The current situation in Iraq has been drawing comparisons to the Vietnam War for some time now, and one can’t really argue with the fact that there are similarities.  From the original goals of instilling new governments in unstable areas to the enemies’ reactions in the form of dangerous insurgencies that we don’t seem to have the will power to stop, the two wars have been taking similar courses since their inceptions.  

What’s slightly disappointing about the way Vietnam is often brought up is the context under which it’s being done.  People aren’t making this comparison to give our children a history lesson or to enlighten us as American citizens.  The word “Vietnam“ conjures up certain images and thoughts about the way the U.S. government handled a foreign war, the way our people responded to it domestically, and what happened when these two philosophies clashed.  

Comparing what’s going on now to a war without a resolution is ultimately meaningless and, more directly, useless.  Vietnam wasn’t a success and, if 30 years later we’re still making the same mistakes with no plausible recommendations or answers, then the left, the right, the center, and every other opinionated faction still hasn’t learned anything from the war in question.

Anybody can look back at past mistakes and point out that they’re mistakes.  It’s a weak argument.  OK, so it’s another Vietnam… What are you going to do about it?

By referring to “Our Vietnam” or “Bush’s Vietnam,” people are taking a good idea and turning it into an ineffective partisan issue.  The U.S.’s involvement in the Vietnam War ended over thirty years ago.  Maybe there are people out there searching for some vestige of this past era, but there’s no longer a purpose in making comparisons which at this point serve as little more than political rhetoric.  

In terms of the polarizing message people are trying to get across with a Vietnam comparison, this isn’t another Vietnam.  There’s no draft, and most young people out there don’t know what’s going on in Iraq and probably don’t care.  So as far as it being a culturally divisive issue on the home front, it’s not.  

The comparison is still an interesting one because another debacle is happening so soon after the original, but the fact that it was allowed to happen again is something nobody should be proud of.  Since we do live in the year 2006 and not 1968, some of our leaders might want to consider figuring out how to fix “Our Iraq” rather than making sure that we all understand it’s becoming another Vietnam.  

Finding a parallel in a war most people have since recognized to be a failure militarily, politically, and strategically is a good reminder of what can happen when foreign policy goes wrong, but without a solution to how that war or this war should be handled, its effects seem to be intended to produce wins at the polls, not on the battlefield.

M R

Not long before Johnny Cash died, he recorded a collection of songs that were to become the next segment in his American Recordings series.  Although Cash didn’t live to hear the final result, producer and friend Rick Rubin recruited a group of musicians and added acoustic guitars, strings, and keyboards to Cash’s baritone, creating the album American V: A Hundred Highways, a haunting meditation on death that embodies Cash’s sincerity at its finest.

Like much of his previous work, the album is an exercise in contradictions: resilience vs. defeat, humor vs. misery, permanence vs. transiency, love found vs. love lost, the secular vs. the religious.  Each song is another link on his cavalcade towards finality, and Cash’s knack for making other performers’ compositions his own is on full display here.  

The album begins with Cash singing, “Oh Lord, help me to walk another mile, just one more” and hints at the singer’s broken down, brokenhearted state while his voice, reduced to a near whisper, sounds so brittle it could crack.

As these words indicate, spirituality is one of the running themes on the album, and is best seen in the traditional “God’s Gonna Cut You Down,” where Cash reflects on the universal notion of mortality through God’s eyes, although his own mortality clearly weighs on his mind.  A razor-like slide guitar cuts across Cash’s evangelical vocals as the backup band stomps its way through the song’s duration, pounding home the Biblical message.  

Two of the compositions were written by Cash himself, including “Like the 309,” the last he wrote before his death.  Here we see a defiant Cash staring down death with his confident swagger, reminding us that he’s not gone until his casket’s on the 309 (a little more poignantly now since he is in fact gone).

Almost directly paralleling “Like the 309” is Hank Williams’ “On the Evening Train,” the story of a man whose deceased spouse is being carried back home.  Given his physical state and his own wife’s death shortly before this recording, Cash turns in a remarkable performance containing arguably the strongest vocals on the album.  

Most of the other tracks continue along a similar vain, telling stories of love, death, and God.  The final cut, “I’m Free From the Chain Gang Now,” would have taken on a wholly different meaning at an earlier period of his life.   As the last song on this collection, its metaphorical connotations become quite apparent.  

While each person experiences death individually, most of us won’t know how we’ll react until our own fates are nearby.  As one of the few performers infused with the spirit of the American outlaw, Johnny Cash left us one last piece of music and a final lesson on our own mortality.  

M R

You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow.

—Cormac McCarthy

George Carlin, on one of his albums, joked about the similarities between humans and chickens, eventually coming to the conclusion that chickens have some type of moral superiority over humans.  “Chickens,” he pointed out, “are decent people.”

A couple of days ago, I was sitting next to a window and, not long after the people at the table outside had gotten up, a bird flew over and knocked a half-eaten piece of bread onto the ground.  The bird took a few bites out of it and left, apparently satisfied.  Moments later, a group of smaller birds flew up to the same piece of bread to try and feed off of it.  There were about seven or eight of them and they were all concerned with the immediate gratification of satiating their hunger.  

What was interesting about their method of getting to the bread was that there didn’t appear to be a method.  I’m no ornithologist, but it looked like the birds were more or less just trying to get their share, other birds be damned.  Whichever one had tried to take it, and as soon as one dropped it, another one came in and tried to do the same.  Occasionally two would get a hold of opposite ends at the same time, and the result was clearly not as productive as the birds must have imagined.  

Now as people, we are better than these poor animals because somewhere along the evolutionary line, we developed language, reason, thought, and self awareness, among other things.  This mixture left us as the most advanced members of the animal kingdom, and ever since we have loudly proclaimed our supremacy.

Birds, not realizing that they are some of the unfortunate creatures that progress left behind, are simply guided by the laws of nature and have been relegated by humans to serve one of four basic functions: the foreground for movie sunsets, a hobby for naturalists, egg producers, or dinner.  And this is fine, since we’re a movie-loving, omnivorous bunch.  

What struck me while watching the birds fight over access to a piece of bread was that, although they are birds, the comparisons that can be drawn between bird behavior and human behavior are so obvious and still so strong.  Humans, as advanced as we are, always find ways to territorially fight amongst ourselves.  Do we use thought or reason to achieve compromise?  Certainly not as often as we could.  

If there’s a piece of land that two groups lay claim to, not only will each group fight for jurisdiction without making any concessions, but more sophisticated reasons like history, religion, and revenge will all become major factors, further complicating the issue.  At least chickens have the excuse that they’re chickens.

Which brings us back to George Carlin: maybe he was on to something here.

M R

It has been just over 31 years since two FBI agents were shot and killed on a South Dakota reservation while searching for a robbery suspect.  Their deaths lead to four arrests and one conviction — that of Leonard Peltier, the widely respected leader of the American Indian Movement (AIM).  

The combination of two dead FBI agents and a jailed cultural leader made this a fairly infamous case and, depending on whose side you listen to, Peltier is either a ruthless killer who wouldn’t hesitate to shoot an already wounded man from point blank range or an inspired leader wrongfully imprisoned because of the threat he posed.

Peter Matthiessen wrote a book about the incident entitled In the Spirit of Crazy Horse in which he described the history behind the shooting as well as the known facts of the case.  The arrest and subsequent prosecution of Peltier came to represent a people and their struggle to save their culture while merely surviving.  Matthiessen observed that “the ruthless persecution of Leonard Peltier had less to do with his own actions than with the underlying issues of history, racism, and economics, in particular Indian sovereignty claims and growing opposition to massive energy development on treaty lands and the dwindling reservations.”

Passion for these events still runs high years later, as seen in the petition on AIM’s current website and a CNN report from 2000, when Peltier was up for parole.  Louis Freeh of the FBI spoke of the crime’s “cold-blooded disregard for law and order” and how “the rule of law has continued to prevail over the emotion of the moment.”

Peltier, although saddened by the lives lost in the shooting, still professes his innocence and freely provides his thoughts on the subject:  “When you analyze this whole event of theirs, you are slapped in the face with the cold reality of racism.”

Looking back on injustices of the past is always easier than looking at those of the present, because…well, because they’re in the past.  Time and distance have softened the blows.  There is nothing to do except study them, acknowledge them, and vow not to make the same mistakes again.  

That is of course until the mistakes are repeated, leading to a period of acknowledgement and a vow not to make the same mistakes again.

We will never know whether or not Peltier is guilty of the crime he’s been convicted of unless somebody confesses.  We do know that where poverty and intolerance co-exist, crime will follow and things are not likely to get better from there.  

Individuals should not have to lose their lives to make the rest of us see what happens when these issues are ignored for too long.  One can hope that people from all walks of life learn from an occurrence like this, but that is still to be decided.

M R

Wednesday’s Wall Street Journal featured a small article on last year’s lobbying figures, noting that the overall tally jumped from $2.14 billion in 2004 to $2.36 billion in 2005.  The number seems a bit on the high side considering the scandals that have tarnished Washington’s operating image as of late; but in order to best understand the way government spending works, you need only look at the $223 million originally put aside towards the Alaskan “Bridge to Nowhere” in last year’s highway spending bill.  

There was another article in the same issue of the WSJ reporting on a study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) in February.  The study found that discontinuing the use of antidepressants during a pregnancy will increase a woman’s chances of relapsing into depression.  This went against the previously held theory that hormonal changes during pregnancy would naturally reduce a woman’s depression.

This seems to make sense.  Women who stop taking antidepressants become more depressed.  Why is that important? And what does this have to do with lobbying?

It turns out that most of the study’s authors are actually paid by companies that produce antidepressants.  The study’s lead author is a consultant for three pharmaceutical companies, a speaker for seven, and has received research grants from four.  None of this was disclosed when the article was originally printed.

A study published in The New England Journal of Medicine around the same time reported that a baby born to a mother taking selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, a type of antidepressant, will have a nearly six times greater chance (six to 12 per 1,000 births vs. one to two per 1,000) of being born with a potentially lethal breathing problem.

Not surprisingly, a number of experts on the subject refuted these results.  Once again, the experts were paid by pharmaceutical companies.  

So you see, your laws aren’t the only items being openly bought and sold these days.  Your health is a similarly lucrative commodity.

Who’s right here?

As is usually the case, each side probably has some valuable input regarding the safety of antidepressants.  Depressed women don’t want to stay depressed, and one would hope that mothers are generally concerned with their children’s health.  

Facts are facts (most of the time).  How these facts are interpreted is a different matter.  

It is slightly worrisome when one of the researchers mentions, “I don’t see how any kind of relationship we have with a pharmaceutical company plays a role in that…I don’t believe there is a conflict of interest.”  Well, there’s not, except for the part where her study’s results encourage women to take antidepressants when it might not actually be in their best interest to do so, whereas it’s always in the interests of her employer.

The researchers may well be correct in stating that antidepressants bear little to no risk to prenatal infants and only serve to help depressed mothers.  Before people hit the streets encouraging doctors to prescribe more antidepressants, however, it might be wise to see the results of some additional studies from less interested parties.

M R

Administration officials, however, asked The New York Times not to publish this article, saying that disclosure of the Swift program could jeopardize its effectiveness.

This statement was published by The New York Times on June 23rd.  A number of people, upon reading this, probably asked themselves: So why was it published?

Bill Keller, executive editor of The New York Times, publicly responded two days later.  Speaking of the country’s founders, he noted that, “They rejected the idea that it is wise, or patriotic, to always take the President at his word, or to surrender to the government important decisions about what to publish.”

Mr. Keller certainly has a valid point in that a free press should act as a “protective measure against the abuse of power in a democracy.”  The question in this particular instance, however, is not whether the press has the right to publish these types of stories but whether publishing such stories actually serves as the protective measure it is supposed to.  

One could make the argument that during the Civil War, the public had a right to know the Union’s locations at all times since the day’s happenings were a matter of public interest.

But would this really have been wise?  

If you are not of the opinion that terrorism is a real threat, then pick up a copy of today’s newspaper or yesterday’s newspaper or tomorrow’s newspaper when it comes out, and read about some of the violence that occurs on a daily basis.

Terrorist groups, by nature, operate and act in a covert manner.  One of the most efficient methods of reducing their success is to monitor them in a similarly covert manner.  Permission for the Swift program was apparently obtained using entirely legitimate means, removing any scandalous element concerning its legality.

This program is not the Iraq War.  It is not resulting in American deaths; it is not causing innocent civilian deaths; it is not inflammatory.  Furthermore, it appears to be the type of program that is actually an effective battle in the War on Terror: stopping violence without using violence or creating violence.

Until the ideologies that cause the formation of terrorist groups are rooted out, something must be done to ensure a degree of safety against the ones already in existence.  There is a difference between using the fear of terrorist threats for alleged political gain and acting to prevent future attacks.

The original article quoted one official, who considers the program to be valuable, as saying that, “The potential for abuse is enormous.”  If the program also results in our potential for living to increase, then it might be at least worth a shot.

M R

Most memories of my childhood home revolve around simple pleasures like baseball games at sunset or the smell of hamburgers during family barbeques.  As a kid, I never thought much about the fact that the neighborhood would one day change, but as I’ve grown older I’ve started to see the effects of the years’ gradual modifications.  

It was inevitable, of course, because of the evolving nature of technology and the fact that families change over time.  The tight-knit community I once knew is transforming as children grow up, families move, and the cycle starts for another generation.   This is actually not even the first time in recent years this plot of land has undergone a complete revamping.  The block used to be a farm until land developers spotted suburban gold and turned it into what my neighbors and I would come to know as home.  Some people might view this as progress while others see destruction; I’m sure the farmers and homeowners don’t see eye to eye.

For years, I’ve been hearing similar stories about the neighborhoods my parents were raised in.  Being born closer to the time of their families’ moves to the U.S., they grew up in a community that banded together, sharing in the experience of being in a new land while possessing a common link in the same parent country.  As assimilation occurred, the bond started to disintegrate and families moved out while a new congregation took root.  What were once fiercely ethnic, familial communities have given way to poverty- and crime-ridden areas, much to the disappointment of my relatives, who talk about the old neighborhoods with the same reverence the French royalty must have spoken of Versailles.  

This discussion hit home recently as I live in Manhattan and have become acquainted with the neighborhood around West 70th St. and Broadway, an area perfectly situated with the allure of beautiful city architecture.  Back in 1971, a movie based on the northern end of this very block was released, titled A Panic in Needle Park.  The neighborhood, it turns out, used to be called Needle Park, and not because of its availability of sewing conventions.  

This street corner, which today has turned into one of the more established neighborhoods in Manhattan, was once so full of derelicts, it warranted a movie based around its drug culture.  The fact that one city block could change so much in just 35 years is remarkable on its own; it is also a remarkable example of the changing face of America.  

When Supreme Court Justice Scalia joked, “As you know, all change is presumptively wrong,” he hit upon a deeper concept: everything will change, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse.  Either way, the consequences must be examined. Every time a neighborhood is demolished or its makeup is changed, a bit of history is buried.  

For the sake of growth, we must always remember that change is not necessarily an evil; for the sake of preservation, we must remember to keep our pasts alive.

M R

Mexico and Iran — two countries that have recently become identified with their reluctance to settle issues agitating global tensions and compromising America’s security.  One has encountered an inability to curb illegal emigration; the other is moving down a path towards nuclear proliferation.  Neither currently holds an endearing position with the U.S. government, and both are the source of endless debate and political drama.  

Yet there they were on Sunday, facing off in the first round of the World Cup in Germany; 11 men per side playing for the honor of their countries and the thrill of winning a match in the world’s most revered sporting event.  Many people north of the border and west of the Atlantic haven’t found the source of excitement in a game that might go 90 minutes without any scoring, but anybody who saw the Mexican fans celebrating recognizes that there is clearly some kind of allure to the game of soccer.

I’ve been a fan of the World Cup since 1994, when the games were played in the United States and a local buzz was going around since America was the host country.  I needed a team to root for, and my ancestral country seemed much more enthused about its representatives than my home country did, so I adopted Italy as my team and Roberto Baggio as my favorite player.  After following the Azzurri for a month and rejoicing with each goal scored and lamenting each goal allowed, I found the Italians playing Brazil for the championship.  In a cruel twist of fate for a young fan infatuated with a new team, Italy lost in a shootout when Baggio, arguably the greatest player in the world at the time, clinched the match for Brazil by sending his and the game’s final kick over the crossbar.  Since that summer, I’ve looked forward to the World Cup every four years as a chance to see the world’s greatest athletes excel at the sport that has been embraced by the rest of humanity as the international past time.  There are no made-for-TV opening ceremonies; there’s no village and no curling.  There are no overly tacky, extravagant halftime shows.  There’s just soccer and its millions upon millions of crazed, invigorated, maniacal fans reveling in the chance to see their country compete with the world’s best.

So when Mexico and Iran faced off on Sunday and the two teams took the field, there was much more at stake than just the final score.  There were two teams playing for pride, both for themselves and for the countries they were representing — and the world tuned in. Iran was no longer the country at odds with the world over uranium enrichment, and Mexico was no longer the country whose millions of illegal immigrants are in the U.S. right now.  These nations suddenly became ordinary men out to win and make their fellow countrymen proud.  

Most people follow sports because of the competition and dexterity which they themselves are mostly incapable of but still love to observe.  Even the world’s best watch other athletes to admire the pure excitement, strength, and grace exhibited on the playing field.  Athletes’ contributions to society are often minimal, but they are idolized because they provide a chance for the average individual to believe in human triumph.  

In a similar manner, anybody who has ever devoutly followed a team knows that an odd relationship develops between team and supporter.  The fan probably doesn’t know any of the players and has no real effect on the outcome of the game. The team’s roster is continually changing so that every ten years, there is basically an entirely new group of players representing the name.  Nonetheless, for some inexplicable reason, a fan will live and die with a team each time the squad takes the field.

The opportunity to combine sport and country results in a unique type of pride which comes out in full force during the World Cup.  Soccer might just be a game, and its winners and losers don’t change anything, but every time two teams take the field, the rest of the world stops and the only issue that matters is finding a way to emerge victorious.  We saw this on Sunday where for just 90 minutes, there were no illegal immigrants and there was no talk of nuclear warfare.  There were 22 men on a field competing for victory; for themselves, for their fans, and for their countries — and that should at least count for something.

M R

When the song “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” was first released in 1963, an entire generation was exposed to the horrific experience that made up one man’s post-nuclear fallout vision.  That song came from a different time, one where popular music was being sung and written under the belief that it could help society move forward and be responsible for some type of positive social change.  This was an era entrenched in Cold War politics, the Civil Rights movement, and a notion of pacifism where each participant held a personal stake.  Neil Young sang the verse, “Tin soldiers and Nixon’s coming / We’re finally on our own / This summer I hear the drumming / Four dead in Ohio,” a moving response and tribute to the dead students at Kent State University.  American society’s come a long way since then, and whether or not popular music as an art has progressed or regressed is open to speculation, but one thing is certain: the lyrical poems put to music that were once intelligent, symbolic messages for a generation have almost entirely disappeared, at least as far as anything that makes it to radio.  Every once in a while a singer will write something with far-reaching overtones and say it with backbone, like when we hear Radiohead’s Thom Yorke assume the role of dictator and firmly declare “When I am king, you will be first against the wall / With your opinion which is of no consequence at all.” What’s so disturbing about this image – aside from the song’s tone and Yorke’s voice – is that the fear evoked is universal.  While it might bring to mind regimes that could enact this scenario, the song is left open, reminding us of its possibility rather than singling out an individual as the sole cause of all our problems.  It is attacking an ideology, just like the two examples above, rather than a name.  There are few things more irritating from a political perspective than listening to somebody deliver an ill-informed and harmless message about some political leader.  

Why then are we in such a state that if a music group criticizes the government, rightfully or wrongfully, they are suddenly on the cover of national news magazines and the subject of endless discussion? The answer is simple: the media, along with the heads of most powerful organizations, many of whom grew up during the 1960s and are the only vestiges of that era’s “rebellion,” are the ones who have the ability to dictate topics of discussion while simultaneously ensuring  that they remain without any real public depth.  Matt Taibbi, formerly of the New York Press, summed this up nicely, stating “In a glib, permissive age where dissent, protest, certain forms of civil disobedience, and even the occasional arrest are superficially acceptable and even encouraged, the only real taboo when it comes to having political convictions today is meaning it.”  

There was once a time when you didn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blew.  Jack Kerouac, a man who professed a somewhat apolitical ethos, wrote a book which influenced and shaped a whole generation.  The Dixie Chicks are all over the news today, but they’re not exactly the collective voice of a generation – one could almost make the argument that they have received so much publicity because of the non-threatening nature of their songs and the group members themselves.  There is also the fact, however, that they attempted to introduce some greater purpose into their music, and there is a real need for this.  

There have been a number of unintelligible protest songs in recent years which are usually praised by liberal outlets and criticized by conservative ones, not so much for content but for intent.  It’s almost obligatory for the major rock acts and rap artists to release the “We’re against the war” song or interview.  The problem is that while these actions might be implemented with the best intentions, it appears that the reason they’re embraced or even performed is the same reason people say they want to be Buddhists or wear bead necklaces and frayed jeans: the ideals of the 1960s have been reduced to a fashion statement, both by the people who originally lived them and by the later generations following the lead of their elders.  It is now safe to stand up against popular opinion because we can always say “we were young and stupid” once we’re old enough to really understand.  The people who grasp this concept are the ones who get picked up by the media because they bring the most flash, whether or not there is substance behind the appearance.  Anybody who simply has a message will likely be mocked; this is the mentality of our culture.  You can engage in a political conversation at a cocktail party endorsing contrarian views, as long as people understand that you’re just the crazy one of the group who has to be different.  Underneath the quirky shirt and loud voice, you’re just like everybody else.  

We can hope that there’s another Bob Dylan out there among us, but the truth is that if Bob Dylan were a 23-year-old trying to find a record deal today, he would be trying for a long time.  There seems to be a collective hope that somebody will come out with a voice and sound as powerful as those of years past who can still reach this era’s generation.  You can read reviews and tell that people want to believe they are listening to the album that will inspire and put an end to modern apathy, but so far this expectation has gone unfulfilled.  Re-living the 1960s would get us nowhere as I’m sure nobody wants to see a bunch of un-showered, upper-middle-class white kids running around, dropping tabs of acid in some imaginary Elysian field.  A vision of thoughtful, educated individuals is not so ridiculous, however – the possibility of this realization is certainly worth fighting for and shouldn’t be too much to ask for.

M R