http://www.spectator.co.uk/article_pfv.php?id=6340

Un-American activities
Mark Steyn 
New Hampshire 

In the summer of 2002 I wrote in this space that the President had failed to
seize the moment: ‘George W. Bush had a rare opportunity after September 11.
He could have attempted to reverse the most poisonous tide in the Western
world: the gloopy multiculturalism that insists all cultures are equally
valid, even as they’re trying to kill us. He could have argued that Western
self-loathing is a psychosis we can no longer afford.’ 

Oh, well. Three years on, it seems even clearer that this was Bush’s biggest
immediate lapse in an otherwise clear-sighted understanding of what was at
stake. The post-9/11 world is not primarily a war between civilisations —
the West vs Islam — but a war within one civilisation: ours. It’s a long
existential struggle between those who believe that Western values — or, to
be more precise, the values of the English-speaking world — are one of the
great blessings of this world and those ‘counter-tribalists’ (in John
O’Sullivan’s phrase) who believe those values are the source of most of the
world’s ills. The latter are a relatively small group but their numbers are
bolstered by legions so immersed in the sappy therapeutic culture of the age
that they’ve been persuaded that the best way to ‘celebrate diversity’ is to
abase oneself before moral relativism and non-judgmentalism. The Islamists
are merely the lucky beneficiaries of this syndrome. It’s hard to fight a
war in a culture that recoils from the very concept of an opposing side:
there are no enemies, just friends whose grievances we haven’t yet
accommodated. 

For a few brief weeks after 9/11, back when Americans were celebrating the
heroism of the brave passengers who rose up against their hijackers on
Flight 93, it seemed as if the last words of Tod Beamer — ‘Let’s roll!’ —
might indeed roll back the enervated multiculti squishiness of the age. In
those days Michael Moore was an irrelevant fringe figure, a ‘well-known
crank, regarded with considerable distaste even on the Left’, as Jacob
Weisberg, editor of Slate, assured us. Three years later, garlanded with
Oscars and Palmes d’Or, Michael Moore was sitting alongside Jimmy Carter in
the presidential box at the Democratic Convention. 

The mainstreaming of ‘well-known cranks’ like Moore is one reason the Dems
have become such reliable losers every other November. Reacting to Karl
Rove’s recent assault on American liberals as unreliable on national
security and war, big-time Democrats huffed indignantly that this was an
outrage given their support over the Afghan campaign. OK, but even taking
that at face value it was three and a half years ago: what have you done
since? Bitched about Abu Ghraib and Gitmo and whined that Jacques Chirac
doesn’t want to be friends any more. These days, heavyweight Dems lumber on
to the Senate floor to do Noam Chomsky impressions: the other day it was
Dick Durbin of Illinois comparing the US military at Guantanamo with Nazis
and the Khmer Rouge. 

But the co-option of Durbin, and Ted Kennedy and Howard Dean et al. (as in
Gore) is small potatoes compared with the counter-tribalist Left’s most
audacious appropriation yet. While the Bush administration and most of the
rest of the country were focused on Afghanistan and Iraq, Ground Zero in New
York got snaffled up for something called the ‘World Trade Center Memorial’.
An unexceptional name that would lead you to expect ...what? The names of
the dead? A tribute to the courageous firemen who died in their hundreds
heading up the stairwells and into the flames? A recreation of the iconic
image of the three rescue workers raising the flag and evoking Iwo Jima? 

But somehow the World Trade Center Memorial Cultural Complex has wound up
mostly in the hands of something called the ‘International Freedom Center’,
on whom millions of taxpayers’ dollars have been lavished in return for a
display that will place the events that took place on that ground in the
‘broader context’ of Native American genocide, black lynchings, Pinochet,
the Holocaust, not to mention Gitmo and Abu Ghraib. Most Americans were
unaware of this amazing heist until Debra Burlingame, a member of the board
of the World Trade Center Memorial Foundation and sister of the pilot of one
of the hijacked planes, revealed the extent of the subversion. The leading
figures in the International Freedom Center are: 

— Tom Bernstein, a Hollywood financier whose organisation Human Rights First
recently filed a lawsuit against Don Rumsfeld on behalf of prisoners in Iraq
and Afghanistan. 

— Michael Posner, who heads the ‘Stop Torture Now’ campaign directed
exclusively at the US military. 

— Eric Foner, the Columbia University professor who shortly after 9/11
wrote, ‘I’m not sure which is more frightening: the horror that engulfed New
York City or the apocalyptic rhetoric emanating daily from the White House.’


— and, of course, George Soros, the billionaire sterling-destabiliser who
was one of the first to compare Bush to the Nazis. 

According to the International Freedom Center, the cultural centre will
‘nurture a global conversation on freedom in our world today’. In other
words, Ground Zero is going to be turned into what the columnist Michelle
Malkin calls the Ultimate Guilt Complex. Thus, early plans for a mural
showing an Iraqi going to the polls were ditched in favour of a picture of
Martin Luther King. Nothing wrong with folks learning about civil rights and
Pinochet’s victims, but not at the site of the bloodiest attack on the
American mainland. 

I never cared for the Twin Towers, which were never anything more than a
couple of oversized slabs of Seventies tat. But once the Islamonutters had
taken them down and the various ‘internationally acclaimed architects’ began
submitting designs of ever more limpid tastefulness, I decided Donald Trump
had it right: rebuild the ugly muthas but make ’em taller, and stick a giant
extended middle finger on the top of each one, or maybe pose that Saddam
statue hanging sideways off the roof so he’s being toppled in perpetuity.
The latest hastily revised design for the new Freedom Tower eliminates the
‘life-affirming vertical gardens’ and other milquetoast features proposed by
the architect Daniel Libeskind but it’s still a feeble un-American wimp-out.


Nonetheless, even though I was resigned to architectural disappointment, it
never occurred to me that the internal display would be so easily hijacked.
Inevitably, once Miss Burlingame went public with her concerns, the New York
Times and co. decided the controversy was all about the right of brave
artists to challenge preconceptions: it would be a terrible thing, declared
the Times, if ‘the vital impulses represented by the arts are handcuffed in
the name of freedom...’. Do they have a software programme that generates
that kind of portentous boilerplate or does some poor editorialist have to
try to stay awake while typing it in by hand? 

Who cares about the ‘vital impulses’ of the ‘arts’? When did Ground Zero
become just another outpost for lame provocations by publicly funded
‘artists’? If that’s your bag, there’s a zillion places in town. Needless to
say, that’s not how the alleged artists feel, their general line boiling
down to: but enough about the 3,000 dead — let’s talk about me. 

In some perverse way, I half hope the Soros crowd and the ‘Stop Rumsfeld
Now’ set get away with it. It would in a sense be a very fitting monument to
the indestructibility of the banal tropes of the Left. And it would remind
outraged visitors to Ground Zero that, while this kind of thinking doesn’t
command much support among the American people, it has a hammerlock on the
heights of our culture. Given its grip on the academy, the media, the
Congregational and Episcopal Churches, the ‘arts’ and Hollywood, why
wouldn’t it also effortlessly consume the 9/11 site and transform a
straightforward patriotic memorial into just another lesson in how flawed we
are? A ‘warts and all’ representation that’s all warts. The only surprise is
that they didn’t invite the Wahabis to build a memorial madrasa on the site,
in the interests of multicultural outreach. 

It feels like summer. Summer 2001, that is. Then, as now, Africa was in the
news. There was a big UN conference on ‘racism’ in Durban the week before 11
September. Remember that? They demanded America pay reparations — for the
Rwandan genocide. And Robert Mugabe was cheered to the rafters when he
called on the United States and the United Kingdom to ‘apologise
unreservedly for their crimes against humanity’. 

Four years later, plus ça change. The only difference is that His Homophobic
Excellency was too busy razing mosques and destroying crops back home to
attend Live 8, so they had to get Pink Floyd and George Michael instead. In
terms of the reviews, that’s not a bad move. But the message stayed pretty
much the same: Africa is our fault, and we need to pay up for it. For, as
Sir Bob Geldof put it, ‘Something must be done, even if it doesn’t work.’ No
wonder that bloke from Coldplay who’s married to Gwyneth described Live 8 as
‘the greatest thing that’s ever been organised probably in the history of
the world’. 

At first, they said half the population of the entire planet watched. Then
they revised it down to two billion. Hmm. In my small corner of the planet,
I couldn’t find a single neighbour who caught the concerts. But I assumed
that was just our hard-hearted Granite State parochialism. In Britain 10
million people watched Live 8, which works out at about half of what a
Morecambe and Wise Christmas show would have pulled, but isn’t bad in these
deregulated times. They had a big hit — and 83 per cent of the population
didn’t need to be involved. For purposes of comparison, the 4 June episode
of Casualty on BBC1 got 7.83 million viewers or, if you want a musical point
of reference, Strictly Dance Fever with Graham Norton got 6.34 million
viewers. In other words, you put together a unique once-in-a-lifetime bill
with Sir Paul McCartney, Sir Elton John, Her Grace the Madonna of that Ilk,
the Who and the first performance by Pink Floyd since the Second Crusades,
and together they pull an audience that is 50 per cent bigger than the
anonymous house orchestra on a BBC talent show. 

The only difference is that Strictly Dance Fever didn’t generate front-page
news around the world from Vancouver to New York to London to Sydney the way
Live 8 did. Those session musicians in that BBC house band can’t command
private audiences of G8 heads of government the way Sir Bob and Lord Bono of
the Reeks can. The every pronouncement of Graham Norton’s second trombonist
is not relayed to the world as avidly as each geopolitical morsel that falls
from the pink tongue of Pink Floyd’s Dave Gilmour. 

So I’d say David Davis’s line that the Tories must ‘embrace the spirit of
Live 8’ is a lot of hooey. By the time you read this, it may well have
induced the G8 chaps to make some forlorn genuflection in their direction,
but the ‘spirit of Live 8’ is already on the wane. Because there’s no such
thing. At the French concert at Versailles ‘16-year-old Hugo Viollier sat on
the grass drinking beer with friends’ and told Reuters, ‘I came because it’s
free and not very far from where I live. I didn’t even know it had anything
to do with Africa until you told me but that’s a good thing.’ At the
Canadian concert in Barrie, Ontario, Marty Gradwell said he was there ‘to
rock out and enjoy the start of a warm summer’. Asked by the Globe and Mail
what cause the worldwide concerts were raising ‘awareness’ of, he gamely
took a shot: ‘For Aids in Afghanistan, is it?’ 

Close enough. Maybe when Marty and Hugo have finished drinking beer and
rocking out, the stirring message of the day will linger like a haunting
refrain. But I’ll wait and see how effective the trickle-down populism is.
When Bob Geldof chided G8 leaders with his post-gig triumphalism — ‘Now feel
the force of the gale that’s hit you’ — that light breeze was mainly one
man’s hot air. Live 8 is elites speaking to elites — knighted rockers to
heads of government — because that’s the level at which celebrities are
comfortable interacting. Indeed, in its malign progress from leftist
activists to impressionable celebrities to doting media to squishy
politicians, it’s a perfect paradigm of how the most comprehensively failed
Sixties nostrums get continuously recycled as ‘revolutionary’ ‘popular’
‘idealism’. 

When Cromwell instructed his portraitist to paint him ‘warts and all’, he
meant both halves of that equation. To teach the warts alone is morbid and
unhealthy. That’s why I argued that, in that immediate post-9/11 period,
Bush should have expended some of his political capital and spectacular
approval ratings in a conscious assault on the most debilitating aspects of
our culture. Alas, that’s not his style. So in different ways, at Ground
Zero and in Hyde Park, we’ve taken four years to come back to where we were
on 10 September 2001. 




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