coming with the American Army.”

“Is there a way that we can register our names with the American forces to work with them when they arrive? Will you call my house at the first moment you arrive? I will help.”

For more than a year now, the world has been engaged in an intense debate about what to do with Saddam Hussein. For much of that time, the focus has been on the dictator’s refusal to get rid of his weapons of mass destruction, his sponsorship of terrorism, his serial violations of international law, and his history of aggression.

Those arguments have in common an emphasis on interests, on threats. Absent from this debate–or at best peripheral to it–is the moral case for ending the rule of a tyrant who has terrorized his people for more than two decades. It’s a strange oversight since, by some estimates, Saddam Hussein is responsible for more than 1million Iraqi deaths since he took power in 1979.

Advocates of his overthrow are fond of pointing out that “he gassed his own people,” but this often has the feel of a bulleted talking point, not an argument. Their opponents readily concede that “Saddam is a brutal dictator,” and that “the world would be better off without him.” But they usually grant these things as a rhetorical device, as if to buy credibility on their way to opposing the one step sure to end that brutality–removal by force.

Those who oppose taking action say we can safely ignore Saddam Hussein because he is “in a box.” Even if they were right and Saddam were no longer a threat, they would ignore this other urgent problem: the 23 million Iraqi people who are in the box with him.

No one wants war. “I am a pacifist,” says Ramsey Jiddou, an Iraqi American who has lived in the United States since the late 1970s. “But it will take a war to remove Saddam Hussein, and of course I’m for such a war.”

Iraqi Americans overwhelmingly agree with Jiddou. Many of them are recent arrivals who came here after the Gulf War left Saddam in power in 1991. And many are in regular contact with friends and relatives still trapped in Iraq.

The views of those Iraqis back home “are the same as the Iraqi Americans,” says Peter Antone, an Iraqi-American immigration lawyer in Southfield, Michigan. “They are not free to speak, so we speak for them.”

ONE OF MY HOSTS had another question for me as we walked up to a modest one-story home in Dearborn Heights on the snowy afternoon of Saturday, February 22.

“Do you know the decisionmakers?” asked Abu Muslim al-Haydar, a former University of Baghdad professor and one of three English-speakers in the group of 20 Iraqi Shiites assembling here to talk with a reporter about Iraq. His tone was urgent, almost desperate, as he repeated himself. “Do you know the decisionmakers?”

The Iraqi Americans who live in suburban Detroit, some 150,000 of them, are the largest concentration of Iraqis outside Iraq. That’s saying something, since according to the United Nations, Iraqis are the second-largest group of refugees in the world. Some 4 million of them have left their homes since Saddam Hussein took power–an astonishing 17 percent of the country’s population. Despite the size of the Iraqi-American population, and despite the fact that no one is better acquainted with the ways of Saddam Hussein’s regime, their voices have largely been missing from the national debate. In the course of dozens of interviews over the last two weeks, it became plain that this oversight is a source of endless frustration to this community. Iraqi Americans have a lot to say, and the decisionmakers, in both the media and government, are not listening.

As we approached the house in Dearborn Heights, I told al-Haydar that with luck, some decisionmakers would read my article. On the porch, I added my shoes to a mountain of footwear, which, with a winter storm raging, had taken on the appearance of a snow-capped peak. We stepped inside. The room to the right contained a big-screen television (wired to the satellite dish on the roof) and a sofa. The room on the left was furnished with overlapping oriental rugs and, on the floor along the wall, colorful cushions that would serve as our seats for the next two and a half hours.

The group was all male and all Shiite, primarily from southern Iraq. In other ways, though, it was diverse–ranging from farmers to religious leaders to a former general in Saddam’s Republican Guard. The ages went from early twenties to perhaps eighties. Some came dressed in three-piece suits, some in tribal robes.

I proposed moving clockwise around the room for introductions and brief personal histories, a suggestion that prompted much discussion, all of it in Arabic. In what could be considered a bad omen for a democratic Iraq, my ad hoc translator, a young man named Ahmed Shulaiba, explained that elders and religious leaders generally have the option to speak first. But after more discussion, the introductions proceeded according to the suggested plan.

One elderly man in a flowing brown robe, however, gave up his turn, saying he preferred to speak last and that he wanted to make a statement. When he did, he passed me his Michigan State I.D. card as he began speaking.

“I want to introduce myself and ask a question. Are you ready? I am Mehsin Juad al-Basaid. For many years I was a farmer in Iraq. I was involved in the uprising in 1991. American pilots dropped leaflets telling us to start an uprising against Saddam. And we did. We sacrificed. I lost three family members. Fifteen days later the American Army was removed from the South, and left us to face Saddam alone. Now, I’m willing to go with the American Army. But what happened in 1991 must not happen again.”

Nearly everyone in attendance had spoken of his own involvement in the uprising. It’s worth spending a moment on what happened at the end of the Gulf War, because it influences the way many Iraqis, particularly the Shiite majority, see the United States.

After the devastating U.S. air campaign, American ground forces made quick work of the few Iraqi soldiers who put up a fight. At the same time, the U.S. government dropped leaflets and broadcast radio messages urging all Iraqis to overthrow Saddam. Ahmed, my translator, who was 15 in 1991, told me how he had learned that the Americans wanted Iraqis to revolt.

“I remember George Bush said, ‘There is another way for the bloodshed to stop. It’s for the Iraqi people and the Iraqi military to take matters into their own hands . . . ‘”

I interrupted to ask him if he was quoting the former president.

“Yeah, I remember that’s what he said.”

I interrupted a second time to ask him if he remembered how the message was delivered–radio, leaflets? His response was terse.

“Yes. I’ll tell you after I finish.”

With that, he resumed his word-for-word recitation of the president’s exhortation:

“‘It’s for the Iraqi people and the Iraqi military to take matters into their own hands and force Saddam Hussein, the dictator, to step aside, comply with the United Nations Resolution, and rejoin the family of peace-loving nations.’ That’s what he said.”

Many Iraqis, both in the largely Kurdish north and the Shiite south, took this advice. American pilots bombed Iraqi weapons depots, allowing the rebels to arm themselves. As the Iraqi Army withdrew from Kuwait and retreated towards Baghdad, the rebels made significant gains. The numbers are disputed, but at the height of the uprising, opposition forces may have controlled as many as 14 of Iraq’s 18 provinces.

Just as the pressure on the regime intensified, however, American and Iraqi military leaders met near the Iraq-Kuwait border at Safwan to sign a cease-fire. As the negotiations drew to a close, the Iraqi representative, Lt. Gen. Sultan Hashim Ahmad, had a request, recorded in the official transcript of the meeting. “We have a point, one point. You might very well know the situation of the roads and bridges and communications. We would like to agree that helicopter flights sometimes are needed to carry some of the officials, government officials, or any member that is needed to be transported from one place to another because the roads and bridges are out.”

General Norman Schwarzkopf, representing the United States, playing the generous victor, told his counterpart that so long as no helicopters flew over areas controlled by U.S. troops, they were “absolutely no problem.” He continued: “I want to make sure that’s recorded, that military helicopters can fly over Iraq. Not fighters, not bombers.” Lt. Gen. Ahmad pressed the issue. “So you mean even helicopters that is [sic] armed in the Iraqi skies can fly, but not the fighters?”

“Yeah, I will instruct our Air Force not to shoot at any helicopters that are flying over the territory of Iraq where we are not located,” Schwarzkopf replied, adding that he wanted armed helicopters to be identified with an orange tag.

This moment of magnanimity would prove costly. Saddam’s soldiers used the helicopters to put down the rebellion, spilling the blood of tens of thousands of Iraqis to do so. On the ground, allied troops had reversed course and were now taking weapons from any Iraqis who had them, including the rebels. In the end, it was a massacre, with conservative estimates of 30,000 dead.

“Along Highway 8, the east-west route that ran from An Nasiriyah to Basra, the American soldiers could tell that Saddam Hussein was mercilessly putting down the rebellion,” wrote Michael Gordon and Bernard Trainor in The Generals’ War: The Inside Story of the Conflict in the Gulf, considered the definitive account of the war. “The tales at the medical tent had a common theme: indiscriminate fire at men, women and children, the destruction of Islamic holy places, in which the Shiites had taken refuge, helicopter and rocket attacks, threats of chemical weapons attacks.”

The men who gathered that snowy afternoon in Dearborn Heights, many of them from Nasiriyah, were among those attacked by the Iraqi military in 1991. Several spoke of their confusion as they looked up to see Iraqi helicopters strafing the masses of refugees, and above the Iraqi aircraft, American F-15 fighter planes circling in the sky but doing nothing to stop the slaughter. (These images have contributed, perhaps understandably, to numerous conspiracy theories discussed widely in the exile community. One propounds the preposterous notion that American aircraft escorted the Iraqi helicopters responsible for killing Iraqi rebels and ending the uprising. As that hypothesis goes, the United States wanted to keep Saddam Hussein in power as its puppet dictator. Put together American support of Saddam throughout the ’80s with these vivid memories, and from the perspective of the Iraqis on the ground, the theories don’t seem terribly far-fetched.)

When we ended our formal Q and A, one man handed me a photograph of his son, who was killed in the uprising. Others gave me photographs and handwritten, homemade business cards. Someone gave me a plan, in Arabic, for postwar Iraq. Several men passed me their Michigan drivers’ licenses and state ID cards. Six gave me letters or prepared statements, some in Arabic and others in English. Mohammed al-Gased, who speaks only Arabic, must have had help translating his letter:

My name is Mohammed Al Gased, my family and I are refugees in the United States of America. I lost my nephew Haydir Ali Abdulamir Al Gased (the spelling of the name may be different). He was a participant in the 1991 Iraqi Uprising against Saddam. On March 18, 1991, he was wounded in the battle against Saddam’s army. In the same afternoon of the same day, he was transferred to one of the American military units located in Talillehem in the governate of Annasriya in southern Iraq. He was treated there; then was taken by American Military helicopter for a further treatment. The location is still unknown for us. After the fail of the uprising, most of us were forced to flee our homes. When we arrived to Saudi Arabia as refugees. I wrote a letter to the Red Cross asking if they have any information about him, and we got no answer. I also wrote to the Saudi Ministry of Defense. My brother, his father, was tortured by Saddam’s secret police so viciously it caused his death. His mother and the rest of the family are now residing in Sweden as refugees. In the name of humanity, we are asking you to help us find out weather or not he is still alive and where his about.

With the letters and statements and photographs came torrents of additional charges meant to demonstrate the brutality of Saddam’s regime. One man insisted that he knew the precise location of a mass grave, and provided very specific directions. He urged me to give these coordinates to the U.S. government but not to report them, lest Saddam dig up the grave and repair the ground. He said that Iraqis are well aware of these mass graves and predicted they will be found throughout Iraq when the current regime is out of power.

It must be said that many of these claims, including that one, are unverifiable. But they are consistent with Saddam Hussein’s long history of violence. As the U.N. special rapporteur on human rights in Iraq put it: “Extreme and brutal force is threatened and applied without hesitation and with total impunity to control the population.”

Of more immediate concern is the likelihood that Saddam will use civilians as human shields in the event of war, as he did during the first Gulf War. Bush administration officials are well aware of his willingness to sacrifice his own people, and they take seriously reports that he has begun preparations to do so.

One such account comes from Ali al-Sayad, an Iraqi American who reported to Defense Department officials a phone call he received last week from his cousin, a guard at the infamous Abu Ghraib prison. The guard told al-Sayad that on February 11, Saddam’s agents began methodically moving thousands of prisoners from their cells to the dictator’s hometown of Tikrit, where many officials believe Saddam will take refuge when combat begins.

That’s a move that wouldn’t surprise Riadh Abdallah, a former general in Saddam’s Republican Guard. Gen. Abdallah served on Saddam’s personal security detail in Baghdad during the Gulf War. His brother, Abduli Alwishah, a member of the Iraqi parliament from 1984 to 1991 and head of a prominent southern Iraqi tribe, was a leader of the uprising at the end of the war. When Iraqi intelligence reported back to Baghdad that Alwishah had agitated against Saddam, Gen. Abdallah lost his position in the Republican Guard and was put on probation, then transferred to a teaching job and ordered to report to authorities once a week to show his face.

It could have been worse. Five other generals, including Barak Abdallah, a hero from the Iran-Iraq war, were executed for plotting against the regime.

By 1993, Alwishah and his family had left the Saudi refugee camp that they called home for 14 months and had resettled in the United States. That’s when his brother, Gen. Abdallah, was arrested and charged as an anti-Saddam conspirator and sent to a small prison in Baghdad for high-ranking officials accused as traitors. I asked him about the experience.

ABDALLAH: I was in jail for eleven months. There was no judge. They just put you in. If one was to be executed or put in jail, no judge. They put us in the same room as those five generals who were executed. And they were killed with big knives. Those people were killed with big knives hitting them on the neck. And the room had blood everywhere.

SH: Did you think you might be next?

ABDALLAH: Yes. I thought that they would do the same thing to me. Every day they told me that I will be executed.

SH: How long?

ABDALLAH: Eleven months. Intimidation every day. At that time they found out about a conspiracy by another person who was a big general, a doctor actually, from the same town as Saddam. His name was Raji al-Tikriti. It’s a very famous story in Iraq. And they made him a food for dogs.

SH: You were in prison when this happened? You heard about this?

ABDALLAH: They showed me these prisoners that were eaten by wild dogs. They made us–that was one kind of intimidation–they brought all of the generals and officers in the prison to watch it, to intimidate us. . . . They took us from jail and they put some blindfolds on our eyes and they took them off and we saw him. Before the dogs ate him we saw them read the judgment and they said why they were going to kill him. He was the head doctor for all the military, and he was the personal doctor for Saddam Hussein and for former Iraqi president Ahmed Hassan al-Bakr.

SH: Was he killed before this happened?

ABDALLAH: He was alive when these wild dogs . . .

SH: Do you remember what month this was?

ABDALLAH: It was the wintertime, but I can’t remember exactly because for 11 months I didn’t see the sun, nothing–I didn’t know what time. There was only spider webs in the room, so I didn’t know if it’s day or night. [Pause] Probably what you’re hearing is impossible to believe, but that’s what happened. And all that you’re hearing is nothing compared to everything else.

Abdallah later explained that Raji al-Tikriti was dressed in “prison pajamas” with his hands and feet bound when this was done to him. Abdallah and seven other prisoners were forced to watch. The five dogs, he said, “were like big wolves.”

Abdallah returned to teaching after his surprising release from prison. He taught with other senior military officials who, he said, ran terrorist training operations at Salman Pak and Lake Tharthar. The activities at Salman Pak are well known. Satellite images show an airplane, and defectors have revealed extensive training in terrorist operations–including hijacking–that have gone on there for years. Lake Tharthar, however, is new. Abdallah calls it the “Salman Pak of the sea,” where terrorists were instructed in “diving, how to wire, how to put charges on ships, how to storm the ships, commando operations.”

I asked him if the facility was used primarily for military training or terrorist training. “Terrorist. Not for the military. They were not Iraqi. They were all from other countries–maybe just a few Iraqis. And it’s very confidential.”

Tharthar is the largest lake in Iraq, constructed on the site of the Great Dam. That dam regulates a waterway that connects the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Tharthar is also the site of one of the largest of Saddam’s numerous palaces. In 1999, at a celebration of the president’s 62nd birthday, Vice President Taha Yassin Ramadan opened a resort on the lake for the regime’s VIPs. The complex came at a cost estimated at hundreds of millions, and includes luxurious accommodations, several beaches, and an amusement park, complete with a merry-go-round and a ferris wheel.

Saddam Hussein and his allies blame the United States for the “genocide” caused by 13 years of U.N. sanctions. They claim that these sanctions, and the resulting shortages of food and medicine, have led to the deaths of more than 1 million Iraqis. Even leaving aside the vast resources Saddam has used to rebuild and conceal his deadly arsenal, the resort at Lake Tharthar helps put those charges in context. As Taha Ramadan noted at the resort’s ceremonial opening, “This city was built in the age of Saddam Hussein and during this period of sanctions. . . . This shows our ability to build such a beautiful city and to fight as well.”

A resort city, terrorist training camps, and a hungry population–all of this, says Abdallah, makes Saddam Hussein “the father and the grandfather of terrorists.”

THE DAY AFTER my meeting in Dearborn Heights, some 300 Iraqi Americans gathered at the Fairlane Club in suburban Detroit to hear from Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz and, finally, tell their stories in the presence of a high U.S. official. Wolfowitz had been invited by the Iraqi Forum for Democracy, a nonaligned, anti-Saddam, pro-democracy association of Iraqis in America. Television cameras–I counted nearly 20–lined the room. A handful of print reporters were there, too. Signs on the wall declared “Iraq United Will Never Be Divided” and “Saddam Must Go–Iraqis Need Human Rights.”

Wolfowitz is viewed as something of a hero here. Several Iraqi Americans I spoke to were aware that he was wary of Saddam Hussein as far back as the late ’70s, and remained so even as the U.S. government embraced the Iraqi dictator in the ’80s. Others credited Wolfowitz with expediting U.S. rescue operations when the Iraqi government put down the 1991 uprising.

“The U.S. Army had orders to leave Basra,” recalls Ahmed Shulaiba. “We were going to be crushed by the Iraqi Army, and we heard that one man from the press–we don’t know who he is–he called Paul Wolfowitz and told him about 30,000 people will be crushed if the American military leave them. And he [Wolfowitz] called [Secretary of Defense] Dick Cheney and they helped move us to the camp of Rafha [in Saudi Arabia].”

Wolfowitz later confirmed this account, though he downplayed his role. “The rebellion had basically been crushed,” he said. “It was a Sunday afternoon and I got a call at home from a reporter. I think it’s okay to name him, it was Michael Gordon [of the New York Times]. One of my kids answered, told me who it was, and I regretted the day I’d given him my unpublished number at home. I said, ‘Tell him I’m not interested in talking to him.’ My kid, whichever one it was, told me that Gordon was calling from Safwan [Iraq], and he says it’s important.”

Gordon told Wolfowitz that he had been interviewing U.S. troops in southern Iraq. Saddam’s forces were continuing to brutalize the Iraqi people. American soldiers, says Wolfowitz, “had been ordered not to do anything about it. Gordon said it was breaking their hearts.” Wolfowitz called Cheney and, after overcoming some internal resistance, they arranged to have allied forces expedite the refugees’ journey to camps in the Saudi desert.

Now, addressing those gathered in suburban Detroit, Wolfowitz spoke of the coming liberation of their country. It was a well-crafted speech, packed with details about the expected conflict and postwar Iraq (available on the web at http://www.defenselink=.mil/news/Feb2003/t02272003-t0223ifd.ht=ml ). He was interrupted repeatedly by enthusiastic applause, including several standing ovations. At one point, the audience broke into song, in Arabic, to celebrate the imminent end of Saddam’s rule. The Iraqi farmers who the night before had handed me photographs of their dead relatives were dancing with local religious leaders.

When Wolfowitz concluded his remarks, it was the Iraqis’ turn to speak to the world. Some spoke in English, some in Arabic.

“My name is Abu Muslim al-Hayadar. I used to be a university professor back in Iraq, but now I am working in social services to help refugees. I want to assure you and all other people around the world that we suffered so much and we are willing to work towards democracy as we are–most of us want to work in two phases. The liberation phase and the rebuilding phase. So please, please take it seriously, and we want it fast. Fast, as fast as you can. Thank you. Liberate Iraqi people please.”

Moments later, a man named Ahmed al-Tamimi stepped to the front of the stage with a young boy.

“I welcome you here. You are here in Dearborn and next month we welcome you in Baghdad and Iraq.

“In every heart here, in every person here, there is a scar on our hearts. But we can’t show the people in the world our scars on our hearts, but we can show the scars on the face of this young guy. He was, in that time in 1991, just one year. He was a child, and this is the father and his uncle, they participated in the uprising. . . . They beat the father, his father, his mother, and his wife. While they are beating the family they hear the cry of the child and they say who is the child? The wife said this is my child. They start beating him with their boots until the blood was all over and he had brain damage, partly brain damage.

“When [the father] came from Saudi Arabia to America, the first thing he did, he took the phone and talked to his wife and he said I want to talk to my son. And she started to cry. And she told him he is not talking, he is not talking. What happened? She told him, something happen in 1991. I can’t tell you. After that he find out what happened to his son.”

The program ended and the crowd gave Wolfowitz another standing ovation. They rushed to the stage and surrounded the speaker, a former academic unused to being treated like a rock star. It was a moving scene–perhaps a foreshadowing of the greeting American troops will get when Saddam Hussein is gone–but few people saw it.

Although several major newspapers covered the event, television networks mostly took a pass. Why? Certainly the language difficulties made live television coverage all but impossible. But the reactions of a producer for a prominent international broadcast network suggest another possible explanation. She said the event was “weird” and thought the Iraqis seemed “uncomfortable.”

“It was a pre-selected audience,” she inaccurately claimed. “Everyone here agrees with the administration.”

Pro-war propaganda, she concluded–never once considering the possibility that Iraqi Americans might actually be near-unanimous in their desire to get rid of Saddam Hussein.

It should be noted, however, that there were at least two Saddam sympathizers in the crowd. Before the speech, as TV crews checked their microphones and Arabic-speaking Iraqis studied translated copies of Wolfowitz’s prepared remarks, one Iraqi pointed out two men he said were “Saddam’s agents.” Regardless of whether that much is true, they plainly were not enjoying themselves. Each time their fellow Iraqi Americans saluted the dictator’s coming demise, these dour fellows sat expressionless.

After the meeting with Wolfowitz, journalists were asked to leave the room as the Iraqis met privately with representatives from the Pentagon for perhaps an hour. Defense officials explained to the Iraqis the various ways they can participate in the coming conflict. Many will accompany U.S. troops, serving as intermediaries between the Iraqis and their liberators. Others will join something the Pentagon is calling the “Free Iraqi Force,” a unit that will support combat operations inside Iraq. Still others will focus on a post-Saddam Iraq.

Later, Wolfowitz returned to the room and spent another hour talking with individual Iraqi Americans, answering their questions, and most important, listening.

One Iraqi American had a message he hoped protesters would hear:

“If you want to protest that it’s not okay to send your kids to fight, that’s okay. But please don’t claim to speak for the Iraqis. We’ve seen 5 million people protesting, but none of them were Iraqis. They don’t know what’s going on inside Iraq. France and whoever else, please shut up.”

Another, Hawra al-Zuad, is a 16-year-old student at an Islamic academy in suburban Detroit. Her sky blue headscarf seems to coexist comfortably with her marked Detroit accent. Although she doesn’t remember her family’s flight 12 years ago, she is eager to return to her native Iraq. “I’ll go visit right away,” she says. “I want to go see how it is over there. I forgot everything about it. I want to see my house, where I used to live when I was little.”

A good way to spend summer vacation, I suggest. She quickly corrects me.

“Spring break. I hope it’s spring break.”

“I felt liberated when I saw the bombs falling”

First, I’d like to reiterate the main gist of Why the people’s instinct can be wrong and emphasise once again that my observations had nothing to do with whether you believe the imminent war is right or wrong. They’re just a description of the way it is.

“The people” have not come to terms with the fact that Iraqis can desire liberation; that Iraqis face this horrific dilemma; and that Iraqis can choose war, on the side of the Americans, in full knowledge of the consequences…

The committed leftist and the committed pacifist reel away from the human desires expressed [by Iraqis desiring liberty], because here is an implicit blessing for war. But this is what the Iraqi wants – because he knows that alone, the opposition groups are no match for the totalitarian regime…

The antiwar protesters – ten million around the world – ought to have apologised to Iraqis and offered their condolences that this time they cannot support liberty in Iraq; that they have chosen to block action that would free Iraqis. Then they should have been ashamed of themselves…

In this period, two devastating bushfires have swept across the Australian societal landscape, each in turn reinforcing the great Australian inability to imagine in any depth the lot of a stranger, each dividing the world into us and outsiders, whereby what in each case is accepted as “us and ours” is elevated to a special status through heightened familiarity, to the exclusion of the other.

The outsiders are thought of in myth-like ways, images of them are somewhat unreal, because the image of “the other” is a projection of what is necessary for “us” to uphold “our” image of “ourselves”: it has no basis in reality, and its effect is ultimately to falsify and oppress human beings.

In the Tampa and SIEV-X cases, this was called “racism”. It is no different now with the anti-war protests.

I’m saying that when they claim it is unintentional, they’re not being completely honest: true, they’re not directly intending this consequence, but a destructive intention certainly exists…

Worse, that human being’s viewpoint – who is supposed to be our kindred spirit, is he not? – is obliterated in the minds of “the people”; for example, by promoting myths such as he or she hates the Americans so much that he or she will fight for Saddam Hussein and not against him. “The people” naturally believe that Iraqis will willingly fight to save Saddam’s totalitarianism – if they had it in their mind that Iraqis want to fight with the Americans against Saddam, then they would be confronted with the unsavoury truth that their antiwar protest is denying individual liberty.

They would be confronted with the logical consequence of their negative choice: they are the ones responsible for keeping Saddam in power, for the murder of countless Iraqis by his henchmen in the years until the fall of his regime. Whether you agree with the war or not, this is the consequence of the success of the protests’ aims. From being obliterated in the minds of “the people”, the viewpoint of the Iraqi desiring liberty is obliterated in reality…

“The people” project their own anti-American obsession (in which Saddam Hussein barely exists) onto their image of Iraqis and thereby obliterate the point of view of the Iraqi who seeks liberty. In effect, they have murdered him in their minds.

Also, in The disempowerment of faith, Iraq, fragmentation, and the failed WTO protests, I wrote:

In addition, though, I’m saying that if we are horrified at the blood on our hands that might be spilt if we act, then we should also be horrified by the blood that might be on our hands if we choose not to act.

In addition, in Alternatives to warNicholas Crouch wrote:

If America invades and occupies Iraq there will be civilian casualties. It is difficult to estimate, but certainly they would be in the thousands. Margo, you and those like you don’t want thousands of innocent people to die. I understand that. It sounds reasonable. But how many innocent Iraqi civilians will die if there is NO war? How many more people will Saddam kill? Given his past history surely you must say thousands.

Now to a few replies to my critics in Our conscience is not sabotaged.

***

Simon Ellis sees pro-war bias in my piece. But as I emphasised above, the view I expressed can be held by people who are for or against the war. It’s a matter of honesty with yourself, and of seeing the reality, not the phantoms inside your head. Simon is seeing phantoms.

Simon writes: John … is now trumpeting the same contradiction in terms that our political masters seem so fond of – that it is the peace marchers, not the war-mongers, who are plunging this world into conflict.

This is all in your imagination, Simon. I did not make the argument that peace marchers are making war more likely. I did not even say that you are increasing the amount of conflict. Why do you take criticism of the peace marchers as pro-war propaganda?

I said that if you were to succeed in your cause then you would have helped keep the status quo in Iraq. If you disagree with this, explain why Saddam is going to stop his war against the Iraqi people if the Americans forget their war plans and retreat. Explain why Saddam and his henchmen are going to pack up their bags and go away and leave the Iraqi people alone.

So John, allow me to clarify a couple of points for your benefit:

1.The anti-war movement doesn’t support Saddam Hussein – period.

But if you succeed in your cause, then you will be helping keep the status quo in Iraq. This may not be your intention, but it is the effect. Doesn’t it bother you that your actions would lead to this if they’re successful?

If you go into town to see Roman Polanski’s “The Pianist”, park your car on a hillside, and the car rolls down while you’re in the cinema and kills someone, are you going to say, “I don’t give a stuff”?

Why would we protest against Saddam Hussein?

Why indeed. Perhaps because those were “peace” marches, and Saddam Hussein is waging a war against his own people. Also, because you ought to explicitly dissociate yourself from attempts to exploit your political actions in ways you didn’t intend. If you care about your message, you ought to prevent the possibility in advance to the best of your ability (eg Saddam using your presence as propaganda).

But most importantly, it’s to show solidarity with the Iraqi victims of Saddam’s regime, the ones you claim to be caring for – at least, the “thousands of Iraqis” that would be killed in a war, and would have to live under Saddam’s regime for years longer if you succeed.

If what you say is true – that you care for the Iraqis at all, and not just for yourself – then you’d be thinking of them during your protest and sending out “messages” that would make it impossible for Iraqis like Adnan Hassan (who I quoted) to feel the way they did watching you.

But no. Those Iraqis seeking liberty have become an abstraction – you’re preoccupied with your own concerns, in your self-centred world, despite what you say about caring for them. This is my point. The worst thing is you don’t realise your hypocrisy.

We live in Australia for crying out loud – we protest against things that we’re doing – not stuff that other people are doing!!

So if, say, the U.S. were to invade Iraq, you wouldn’t protest? Great! I expect the sounds of silence from the “peace” movement in the next month. A true peace (and quiet) movement.

Or France? Aha, I see. That’s why you never protested when Saddam gassed the Kurds, and why the world can go to hell as long as your little corner is peaceful and quiet.

But you did protest when NATO bombed Kosovo and Serbia and freed the Muslim Kosovans. So too when NATO bombed Milosevic and saved countless thousands Muslim Bosnians from his concentration camps (after the UN failure in preventing them).

Incidentally, by aiding and abetting the continuation of Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq you’re doing something.

You seem to believe that by not supporting your war the anti-war movement is condemning the people of Iraq to a lifetime of brutality and oppression – as if there are absolutely no other options available. Doesn’t your very argument depend on this premise? That war is the ONLY solution to the problems faced by the people of Iraq?

“My” war? Phantoms – my piece was neither for nor against the war. Also, that war is the ONLY way of liberating Iraq is what the Iraqis themselves think. Why didn’t you bother finding out what the Iraqis think, before claiming you’re doing them a favour? You’re not even aware of your neocolonialist chauvinism, let alone what goes on outside the borders of your country.

Finally, “lifetime” is a relative concept. Ten years can be a lifetime for thousands of Iraqis in Saddam’s war against the Iraqi people.

Well I’ve gotta tell you John – you don’t understand me better than I understand myself.

I only know what you reveal. Your anti-intellectual chauvinism is probably what’s blocking you from thinking seriously about what you’re doing. The stuff I’ve been arguing is completely obvious – anyone at all can figure it out. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist. Just be aware of what you’re doing.

Unwind the spin that you’ve built around yourself – and open your eyes to the truth. You doggedly support a cause that would needlessly cause the death of thousands of innocent men, women and children.

Now here’s a prescription for you. Learn to separate fantasy from reality: Begin by understanding that no cause is supported in my previous piece. And try to take responsibility for the consequences of your actions; for instance, that your antiwar action would “cause the death of thousands of innocent men, women and children”.

***

Peter Funnell writes:

I march against the war in Iraq, because I don’t want any Australia citizen to go to war … My first thought was not for the Iraqis. I did it for the citizens of the country in which I choose to live, the place of my “dreamtime”. For what it will do to those I love and care about… Not wanting Australians to go to war and not killing Iraqis is the best I can do.

Me, myself and mine. At last, an honest man. “Love the furtherest” – Nietzsche. “Love myself, strike a humanitarian pose, pretend to love the other” – Australia, 2003. Well, almost.

By demonstrating that I do not support a war, I point at the only way possible – for the Iraqis to do it for themselves.

But the Iraqis have said repeatedly (and as was shown in Saddam’s crushing the uprisings following the Gulf War), they cannot do it themselves. They want war. They want the Americans to bomb Iraq.

Peter evidently believes in a world where the dice is loaded for the strong. Physical strength is everything, if you’re not strong enough to survive by yourself, to hell with you. Leave the strong be, and condemn the weak to their fate.

A very Mahatir view. A recipe for despotism – and subservience to dictators. As Orwell said, violence is acceptable as long as it’s horrific enough.

What’s more, Peter’s another guy who hasn’t bothered finding out what the Iraqis think before involving himself in actions that would influence their fate. Proves my point.

***

Paul Walter writes:

No, John, we won’t accept the US blowing the Iraqi people back to the stone age, and then finding ways for the rest of us to pay, yet again, for THEIR mistakes!

Well, that’s nice to know, Paul. But you’re hallucinating. My article is neither pro-war nor anti-war. My article argues for taking responsibility for our actions. Also, that we should understand the view point of the Iraqi who wants liberation before presuming to decide what’s best for him or her.

full calumny… Republican power-grab… Republicans have apparently robbed the global economy… corrupt fund-managers, media magnates, organised crime figures and armaments manufacturers… massive diversions of investment funds … blindness, greed and arrogance… The West, and the US in particular, knew… Globalist Oiligarchs…

Thanks for the American obsession, Paul. You’ve just proven my point. Now how about getting outside that confusion inside your head and addressing what I actually wrote?

***

Peter Woodforde writes:

John Wojdylo occasionally gnaws through the leather straps and sifts this sort of chaff from the dozens of feverish, but extremely well-funded Republican Right and Likud-Irgun terrorist sites, all chiefly characterised, incidentally, by endless pushing of the virtues of ethnic cleansing in Palestine.

Pardon, monsieur?

When Wojdylo rides a Cruise missile (or perhaps a Smart Bomb) into the suburbs of Baghdad, slapping his stetson, whoopin’ and hollerin’…

Wie bitte?

I’m extremely disappointed that Wojdylo has so far spared himself the task of linking Saddam and Robert Mugabe through a network of cricket-loving pacifists based in training camps in Pakistan…

Shto takoi?

In fact, part of Wojdylo’s reaction to those who reject a massive Cruise missile bombardment of Baghdad…

Peter’s hallucinating that I expressed a pro-war viewpoint in my article. It’s his phantasms playing up again. Thanks for proving my point, Peter.

Come on John, who else was there?

Actually, in the US a controversy is brewing over the organisers of the peace marches. I don’t know what’s being said in Australia about it, and I don’t know who organised the marches in Australia. As Michael Berube (a US academic) said:

…as I’ve said before, yes, it does matter that International ANSWER, as a front for the Workers World Party, has led the major anti-war demonstrations. These people are – how shall I put this politely? – sectarian loons…

So, to answer Peter’s question, neo-Stalinists were also there. The grannies no doubt outnumbered them; nevertheless, how would you feel if your march had been organised by somebody whose intention is to destroy our society as we know it? What if they’re actively supporting organisations or countries who want to see the fall of the West? Does it make a difference to you who organised the marches?

***

Michael Grau-Veliz writes:

The pro war undertones of John’s piece were not even masked.

My article is neither pro-war nor anti-war. My article is anti-left (but it also happens to be anti-right). This is what you must be reacting to. Why do you take criticism of the left as pro-war propaganda? Why cannot the left be criticised?

The pro war movement will have you believe that the freedom is only gained by war and bloodshed. That if you want freedom you have to fight for it.

The pro-war view is irrelevant to my article. But something here is revealing about you. The pro-war movement may have got the notion you mention from the Iraqis wanting liberation, who are overwhelmingly in favour of war. There’s good reason for us to believe that these Iraqis know what they’re talking about.

You haven’t found out what the Iraqis think before involving yourself in actions that would influence their fate.

The Iraqi desiring liberty is a black hole in your mind. This proves my point. The Iraqis are too weak to liberate themselves. The choice is: war and liberation from Saddam’s regime, or no war and the continuation of Saddam’s reign of terror.

You’ve made your choice, but feel entitled to ignore the consequences to the Iraqis you’re claiming to be helping. You presume to know what’s best for the Iraqis without knowing their view.

This kind of behaviour has permeated all of our society, indeed it is the basis of our economy and culture of consumerism. As bleak as this may sound, until we find an answer to curb our own selfishness and greed conflict will always exist and situations like the one we are currently facing will keep popping up.

The first step towards the answer lies in informing yourself of the viewpoint of those affected by your actions. Get to know them as human beings, not as projections of your humanitarian pose.

On the other hand the peaceniks will have you believe that war is to be avoided at all cost but offer no plausible solution. Where have these protesters been hiding for the last 12 years? Where were they when the Kurds were facing genocide? Using John’s example, where were they in the Tampa and SIEV-X incidents?

Agreed.

***

James Woodcock writes:

John makes the same assumptions of many lets-bomb-Iraq cheerleaders. It is simplistic to label all of the 10 million who marched as all being pacifists, leftists and Anti-Americanists.

I did not make this simplistic assumption: Margo Kingston did. In fact, I explicitly wrote: “First, though, the question arises to what extent are “the people” – that imaginary crowd of individuals whose viewpoint is expounded in Margo’s piece, The people’s instinct on the war – representative of the people that actually took to the streets that weekend. To what extent is the portrayal of “the people” a myth, to what extent is it accurate?”

All sorts of people marched. I mentioned two grannies in Fremantle. I had written: “So here are three examples that show how the concept of “the people” is narrower than reality. The reason is that adherents of this concept project a particular moral view onto the world and wrongly claim that “this is the world as it is”: in fact, life is bigger than theory, even antiwar theory.”

He condemns Gabriel Kolko as an apologist for Marxism and Stalinist gulags without further discussion or evidence.

I wrote that the argument will be given in a follow-up article. I’ll mention for now that Kolko’s leftist revisionist worldview is completely clear in at least two passages in the NATO piece.

However in my many attempts to convince people to support a more humane policy for asylum seekers I have found that using cold hard facts to counter the misinformation of the government was the best way to win hearts and minds. I also found I did not get very far with mere assertions that my stance was the morally superior one.

The starting point for my piece was the (initial) mystery of how an Iraqi could feel such despair at watching Western peace protesters. There’s a gulf between people, even in our own country. The world has indeed been torn asunder – but it begins inside people’s heads. It is certainly not the Iraqi’s fault. My argument explains how it happens. It is not an argument for moral superiority, let alone an assertion of it. It just tells it as it is. Unfortunately, you rarely see that in the media these days.

***

David Palmer, speaker at the Adelaide protest, protests:

In no way did I or anyone present endorse Saddam Hussein. Just the opposite.

I did not, however, say that the anti-war marchers that weekend directly endorsed Saddam Hussein. A few neo-nazis certainly would have, as they have done in Europe. As he informs readers of Webdiary, David did, indeed, mention the Iraqi butcher in the speech that he gave. He repeats, too, a line from the Adnan Hassan quote: “On Sunday I watched the peace activists rallying for peace without mentioning my butcher, Hussein.” But just mentioning Saddam Hussein is hardly the point. I had written: “The people” project their own anti-American obsession (in which Saddam Hussein barely exists) onto their image of Iraqis and thereby obliterate the point of view of the Iraqi who seeks liberty. In effect, they have murdered him in their minds.”

David only mentions Saddam Hussein while presuming to know what’s best for the Iraqis:

It will only strengthen the legend of the dictator Saddam Hussein and kill tens of thousands of innocent people. You and your government have already helped destroy the lives of almost half a million children through the UN embargo, but Saddam the dictator is still there…We don’t believe that dropping 4,000 bombs in the first 48 hours – as the Pentagon has announced it will do when Phase 2 of its invasion begins – will liberate the people of Iraq.

But the Iraqis do. Who are you, David, in your chauvinism, to tell the Iraqis what’s good for them? As if you know, and they don’t.

There’s the dose of American obsession, too:

Please explain to us, John, if the Bush administration is so intent on bringing democracy to Iraq why it has only provided $1 million of the $97 million allocated by the US Congress under the Iraqi Liberation Act of 1998? …

The Iraqis don’t care who frees them from Saddam Hussein. They just want to get rid of him.

David – like “the people” – don’t put two and two together. They say they understand how nasty Saddam is; they give lip service to understanding what it’s like to live under a totalitarian regime; and then they think that the Iraqis care who gets rid of Saddam.

But that’s just part of treating people like abstractions. Tampa and SIEV-X all over again. Australia is a country of embedded distance.

John Wojdylo is a sadly misinformed propagandist.

But in his speech to 100,000 people in Adelaide, David quoted the following statistic: You and your government have already helped destroy the lives of almost half a million children through the UN embargo.

He doesn’t mention that the figure of “almost half a million” comes from a joint report by the WHO and the Iraqi Government. I think it’s relevant to know that the report was co-authored by representatives from a totalitarian regime that has a vested interest in exploiting divisions in Western political opinion. Academics like Chomsky are acting in gross violation of academic standards of citation when they keep repeating this figure.

Studies conducted in the Kurdish autonomous region give the lie to the WHO-Iraqi regime’s figure. Child mortality rates are far lower in the Kurdish region than the WHO-Iraqi regime figure, despite Saddam’s use of chemical weapons in genocidal attacks in the late 1980s, and despite the fact that the Kurdish region suffers double sanctions: the UN-sanctions on Iraq, and discriminatory practices by Saddam – with full cooperation from the World Health Organization.

This is not even to state the obvious: that Saddam is responsible for diverting aid away from his people towards building his empire. The Iraqis who desire liberty think so. But David Palmer didn’t bother finding out what they think, before telling 100,000 people in Adelaide what is best for the Iraqis.

“Almost half a million”?

This is propaganda.

* * *

Michael Chong writes:

Most anti-war protesters know Saddam Hussein’s tyrannical hold over Iraqi people will not loosen by itself…

I’m completely sure that just about everybody can tick a box saying, “Iraq: (a) totalitarian dictatorship.” I’m confident that most people, when presented with a list of atrocities Saddam or his henchmen have committed, would nod in agreement that the list is completely credible. But somehow the information remains on the surface, disjointed, doesn’t gel with all their other knowledge.

I’d say our age (since about the 1930s actually, but more so since the rise of the Internet) is characterised by the tons of information people have in their heads. But despite knowing tons of information, people don’t have a feel for what a totalitarian dictatorship is – what it actually feels like inside your body, how it makes your body sick (“Hussein is like a cancer eating away at me every moment of the day.”). Often it’s because of preoccupations (eg the obsession with America) – or maybe preoccupations are projections of the mind as it tries to fill the disjointed gaps: a search for meaning.

Knowledge of people and foreign cultures often remains abstract, somehow unreal.

This is the problem of modernity – Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera. People who could become lovers pass by each other unsuspectingly, because they don’t take the time to get to know what they know. They may also be captive to some preoccupation or other – like Czeslaw Milosz’s captive minds – and stuck inside their own heads, can’t make out the details of factual reality outside.

In any case, what I want to say is that merely having the information in your head does not constitute knowing. Knowing has also something to do with how the information relates to the other things you do, the standing it is given in your contemplations.

Michael Chong goes on to describe the ideal antiwar protester, one that has all the good qualities he wants, and who in his perfection, contradicts the seven anti-war protesters I have answered above.

Even if Michael’s ideal protester was present at the anti-war marches, he or she was not visible. What was overwhelmingly visible was something that led an Australian Iraqi to despair.

Even in presenting his ideal, Michael does not take into account the view of the Iraqi who wants liberation. The point about complexity and unknown consequences he makes is irrelevent to the Iraqi’s knowing that American bombs will liberate him from Saddam’s totalitarian hold on him. Michael is still presuming to know what’s best for the Iraqi. (Adnan Hassan: “I don’t care who rules my country after an invasion as long as there are less jails, less killing.”)

Believing French foreign minister Villepin’s argument that the future is uncertain – that the consequences of getting rid of Saddam are unpredictable – and that therefore one ought not act, requires believing that the Iraqi faces a fate worse than Saddam Hussein following liberation. It requires believing that the Americans are worse than Saddam, or that the risk is not worth taking, and it’s better to leave Saddam in power. If you are by nature a person who cannot take risks, it’s natural that you’ll choose the “no war” option.

If the liberty-desiring Iraqis do not have a prominent place in the contemplation of the problem, the only consistent view is the “me, myself, I view”.

“The policy of war has repeatedly failed to achieve its objectives and has incurred unacceptable risks and costs.”

This is factually wrong, and plays into the hands of dictators. I’m not going to restate basic historical facts here. Also, “global peace” cannot be an aim of war – unless you intend to contemplate “global hegemony”; and so it never was an aim of war. That’s Michael’s superficially noble invention.

In any case, I am not arguing for or against this imminent war. I don’t know why Michael mentions it. My piece is a description of the way things are, not an argument for or against war.

“I don’t believe ignorance and simplemindedness is the appropriate description of the people who find war objectionable on the basis of their personal knowledge.”

Are you telling me that all John Howard has to do to avoid the charge of “ignorance and simplemindedness” is to claim that he favours war on the basis of his personal knowledge? Or that the neo-Stalinist who wants to destroy America can avoid scrutiny by saying he’s acting on the basis of his personal knowledge? I don’t think so. Everybody’s actions are scrutable.

The issue is: where was the display of solidarity with the Iraqis who desire liberty? Where was the apology that this time, we cannot support your quest for liberty? That would have been the honourable thing to do.

But no. The anti-war movement sticks to the deception that it’s doing it for the Iraqis. The reason is simple: They then don’t have to worry about the consequences of their actions, about the fact that if the antiwar protesters were to succeed, Saddam would certainly kill many thousands more Iraqis.

“I also strongly disagree with John’s statement that ‘Australians have no personal experience of evil’. “

Michael cannot seriously contend that evil has had a normative influence on Australian life in general. A few Holocaust survivors, etc, yes. But that’s all. This is what makes Australia an archetypical postmodernist society, where all sorts of things flourish that have no chance elsewhere.

In any case, the main point is not this. The absence of evil as a formative influence on Australians leads to the following: We have never been put in a moral dilemma where we must choose between the lives of loved ones and freedom – where we must win our freedom at the expense of our innocence.

The point is that memory of the experience of making a choice forced by evil makes it easier to imagine the viewpoint of others when they’re in the same situation.

Eastern Europe’s recent history – the strong memory of positive use of American power to counter totalitarianism, and memory of having to win freedom at the expense of the lives of friends and family – is the central reason why the anti-war movement is weak east of Germany. (Kolko is completely wrong, and it’s obvious why.) While half a million protesters turned out in Berlin, and a hundred thousand in Australian cities, only 1,000 turned up in Warsaw, and not many more in Prague.

Germany never had to win its freedom – it had freedom handed to it.

Eastern Europe is vastly different to Australia because of the evil it had to contend with over five decades.

***

I want to make the point that force is often the necessary price of liberation. This is the case in Iraq. It’s just the way it is. But it’s also what the Iraqis think. If you are for the war, you ought to take responsibility for the casualties that would result – but the reward would be liberation of the Iraqis from Saddam.

If you’re against the war, you avoid the casualties of this imminent war, but the Iraqis will be subjected to Saddam’s war against them for years to come. Your choice is your responsibility.

The following article, by Jose Ramos-Horta, East Timor’s minister of foreign affairs, and joint-winner of the Nobel Peace prize in 1996, is pro-war, but it sheds light on the choice facing us, irrespective of whether you’re for or against the war.

Here are some excerpts [see “War for Peace? It Worked in My Country”, New York Times, Feb 25, 2003]:

There is hardly a family in my country that has not lost a loved one. Many families were entirely wiped out during the decades of occupation by Indonesia and the war of resistance against it. The United States and other Western nations contributed to this tragedy. Some bear a direct responsibility because they helped Indonesia by providing military aid. Others were accomplices through indifference and silence. But all redeemed themselves. In 1999, a global peacekeeping force helped East Timor secure its independence and protect its people. It is now a free nation.

But I still acutely remember the suffering and misery brought about by war. It would certainly be a better world if war were not necessary. Yet I also remember the desperation and anger I felt when the rest of the world chose to ignore the tragedy that was drowning my people. We begged a foreign power to free us from oppression, by force if necessary.

So I follow with some consternation the debate on Iraq in the United Nations Security Council and in NATO. I am unimpressed by the grandstanding of certain European leaders. Their actions undermine the only truly effective means of pressure on the Iraqi dictator: the threat of the use of force.

But if the antiwar movement dissuades the United States and its allies from going to war with Iraq, it will have contributed to the peace of the dead. Saddam Hussein will emerge victorious and ever more defiant. What has been accomplished so far will unravel. Containment is doomed to fail. We cannot forget that despots protected by their own elaborate security apparatus are still able to make decisions.

Saddam Hussein has dragged his people into at least two wars. He has used chemical weapons on them. He has killed hundreds of thousands of people and tortured and oppressed countless others. So why, in all of these demonstrations, did I not see one single banner or hear one speech calling for the end of human rights abuses in Iraq, the removal of the dictator and freedom for the Iraqis and the Kurdish people? If we are going to demonstrate and exert pressure, shouldn’t it be focused on the real villain, with the goal of getting him to surrender his weapons of mass destruction and resign from power? To neglect this reality, in favour of simplistic and irrational anti-Americanism, is obfuscating the true debate on war and peace…

Yes, the antiwar movement would be able to claim its own victory in preventing a war. But it would have to accept that it also helped keep a ruthless dictator in power and explain itself to the tens of thousands of his victims.

History has shown that the use of force is often the necessary price of liberation. A respected Kosovar intellectual once told me how he felt when the world finally interceded in his country: “I am a pacifist. But I was happy, I felt liberated, when I saw NATO bombs falling.”

Why the people’s instinct can be wrong

I’ll take up Margo’s invitation in The people’s instinct on the war to answer the following:

 

What’s made the world split asunder over [the impending war]? What’s the really big picture here? What’s at the bottom of the intensity of feelings about it? Any ideas?

First, though, the question arises to what extent are “the people” – that imaginary crowd of individuals whose viewpoint is expounded in Margo’s piece – representative of the people that actually took to the streets that weekend? To what extent is the portrayal of “the people” a myth, to what extent is it accurate?

I believe it’s possible that some of the people who tagged along imagined they were mourning the victims of the imminent war in advance, without subscribing to any of the views of “the people”. Or without asserting anything – not even “I am against the imminent war”. Simply just mourning in advance.

Others would have rejected “the people’s instinct” and actually acknowledged the good the war would do, while also mourning in advance. They would have brushed off the ubiquitous messages to the contrary as an irritation, as constant noise that interfered with their private requiem.

I think it’s something of a national characteristic that some Australians just do things for private reasons, despite what everyone around them is doing and what the official purpose of an event is. Just the fact that a lot of people are to be mobilised on the same day, and the focus is on the imminent war in Iraq, is enough to agitate a person’s thoughts.

That’s about it, though, for the legitimate moral reasons – as I see it – for people to gather in this way on or near the occasion of a war of this kind, given the Iraqi reality. The other reasons for demonstrating, particularly in the light of the way it was actually done, cause the world to be torn asunder. My purpose is to explain this view.

One more view not held by “the people” would have been manifested by a tiny minority of demonstrators: As in Europe, especially Germany, where the movement is relatively strong in support of Arabs generally and Saddam Hussein in particular (this is surprising, but only on the surface), there were undoubtedly neo-nazis present in the Australian marches hoping for Saddam’s victory – meaning survival – and an American downfall.

So here are three examples that show how the concept of “the people” is narrower than reality. The reason is that adherents of this concept project a particular moral view onto the world and wrongly claim that “This is the world as it is”: In fact, life is bigger than theory, even antiwar theory. “The people” would find preposterous the near certainty that neo-nazis were present amongst their number at the antiwar rallies in Australia. Reality is stranger than theory.

Of course, we’re lucky enough to be living in a democracy in which we have the right to express more or less whatever we want. As with Tampa and SIEV-X, Australians are quite free to express all aspects of our national character, even abhorrent ones.

I want to explain why it’s possible to get the same sick feeling from the antiwar protests as with Tampa and SIEV-X. It’s not because of the neo-nazis, but the mainstream protesters – “the people”. Even the elderly, some of whom walked because they were sick of war and fighting, and were concerned for their grandchildren. The feeling is that of Australia selling her soul.

The feeling has nothing to do with whether one believes the imminent war is morally right or wrong. It has something to do with the way the protests were done.

It has a lot to do with our ability to recognize and accept responsibility for the consequences of our actions, especially our negative choices. The way we make sense of a foreign event such as the Iraqi crisis directly affects the kind of society forming around us through the sum of actions of people like us.

A repeat of the mistake Australians made with Tampa and SIEV-X was always on the cards because – as I will demonstrate – an inalienable part of both the pure leftist and pure pacifist positions is a denial of individual freedom, especially if winning this freedom requires the help of “imperialist” or capitalist forces (in the former case) or risk of loss of life (latter case). This denial occurs in a way that people aren’t normally used to thinking about. It nevertheless happens: It’s very real.

The critical point is that as they pursue their own ideological ends, adherents of these positions obliterate knowledge of the individual’s condition. Their moral failure lies in this obliteration – not in their apparent inadvertent support for a dictator.

Long before accepting this freedom-desiring individual as a kindred spirit – which you’d think is natural, considering we live in a country that supposedly loves liberty – committed leftists do everything in their power to stymie the forces that could give this individual what he or she wants. This has the practical effect of prolonging the reign of even the dictator who has caused the death of two million.

Today, we’re seeing the most extreme application in history of the words of Sir Stafford Cripps, a prominent left-wing member of the British Labour Party in the 1930s:

We believe Imperialism with its competition, exploitation and aggression to be an unjust and evil basis for a society of nations. We cannot, therefore, support wars – whatever excuses may be made for them – the objective of which is to perpetuate the system we not only dislike but which we believe to be the fundamental cause of war.

Cripps’s error lay in failing to recognise that ideas are contagious, that fascism is a system as much as the “Imperialism” he hated, and that a fascist dictator rarely lives in isolation: He easily attracts unscrupulous allies. Jorg Haider and Russian ultra-nationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky have made several trips to Baghdad to meet Saddam Hussein. Haider even appeared in a long al-Jazeera interview in which at one point he labelled the genocide of the Kurds a “rumour”. Of course, we don’t know what went on at these meetings – perhaps these were no more than mutual moral support sessions between friends.

Cripps did support wars if they were (ostensibly) not in the cause of capitalism or imperialism. Today, he would perhaps be a supporter of a strictly UN-sanctioned war – though if a UN veto favoured imperialism by a smaller country, then his position would be shown to be inconsistent and his assertion that he supports justice for all a self-delusion – just as it has always been with the Leninists and Marxists. The antiwar obsession of the British Labour Party subsided after Mussolini invaded Abyssinia in 1935, at which point the party’s foreign policy was altered to reflect the fascist threat.

Preoccupation with the figurehead of the forces determined to neutralise the dictator’s power, and failure to take seriously the desires of the victim of totalitarian oppression, makes it seem that it is the dictator who is the kindred spirit of the leftists and pacifists. The sum of their actions always go towards helping him out.

George Orwell in the 1940s may have been the first to write this observation in English. But he didn’t explain it. This Webdiary piece develops George Orwell’s view. Of course, nothing I write is truly new. It’s just that all of it seems to have been forgotten.

I’m saying that when they claim it is unintentional, they’re not being completely honest: True, they’re not directly intending this consequence, but a destructive intention certainly exists.

The position of the committed pacifist, on the other hand, is an excuse for the status quo. It contradicts itself because it excuses violence in the past. For example, Mohandas Ghandi’s support for Palestine was an excuse for the violent conquest of the land by Arabs a century or more before. As I explained in Saddam’s Desire for Genocide, Ghandi’s philosophy excuses empire-building and genocide. When the Jews were faced with extermination by the Nazis, Ghandi advised them to turn the other cheek and thereby preserve their righteousness.

If the status quo is to be preserved through pacifism, why should I not build as great an empire as I can starting now, before the political effect of pacifism makes expanding my empire impossible? Unsurprisingly, some pacifists have through the years been attracted to French empire-building through diplomacy, which has always had elements of betrayal and collaboration with dictators.

The above outline of ideologies has been fleshed out solidly in modern history, and later (in Part 2) I’ll expand on them in the context of the Iraq crisis. For now, I’ll just cite George Orwell, from his Notes on Nationalism (May, 1945):

Pacifist propaganda usually boils down to saying that one side is as bad as the other, but if one looks closely at the writings of younger intellectual pacifists, one finds that they do not by any means express impartial disapproval but are directed almost entirely against Britain and the United States.

Moreover they do not as a rule condemn violence as such, but only violence used in defence of western countries. The Russians, unlike the British, are not blamed for defending themselves by warlike means, and indeed all pacifist propaganda of this type avoids mention of Russia or China.

It is not claimed, again, that the Indians should abjure violence in their struggle against the British. [JW: Or nowadays, that the Palestinians should, against the Israelis.] Pacifist literature abounds with equivocal remarks which, if they mean anything, appear to mean that statesmen of the type of Hitler are preferable to those of the type of Churchill, and that violence is perhaps excusable if it is violent enough.

The world being “split asunder” is nothing new. In this essay, though, I’m focussing on the moral picture – what exactly is being torn? How does it happen?

My personal view is that the process of splitting asunder is caused by the forms that the human mind is prone to taking, the form a mind takes despite itself. Present-day resonances with these immutable logical forms – which are as real as the antiwar movement – explain why “the people” are so easily distracted by conspiracies about the Americans while paying virtually no attention to – and having little understanding of – the role of Saddam Hussein in the life of the Iraqi who thirsts for freedom.

Regarding “the people’s instinct”, I cannot agree with what it is purported to be. The Volksgeist can imbue an individual with any instinct – but in the case of the imminent war on Iraq, it is probably a confluence of unexamined fears that renders the individual easily manipulable towards making dreadful mistakes.

Instinct cannot resolve the terrible moral dilemma faced by the Iraqi desiring freedom. The final step has got to be an act of human will, because the situation is far outside the bounds of what is met in everyday life, especially in the West. The Westerner’s instinct shies away from understanding this Iraqi, from sympathising with him or her, from taking stock of this Iraqi’s existence at all. The elderly couple in Fremantle, Western Australia, for example, who walked because they were sick of war and fighting, and were concerned for their grandchildren, had no feelings at all for the Iraqi desiring freedom, even though their actions were contributing to keeping a regime in power that makes most Iraqi lives miserable.

It’s worth recalling that “the people’s instinct” was manipulated in the events surrounding Tampa and the SIEV-X catastrophe to the advantage of unscrupulous, power-seeking opportunists. The gut feeling of even a seeming majority of Australians can be dreadfully wrong.

Even a great literary and scientific nation such as Germany can become thoroughly corrupt and get a deep gut feeling that is abhorrent in hindsight. The Volksgeist drove half a million to protest in Berlin; and now 53 percent of Germans cannot tell the difference between a man who has perpetrated genocide on his own citizens and caused the death of at least two million, and a figurehead who has committed the lives of two hundred thousand of his nation’s sons and daughters to neutralise his power. This is extremely disturbing, because the view minimises the danger of fascism while blaming the world’s problems on those that fight fascism.

The vehemence of the obsession with the figurehead is stunning. An anti-personality cult has been set in motion around the world – it vilifies Bush, while the fact remains that a team plans US policy, not an individual. The team members with few exceptions have the opposite traits for which Bush is vilified. Valid criticisms of the Bush administration can be made, but we hardly ever hear them.

Dangerous, politically ambiguous chauvinism has been around for a century or more. Here’s an example. In May 1944, just before D-Day, at the height of the Nazi dictatorship in France (perpetrated by the collaborating Vichy government), Hubert Beuve-Mery, future founder and director of Le Monde, wrote (and meant it):

The Americans constitute a real danger for France, a danger that is quite different to that which Nazi Germany menaces us with, or the danger the Russians could threaten us with. The Americans could well stop us from starting a necessary revolution, and their materialism does not even have the grandeur tragique of the materialism of the totalitarian regimes. While they uphold a true cult of liberty, they do not feel the need to free themselves from the servitudes that are part and parcel of their capitalism. [Quoted in: “The Anti-American Obsession”, Jean-Francois Revel, 2002]

Similar “third way” sentiments – as well as orthodox pro-communist views – were expressed during World War II in the Stalin-initiated socialist resistance movement, the National Army, which comprised about 10 percent of the entire anti-German resistance in Poland. The difference in Poland, however, is that communists came to power after the war, and the misguided “moderate” socialists were swept away after betraying mainstream Polish military: they’d fought for an illusion. This led, for one thing, to the murder of several thousand Polish military and intellectuals, who had fought for the Home Army, by the Russians immediately after the war. (This was after Katyn. The Katyn murders – in which 20,000 Polish officers and intellectuals were murdered by the Russians, occurred in 1941.)

With the Americans now seemingly opting for eventual extended military occupation of Iraq, it is worth mentioning that according to Revel, the political left was against the Marshall plan in Europe, as it considered the plan a neo-colonialist and imperialist manoeuvre on the part of the United States. Half a century later, with leftist opposition to planned American occupation of Iraq, little has changed. After WWII, the left wanted a Marshall plan for Africa instead. If the left had got its way at the expense of the Americans, Germany would have been an economic backwater today.

“The people’s instinct” is probably a confluence of unexamined fears that renders the individual easily manipulable towards making dreadful mistakes, for it cannot guide the will in the crucial final step when this involves a terrible moral (or other) dilemma. In my next column, I’ll show how “the people” (remember, I’ve defined this specifically) – having lost the ability to drive out the demons awoken by these unexamined fears, with science, logic and history – are captive in a hell of their own making. Moreover, instead of seeing the thing as it is, they are distracted by side-issues that – although often important in their own right – are not the most important thing. My aim is not to vilify or confront, but to diagnose, clarify, and offer a way out.

For now, I’ll just outline the main points, leaving the factual back up to my next column. “The people” have lost the passion for knowledge and the necessary patience for precision, and they steal certitude that neither they nor anyone else are entitled to. Just these one or two failures are enough to kick off a chain of imprecision and false certitude, like Chinese whispers happening inside their head, which causes an evolving view to diverge ever further from reality until it reaches one of a few plateaux that are familiar to all of us. Reality checks don’t work, as new facts are overwhelmingly used to confirm neurotic fears rather than explode them.

In what matters most, “the people” have retreated from the world of documented fact into a world of congealed phantasms. They project their rationalisations and obliterate reality rather than expound on reality. Of course, “the people” are not the only ones who can suffer from this, but the subject here is Iraq, and I’m focussing on recent actions of “the people”.

The historians among them falsify history and stubbornly never apologise for teaching falsehoods or for damaging the education of generations of students and other readers. Even after overwhelming documentary evidence of the true state of affairs becomes available, these historians continue disseminating their old views, hence become historical revisionists.

For example, leftist historical revisionists still cannot come to grips with the evil of the Soviet communist state: They deny it, and falsify particular events to make the reality fit their view. Every observation they make of the Iraqi crisis is corrupted by this skewed vision; they simply cannot be trusted, and since their arguments are superficial, they have little (but not nothing) of value to offer the reader who seeks clarity. Gabriel Kolko, in The crisis in NATO: A geopolitical earthquake?, for decades a hero of Marxist falsification and apologies for Stalin’s gulags, is one such historian.

George Orwell wrote about this, too, in the early 1940s. The condition is still thriving in 2003. These are not just randomly repeated discoveries: Ideas have a life of their own. They get rediscovered and perpetuated from generation to generation. Although such a notion is generally considered alien in Australia, it is no less true because of it.

Are the protesters innocent? Or are they morally blameworthy? I believe the latter is certainly the case. How exactly have they caused the world to be torn asunder?

It must be emphasised that apart from the neo-nazis, none of the protesters would have wanted Saddam Hussein to win. They do, after all, have a feeling for peace that they were promoting, even if it was expressed as vilification of Bush. Moreover, consideration of the potential victims of the imminent war was certainly a part of their protest, even if their conception ignored the view of the Iraqi seeking liberation.

But it is easy to be appalled at violence, especially when it hasn’t happened yet and everybody fears the worst, and especially in Australia, where governments are increasingly promoting an image of being keepers of order, at a time when being seen to be tough on crime is a vote-winner. It is much harder for “the people” to come to terms with the dilemma faced by Iraqis who dream of freedom.

Furthermore, the protesters would have been appalled if it were explained to them that their action was subsequently used by the dictator and his henchmen to prop up the totalitarian regime oppressing the Iraqi people – by buying time and waiting for public support in the USA and Britain to collapse, a tactic Saddam announced in an Egyptian newspaper interview back in January. Saddam’s plan has been falling into place ever since.

Saddam’s tactic seems to be working, with extreme pressure recently having been placed by their electorates on the prime ministers of Britain and Spain, Tony Blair and Jose Maria Aznar, following the French and German-led revival of the worldwide antiwar movement.

Nevertheless, protesters that wash their hands of responsibility for handing Saddam the initiative would be acting dishonestly. They would be denying their culpability (ie unintentional causation) in the same way that many Australians, having supported the unscrupulous opportunists on the Tampa and SIEV-X issues, deny responsibility for the self-mutilation of asylum seekers in Australian concentration camps. These denialists think every man is an island. We’re far away from Iraq, why should our actions have any influence there? (Similarly: we’re far from Iraq, why should it be Australia’s problem?) But the distance we imagine between us and Iraq is mirrored in the distance between fellow Australians.

Perhaps Australia’s landscape is a strong influence, embedding distance between human beings. Or perhaps it’s our relatively comfortable existence influences our worldview.

The protesters – or, at least, “the people”, because their view is what I have on paper before me – are without doubt morally blameworthy.

The reason lies not in the fact that Saddam Hussein was able to use their protest towards his own goals, but in their wilful promotion of – and wilful neglect in permitting – the long gradual process of forgetting – the “Chinese whispers process” – of the point of view of the Iraqi who thirsts for liberty. “The people” have driven this Iraqi from their mind, so their naive and dreadfully misconceived protest became thinkable. In the end, if Hans Blix does his job well, then it probably won’t matter to Saddam Hussein. But it will always matter to the Iraqis who watched the protesters and despaired – those who call Australia “home”, and now wonder what sort of society can so passionately ignore the victims of totalitarianism who long for freedom.

“The people” have rendered themselves incapable of acting (eg holding a demonstration) in full knowledge of that other human being’s viewpoint.

Worse, that human being’s viewpoint – who is supposed to be our kindred spirit, is he not? – is obliterated in the minds of “the people”; for example, by promoting myths such as he or she hates the Americans so much that he or she will fight for Saddam Hussein and not against him. “The people” naturally believe that Iraqis will willingly fight to save Saddam’s totalitarianism – if they had it in their mind that Iraqis want to fight with the Americans against Saddam, then they would be confronted with the unsavoury truth that their antiwar protest is denying individual liberty.

They would be confronted with the logical consequence of their negative choice: they are the ones responsible for keeping Saddam in power, for the murder of countless Iraqis by his henchmen in the years until the fall of his regime. Whether you agree with the war or not, this is the consequence of the success of the protests’ aims. From being obliterated in the minds of “the people”, the viewpoint of the Iraqi desiring liberty is obliterated in reality.

The anti-American Iraqi myth is useful because it allows protesters to feel comfortable in stopping the march to war. They don’t have to worry about the consequences of their actions.

I emphasise that although “the people” support Saddam implicitly, this is not why they are morally blameworthy. On this count, they are culpable, but not blameworthy.

The morally blameworthy act occurs when “the people” project their own anti-American obsession (in which Saddam Hussein barely exists) onto their image of Iraqis and thereby obliterate the point of view of the Iraqi who seeks liberty. In effect, they have murdered him in their minds.

They lose touch with his or her reality – but that reality is what we ought to be considering seriously, regardless of whether we’re marching in an antiwar protest or chanting “Death to Saddam”. “The people” create a myth that helps them accept the consequences of their worldview painlessly. Where is the pain that goes with peace? Don’t worry, the Iraqi is already suffering it.

This twisted Australian vision is held despite the received notion that Australia is supposed to be a nation that upholds liberty. The Iraqis do not exist anymore as people who long for the things we take for granted. “The people” have repeated the morally blameworthy act perpetrated by those who used Tampa and the SIEV-X catastrophe for their own ends.

To sum up, then, these last two years have been an extraordinarily difficult time to be an Australian. Twice already, the 21st century has exposed deep flaws in the Australian character. Of course, Australia is not uniquely afflicted with these problems; but historical, geographical, demographic and other factors conspire to make them particularly pronounced here.

In this period, two devastating bushfires have swept across the Australian societal landscape, each in turn reinforcing the great Australian inability to imagine in any depth the lot of a stranger, each dividing the world into us and outsiders, whereby what in each case is accepted as “us and ours” is elevated to a special status through heightened familiarity, to the exclusion of the other.

The outsiders are thought of in myth-like ways, images of them are somewhat unreal, because the image of “the other” is a projection of what is necessary for “us” to uphold “our” image of “ourselves”: It has no basis in reality, and its effect is ultimately to falsify and oppress human beings.

The first Australian catastrophe was the assertion of State power – feeding and fed by nationalist paranoia – over human decency; the second, as we have now seen, is the assertion of a pose of international solidarity, in a movement of vilification of a figurehead – feeding and fed by self-seeking neurosis ostensibly in the name of justice.

Both are ultimately inward-looking. Both, as George Orwell wrote, are forms of nationalist isolationism, despite the latter’s internationalist pose.

Like Ghandi, their proponents in each case excuse empire-building – and empire builders and dictators are their kindred spirits. Chirac is now celebrated as a hero, even though it is because of him that Radovan Karadzic – who ordered the first concentration camps to be built in Europe since the Nazis built theirs – is still free in the Respublika Srpska; and even though Chirac, “Africa’s godfather”, is engaging in imperialism of his own in Africa and the Arab countries, at the expense of NATO and the European Union. That’s an enormous price to pay for megalomania.

At least one other person saw what I saw, knows what I know, thought some of my thoughts that weekend. He is “Adnan Hassan” (pseudonym), an Iraqi refugee living in Australia:

On Sunday I watched the peace activists rallying for peace without mentioning my butcher, Hussein.

They marched alongside Hussein’s activists, I saw them very clearly. I watched the Greens seeking votes. I watched Labor seeking leadership. I watched the Democrats trying to save their sinking party. I did not see John Howard marching, but he too is serving his own interests.

I don’t care if this war is for oil or not. I didn’t get any advantage from oil under Hussein and if it goes to the US, who cares?

My only wish is for the sinking ship of Iraq to be saved. We tried very hard to save ourselves but we couldn’t. All the nation rebelled in 1991, but was put down brutally, right before America’s eyes. Hussein has survived more than 20 assassination attempts.

“I looked to the Iraqi opposition groups to unite so they could form a government after an invasion. There is not much hope of that either.

“I don’t care who rules my country after an invasion as long as there are less jails, less killing. (Feb 20, theaustralian)

The committed leftist and the committed pacifist reel away from the human desires expressed here, because here is an implicit blessing for war. But this is what the Iraqi thirsting for liberty wants – because he knows that alone, the opposition groups are no match for the totalitarian regime.

The antiwar movement sees itself criticized here for its selfishness, and tries desperately to subvert the point of view of liberation: The article is a “fake”, or the author was “paid” to write it by a Murdoch newspaper, or the author is simply “misguided”, or “this refugee is only one voice, the Iraqis don’t want to be liberated”. Accordingly, a more realistic road to liberation exists, guided by the phantasms of those who have never had to fight for it. In their hearts, antiwar protesters deny the freedom people like Adnan desire.

The antiwar protesters – ten million around the world – ought to have apologized to Iraqis and offered their condolences that this time they cannot support liberty in Iraq; that they have chosen to block action that would free Iraqis.

Then they should have been ashamed of themselves.

Adnan Hassan has a personal stake, he faces a moral dilemma of a kind that no Australian has ever had to:

Hussein is like a cancer eating away at me every moment of the day. If I say no to war, Hussein will stay and his cancer will kill me. If I say yes, my relatives and friends may be among the civilian casualties. I have no choice. That is why I feel the most unfortunate person on the face of the earth. That is why I wept.

“The people” have not come to terms with the fact that Iraqis can desire liberation; that Iraqis face this horrific dilemma; and that Iraqis can choose war, on the side of the Americans, in full knowledge of the consequences.

I repeat an essential point of my argument: I have been focussing on the quality of “the people’s” moral choice, not on the rights and wrongs of a war.

Like Tampa and SIEV-X, the antiwar marches expose gaps in Australians’ ability to function as moral people, which means as people who can imagine the lot of another and do the right thing of their own free will. There’s room for improvement. Australia’s only hope for the future is if enough people find the will to improve. Otherwise Tampas and concentration camps for asylum seekers will keep recurring.

Australians have no personal experience of evil. A few experienced Bali, but that was over very quickly. We may experience bad things, but these can always be relied upon to transmute into something good, or at least tolerable. Tolerable means something that can be shunted off away from sight, dealt with “on the fly” as we focus on more urgent private concerns. Evil has always been merely an irritation that we could push out of our minds at will, allowing us to concentrate on our business – ourselves, our family, our city, our state, our country – in peace. This is our privilege in our free country.

Peace. Peace of mind.

We have never had to live under a totalitarian regime whose ruler has a will to win at any cost, a will to create theatre of any intricacy. Our naivety makes us credulous of Saddam’s theatre – as if naturalism must contain truth – and incredulous of Bush’s theatre – as if surrealism cannot contain truth.

We have never been put in a moral dilemma where we must choose between the lives of loved ones and freedom – where we must win our freedom at the expense of our innocence.

The antiwar protesters are in fact protesting for their own innocence – the cause is self-interest.

The moral dilemma faced by people like Adnan is not our dilemma. Coming to the aid of a liberation movement cannot be the moral justification for this imminent war. Our dilemma is something else.

A valid justification for war must focus on neutralising the threat of Saddam Hussein, this latest appearance of fascism, which can make strange bedfellows at any time – like the Nazis and the Japanese, and the Nazis and some Arabs, both in World War II and now. If the war is just, then it ought to be triggered after the “Rais” (the “Fuehrer”, as Saddam Hussein is called in Iraq) refuses to prove his good intentions to the international community. But the justification for the imminent war requires a completely different argument than the one I have given in this essay, and has nothing to do with it.

Nevertheless, I’ll note that even if “the people” ceased vilifying the enemy of the dictator, and used documented facts to understand the existence of Saddam, they cannot go so far as that sequence of thoughts that would categorically imply only one course of action: the course of action that says we must stop him by force.

For the people’s instinct – probably even will – is to avoid this path at all costs, avoid categorical conclusions, find ways to convince themselves that this conclusion which merely seems categorical can be safely subverted.

Because maiming or killing at their hands is impossible to contemplate. Because they have never come to terms with the risks and sacrifices necessary for freedom – which here means that the Iraqi’s dream of liberation cannot be central in their considerations. The world must therefore be torn asunder, into two camps: “us” and “the stranger”.

The intellectual holocaust in our universities has just begun

With the Australian public distracted by Iraq, the time may be ripe for the Howard government to start putting into effect the revolutionary changes in the tertiary sector it has been contemplating.

University reforms will certainly be on the agenda at the meeting of ministers on February 24-25. The meeting is “part of a system inaugurated last year for twice-yearly planning sessions to talk about ‘whole of government’ issues” (Michelle Grattan, The AgetheageFeb13).

Perhaps this was also on the minds of Peter Dawkins and Paul Kelly when they wrote their joint article, “Support Knowledge” (The AustraliantheaustralianFeb4):

Higher education has been an area of policy disappointment and political aggravation for the Howard Government. Its first term was marked by cuts in higher education funding and its second term by a failure to tackle funding and structural reform.

The appointment of a new minister, Brendan Nelson, after the 2001 election signalled a belated effort to improve Australia’s university system. He knows that the status quo is unsustainable.

Their article is steeped in an ominous mood for change and attempts to persuade readers as much as inform them. Under the banner of “supporting knowledge” – an ideal that every thinking Australian feels drawn to – and quoting a number of sources, Dawkins and Kelly lay the groundwork for how the status quo ought to be changed.

Some of the sources correctly identify insufficient private sector investment in universities (eg through joint R&D projects) as a major area of concern. We know this happened following drastic decreases in federal funding since 1996: The private sector has failed to fill the gap, and one result is that “resources are inadequate for undergraduate teaching”, as Peter Karmel so dispassionately put it.

What strikes me about much of the tertiary sector debate in Australia is the careful avoidance of calling a spade a spade. It seems that pseudo-objectivity is meant to facilitate rational debate, but instead guarantees that whatever solution is decided, it will always lie in between the reality, so the root of the problem is never addressed, just passed on further down the line.

Politics and objectivity are irredeemably mixed here, with the solution already contained in the language used for the debate.

Ian Macfarlane, of the Reserve Bank of Australia, tells it more bluntly. He is also quoted in the article. You just wonder how his observation of a national catastrophe could be mollified in the bureaucratic hyper-reality of the rest of the article, as if an automatic assumption by all parties displaying this relativism is that any one man’s observation of general catastrophe contains enough figments of his imagination to justify relativising it out of existence. There are always mitigating circumstances for those who feel the need to avert their gaze.

In reality, the opinion that stamps its mark on everything is that of the federal government, which holds ultimate power in the tertiary sector. The proponents in the debate are merely jostling for position before their audience with the government. Under no circumstances may one step on another’s toes by speaking of the catastrophe at universities: the argument would be too strong if it were accepted as true, and would stymie other parties’ ambitions for a piece of the tertiary sector pie. Therefore it must be diluted in advance. Talk of catastrophe is downright rude and un-Australian.

Macfarlane had said:

The Vice-Chancellor of Melbourne University made the assessment that Australia no longer has a university ranking in the world’s top 100. I have no reason to dispute his opinion as I have heard similar views from other academics. It is imperative for all involved in higher education – governments, bureaucrats, academics and their spokespersons, taxpayers and businesses – to tackle this assessment. It may elicit the old catchcry of ‘elitism’; but far better that than a complacency permitting higher education to slip further.

The same observation was repeated – though with mollified bureaucratic obfuscation again – this week in The Age (Academic standards at risk: study):

Australia’s Group of Eight elite universities believe a new study shows Australia is now at risk of lagging behind the rest of the world in tertiary education.

The Productivity Commission’s International Comparisons of University Resourcing report released today was a useful contribution to the current higher education debate, Go8 president John Hay said.

“It reveals a university sector at risk of lagging behind the rest of the world,” Professor Hay said.

“While the Productivity Commission warns readers not to draw conclusions from the comparisons it makes in its report, it is clear that, on many measures of performance, Australia’s universities are falling behind their international competitors…”

Professor Hay said the report provided a valuable snapshot of 11 Australian universities and 26 international universities drawn from nine countries. “However, an analysis of the university funding trends across the countries surveyed tells the true story.”

The headline says: “Academic standards at risk”. Absolute rubbish. Academic standards in Australia have fallen through the bottom. Here, politeness is propagating a lie.

Ian Macfarlane does not give a feel for the scale of the academic dissent, the near-universal awareness of disaster. It is not just one vice-chancellor here, a professor there. You could hear this view from hundreds, if not thousands, of academics.

Kelly and Dawkins trace out the happy, sanitised medium of their fossicking:

Overall, there appears to be a series of shared principles: that universities become more autonomous; that such autonomy must involve greater revenue-raising scope; that the goals of international excellence and equity be advanced simultaneously; that universities should evolve with more specialisation within institutions and diversity across the sector; that greater public funding is necessary but insufficient to address current inadequacies; that improved undergraduate teaching and a stronger research base are essential; that HECS is the mechanism to deliver student equity and greater private source revenue; and that the shift towards more market-based principles be limited by government price caps and an overall regulatory responsibility.

The article in The Age tells us how far management bureaucrats have taken us with their eyes set on the ever-more-distant mirage of “goals of international excellence”. In fact, over the last decade, they have presided over an intellectual catastrophe in Australian universities.

I do not believe it is an exaggeration to note that this is a classic example of the historical pattern of revolution: goal-oriented, theoretical frameworks are imposed from above with ignorance of the decimation perpetrated at ground level. The devastation is explained away as a necessary step in the path towards future salvation.

No, it is not Marxism. On the contrary, in Australia we have been seeing the management cultural revolution.

Given the failure of the private sector to fill the financial crisis that has arisen particularly since 1996, one might wonder if there isn’t something more basic at work here that Paul Kelly, Peter Dawkins and a few of the commentators they cite are not letting on (or are not aware of).

Some might judge, for instance, that minimalist fiscal policy is fatally unsuited to Australian conditions. Perhaps there is something dreadfully wrong with the economic paradigm that is being applied to education thinking in Australia, with such disastrous results.

The jargon of this paradigm informs and constrains the debate, including the article by Dawkins and Kelly – their entire worldview is limited by it. So too the world-views of the power brokers in the education debate in Australia.

The Howard government acted ideologically correctly in severing a significant portion of its lifeline to the tertiary sector, hoping that the invisible hand would rise to the occasion, but instead found that Australian values (eg managerial suspicion of clever, “merely theoretical” solutions) apropos knowledge precluded closer interaction between the private sector and universities.

Perhaps Australian society is sending a message that universities aren’t really necessary in our country, that we can get by without being clever?

The government tried a free market experiment, and here we have the result. Clear as day.

But no: even the staunchest neo-liberalist cannot accept the evident rejection of universities – after all, he or she was most probably educated at university – and, accepting as a fait accompli that government funding cannot be reinstated to previous levels (plus an allowance for inflation and increased staff-student ratios), the neo-liberalist will claim that the free market experiment was too limited, had flaws, should be extended, universalised, more closely supervised.

Sounds like Marxist apologists following the fall of the Soviet Union – Marxism was never really given a chance.

Both the private sector and universities will have to be educated to view things differently, with a view to changing their natures. Mainly, though – because this, too, is the nature of the matter – universities will have to move closer to industry for the required proliferation of ties to be established.

This is the main gist of the article by Dawkins and Kelly; for buried in their lofty rhetoric, such as “an emerging consensus in Australia” – ie “the [importance of the] nexus between investment in the knowledge economy and national economic performance” – are the same pure, short-term utilitarian values that have permeated university culture since Labor minister John Dawkins’s reforms a decade ago.

In their article, not a single mention is made of the devastation wreaked on the humanities, as well as on the pure sciences and mathematics, in the last decade by the cultural revolution led by management ideologues. Where do these human endeavours fit in in the flea market of the “knowledge economy”?

No space exists in the imaginations of the reformists for institutes of philosophy, history, classics and music – to name just a few – even though ever since the Renaissance, these fields have played a major role in the development of our – Western – culture.

Western culture is rationalizing itself out of existence, destroying its own memory of itself. It is transforming itself into a universalised, globalised husk of economic exchange value.

Given the self-centred utilitarian imperatives advocated – at least in the language used – by all the commentators quoted by Kelly and Dawkins, the question arises, who is going to pay for those pillars of human (and self) knowledge that cannot be immediately bartered as economic goods, if not the federal government, which is supposed to be entrusted with the well-being of our education system?

If Dawkins and Kelly truly supported knowledge, they would also support the type of knowledge that cannot be immediately cashed in for the benefit of “national economic performance”.

The funding for these must come from a pool established for the public good: ie the federal government.

I’m not talking about basket-weaving courses that have proliferated at universities under the inspiration of John Dawkins and ever since, but the pillars of western culture, which have been devastated in Australia.

There are undoubtedly other fields that are on the verge of extinction that we would desire keeping. Are the decision-makers aware of which ones these are? The problem is, in the sanitised bureaucratic relativism, the danger never seems real, so the issue never comes up.

The reality contradicts the vision of the revolutionaries.

Australia in the last decade has lost world authorities in fields too numerous to mention, and is in serious risk of losing most of the rest. Why should the world’s leading authority on Alexander the Great, for example, remain in Australia any longer, when the rest of his department has been decimated?

Does the Australian public care? The Australian public is not even aware of the intellectual holocaust perpetrated in Australian universities over the last decade. Somehow the news has not penetrated the fog of government propaganda, bureaucratic obfuscation and media disinterest. Australians would be outraged if they knew what was happening.

Considering the big picture – which the utilitarians have cut themselves off from – contrary to the hopes of the reformists, the focus on utilitarian values rather than free inquiry guarantees that the economic benefits will be relatively small-scale.

With the extinguishing of much fundamental research at maths and physics departments around Australia, and the push for fragmentation into applied, technological areas, Australia is losing the ability to discover new concepts and new paradigms.

This means we will forever be locked into figuring out better ways of designing, say, circuits for electronic gadgets, but we will never discover new paradigms of technology, something like the successor to the mobile phone.

Even if somebody did, the resources would not be present to support the development. Australia is digging her own grave – for this reason, apart from a tiny number of exceptions, the country has become a technological backwater.

Utilitarian values are fundamentally backward looking because they encourage fragmentation. As the philosopher Thomas Kuhn and many others have noted, free inquiry is the foundation of scientific progress.

Healthy humanities departments are a sign that a nation values free inquiry – and that society does not just grab at short-term material gain, but values knowledge, which actually means mastering the process of acquiring solid, well-founded knowledge. The benefits of this flow across all fields of endeavour.

Nations that value free inquiry will reap the economic benefits of owning the intellectual rights to new technological paradigms. That’s where the real money is. The federal government has its eyes set on peanuts.

* * *

1. The Next Step in Howard’s Revolution?

After Labor’s John Dawkins departed, Howard accelerated university reforms drastically. We are now at a point where a new level of severity may be set in motion. What might Howard’s revolution look like? How bold will he be?

The noises coming from reformists are entirely utilitarian, and are stuck in an economic (rather than a broader civil) paradigm. The reforms will be impregnated with the values of those who conceived them: an economic order will be imposed on universities even more drastic than at present.

Paul Kelly and Peter Dawkins cite University of Melbourne vice-chancellor Alan Gilbert: The aim is to revitalise universities as more autonomous and accountable institutions.

Peter Karmel is cited as saying: Centralised government planning that dominates the sector must be dismantled to allow each institution to determine its destiny.

All this sounds fairly innocuous. But to an observer of university reforms in Europe, particularly in Austria in 2002, it is all too familiar.

We can anticipate other aspects of the coming Australian university reforms. Universities will be brought closer to the private sector to make them more “useful” for industry. Universities will have to be less “cerebral” and more applied. Management ideologues would find very attractive a restructuring in the tertiary sector that forces, for instance, extensive top-down allocation of scientific or technological tasks to universities by a higher body such as the education ministry.

After all, in the last decade (at least), company heads have purged democratic elements and imposed despotic in-house regimes that abrogate basic rights in a way that would be outrageous if imposed on an entire nation. Company structures are anti-democratic.

If Howard is really bold, he will go the whole way with the reform and impose a power structure that facilitates quick and effective imposition of government will.

He would put a vertical power structure in place whereby the federal government will have direct influence, in principle, on all functions of the university, which will enable it to force the assimilation process between the private sector and universities. This will be done under the banner of boosting national productivity while solving the university funding crisis. And, of course, “supporting knowledge” and “goals of international excellence”.

The reforms could therefore have the character of a bloody purge, with government henchmen appointed to strategic positions, while entrenching a compliant majority in the most important university governing bodies.

Does this sound impossibly far fetched? Hardly. This is exactly what has been happening in Austria since 2002. It is happening now.

A look at current university reforms in Austria – conceived and set in motion by Austria’s right-populist, economically neo-liberal, coalition in 2002 – may well be a guide to the next step in the neo-liberalist revolution in Australia.

***

2. In the Image of their Creators – the Management Ideologues

The following article arose in the context of the Austrian university reforms, which were passed into Austrian law shortly before the collapse of the People’s Party/Freedom Party coalition in the northern autumn. Academics there are helpless to stop the devastation, while private sector commentators are very enthusiastic.

The article was published in German in an Austrian academic magazine in July 2002. I have adapted it extensively for Webdiary. The article expounds on the reforms in Austria, as well as the effects of the reforms we have had in Australia since the Dawkins era. The story is told from the angle of freedom of expression and separation of powers.

I explain the mechanisms with which the Australian federal government controls universities – essentially two purse strings do the trick – as well as why freedom of expression still exists on Australian campuses. The latter does not exist anymore – in principle – on Austrian campuses. A successful purge by the Australian government would likewise have to eliminate the possibility of public dissent from academics.

Along the way, I outline the way HECS works, and how HECS money gets funneled to universities from the federal government. This was intended for the magazine’s Austrian and German readership – in Austria, there were no student fees until recently, and these low fees were introduced with the same propaganda to the effect that they would not rise very much. Anybody interested in a quick overview of the Australian system may want to read this.

I use actual financial statements – available online – from the University of Western Australia, an Australian Group-of-Eight university to argue that the main cause of the crisis in Australian universities are the values imposed by the policies of the two federal governments since the early 1990s, particularly the Howard Government since 1996.

The statements clearly show that the drastic measures for cutting back public spending in the tertiary sector it implemented have failed to invigorate private sector investment in the tertiary sector, while the value-laden vision imposed in that period of what a university is meant to be is now thoroughly entrenched.

Regarding this last point, the figures clearly show universities have been transformed into the image of their management ideologue reformers – while many academic departments such as classics, philosophy and the pure sciences have been decimated and staff have been at breaking point providing courses of inadequate standard because of lack of money, expenditure on “administration” and “student services” together doubled between 1996 and 2000.

[In 1996, when the management cultural revolution began to be implemented immensely more severely, “Administration and Other General Institutional Services” amounted to $22,918,000, “Student Services” amounted to $3,957,000, a total of $26,938,000. See uwa and uwa. In 2000, “Administration and Other General Institutional Services” amounted to $38,266,000, “Student Services” amounted to $15,654,000, a total of $53,920,000. See uwa. The increase in the university’s spending on administration and student services in these four years is more than one-third the total academic staff salaries in 2000 (Ibid.).]

Unfortunately, as I noted above, the situation can get worse. In this Webdiary article, I want to draw attention to this possibility. I also want to show why the charge of “economic fundamentalist revolution” sticks. Here is the reworked article.

***

Those who want to familiarize themselves with the future effects of the current university reforms in Austria would be well advised to read Rudolf Muhr’s article on the situation in Australian tertiary institutions. His subheadings give a good overview: for example, “Falling standard of courses.” “High workload due to chronic staff shortages.” “Study without prospect of a job in your field in industry or at university.” This is the interim balance of the reforms introduced into Australian universities in the early 1990s by Peter Dawkins, but made significantly more severe since 1996.

On one point, however, Mr. Muhr is wrong. Unlike the Australian situation before 2003, the Austrian reforms – and I will argue this below – serve only the end of permanently entrenching neoliberal ways of thinking and values – which have all the characteristics of a kind of fundamentalism – into everyday university life. The current Austrian reforms’ strategic goal is the establishment of a vertical power apparatus permeating all levels, with which the government – the present one or any in the future – can in principle directly influence every aspect of university life.

In each Austrian university, extraordinary power is to be given to a small clique – the “University Council”. This clique will be controlled by the Austrian chancellor or other ministers. Austrian universities will become the playgrounds of government ministers playing politics.

In principle, the Council’s five members (or seven, depending on the final wording of the legislation to be enacted) will have the last word on all university decisions at all levels, irrespective of the considered opinion of the University Senate, even though the University Senate is the body that knows its own university best. In an attempt to counter what it sees as self-serving bias in university senates, Austria’s right-populist government swung to an extreme position, and made the university senate irrelevant.

As with any executive body, the small clique of the University Council will certainly have human flaws. The problem is, because of the concentration of power, any imperfections in government or university policies will be magnified throughout the university. Even small misjudgements will have far-reaching effects. In particular, the values of the clique will be imprinted easily on the rest of the university.

Incredibly, then, according to the reforms, all five members of the University Council must be found outside the university. In fact, because of the way the process has been designed, three of them (i.e. a majority) can ultimately be appointed by the government. They can be business leaders or former ambassadors, people without knowledge of how universities work, or of the nature of ground-breaking scientific research – nor with a sense of the importance of the humanities.

This grab for power in the universities via the University Council is the main feature of the Austrian university reforms. University employees will be forced to submit to – at best – benevolent absolutism. Democracy is being pushed aside, as if the clock has been suddenly turned back to the early 1930s.

The imminent danger in the vertical power structure is that short-term university contracts will be used as a tool of selecting out undesirable personnel quasi-automatically. If you want to keep your job, you will have to conform to the official line and remain silent. This affects all qualification levels, from research assistant to full professor (for new staff appointed after the law is enacted).

In Australia at the beginning of 2003, in contrast – ultimately as a consequence of separation of powers – mechanisms still exist that are supposed to protect freedom of expression at universities. It is still possible, for instance, to voice hefty criticism of government policy in the media. Even in Australia, however, the danger is everpresent that these mechanisms can be corrupted – and in some instances, they already have been.

As far as I am aware, no direct government interference exists in the everyday working of Australian universities. Rather, the government exerts hands-off control by setting framework conditions that the universities have to follow. These framework conditions are permeated by the government’s values and worldview. The government defines the framework, and the senate and various committees at each university must work within this.

In contrast to the reforms being enacted in Austria, each Australian university is – in early 2003 – autonomous in the sense that its actual peak body is the senate – not the “executive group” or some other council – and the senate is not dominated by external appointees. By far the majority of its members are university employees – both academic and non-academic – and students, with some outside appointees from business or elsewhere. The university senate in Australia is not (yet) a committee of party cadres appointed by the government.

Although the universities manage themselves autonomously, their autonomy – as well as commitment to freedom of expression and freedom of academic inquiry – can be corrupted in the face of incessant political pressure to conform. Eventually the payoff for conforming might seem to outweigh the cost, and enough members of the university power structure might fall into line to form a majority. Moreover, individuals – such as a chancellor or single-minded committee – can cause great damage before the democratically elected senate has the chance – or finds the will – to intervene with a corrective influence. (The documentary “Facing the Music”, directed by Bob Connolly and Robin Anderson, focuses on the early stages of such a process at the University of Sydney in 2000.)

The university must dance to the government’s tune even if the government’s worldview and values are contrary to the values that are basic to scholarship and education. The reason is two-fold: the universities are financially dependent on the public sector; and they are unable to impress on public opinion the need to alter the government’s values.

I am not convinced that the government in Australia reflects community values on the question of university policy. If Australians new the true state of our university system, they would be outraged.

The Australian Ministry of Education provides universities with two types of financial assistance: “Operational Grants and Infrastructure” and “Research”.

3. “Operational Grants and Infrastructure” Funding

This is used to pay salaries, purchase new equipment and so on. This money is distributed by the government in accordance with a framework formula contained in the HEFA (Higher Education Funding Act). Then at each university, the finance committee decides how the money is to be further allotted to the various academic departments and institutes.

Although the distribution of funding by the financial committee is strictly regulated by numerous norms defined by the university itself, the university’s performance and economic indicators must conform to the policy framework handed down by the federal government. If it fails to conform, it will lose funding, in accordance with the HEFA formula.

Otherwise the university is free to do what it wishes with the funding. When the distribution of funds within a university appears to be unjust, it is still possible in Australia to alter a few details of the distribution through the university senate – or even to go so far as to dump the chancellor (as occurred not very long ago at the University of Sydney).

4. Research Funding Through the ARC

The other somewhat brittle buffer between the Australian government and the universities consists of the second category of funding, namely “Research”. The federal government assigns a certain amount of money to an expert committee – the “Australian Research Council” (ARC) – and this is responsible for distributing the sum among academic research groups at universities.

Although the framework conditions are strictly defined by the government (for example, in 2002, a large proportion of the money had to be allotted to a small number of applied technical fields), I believe that the expert committee can carry out its work of evaluating the scientific merit of ARC applications without further government interference.

Moreover, as far as I am aware, there have been no cases where the ARC has withheld grants – or rejected applications – from applicants who expressed criticism of the government or its policies. Members of the ARC themselves have criticised government policy with integrity, at hearings such as the Australian Senate Estimates Committee.

Nevertheless, in 2001, only about 20 percent of ARC applications were successful. Most of these resulted in only a part of the requested sum being granted (a minority received more than requested). The main reason? This depends on whom you ask. However, everybody agrees there isn’t enough money in the system.

5. Funding Black Hole Since 1996 has not Been Filled – Failure of Laissez-Faire Policy

A telling statistic appeared in The Australian on May 8, 2002. In 2001, the entire landscape of funding sources for research at Australian universities looked like this: Federal Government (ARC) 47%; Federal Government (other grants) 9%; Companies 16%; Donations 7%; State Governments 9%; from overseas 9%.

This ought to be seen as a damning statistic. Indeed, this is probably an important reason for the increasingly loud calls in Australia for university reform. However, most supporters of reform are calling for more free market measures, not less, while ignoring the devastation of academic fields in Australia whose knowledge cannot be immediately cashed in as tokens of national productivity.

Free market reforms in themselves are not evil if applied rationally, introduced gradually to wean away academic fields from government funding if they are able to stand on their own two feet; so that fields that are vulnerable in the brave new world – and that we want to keep alive – can be identified and supported by non-free-market measures.

However, they are evil if applied with ideological fervour, imposed from above equally blindly to all areas of human endeavour, perpetrators indifferent to the destruction they cause. This is clearly what has happened in Australia.

After nearly a decade of free market reforms in the tertiary sector, of encouraging private enterprise to participate, and despite massive cuts to tertiary spending in the area of “operational grants and infrastructure” resulting in great pain within academic departments, the federal government still holds a massive stake in research funding.

It can rid itself of less than half of its research grants burden. It still provides 56% of research funding.

By withdrawing from the tertiary sector and provoking difficult times there, the federal government has been trying to draw other sources of funding out from Australian society.

But the private sector has shown itself much more reluctant to put money into the tertiary sector than the federal government had hoped.

This is despite the very attractive prospect of cheap scientific or other scholarly labour in the form of doctoral or senior undergraduate students: companies have not rallied to sponsor PhDs at university as much as the ideologues had hoped.

I should add that in the one country where the free market model works (at least for the wealthy universities), namely the U.S., a significant factor in departmental survival is the hundreds of millions of dollars received in the form of donations from wealthy graduates. A comparable culture does not exist – and is unlikely ever to exist – in Australia. This is a major difference in the underlying conditions where the free market model is being applied.

The last decade can be viewed as the government’s experiment to guide a macroeconomic system – decrease government spending, and see if private investment increases. But the experiment has failed.

Now, there are two divergent ways to proceed. It seems that a choice is about to be made between them by the federal government, if it hasn’t already been made.

The first is to put the reluctance of the private sector to invest in the Australian tertiary sector down to something about the nature of Australian society; to accept this as being too big a phenomenon to change on a large enough scale to solve the problem; and to support the academic fields that need it with more public funding. Other free market reforms (e.g. deregulation) can be gradually introduced so as to minimize the destruction of fields we think are valuable.

The second is to continue, and increase the severity of, the ideological experiment by attempting to draw vastly more investment from the private sector through bringing the universities to the companies.

As the article by Paul Kelly and Peter Dawkins shows, it seems that a number of commentators – unsurprisingly, most commentators from industry and a few from academia, exactly as is the case in Austria – are keen on the latter solution.

6. HECS for Some Courses Will at Least Double Under Deregulation

Student fees in Australia create a cash inflow under the category of “Operational Grants and Infrastructure”. They are not used to fund research directly. Under HECS (Higher Education Contribution Scheme), students must pay a portion (between about 25 and 45 percent) of the deemed cost of their studies. The federal government is at present still responsible for establishing the HECS fees structure. This centralization is one of the main irritants for reformists.

A small proportion of students (about 2 percent) who are Australian citizens – and all foreign students – pay the entire cost of their studies up front, which are deemed to be between about $15,000 to $28,000 annually.

(In some cases, these figures are absurd overestimates: for instance, a mathematics PhD student, who works largely independently, only ever uses some space in a crowded room, pens and paper – ie lighting and stationery costs – and a computer. The amount of time spent with his or her supervisor is minimal. None of this justifies such a massive HECS fee. The deemed amount is completely irrational.)

Foreign students must pay in advance, while Australians have the option of repaying the HECS loan upon commencement of employment with a graduate salary. If a student becomes a missionary in India, or a struggling artist, he or she may never have to repay the loan. At present, the loan attracts a small interest rate.

Australians can buy university places by paying HECS up front, though the ratio of full-fee paying places and HECS loan places is strictly controlled by law. In a deregulated tertiary “market” (i.e. a changed law), as is currently being mooted by the Australian federal government, the proportion of full-fee paying places will certainly rise.

Based on the number of HECS-scheme students at a census date each semester, each university gets an immediate grant from the federal government. Fees paid in advance also go towards a university’s operational costs and infrastructure.

In accordance with the HEFA legislation, the universities also receive a performance-based grant from the Education Ministry calculated using a complicated formula that considers the number of HECS-paying (or loan) students and foreign students at the university. This grant also goes into “Operational Grants and Infrastructure”, as is by far the largest single contribution to a university’s cash receipts. At UWA in 2000, the commonwealth government HEFA grant received was $108,136,000 – out of the total operating revenues of $334,566,000 (about a third of revenue). The source of the HEFA grant is the Australian taxpayer, not the student paying HECS.

It is the size of this grant that has caused havoc at universities. At UWA between 1996 and 2000, it decreased by 12 percent, despite a vast increase in the number of students enrolled at the university and concomitant increase in workload for academics. [In 1996, UWA received commonwealth grants for “operating purposes excluding HECS” of $108,136,000. In 2000, the same entry was $95,539,000 – a decrease of 12 percent in four years: uwa and uwa]

When vice-chancellors complain about inadequate federal government funding, they are referring to the size of the HEFA grant towards operational costs and infrastructure.

The shortfall in commonwealth funding of operational costs and infrastructure in 2000 – disregarding increased workloads – was $12,597,000. In that year, total HECS receipts by UWA were $39,651,000 (see uwa).

Therefore HECS would have to go up by about one-third across all courses just to make up the shortfall in commonwealth government HEFA funding. If you add inflation over four years, and take into account the extra pressures on operation costs and infrastructure caused by the increase in student numbers since 1996 – and assume that university managers will actually want to fix the problem – we’re looking at a jump in HECS across the board of at least two-thirds.

This is what the deregulation reformists are advocating – but nobody ever mentions the figures.

But HECS won’t rise equally across the board – the increase will be greater for some courses than others. I would not be surprised if HECS for some courses would double under deregulation.

According to the Productivity Commission report in The Age (Feb 4, 2003), if staff-student ratios were to be returned to 1993 levels, “Australian universities would need to have employed almost 10,000 equivalent full-time academic staff”.

If this extremely unlikely event were to occur, I estimate that HECS would have to at least triple.

7. Failure of Reforms

The federal government reduced its contribution in the hope that student fees (and private industry) could make up the shortfall – but they haven’t. The absence of a significant increase in private sector contributions means there’s a problem.

From the financial statements at the UWA website, if the university wanted to regain the 15 percent decrease in federal funding since 1996 by increasing student fees in a deregulated “market”, some student fees would have to be nearly double their 2001 levels.

Fees would have to increase substantially in a deregulated sector to make an impact.

The rest of the university’s income comes from returns on investments, donations and the sale of real estate and other assets – hardly a solid long-term strategy. This cannot be relied upon for any extended length of time.

Unless Australian industry’s reluctance to engage with university changes drastically – which would represent a seismic shift in culture, in either one direction or the other – Australia’s university reforms will continue to be a failure. Student fees alone cannot be a substitute for government funding.

The Australian Vice-Chancellors’ Committee (AVCC) repeatedly emphasises that the main cause of the crisis at Australian universities is the sharp decrease in federal government funding under HEFA since 1996. As I have shown, the claim is supported by analysing universities’ financial statements.

8. The Human Cost of the Laissez Faire Policy – the Extent of Australia’s Intellectual Holocaust

Because of these cuts to funding of operational costs and infrastructure, numerous – but certainly not all – academic departments and institutes are experiencing enormous difficulties in functioning from day to day. A significant number have been closed down.

Amongst the academic fields threatened with extinction in Australia – virtually without exception – are those that since the Renaissance have played a major role in the development of our – Western – culture. Institutes of philosophy, history, classics and music have been decimated. Australia has lost world leaders in these fields, and is in serious risk of losing most of the rest.

Moreover, the expertise required for Australia to acquire fundamental knowledge of other cultures – particularly Asian, and aboriginal Australian, cultures – has largely fled the country or left academia. Most foreign language departments are in dire straits, some unable to offer more than the most threadbare degree programs.

Apparently, not even national productivity is the main factor in the educational policy of the Australian federal government. Japanese studies at university, and Chinese in high schools, have been dealt a death blow, despite the fact that less than ten percent of Australians (excluding immigrants) speak a foreign language, and despite the fact that Japan is Australia’s most important trading partner.

Australians are being asked to believe that ignorance of Asian cultures will have no negative effect on current or future contracts worth billions of dollars – as if money and self-interest are the only factors that decide a deal; as if self-centred cultural ignorance cannot sink deals worth millions.

In the last decade, Australia has lost knowledge and expertise in every field that underpins both technological advances and the “knowledge economy”, without which the nation’s ability to compete in international markets is endangered. The situation is getting worse: for instance, the number of physicists in academia nationwide has fallen from 360 (1994) to 240 (2000) in 6 years. A similar rate of attrition exists in mathematics.

The worst aspect of this annihilation of fundamental research in Australia is that a significant proportion of the best, most experienced and most gifted researchers – who would have formed the kernel of future physics or mathematics departments in Australia – have left the country.

The reason for the exodus is the poor working conditions in Australia – if a department still exists to work in. Since the threat of exorbitant cutbacks is everpresent, researchers have to fossick practically continuously for money, while simultaneously carrying out their research and teaching duties – in lecture rooms where the staff-student ratio was only ever higher in the 1960s. In this respect, the free market reforms at our universities have set us back 40 years.

According to an article this week in The Age (“Academic standards at risk: study”, Feb 12, 2003)’:

Australia’s Group of Eight elite universities believe a new study shows Australia is now at risk of lagging behind the rest of the world in tertiary education.

The Productivity Commission’s International Comparisons of University Resourcing report released today was a useful contribution to the current higher education debate, Go8 president John Hay said.

“It reveals a university sector at risk of lagging behind the rest of the world,” Professor Hay said.

“While the Productivity Commission warns readers not to draw conclusions from the comparisons it makes in its report, it is clear that, on many measures of performance, Australia’s universities are falling behind their international competitors.”

Student teacher ratios were a good example, he said. “The commission’s summary of findings states that student-teacher ratios have increased somewhat, yet the detail of the report reveals that the ratio of students to teaching staff has actually increased from 14.3 in 1993 to 19.9 in 2001,” he said.

“Australian universities would need to have employed almost 10,000 equivalent full-time academic staff to have restored our student-staff ratio to its 1993 level.”

Professor Hay said the report provided a valuable snapshot of 11 Australian universities and 26 international universities drawn from nine countries. “However, an analysis of the university funding trends across the countries surveyed tells the true story.”

In universities at present, on average over all courses, the staff-student ratio is higher than in high schools.

But working conditions are not bad in all areas at university. On the contrary: no employee in a university’s administration has to put up with such job insecurity or such a workload – and in many cases (especially compared to casual academic staff) is better paid.

Indeed, since 1996, while most academic departments have been relentlessly trimmed, management and administration at each university have been fattened generously.

As I demonstrated above, the figures clearly show universities have been transformed into the image of their management ideologue reformers – while many academic departments such as classics, philosophy and the pure sciences have been decimated and staff have been at breaking point providing courses of inadequate standard because of lack of money, expenditure on “administration” and “student services” together doubled between 1996 and 2000, and have increased further in the two years since then.

In 2002, the situation for academic departments worsened. The number of enrolled students nationwide rose by 103,000 (The Australian, May 8, 2002: “Student Bonanza”). Measured in “effective full-time student units” (EFTSU), the increase amounted to 8.3 percent. Nevertheless, the cull in departments across many universities was accelerated (The Australian, May 8, 2002: “Academics Resigned to Jobs Cull”).

The education minister emphatically ruled out an increase in the HEFA grant, so academic workloads increased significantly. The effect? For example, courses in poorer departments had to be given without tutorials.

Moreover, these days in academic departments, one can come across a strange spectacle. It sometimes happens that within a department, two or three research groups hit the jackpot with millions in research funding, while the department itself cannot afford to pay its professors and assistants to run courses properly. Not only must tutorials be abandoned due to lack of funding, laboratories for students remain fitted out with museum pieces.

Nevertheless, government slogans try to convince Australians that our standard of education is one of the highest in the world, and that the tertiary education sector can never ever fall into ruin.

The reality in Australian universities is unacceptable in a system whose political minders employ boastful, self-congratulatory slogans like “world’s best practice”. Courses standards at Australian universities are unacceptably low. Government propaganda on this issue defies common sense.

Yet the Australian public allows itself to be conned by the illusion that education policy is no more than management. Instead of reporting the facts, the media actively propagates the value that “good management equals good education policy”.

Hence the explosion of meaningless “objective” performance measures – disconnected from the ground-level reality – that mean anything to anyone, and can be manipulated at whim.

In practice, the pre-2003 university reforms in Australia have been oriented towards pure, short-term utilitarian values. They have also increased Australia’s national isolation. Despite record numbers of foreign students, Australian students are learning less about other cultures and languages.

The winners – the departments that attract enormous student numbers because that’s the road to economic prosperity – are big winners; but there are many losers that should not be – e.g. classics and foreign languages.

***

9. Why Utilitarian Values are Incompatible with the Nature of Research – An Economic Paradigm of Pure Exchange Value Cannot Solve the Problem at Universities

Unfortunately, no significant other source of funding of “University Operating Costs and Infrastructure” and “Research” has surfaced, contrary to the minimalist neo-liberalist economic theory. Or, on the contrary, this is quite in accordance with principles of survival of the fittest – when the rules for the gladiatorial contest for survival are rigged so that certain measures of degrees of death are ignored.

The reason for the failure of the private sector to work more closely with universities is also clear. It is ultimately this. Absolutely essential for significant research to take place, and for proper lecturing to be carried out, is the ability to free oneself of imposed ideological authority.

The history of scientific revolutions repeatedly confirms this: every single significant discovery has been a heresy against the orthodoxy of the day. One could almost take this as the definition of “significant discovery”. The prevention of expression of heresies hinders scientific progress, and sets a society back to the Middle Ages. This is also demonstrated by the entrenched scientific backwardness of Islamic countries today, particularly those leaning towards fundamentalism.

Political force cannot guide creativity.

Economic competition and the predominance of economic exchange value stand in bold, destructive contradiction to scholarship, because the fundamental basis of scholarship is the free (also in the sense of without material reward) exchange of ideas.

Scholarship cannot exist without free exchange of ideas: scholarship must be open, containing motives that are the opposite of self-interest, even when much self-interest (e.g. ambition) is present. Even in Europe, where professors have their own fiefdoms at university, and everybody is essentially working for the professor’s (and their own) aggrandisement, results of research are distributed freely upon request.

Quite understandably, companies cannot afford to be patrons of universities: they have to take care of their own, short-term profit interests – which these days, unfortunately, all too often mean those of the shareholders and, particularly, the directors.

In contrast, the evolution of a civilisation, or of a scholarly community, is a long-term process.

A paradigm shift has occurred in our culture. A break has occurred with the university tradition, which has resulted in the collapse of trust in the competence and working methods of scientists and scholars of our time. The values these entail have also been rejected. What is behind this change?

If you look at the effects of university reforms in Australia over the last decade, you could be excused for thinking that the management ideologues hate the humanities and the pure sciences. Why would they?

Universities are places where heresies must be pursued. Despite the fact that it is ever more rarely seen – and conformity is becoming ever more the norm – universities in Australia are still the last bastions in our society where freedom of thought and unfettered discourse can occur.

Exactly because of this, universities are a thorn in the side of the neo-liberal missionaries.

Neo-liberalism – itself a theory with strengths and weaknesses like any other – has become a theistic belief with missionary ambitions. The deviation from rationality is clear in the arrogant blind eye given to the catastrophe in the humanities and pure sciences in Australia, while magnificent visions of “goals of international excellence” are proclaimed as the reality.

Plausible arguments or rafts of material proof of the catastrophe make no impression on the zealots. As long as public opinion is not mobilised towards exercising political, democratic power, a course correction is not to be expected.

On Webdiary ethics

As I see it, Webdiary is a moderated forum for readers’ contributions run by the Sydney Morning Herald newspaper, online edition. Two features distinguish Webdiary from typical Internet forums on other news websites such as those at the BBC and Der Spiegel in Germany. First, the moderator, Margo Kingston, plays an active role in kick-starting discussions by including and elaborating on articles written as part of her normal journalistic duties.

Second, reader contributions vary in form from simple comments to articles to fully-fledged essays. The speed and cheapness of the Internet makes publishing a 50-kByte essay as straightforward as publishing a photograph illustrating the latest sporting event. The space restrictions – and concomitant imposition of form over substance – of commercial print media do not apply on the Internet. A commercial news organization can exploit the Internet’s strengths in this way when a moderator is prepared to put in a substantial amount of time to select and vet the contributions to be published.

The running conversation that arises between readers is richer in form than at any of the Internet forums I have seen, with the exception of a handful of Usenet newsgroups. The exciting thing about the format is that Webdiary has the potential to be part of the pulse of contemporary life, influencing and being influenced by it.

The moderator controls what is published in Webdiary, and it comes out under her name; therefore, “Webdiary ethics” means “the moderator’s professional ethics”. The moderator selects the contributions to appear and often makes minor alterations to them.

I understand that the Sydney Morning Herald’s online editorial hierarchy occasionally demands alterations to published material, which is very easily accomplished online. In other words, ultimately, the Sydney Morning Herald takes responsibility for content published on its website, and the company therefore imposes its own standard of ethics.

What ought to be a moderator’s ethics in a forum such as Webdiary, over and above what is expected of a journalist? Clearly, an essential difference with Webdiary is the volume and variety of readers’ contributions. Readers with many different types of worldview – both secular and religious, realist and antirealist, or partially-roasted melanges of all of these – with various levels of care of presentation, interact at “close quarters”. This can easily lead to clashes between personal ethical systems and a contributor’s conviction that somebody is behaving offensively towards them. This is particularly so when the argument is robust – a common occurrence in some “real world” circles, non-existent in others.

The moderator has to decide on some system of dealing with complaints – and which values out of a contradictory flux to uphold. This is a crucial point, for it brings into focus the enormous distance between a list of ethical behaviour delivered from “above” by the management or by a professional body, and the actual practice of ethics “at the coal-face”.

Quoting “professional ethics” out of some handbook is futile without personal judgement of how the guidelines are to be applied. Having the ability to judge implies the ethics have to be internalised and interpreted: they must be lived and asserted. Mindlessly regurgitating generalized guidelines cannot answer the question of whose definition of, say, “offensive” prevails; and certainly not every sensitivity can be catered for, nor should it be. Personal choices must be made, and personal responsibility must be taken.

I’d like to give two examples to illustrate the moderator’s necessity to choose and assert a value system. A strict Islamist would find any discussion of Allah or any questioning of Islam offensive; however, it is prudent that non-Muslim individuals, as well as non-fundamentalist Muslims, attempt to understand the nature of Islamic fundamentalism’s challenge to the modern order. In my opinion, in this case, a moderator must choose secular values of free enquiry, despite the fact that this will be offensive to some irrespective of how “sensitively” the discussion is carried out. In many countries, where barbaric mobs have ascended to power, free enquiry is punishable by death. We ought not be intimidated by this: we must do what is necessary for us to understand ourselves and our world. We must not allow our minds to be held captive by the barbaric mobs and their apologists. And we must be free to determine if our mind is already captive.

The second example is possibly somewhat more familiar to some Western readers of the present book. A commentator may notice a pattern of thinking in another interlocutor’s contributions that seem to predetermine the conclusions they reach. The commentator may attempt to tease out the main threads of the pattern, and construct something of a critical imprint of the interlocutor’s mind. However, a third reader may consider such an undertaking dreadfully ad hominem, preferring that all contributors be allowed to remain behind the mask of their choosing, without having their flaws paraded in public, which is aggressive and offensive. The charge is typically accompanied by a call to stop “playing the man”, and stick to the topic.

There is another view, however, that states, roughly: “history is to be understood in the present”. What is meant by this? Our picture of history can change radically if new evidence – or a new, valid interpretation consistent with the evidence – is discovered today. Moreover, our ability to discover things depends on how we put ideas together, how we learn to distinguish evidence from the chaff, how we see with the mind’s eye; in other words, whether and how we develop a hierarchy of thought – a standard of truth. The ability to know the past depends on the shape of our mind now.

It used to be widely accepted that knowledge of history, as well as of places and cultures separated from us in space rather than time, depends on the individual here and now; but this truth has faded from sight – from the mind’s eye – with the illusory fragmentation of disciplines in the last century or so.

So, a discussion about Iraq, or wherever, whenever, whose history is certainly currently relevant, can naturally end up focusing on the interlocutors. Generally, there are several shapes of mind, each with their strengths and weaknesses. If we are censored from speaking about personal weak points, then we are being prevented from understand ourselves and our world.

Whichever decision the Webdiary moderator makes, the result is aggressive: it isn’t possible to satisfy everybody, because some demands are contradictory. In a democracy where journalists are supposed to be scrutinizing power – in other words, in a secular and open society – there are far more important principles than being at pains not to hurt anybody’s feelings. Least of all the feelings of those abusing power. Knowing how to use power responsibly is the essence of ethics – in Webdiary, or anywhere else.

The hope we deserve

I wear one of David Makinson’s descriptions of me with pride: “John’s philosophy… is deeply and darkly hopeless.” (Never give up your disbeliefwebdiaryDec10).

I’m very glad he said this, because it makes the difference in our views clearer.

I’ll elaborate on David’s description. Against the backdrop of absolute blackness, the delusions and self-deceiving hopes in which one seeks sanctuary stand out starkly in relief.

I salute the brave people who have diagnosed their self-deceptions, who strive to live in full knowledge of the absurdity of their lives, and strive to feel what it is like to be human without mitigating faiths that soften life’s blows and dilute and falsify the experience of living.

Diluting the experience is a form of death. Such clouds of comfort kill human life – also in the conventional sense, when instantiated in political theories or imperatives for action. Or, in David’s case, in imperatives for obfuscation.

I pity those that have seen the darkness and have taken fright, and have committed intellectual suicide by taking up the debilitating crutches of religious-like faith.

There are also those that have this faith but cannot recognize it in themselves, no matter how much you reflect it back at them. “Unselfrecognizeable” is an invented word I saw somewhere. It’s a real phenomenon, though, because others see it clearly. But these just deny any attempt to “catch” their “philosophy” with concepts, even glancingly, with grains of truth touching possibly widely separated truths. They use phrases like: “You said that, not me”. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

I have contempt for those that preach disbelief, yet when you scratch the surface of their arguments, the marks of intellectual suicide are ubiquitous – and they refuse to admit that they are the pied pipers of a faith. They are two-faced, and incorrigible liars.

David says about me that “He offers no light, yet castigates those who would try to find the switch”.

But I offer the light of honesty and intellectual integrity, at least insofar as my efforts at striving for these succeed.

Delusions flee the searing light of an honest intellect, leaving only the possibilities – if there are any. These constitute the only hope we deserve to have.

I “castigate” those that chase hallucinations while claiming to be serious. They make pronouncements that give susceptible people false hope, thus preventing these people from comprehending their condition, from experiencing what it is to be human, from living.

The pied pipers are tricksters and con artists and deserve to be exposed.

David understands well the non-existence of his professed position: “I am doubtless kidding myself, but I earnestly hope that in my own very small way I am promoting [the avoidance of war on Iraq and the prevalence of ‘reason’].”

He continues: “Some might say this is a complete waste of time, but it is born of hope, not despair, and I will keep trying.”

But as I demonstrate below, that which “is born of hope” – the sort of anti-real “hope” David subscribes to – is not what he thinks it is.

That’s because the warm feeling he names “hope” is really a space where the searing intellect is not allowed in, lest one comes too close to “despair”. So it is just a sanctuary for unexamined choices, a breeding ground for self-deception and delusions.

The politically conscious project these outward into the world, where they appear as bogus citations, or misguided debunking of invented positions, or other null-content arguments that amount to nothing more than wishful thinking.

The facade of disbelief is applied unevenly – statements that do not conform to the desired, comfortable goal are disbelieved more avidly than the ones that do. That’s why bogus citations are immediately treated credulously, while obvious propaganda from “the enemy” is paraded – in something akin to a show-trial – as conformation of one’s position.

It’s really just wishful thinking, retreating into a comfort zone and refusing to consider the self-delusions it is based on.

But anti-real hope is not beautiful, unless you feel it is beautiful to be forgetful of history – or, equivalently, of the face of a person close to you.

Forgetfulness – irrespective of who you are – ought to be diagnosed as an affliction that one strives to overcome, however difficult or hopeless it may seem. The stuff of reality – particular, base facts, the “ground-level details” as I say – is absolutely essential, just as is the other side. Too many dictators have used anti-remembrance as a tool of power. Forgetfulness must be resisted.

Moreover, I mention in passing, David’s clinging to a non-existent position – his (positive) assertion of it, of something that can be born into the world only as a deception or not at all – gives rise to a bifurcation in the meaning he conveys: he becomes two-faced, or, as the Germans say (I love this word), januskoepfig.

He makes claims as if he himself is exempt from them – as if he is outside the world and can therefore say anything about it with impunity, clearly because he thinks he is powerless (disempowered) yet wishes that a difference could be made, if only the switch could be found. The hope-that-cannot-be-realized – that dictates one keeps trying to find the switch despite knowing that one is “doubtless kidding themselves” – makes him think so.

David’s piece amounts to a farrago of negativity, with an unspoken faith dominating all and sundry. Disbelief is just a facade that gives the faith a seductive veneer. Beware the religious ambush that comes later.

An example was furnished on October 15, in Searching for hope, in response to the Bali bombing, David wrote: “It surprises no-one I suppose, but it still defies belief, that commentators from across the political spectrum are using (yes, ‘using’) the Bali atrocity to score points off their rival pontificators. It is deeply sickening…”

He then draws the reader in with his lamentation that “politicians and commentators of all persuasions will seek to portray their particular cause as noble because we have lost our friends”.

Then comes the ambush – he finds a meaning in the Bali bombing: it resonates with the faith that he holds deeply, which is why he felt compelled to write it down. It was a “tragic symbol of an abject failure of leadership. Politicians failed to protect them. The experts of right and left have had no effect. We must not reward them by jumping on any of their various bandwagons.”

But he promotes his own bandwagon – of the internationale of “innocents” that he imagines share his abhorrence for what he imagines to be the only type of solution world leaders ever come up with; namely, Manaechian visions:

“Wrong, George. We’re against both of you. We wonder if perhaps you deserve each other, but we’re certain we have done nothing at all to deserve you. We, the cannon fodder, oppose you. We are the innocent people of Australia, the US, Palestine, Israel, Iraq, Afghanistan, the world, and we are opposed to you.”

Good. Evil. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. David’s Webdiary pieces on Iraq are testimony to an obsession for denying Manaechian visions that he imagines others hold.

On the one hand, he denies opposites even when they are clearly there. On the other, he invents a division into opposites when there is none.

The entire Tolkienesque parable is a Manichaean caricature that is utterly irrelevant to my argument in Saddam Hussein and the Heart of Darkness, as my view is not a manichaeistic division of the world into Good and Evil.

David appears to be obsessed with manichaeistic divisions – he imposes them on his descriptions of the world, then laments how wrongheaded they are. It amounts to just wishful thinking, retreating into a comfort zone and refusing to consider the self-delusions it is based on.

The world approximated by ever more densely packed “yes/no” computer circuits. This is his concept of “complexity”. Concepts that transcend the details are treated with disbelief, and dismissed.

The Tolkienesque parable sets the scene for the rest of the piece, in which the innocent refugees from the alleged Good/Evil dichotomy – number one among them being David Makinson himself – seek sanctuary by exposing the flimsiness of the dichotomy they (according to David) think they have fled.

This is the point of the silly “debunking” of something Donald Rumsfeld said – as if this opinion of Rumsfeld’s is pivotal for the justification of stopping Saddam Hussein.

David is simply lying to himself. There is no such dichotomy – despite what the Bush muppet says. I have already explained (in Saddam Hussein and the Heart of Darkness) why David should not believe some of what Bush says – and also why some of it is right.

But Makinson has ignored my entire argument, every point of it, and instead sets up straw men that he knocks down with childish delight.

He has ignored every point I have made in three or four long pieces. Many of the basic ground-level details I have cited should be informing his work. Or he should explain why he feels justified in ignoring them. What’s the point of continuing?

Despite my attempt to get him to raise his standards by doing some basic groundwork before he makes claims in public, and backing up his argument, he continues to make claims that look pretty on the outside but are just totally wrong once you scratch the surface.

He makes a facile argument for why al-Qaeda “is” an enemy of the Iraqi regime, by exaggerating the dichotomy between the fundamentalists and the secular Ba’ath party. (Again, he imagines a dichotomy.) But he ignores the reality of the region, how Arab secular nationalism rose in prominence following the fall of the Caliphate in 1924, and gradually morphed into fundamentalism following the humiliation of the Six Day War in 1967.

In “The Challenge of Fundamentalism”, University of Gottingen professor Bassam Tibi (a Syrian Muslim) writes, “the continuity of the Islamic world view, persisting even in the midst of social change, has facilitated the recent shift from secular ideologies to those of political Islam and to the worldview it reflects… one cannot escape the fact that secular ideologies were never able to put down strong cultural roots in Islam, or to affect the prevailing worldview. Thus, secularization as a separation of religion and politics has remained a surface function” (p. 147).

In the chapter on “World Order and the Legacy of Saddam Hussein”, Tibi writes: “When Saddam Hussein invoked Islamic principles as a legitimization of his invasion of Kuwait, he was clearly exploiting a pretext. Nevertheless, it is the symbolic meaning… that matters. [He made reference to] the historical fact that the existing boundaries were drawn up by Western colonial powers and therefore, in the World of Islam, lack all cultural legitimacy…

“In the West today, the Gulf War is no more than a pale memory. The undeniable inheritance of that war is… the ‘legacy of Saddam Hussein’ [whose religious references] ‘served to mobilize Islamist sentiment in a range of countries in support of [himself and fueled an Islamic revival].’ ‘The Gulf War…was a struggle over values; or more precisely, part of an ongoing struggle over who will define the direction and limits of appropriate political behaviour in the modern world.’

“…one should not be too quick to ridicule those fundamentalists… who called for installing Saddam Hussein as the new Caliph for all of Islam. … When Saddam reminded the Arabs and Muslims of their past glory, while indicting the West for ‘having entered Arab lands,… divided Arabs and established weak states’ to facilitate the imposition of Western supremacy, he not only evoked sentiments of nostalgia but also expressed a widely felt outrage over the subordination of Muslims to Western dominance…

“In recalling the days of Muslim supremacy, ‘when Baghdad was the centre of Islamic rule and civilization,’ Saddam Hussein raised at least a rhetorical claim to establishing Muslim power anew.” (p. 39-41)

David may also wish to contemplate the significance (in a balanced way) of the following: the fact that pan-Arab nationalism and Nazism have specific German romantic ideological roots in common (the fascist, Fichte); the fact that the fundamentalist, so-called Grand Mufti of Jerusalem (Yasser Arafat’s uncle) was a Nazi collaborator who met Hitler – even though Hitler hated Arabs, he was quite prepared to have them as allies – and was responsible for organizing a number of Muslim SS divisions in Bosnia as well as for the redirection of 300,000 Hungarian Jews to Auschwitz; that Iraq was briefly allied with the Axis powers in 1941; that a symbol currently commonly seen in Arab countries is the black eagle with straight, powerful wings last seen in Nazi Germany (see my photograph at the Bethlehem police station); and that the Hezbollah have been seen to greet each other with a Hitlergruss.

Also: the neo-Nazi sympathizer, Jorg Haider, and Russia’s ultra-right-wing nationalist, Vladimir Zhirinovsky, visited Baghdad together two months ago, not for the first time. (A photo in the corresponding Austrian magazine, Format, shows the two coming out of a lift, with George Bush Snr.’s face staring up from the tiled floor at the soles of Haider’s shoes.) Moreover, over the last five decades, there have been proven, concrete connections between neo-Nazi financial brokers, as well as groups, and Arab groups. This has led to suspicions in some quarters that neo-Nazi extremists are helping finance al-Qaeda in Europe.

What sort of spiritual resonances make for such strange bedfellows?

I caution against jumping to sinister conclusions – but what should be jettisoned is the illusion that Islamist fundamentalism and Arab secular nationalism form an unbridgeable dichotomy, and that in many cases, they cannot been drawn closer by, at least, a common insane desire to annihilate Israel.

I do not care for David Makinson’s fatuous pleas for absolution from the duty to get himself informed about what he is claiming in public: “I struggle for expression, unlike so many of the talented people who contribute to this place. I lack their education, their wit and, occasionally, their knowledge, as some of them delight in pointing out. It is like pulling teeth for me. And despite my very best efforts, I find I am consistently misinterpreted.”

Many share David’s predicament that, until recently, they had been “completely asleep when it comes to matters of international politics. To our consternation, we now find ourselves at something of a loss as the world and times we live in start to slap us in the face on an almost daily basis.”

But while David, a university professor, uses his frailties and inadequacies to gain sympathy from the reader – and underhandedly to gain rhetorical advantage – some have gone out and got themselves an education: via Bassam Tibi, Bat Ye’or, Abdallah Laroui, Muhammad al-Mubarak, Sadiq Jalal al-Azm, Fouad Ajami, Ibn Warraq, Ali Sina, Hashem Aghajari, or even Khaled Abou El Fadl. And all the other Islamic dissidents.

Knowledge – and a desire to share it – makes one lucid.

But knowing where to seek out knowledge – how to undertake the journey of understanding – is a function of one’s world view, or “philosophy”.

David Makinson has a habit of seeking the rhetorical authority of famous people by blindly citing them when they seem to be supporting what he wants them to support. He does this without putting in the hard work of checking the sources, or actually thinking about the words he cites.

He persists in doing this even after my criticism (Saddam Hussein’s Desire for Genocide) of his piece, Fools and fanatics, where I warned him that he was making himself look foolish.

In Fools and fanatics, David quoted Bertrand Russell and Mahatma Ghandi.

Bertrand Russell, according to David, said: “The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts.”

I pointed out that Russell plainly did not mean that “what makes some people wiser than others is that they always retain doubt about what they believe,” since otherwise he could not have stated his aphorism with the certitude that he had.

Why did David Makinson place so much faith in an aphorism that is manifestly empty of meaning?

Indeed, Bertrand Russell’s life and philosophy are notorious for their serial hopeful certitude: serial dreams of “this is the meaning of life” – where doubt evaporated – that consoled him until each dream was extinguished in turn by irrepressible reality.

I would recast Russell’s aphorism as follows: “Unscrutinized convictions manifest the tragedy of an individual’s life.”

Bertrand Russell’s quote is a poor one, but David swallowed it hook, line and sinker – because of the authority of the surface.

Makinson regurgitates Mohandas:

John – you may wish to ponder this – from a man whose morality, unlike yours or mine, is not in question: “What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?

(a) David is wrong. We stand up to Saddam Hussein to avoid a Holocaust. This is not a “cause” – or ideology – like Democracy or Communism or Marcusean Peacenikism. We need not align our spirit in any particular direction, nor regiment it to fit an overcoat. We just deal with the reality, and banish self-deception.

(b) What to make of Gandhi’s quote? Of course, the cause makes no difference to the dead. The dead have no rights, no needs, no wants. But it makes a difference to the living.

Moral choices are about the living, not the dead.

Mahatma Gandhi’s observation about the dead was facile. But he also mentions “the orphans and the homeless”.

Now, a pivotal question: what was the difference between the Axis forces and Allies in World War Two?

Here’s part of the answer: if the Nazis had won the war, and if Gandhi’s orphans and homeless had been Jews, they would have all been murdered, and not one Jew would have been left on this planet.

And if Gandhi had been a Jew he would not have had the chance to forsake his career as a lawyer and be wise.

But when the Allies won the war, not only did they NOT wreak genocide on Germans, they spent billions reconstructing Germany. And Germany is now an important member of the international community.

Today, the American president is even talking about “political and economic liberty triumphing in the Middle East”, following US-led rebuilding of the country.

Are nuclear weapons acceptable in the hands of Saddam Hussein, who preaches and practices explicit, racist pan-Arab supremacism; has an indominatable will to acquire weapons of mass destruction; and repeatedly vows “revenge” against Israel and the United States? Vows that he will perpetrate a Holocaust?

If not, how do you propose to take them away from him, or stop him from obtaining them within the next 18 months, given that he plays to win?

The “purity of the soul” that the Mahatma preached is useless if there are no people left.

Why do you disbelieve Saddam Hussein, but believe Bush’s more idiotic, Manaechian pronouncements?

Why do you disbelieve Saddam Hussein, while disbelieving the eye-witnesses, the scientists, all the defectors that argue for the same result as Bush but in different words and mannerisms?

The facade of disbelief is just that – unless it is accompanied by intelligent analysis. But then, “disbelief” is part and parcel of the process, as the best historians have known for centuries.

David’s plea for disbelief simply removes the “intelligent analysis” element from a centuries-old formula. Again, what it amounts to is a plea for the authority of surfaces. David’s plea is a sham.

David applies disbelief according to the circumstance: actually, he is merely reinforcing prejudices that he already had.

There are other grave contradictions in Mahatma Gandhi’s views. For example, before World War Two, Gandhi opposed the establishment of Israel in Palestine, on the grounds that it would displace the “rightful inhabitants” of the land.

However, these “rightful inhabitants” used force to win the land several hundred years before. Gandhi’s position amounted to justification for the use of force to gain territory.

Gandhi’s entire way of thinking was centred on the here and now – with him at the centre, and concentric circles in time and space stretching outward ever further from his perception.

Gandhi advocated non-violent submission to the Nazis. He never comprehended Hitler’s genocide of the Jews. His flaw was that he projected what he knew about the colonialist British onto Hitler and the Nazis. He could not see past himself.

He could not “secularize” his thinking by initiating a “French revolution” in his mind.

In Saddam’s Desire for Genocide, I explained how David Makinson’s way of thinking is centred on himself like this too – Iraq never attacked “us”, so we have no quarrel with Iraq. So genocide cannot be any of our business.

Despite the warning, when choosing his quotes, David has persisted in blindly choosing authoritative surface over substance.

Catherine M. Harding has already dealt with the bogus Julius Caesar quotation. “Rights of the citizenry”? Just a hint of anachronism. The history website Catherine suggests explains the urban legend nicely.

The Albert Einstein quote is another major clanger. I actually thought that David was joking when I read it, but I then realized that he was being serious – David saw the surface and liked it, and never asked any more questions.

I have tried to do David’s groundwork for him, in seeking the precise date and background details of the quote; but no Internet site bothers with such things.

Nevertheless, I’m prepared to believe Einstein said it, since he was, indeed, a “pacifist”. However, the citation was almost certainly made by Einstein before World War Two; ie while he was living in Europe.

He was reacting to the sight of Nazis marching up and down the streets in Germany.

Despite his pacifist tendencies – and Gandhi’s advice for Jews to grin and bear it – Einstein soon found the threat of Nazism unbearable, and emigrated to the United States.

His first-hand experience of Nazism evidently jolted some sense into him: unlike Gandhi, he comprehended the threat that totalitarianism posed.

This is why in August 1939, one month before the start of World War Two, Einstein wrote a letter to President Roosevelt urging him to build an atomic bomb as soon as possible, because the Nazis were already onto the idea, and if the Nazis got one first, it would be disastrous.

The parallel with Saddam Hussein is strong.

Unlike Makinson, Einstein comprehended the reality.

David Makinson desperately wanted a surface of authority, but in stealing one, he neglects to take into account the most important decisions of Einstein’s life, and how they affected his thinking. Einstein’s letter is viewable at anl .

The Hitler and Goering citations are probably correctly quoted, but they are irrelevant. Even Makinson agrees that war can sometimes be necessary.

He has explicitly stated that he would consider Saddam Hussein an enemy under certain circumstances; however, this set of circumstances is so narrow – the transgressions so absolutely verifiable – that – as I argued in Saddam Hussein’s Heart of Darkness – Saddam Hussein would have to make an extremely stupid mistake to be caught. (Or he would have to be allowed to fulfil his manifest ambition, which would be catastrophic.)

As I explained in “Heart of Darkness” with regards to the fallacy in David Ritter’s thinking (he is a former UNSCOM employee), Makinson’s empiricist criterion gives an opportunity for ambitious and tenacious liars to deceive the world community on weapons of mass destruction by erecting plausible facades.

The most important argument I want to make in this Webdiary piece is that David’s sort of anti-real “hope” entails corruption (intellectual and moral) because of its obsession with surfaces, leading to either history being deliberately falsified, or to history simply being forgotten through negligence. After that, proper judgements can’t be made.

Virtually every one of David’s points are lacking in some way, because he has focussed on the surface, rather than using his brain to make the assertions solid. I just haven’t got the time now to go through them all one by one – although I could, if anybody requests it.

I stress that in David’s thoughts, I see a clear outline of a faith that erases the details of reality. It is a barrier that prevents him from comprehending the basic details of reality, as well as from expressing himself in an unambiguous way.

On October 2 in Loving Hitler, I wrote that “Despite the word [“naive”] being mostly used these days as a term of abuse, there’s nothing wrong with being naive – not having knowledge of some situation or milieu – if there’s no reason for you to have that knowledge. But naivety – especially willed naivety – is certainly blameworthy if one ought to know better.”

There comes a time when “we have a duty to inform ourselves”. Moreover, we formulate our view according to standards that we have somehow kept in our mind during the long slumber. These are intuitions that are left over from our previous journeys of understanding after we forgot the details. The intuitions are an echo of many trial and error processes, of facts learned, worldviews formed, then lost, because human memory is fallible.

Some of these standards, pertaining to checking sources, and forming an opinion as to the reliability of sources, were pointed out by Catherine M. Harding ( webdiaryDec13).

It’s quite possible that some tendency in one’s way of thinking prevents these standards from gelling adequately. The tendency might be a willed philosophy, or it might just be the way one’s brain is “wired” – one has never even realized that this tendency exists within oneself, so it can’t be changed. One has unconsciously developed it into a way of thinking – an unexamined one.

In any case, such journeys of understanding are undertaken more or less often. It’s like Sisyphus condemned to roll a boulder up a hill and come back down repeatedly, forever. While sitting in solitude at the top of the mountain, wistfully surveying the landscape below, he contemplates how some part of the landscape used to be familiar to him, but he hadn’t been there for years, and now only the outlines are familiar. But he knows how to get there once he returns to the bottom of the hill, and how to refamiliarize himself with it if he had to.

Compare that to somebody who never knew the landscape – or doesn’t even know what a landscape is. Sitting at the top of the mountain after undertaking the upward journey, he sees just clouds, unaware of any details below, unaware of how to go about surveying the territory at ground level even if his life depended on it.

In an essay on Russian film director, Valery Ogorodnikov, which seems to be apt here, I wrote the following:

“In Prishvin’s world, in contrast, a break with the past has occurred, since Stalin is no longer there. The villains – such as Stalin – are not a burden any more, for they have been forgiven and their real deeds, in order to heal the malformed soul, concealed behind a mask of jokes, and forgotten.

For if one already knows that one will avoid influences that deform the soul, one ought to forgive the villains immediately – and resolve to avoid unpleasant facts as soon as they come into the field of vision – thereby remaining undisturbed in the cloud of ignorant bliss. The landscape below is not a carpet woven from the stuff of history, whose details one could investigate if one really had to, but consists of a cloud, behind which the details of history have already been erased.

As true enemies do not exist anymore, one may safely let the “innocent” lambs, with wills as relentless as they are incorrigibly unable to recognize themselves, do whatever they please.

… As there are no true enemies anymore, the rebellious tendencies within are fundamentally senseless and futile; but, more importantly, they can only remain futile, because the act of rebellion cannot trigger a growth in knowledge: the nature of the problem cannot be recognised, all solutions have the same appearance, and all views over the landscape are featureless – the view, too, that might contain a way out – because the stuff of history, and its normative influence (which guides the intuition when words are lacking), have been erased.

Inexpressible and unknowable, these rebellious tendencies can only then remain instances of “personal problems” (as Andrei Tarkovsky once said); they must therefore only be short-term, if they exist at all, or they metamorphose forever into nefarious creatures with a variety of faces, who never find a way out of their predicament. These creatures of the imagination are slaves of ignorance, they can only believe the surfaces of all the things that are presented to them. Albert Camus would have been able to rebel neither against Russian nihilism, nor the nihilism of Nietzsche, if he had not had a deep feeling for history.