The Real News of the Month

December 2002
Volume 9, No. 12

Editor: Joe Sobran
Publisher: Fran Griffin (Griffin Communications)
Managing Editor: Ronald N. Neff
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  -> Re-Electing the State
  -> Post-Election Journal (plus Exclusives to this
  -> The Reluctant Anarchist
Nuggets (plus Exclusives to this edition)
List of Columns Reprinted


Re-Electing the State
(page 1)

     The Republican triumph in this year's elections was 
impressive, and it proved that George W. Bush is a better 
politician than I'd given him credit for being. He led 
his party to unusual off-year gains, recapturing narrow 
majorities in both houses of Congress. This feat 
shouldn't be belittled, but neither should it be 
exaggerated. It leaves things pretty much as they were.

     Nearly all incumbents were re-elected; some of the 
exceptions were defeated by other incumbents in flukes of 
redistricting. The size, scope, and power of the Federal 
Government will keep growing. And of course Bush is now 
in a better position to make war.

     The only real good news is that the elections were 
humiliating for the Democrats, leaving them in confusion 
and turmoil. The future may still belong to them, as they 
pander to the growing nonwhite minorities who will 
eventually be the majority. But that future may still be 
remote. In the meantime, they are losing the white vote, 
and losing it decisively.

     The Democrats' dilemma is that they can't afford to 
move either right or left. But, needing new leadership, 
they have chosen Nancy Pelosi as their House minority 
leader. A San Francisco mother of five who is benignly 
disposed toward late-term abortion, Mrs. Pelosi belongs 
to the party's left wing. But she is firmly allied with 
Bush and the Christian Right on one decisive issue: total 
support for Israel. Is anyone surprised?

     But never mind. The only options before the voter 
are Republican big government and Democratic big 
government. The voter's consolation for this is that his 
vote makes no difference anyway. This was underlined in 
Florida two years ago, when we saw that a close election 
winds up being furiously contested and decided in court. 
So much for the slogan "Your vote counts!"

     One of the dearest myths of democracy is that voting 
is among our most precious rights. This myth could easily 
be put to the test by making disfranchisement the penalty 
for not paying taxes. If the citizen failed to pay taxes, 
he would lose the right to vote. Wouldn't that be fair? 
If the vote is so valuable, this should be punishment 
enough. No need for prison, fines, threats, and 
thumbscrews. On the other hand, if the citizen felt he 
wasn't getting his money's worth for his taxes, he could 
opt out of the system.

     Of course the state would never offer this deal, 
because 99 per cent of us would grab it in a heartbeat. 
Which proves that everyone knows the vote is utterly 
worthless, including the state, which couldn't survive 
without captive taxpayers. We will see voting made 
compulsory before we see taxes made optional.

     As the old saying has it, "If voting could change 
anything, it would be illegal." It already is. Opting out 
of the system would be the most meaningful "vote" 
imaginable, sending our rulers a real message; so, 
naturally, it's illegal. Low voter turnout doesn't bother 
them at all; low taxpayer turnout would be another 

     Another possible reform would be to make the 
commissioner of the Internal Revenue Service an elective 
office. Then elections might begin to mean something. But 
I'm daydreaming. Neither party wants a naked bidding war 
for taxpayers' votes. That might be too close for comfort 
to real democracy.

Post-Election Journal
(page 2)

     One of the surprises of the recent elections was 
that incumbents in the U.S. Senate are now more 
vulnerable to defeat than members of the House -- the 
result of sophisticated gerrymandering by mutual 
agreement of Democrats and Republicans. If congressmen 
could take out insurance policies on their seats, the 
premiums would be very low.

*          *          *

     Then again, we can take delight in the defeat of 
Maryland's Connie Morrella, the most liberal Republican 
in the House, who all but ran as a Democrat. She it was 
whose campaign ads boasted that she put "principle above 
party" -- that is, Democratic principles above the 
Republican Party. Good riddance.

*          *          *

     Maryland also elected its first Republican governor 
since -- egad! -- Spiro Agnew. But the real news was the 
sound defeat of Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, Bobby's 
daughter, signifying the end of the fabled Kennedy magic. 
About the last surviving reminder of Camelot now is Fidel 

*          *          *

     John J. Miller of NATIONAL REVIEW blames the 
Libertarian Party for several important Democratic 
victories; indeed, he charges, the Libertarians are 
virtual "Democratic Party operatives." Their vote totals 
in several recent races, you see, would have been enough 
to elect the Republican hopefuls. And aren't Libertarians 
closer to Republicans than to Democrats? What's wrong 
with these sour spoilers? Of course this works two ways. 
You can argue just as logically that if all the people 
who voted Republican had voted Libertarian instead, the 
Libertarians could have won. And there would be this 
difference: if the Libertarians controlled both houses of 
Congress, there might be some hope of limited government.

*          *          *

     Speaking of NATIONAL REVIEW, I've concluded that the 
only thing today's conservatives want to conserve is 

*          *          *

     TIME reports that the war in Afghanistan is far from 
over. This time there is no light at the end of the 
tunnel, nor are the hearts and minds of the people being 
captured. The tough and elusive Islamic forces are still 
fighting hard, as weapons pour in via Pakistan. They are 
also gaining popular support. Young men gather in 
teahouses to vent their hatred of Americans; Muslim 
husbands resent U.S. security searches of their wives' 
clothing as unforgivable insults; and women's lib just 
isn't catching on. Local warlords, easily bribed by 
American money (reported going price: $100), just as 
quickly switch loyalties again. The Pentagon is now 
having second thoughts about defeating, occupying, and 
democratizing Iraq. "If Afghanistan falls," says one U.S. 
officer, "Iraq just got that much harder."

*          *          *

     We may indeed be in "a new kind of war": a Vietnam 
without body bags. And therefore a war without end; a war 
without domestic pressure for a conclusion; a war without 
a significant peace movement. Meanwhile, American society 
will be militarized, at enormous expense; the powers of 
the state will expand, and liberties will be shrunk. 
Uncomprehending Americans will be stunned into 
acquiescence, assured that their freedom is being 
protected even as they lose more than the alleged enemy.

The Reluctant Anarchist
(pages 3-6)

{{ Material dropped from features or changed solely for 
reasons of space appears in double curly brackets. 
Emphasis is indicated by the presence of asterisks around 
the emphasized words.}}

     My arrival (very recently) at philosophical 
anarchism has disturbed some of my conservative and 
Christian friends. In fact, it surprises me, going as it 
does against my own inclinations.

     As a child I acquired a deep respect for authority 
and a horror of chaos. In my case the two things were 
blended by the uncertainty of my existence after my 
parents divorced and I bounced from one home to another 
for several years, often living with strangers. A stable 
authority was something I yearned for.

     Meanwhile, my public-school education imbued me with 
the sort of patriotism encouraged in all children in 
those days. I grew up feeling that if there was one thing 
I could trust and rely on, it was my government. I knew 
it was strong and benign, even if I didn't know much else 
about it. The idea that some people -- Communists, for 
example -- might want to overthrow the government filled 
me with horror.

     G.K. Chesterton, with his usual gentle audacity, 
once criticized Rudyard Kipling for his "lack of 
patriotism." Since Kipling was renowned for glorifying 
the British Empire, this might have seemed one of 
Chesterton's "paradoxes"; but it was no such thing, 
except in the sense that it denied what most readers 
thought was obvious and incontrovertible.

     Chesterton, himself a "Little Englander" and 
opponent of empire, explained what was wrong with 
Kipling's view: "He admires England, but he does not love 
her; for we admire things with reasons, but love them 
without reason. He admires England because she is strong, 
not because she is English." Which implies there would be 
nothing to love her for if she were weak.

     Of course Chesterton was right. You love your 
country as you love your mother -- simply because it is 
*yours,* not because of its superiority to others, 
particularly superiority of power.

     This seems axiomatic to me now, but it startled me 
when I first read it. After all, I was an American, and 
American patriotism typically expresses itself in 
superlatives. America is the freest, the mightiest, the 
richest, in short the *greatest* country in the world, 
with the greatest form of government -- the most 
democratic. Maybe the poor Finns or Peruvians love their 
countries too, but heaven knows why -- they have so 
little to be proud of, so few "reasons." America is also 
the most *envied* country in the world. Don't all people 
secretly wish they were Americans?

     That was the kind of patriotism instilled in me as a 
boy, and I was quite typical in this respect. It was the 
patriotism of supremacy. For one thing, America had never 
lost a war -- I was even proud that America had created 
the atomic bomb (providentially, it seemed, just in time 
to crush the Japs) -- and this is why the Vietnam war was 
so bitterly frustrating. Not the dead, but the defeat! 
The end of history's great winning streak!

     As I grew up, my patriotism began to take another 
form, which it took me a long time to realize was in 
tension with the patriotism of power. I became a 
philosophical conservative, with a strong libertarian 
streak. I believed in government, but it had to be 
"limited" government -- confined to a few legitimate 
purposes, such as defense abroad and policing at home. 
These functions, and hardly any others, I accepted, under 
the influence of writers like Ayn Rand and Henry Hazlitt, 
whose books I read in my college years.

     Though I disliked Rand's atheism (at the time, I was 
irreligious, but not anti-religious), she had an odd 
appeal to my residual Catholicism. I had read enough 
Aquinas to respond to her Aristotelian mantras. 
Everything had to have its own nature and limitations, 
including the state; the idea of a state continually 
growing, knowing no boundaries, forever increasing its 
claims on the citizen, offended and frightened me. It 
could only end in tyranny.

     I was also powerfully drawn to Bill Buckley, an 
explicit Catholic, who struck the same Aristotelian note. 
During his 1965 race for mayor of New York, he made a 
sublime promise to the voter: he offered "the internal 
composure that comes of knowing there are rational limits 
to politics." This may have been the most futile campaign 
promise of all time, but it would have won my vote!

     It was really this Aristotelian sense of "rational 
limits," rather than any particular doctrine, that made 
me a conservative. I rejoiced to find it in certain 
English writers who were remote from American 
conservatism -- Chesterton, of course, Samuel Johnson, 
Edmund Burke, George Orwell, C.S. Lewis, Michael 

     In fact I much preferred a literary, contemplative 
conservatism to the activist sort that was preoccupied 
with immediate political issues. During the Reagan years, 
which I expected to find exciting, I found myself bored 
to death by supply-side economics, enterprise zones, 
"privatizing" welfare programs, and similar principle-
dodging gimmickry. I failed to see that "movement" 
conservatives were less interested in principles than in 
Republican victories. To the extent that I did see it, I 
failed to grasp what it meant.

     Still, the last thing I expected to become was an 
anarchist. For many years I didn't even know that serious 
philosophical anarchists existed. I'd never heard of 
Lysander Spooner or Murray Rothbard. How could society 
survive at all without a state?

     Now I began to be critical of the U.S. Government, 
though not very. I saw that the welfare state, chiefly 
the legacy of Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal, violated the 
principles of limited government and would eventually 
have to go. But I agreed with other conservatives that in 
the meantime the urgent global threat of Communism had to 
be stopped. Since I viewed "defense" as one of the proper 
tasks of government, I thought of the Cold War as a 
necessity, the overhead, so to speak, of freedom. If the 
Soviet threat ever ceased (the prospect seemed remote), 
we could afford to slash the military budget and get back 
to the job of dismantling the welfare state.

     Somewhere, at the rainbow's end, America would 
return to her founding principles. The Federal Government 
would be shrunk, laws would be few, taxes minimal. That 
was what I thought. Hoped, anyway.

     I avidly read conservative and free-market 
literature during those years with the sense that I was, 
as a sort of late convert, catching up with the 
conservative movement. I took it for granted that other 
conservatives had already read the same books and had 
taken them to heart. Surely we all wanted the same 
things! At bottom, the knowledge that there were rational 
limits to politics. Good old Aristotle. At the time, it 
seemed a short hop from Aristotle to Barry Goldwater.

     As is fairly well known by now, I went to work as a 
young man for Buckley at NATIONAL REVIEW and later became 
a syndicated columnist. I found my niche in conservative 
journalism as a critic of liberal distortions of the U.S. 
Constitution, particularly in the Supreme Court's rulings 
on abortion, pornography, and "freedom of expression."

     Gradually I came to see that the conservative 
challenge to liberalism's jurisprudence of "loose 
construction" was far too narrow. Nearly everything 
liberals wanted the Federal Government to do was 
unconstitutional. The key to it all, I thought, was the 
Tenth Amendment, which forbids the Federal Government to 
exercise any powers not specifically assigned to it in 
the Constitution. But the Tenth Amendment had been 
comatose since the New Deal, when Roosevelt's Court 
virtually excised it.

     This meant that nearly all Federal legislation from 
the New Deal to the Great Society and beyond had been 
unconstitutional. Instead of fighting liberal programs 
piecemeal, conservatives could undermine the whole lot of 
them by reviving the true (and, really, obvious) meaning 
of the Constitution. Liberalism depended on a long series 
of usurpations of power.

     {{ Around the time of Judge Robert Bork's bitterly 
contested (and defeated) nomination to the U.S. Supreme 
Court, conservatives spent a lot of energy arguing that 
the "original intent" of the Constitution must be 
conclusive. But they applied this principle only to a few 
ambiguous phrases and passages that bore on specific hot 
issues of the day -- the death penalty, for instance. 
About the *general* meaning of the Constitution there 
could, I thought, be no doubt at all. The ruling 
principle is that whatever the Federal Government isn't 
authorized to do, it's forbidden to do.

     {{ That alone would invalidate the Federal welfare 
state and, in fact, nearly all liberal legislation. But I 
found it hard to persuade most conservatives of this. 
Bork himself took the view that the Tenth Amendment was 
unenforceable. If he was right, then the whole 
Constitution was in vain from the start. }}

     I never thought a constitutional renaissance would 
be easy, but I did think it could play an indispensable 
role in subverting the legitimacy of liberalism. Movement 
conservatives listened politely to my arguments, but 
without much enthusiasm. They regarded appeals to the 
Constitution as rather pedantic and, as a practical 
matter, futile -- not much help in the political 
struggle. Most Americans no longer even remembered what 
"usurpation" meant. Conservatives themselves hardly knew.

     Of course they were right, in an obvious sense. Even 
conservative courts (if they could be captured) wouldn't 
be bold enough to throw out the entire liberal legacy at 
once. But I remained convinced that the conservative 
movement had to attack liberalism at its constitutional 

     In a way I had transferred my patriotism from 
America as it then was to America as it had been when it 
still honored the Constitution. And when had it crossed 
the line? At first I thought the great corruption had 
occurred when Franklin Roosevelt subverted the Federal 
judiciary; later I came to see that the decisive event 
had been the Civil War, which had effectively destroyed 
the right of the states to secede from the Union. But 
this was very much a minority view among conservatives, 
particularly at NATIONAL REVIEW, where I was the only one 
who held it.

     I've written more than enough about my career at the 
magazine, so I'll confine myself to saying that it was 
only toward the end of more than two happy decades there 
that I began to realize that we *didn't* all want the 
same things after all. When it happened, it was like 
learning, after a long and placid marriage, that your 
spouse is in love with someone else, and has been all 

     Not that I was betrayed. I was merely blind. I have 
no one to blame but myself. The Buckley crowd, and the 
conservative movement in general, no more tried to 
deceive me than I tried to deceive them. We all assumed 
we were on the same side, when we weren't. If there is 
any fault for this misunderstanding, it is my own.

     In the late 1980s I began mixing with Rothbardian 
libertarians -- they called themselves by the 
unprepossessing label "anarcho-capitalists" -- and even 
met Rothbard himself. They were a brilliant, combative 
lot, full of challenging ideas and surprising arguments. 
Rothbard himself combined a profound theoretical 
intelligence with a deep knowledge of history. His magnum 
opus, MAN, ECONOMY, AND STATE, had received the most 
unqualified praise of the usually reserved Henry Hazlitt 

     I can only say of Murray what so many others have 
said: never in my life have I encountered such an 
original and vigorous mind. A short, stocky New York Jew 
with an explosive cackling laugh, he was always exciting 
and cheerful company. Pouring out dozens of big books and 
hundreds of articles, he also found time, heaven knows 
how, to write (on the old electric typewriter he used to 
the end) countless long, single-spaced, closely reasoned 
letters to all sorts of people.

     Murray's view of politics was shockingly blunt: the 
state was nothing but a criminal gang writ large. Much as 
I agreed with him in general, and fascinating though I 
found his arguments, I resisted this conclusion. I still 
wanted to believe in constitutional government.

     Murray would have none of this. He insisted that the 
Philadelphia convention at which the Constitution had 
been drafted was nothing but a "coup d'etat," 
centralizing power and destroying the far more tolerable 
arrangements of the Articles of Confederation. This was a 
direct denial of everything I'd been taught. I'd never 
heard anyone suggest that the Articles had been 
preferable to the Constitution! But Murray didn't care 
what anyone thought -- or what *everyone* thought. (He'd 
been too radical for Ayn Rand.)

     Murray and I shared a love of gangster films, and he 
once argued to me that the Mafia was preferable to the 
state, because it survived by providing services people 
actually wanted. I countered that the Mafia behaved like 
the state, extorting its own "taxes" in protection 
rackets directed at shopkeepers; its market was far from 
"free." He admitted I had a point. I was proud to have 
won a concession from him.

     Murray died a few years ago without quite having 
made an anarchist of me. It was left to his brilliant 
disciple, Hans-Hermann Hoppe, to finish my conversion. 
Hans argued that no constitution could restrain the 
state. Once its monopoly of force was granted legitimacy, 
constitutional limits became mere fictions it could 
disregard; nobody could have the legal standing to 
enforce those limits. The state itself would decide, by 
force, what the constitution "meant," steadily ruling in 
its own favor and increasing its own power. This was true 
a priori, and American history bore it out.

     What if the Federal Government grossly violated the 
Constitution? Could states withdraw from the Union? 
Lincoln said no. The Union was "indissoluble" unless all 
the states agreed to dissolve it. As a practical matter, 
the Civil War settled that. The United States, plural, 
were really a single enormous state, as witness the new 
habit of speaking of "it" rather than "them."

     So the people are bound to obey the government even 
when the rulers betray their oath to uphold the 
Constitution. The door to escape is barred. Lincoln in 
effect claimed that it is not our rights but the state 
that is "unalienable." And he made it stick by force of 
arms. No transgression of the Constitution can impair the 
Union's inherited legitimacy. Once established on 
specific and limited terms, the U.S. Government is 
forever, even if it refuses to abide by those terms.

     As Hoppe argues, this is the flaw in thinking the 
state can be controlled by a constitution. Once granted, 
state power naturally becomes absolute. Obedience is a 
one-way street. Notionally, "We the People" create a 
government and specify the powers it is allowed to 
exercise over us; our rulers swear before God that they 
will respect the limits we impose on them; but when they 
trample down those limits, our duty to obey them remains.

     Yet even after the Civil War, certain scruples 
survived for a while. Americans still agreed in principle 
that the Federal Government could acquire new powers only 
by constitutional amendment. Hence the postwar amendments 
included the words "Congress shall have power to" enact 
such and such legislation.

     But by the time of the New Deal, such scruples were 
all but defunct. Franklin Roosevelt and his Supreme Court 
interpreted the Commerce Clause so broadly as to 
authorize virtually any Federal claim, and the Tenth 
Amendment so narrowly as to deprive it of any inhibiting 
force. Today these heresies are so firmly entrenched that 
Congress rarely even asks itself whether a proposed law 
is authorized or forbidden by the Constitution.

     In short, the U.S. Constitution is a dead letter. It 
was mortally wounded in 1865. The corpse can't be 
revived. This remained hard for me to admit, and even now 
it pains me to say it.

     Other things have helped change my mind. R.J. Rummel 
of the University of Hawaii calculates that in the 
twentieth century alone, states murdered about 
162,000,000 million of their own subjects. This figure 
doesn't include the tens of millions of foreigners they 
killed in war. How, then, can we speak of states 
"protecting" their people? No amount of private crime 
could have claimed such a toll. As for warfare, Paul 
Fussell's book WARTIME portrays battle with such 
horrifying vividness that, although this wasn't its 
intention, I came to doubt whether any war could be 

     My fellow Christians have argued that the state's 
authority is divinely given. They cite Christ's 
injunction "Render unto Caesar the things that are 
Caesar's" and St. Paul's words "The powers that be are 
ordained of God." But Christ didn't say which things -- 
if any -- belong to Caesar; his ambiguous words are far 
from a command to give Caesar whatever he claims. And 
it's notable that Christ never told his disciples either 
to establish a state or to engage in politics. They were 
to preach the Gospel and, if rejected, to move on. He 
seems never to have imagined the state as something they 
could or should enlist on their side.

     At first sight, St. Paul seems to be more positive 
in affirming the authority of the state. But he himself, 
like the other martyrs, died for *defying* the state, and 
we honor him for it; to which we may add that he was on 
one occasion a jailbreaker as well. Evidently the passage 
in Romans has been misread. It was probably written 
during the reign of Nero, not the most edifying of 
rulers; but then Paul also counseled slaves to obey their 
masters, and nobody construes this as an endorsement of 
slavery. He may have meant that the state and slavery 
were here for the foreseeable future, and that Christians 
must abide them for the sake of peace. Never does he say 
that either is here forever.

     St. Augustine took a dim view of the state, as a 
punishment for sin. He said that a state without justice 
is nothing but a gang of robbers writ large, while 
leaving doubt that any state could ever be otherwise. St. 
Thomas Aquinas took a more benign view, arguing that the 
state would be necessary even if man had never fallen 
from grace; but he agreed with Augustine that an unjust 
law is no law at all, a doctrine that would severely 
diminish any known state.

     The essence of the state is its legal monopoly of 
force. But force is subhuman; in words I quote 
incessantly, Simone Weil defined it as "that which turns 
a person into a thing -- either corpse or slave." It may 
sometimes be a necessary evil, in self-defense or defense 
of the innocent, but nobody can have by right what the 
state claims: an exclusive privilege of using it.

     It's entirely possible that states -- organized 
force -- will always rule this world, and that we will 
have at best a choice among evils. And some states are 
worse than others in important ways: anyone in his right 
mind would prefer living in the United States to life 
under a Stalin. But to say a thing is inevitable, or less 
onerous than something else, is not to say it is good.

     For most people, "anarchy" is a disturbing word, 
suggesting chaos, violence, antinomianism -- things they 
hope the state can control or prevent. The term "state," 
despite its bloody history, doesn't disturb them. Yet 
it's the state that is truly chaotic, because it means 
the rule of the strong and cunning. They imagine that 
anarchy would naturally terminate in the rule of thugs. 
But mere thugs can't assert a plausible *right* to rule. 
Only the state, with its propaganda apparatus, can do 
that. This is what "legitimacy" means. Anarchists 
obviously need a more seductive label.

     "But what would you replace the state with?" The 
question reveals an inability to imagine human society 
without the state. Yet it would seem that an institution 
that can take 200,000,000 lives within a century hardly 
needs to be "replaced."

     Christians, and especially Americans, have long been 
misled about all this by their good fortune. Since the 
conversion of Rome, most Western rulers have been more or 
less inhibited by Christian morality (though, often 
enough, not so's you'd notice), and even warfare became 
somewhat civilized for centuries; and this has bred the 
assumption that the state isn't necessarily an evil at 
all. But as that morality loses its cultural grip, as it 
is rapidly doing, this confusion will dissipate. More and 
more we can expect the state to show its nature nakedly.

     For me this is anything but a happy conclusion. I 
miss the serenity of believing I lived under a good 
government, wisely designed and benevolent in its 
operation. But, as St. Paul says, there comes a time to 
put away childish things.


{{ Material dropped from features or changed solely for 
reasons of space appears in double curly brackets. }}

IT'S TOUGH STAYING HIP: Things I've found I can't keep up 
with: football, basketball, high-tech industries, young 
movie stars, THE SOPRANOS, J.Lo, DVDs, rock, rap, 
sitcoms, SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, the Internet, and Adam 
Sandler. (page 7)

WHO SAYS A MUST SAY B: If fast-food joints can be held 
legally responsible for children's obesity, why shouldn't 
parents be charged with child abuse for taking them 
there? (page 8)

HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE: In a recent BBC poll asking the 
British to name the 100 greatest English persons of all 
time, Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols was ranked 87th. I 
would have rated him no higher than 94th.

"THERE'S A GREAT SPIRIT GONE": I confess to a weakness 
for Abba Eban, who has died at 87. {{ (I didn't know he 
was still alive.) }} He was Israel's most persuasive 
{{ -- or seductive --  }} voice, and he was perhaps as 
humane as it's possible for a Zionist to be. (page 10)

Exclusive to the electronic version:

WHY WE FIGHT: Our desk-bound domestic hawks continue to 
insist that conquering Iraq will be a piece of cake. 
President Bush still maintains that we must attack Iraq 
no matter what the UN says, because, among its other 
sins, it has defied the UN! (Maybe not as often as 
Israel, but often enough.) It may also be secretly 
developing nuclear weapons (as Israel has). And let's not 
forget its brutal treatment of minorities (unlike 
Israel's?) and its many attempts to deceive us (remind 
you of anyone?).

I'M OK, YOU'RE EVIL, BUT WE'RE OK: Elsewhere along the 
Axis of Evil, North Korea has announced that it has 
acquired nuclear weapons. Its dictator, Kim Jong-Il, is 
an eccentric, fanatical Communist, but he's sane enough 
to understand that G.W. Bush's "resolve" to fight Evil 
applies only to Evil that can't fight back. Unlike Saddam 
Hussein, he poses a real threat: he could easily nuke 
South Korea (where 100,000 U.S. troops are still 
stationed), not to mention Japan, and his rocketry may 
soon be capable of hitting the United States itself. Our 
intrepid leader is willing to settle his little 
differences with Kim through negotiation.


* The State: Evil and Idol (October 29, 2002)

* The Myth of the Tolerant Left (October 31, 2002)

* Reflections on Elections (November 5, 2002)

* What Elections "Mean" (November 7, 2002)

* Shakespeare and the Directors (November 12, 2002)

* Learning the Hard Way (November 19, 2002)


All articles are written by Joe Sobran

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