Rhetoric and the War on Terror
The 2004 election, which awarded a second term to President George W. Bush, has repeatedly been called “the most important election of our lifetime.” And indeed, the voter turnout was unprecedented. Obviously, people believed in the importance of this election, and the reason has never been in doubt: America’s War on Terror. The 2004 campaign was not about the economy or jobs, healthcare or social security reform; it was about Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, and the threat of terrorism. The nation has been described as “divided” and “polarized,” with a slight majority favoring the Republican agenda. One might wonder, however, what is the point of division? Are those who oppose the president’s policies sympathetic to al Qaeda and bin Laden? Are those of us who voted for John Kerry “traitors” as some conservatives have claimed, or does the bone of contention lie elsewhere?
There may be some who would “give comfort” to the enemy (American Muslims perhaps), but 49% of the American population, clearly, cannot fit into that category. Ultimately, the ongoing debate hinges upon the government’s foreign policy agenda and specifically upon the president’s war rhetoric. Bush refers to himself as a “war president” and behaves precisely as if he were Roosevelt during World War II. The Administration has declared a "War on Terrorism," but is this a real war? Or is it simply a metaphor? According to Roth (2004):
[The President's] language stretches the meaning of the word 'war.' If Washington means 'war' metaphorically, as when it speaks about a 'war' on drugs, the rhetoric would be uncontroversial, a mere hortatory device intended to rally support for an important cause. Bush, however, seems to think of the war on terrorism quite literally -- as a real war -- and this concept has worrisome implications. The rules that bind governments are much looser during wartime than in times of peace. The Bush administration has used war rhetoric precisely to give itself the extraordinary powers enjoyed by a wartime government to detain or even kill suspects without trial. In the process, the administration may have made it easier for itself to detain or eliminate suspects. But it has also threatened the most basic due process rights (p.2).
Generally, it could be argued that those who believe in a literal War on Terror support the president, while those who cannot accept such rhetoric oppose him. But the debate is not—as some have charged—over the security of the United States versus its vulnerability. We live in a post-9/11 world, and I cannot imagine even the most liberal of liberals thinking that the U.S. should go undefended. If the destruction of the World Trade Center can be called an “act of war” (and there is no reason not to call it that), some kind of response is needed. But what shall it be? And what shall the accompanying rhetoric be? In the Deuteronomic model there is rhetoric of the status quo—contrasting shame and shamelessness, kindness and unkindliness, pity and indignation, envy and emulation—but there is also rhetoric of change—centering on anger, hatred, and fear (as opposed to calmness, friendliness, and confidence). In this situation, maintaining the status quo is unacceptable: not responding to terrorism would be construed as weakness, and thus an invitation to further attacks. The Bush Administration, understandably, responded by declaring a “War on Terror.” The president, in his post 9/11 statements, was careful to sound a balance of themes—anger (saying that other nations were either “for us or against us”), confidence (assuring the public that America would prevail over its enemies), and friendliness (making pains to call Islam a “religion of peace”). Other voices in the Administration, especially during the election campaign, played on people’s fears (e.g. Vice President Cheney saying that a Kerry victory would invite terrorist attacks).
Still, the question remains: is this War literal or metaphorical? An example of the latter would be the “war on drugs” as Roth pointed out—obviously not war in its usual sense, but an intense governmental effort to combat some vexing social ill. A literal war, on the other hand, raises certain questions. For example, with whom are we at war and what is the objective? How is this war to be fought and under what circumstances can it be terminated? If applied to previous conflicts—Vietnam, Korea, WWII, etc.—nation states were at war in the conventional sense, and each question could be clearly answered. Inability to address the questions, as in Vietnam, created terrible problems. But calling the effort to combat terrorism a "War on Terror" (in the literal sense) is rather misleading. Who is the enemy—al Qaeda? Hamas? Islamic Jihad? The Axis of Evil? At first we went after Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan, toppling the Taliban in the process, but then the target became, inexplicably, Saddam Hussein. This shift clouds the issue of with whom we are at war. Next, what is the objective? President Bush has said it is the elimination of terrorism from the face of the earth, but who can take that seriously? The latter set of questions—how the war is to be fought and how it might be ended—can hardly be answered at all. Apparently, the War on Terror will be terminated when, and only when, the President of the United States says it is. Truth is, the War on Terror is even more nebulous than the War on Drugs, and for the government to assume new and far-reaching powers under these circumstances is truly dangerous (and probably unconstitutional).
From a Platonic standpoint the opposing sides in this current debate appear to be arguing two different issues. Consider the following assertions:
Bush supporters— 1) the reason there has not been another 9/11 is because we’ve taken the fight “over there” (Iraq, Afghanistan); 2) the U.S. is “safer” now that Saddam Hussein is in custody; 3) since the U.S is the world’s only superpower, there is no need for the approval of the UN or any other nation regarding our actions.
Bush critics— 1) the president was “asleep at the wheel” and ignored pre-9/11 warnings of impending attacks; 2) the invasion of Iraq had been in the works well before 9/11, and that tragedy was used as a pretext for war; 3) Bush exaggerated the Iraqi “threat” and used shoddy intelligence in a deliberate campaign of deception.
If you analyze the two sets of allegations, the difference is striking: Bush supporters are talking about defending the nation from foreign attackers, while his critics are talking about an abuse of governmental power. It is no wonder, then, that the tenor of the national debate became so shrill and heated—especially before the election. From the conservative viewpoint, criticizing the president is tantamount to saying the United States shouldn’t defend itself, that we should just sit idly by and watch as our enemies attack. The liberal view is that the government is using the fear of terrorism to vastly increase its power—and to curtail civil liberties. Keeping with the Platonic theme, there is a tension between “seeming” (the illusion of security) and “being” (the danger of a too powerful government), and between “pleasure” (the satisfaction of military revenge) and “truth” (whether Iraq was really a threat). The emotional response of anger, humiliation, and desire for revenge seems to be fueling the right, while the rational response, strangely enough, falls to the left. To demonstrate this, let’s take another look at the arguments:
Bush supporters—1) This argument tends to ignore the facts of the 9/11 plot: nineteen jihadists, operating on a shoestring budget of $500,000 and armed with box cutters, commandeered commercial jets and transformed them into guided missiles. How can the presence of American troops in Afghanistan and Iraq possibly foil another such plot on American soil? Increased airport security is what will prevent this particular tactic from being used again; 2) this is based upon the assumption that Saddam Hussein was a grave threat to the United States. Subsequent discoveries in Iraq suggest otherwise—after all, where were the dreaded weapons? 3) Although the U.S. has every right to defend itself, this new doctrine of “preemptive war” is fraught with difficulties. Like every other empire in history, the U.S. may have to learn of its folly the hard way.
Bush critics—1) this seems a bit unfair. Whatever intelligence failures there may have been, no one in the government had actual foreknowledge of 9/11 (so far as we know); 2) the first part of the allegation is true: neo-cons in the Department of Defense had plans for invading Iraq dating back to the first Bush Administration. Whether 9/11 was used as a pretext is hotly debated; perhaps only the president knows for sure; 3) although the situation was not at all clear prior to the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, failure to locate the weapons of mass destruction or uncover any collusion between Iraq and al Qaeda supports the argument.
Despite the government’s claims about “winning the War on Terror,” it is hard to fathom how such a war could ever be “won.” Terrorism is a tactic. Laqueur (1996, p.24) defines it as “the substate application of violence or threatened violence intended to sow panic in a society, to weaken or even overthrow the incumbents, and to bring about political change.” Terrorist methods may vary—car bombs, improvised explosives (currently popular in Iraq), hijackings, hostage taking, anthrax through the mail, guns and bullets, even box cutters. Conceivably, any fringe group (or disturbed individual) with a grievance can readily adopt terrorist methods. How do you “win” a war against such a diffuse impulse to political violence? However, putting the nation in a state of war is a very effective way of enhancing governmental power—all in pursuit of a thing which doesn’t exist in nature, namely “security.”
Conclusion
One often hears the words of Benjamin Franklin these days: "He who gives up an essential liberty for a measure of safety, deserves neither liberty nor safety." The U.S government, in response to 9/11, seems willing to sacrifice all manner of civil liberties to ensure our "safety." If we allow this to continue, then, with Franklin, I say we deserve neither. To put it bluntly: we have more to fear from a too-powerful government than we do from any terrorist plot. Chances are the vast majority of Americans will never be the victims of terror, but we could all be victimized by the government (from which, short of emigration to another country, there is no escape).
This has to do with what I call the "response paradigm"—i.e. the way government chooses to address vital issues. For example, in the War on Drugs the response paradigm was to treat it as a criminal justice matter. But this policy has been an unmitigated failure, resulting in clogged courts, overcrowded prisons, more—not less—crime, and so on. A more sensible approach would be to deal with substance abuse as a public health issue—getting addicts and small time users into mandatory rehab rather than prison. The response paradigm to terrorism has been, predictably, to treat it as a threat to national security. Problem is, almost any sort of egregious abuse is justified on "national security" grounds. To create an America that is absolutely safe from terrorist attack will require transforming it into a garrison state, like Stalinist Russia. A different response paradigm is sorely needed, and that should be accompanied by a more rational and less divisive public discourse. Those who dissent, for example, should never have their patriotism questioned and catch-phrases like “support our troops” should not serve as blunt instruments to stifle the debate. Franklin D. Roosevelt, at the start of his presidency, declared, "There is nothing to fear but fear itself." Thus, we should not fear the threat of terrorism, whatever the cost, for that fear is bound to cripple us.
References
Laqueur, Walter. "Postmodern terrorism." Foreign Affairs, Sept-Oct 1996 v75 n5 p24(13).
Roth, Kenneth. "The Law of War in the War on Terror." Foreign Affairs, Jan-Feb 2004 v83 i1 p2.
There may be some who would “give comfort” to the enemy (American Muslims perhaps), but 49% of the American population, clearly, cannot fit into that category. Ultimately, the ongoing debate hinges upon the government’s foreign policy agenda and specifically upon the president’s war rhetoric. Bush refers to himself as a “war president” and behaves precisely as if he were Roosevelt during World War II. The Administration has declared a "War on Terrorism," but is this a real war? Or is it simply a metaphor? According to Roth (2004):
[The President's] language stretches the meaning of the word 'war.' If Washington means 'war' metaphorically, as when it speaks about a 'war' on drugs, the rhetoric would be uncontroversial, a mere hortatory device intended to rally support for an important cause. Bush, however, seems to think of the war on terrorism quite literally -- as a real war -- and this concept has worrisome implications. The rules that bind governments are much looser during wartime than in times of peace. The Bush administration has used war rhetoric precisely to give itself the extraordinary powers enjoyed by a wartime government to detain or even kill suspects without trial. In the process, the administration may have made it easier for itself to detain or eliminate suspects. But it has also threatened the most basic due process rights (p.2).
Generally, it could be argued that those who believe in a literal War on Terror support the president, while those who cannot accept such rhetoric oppose him. But the debate is not—as some have charged—over the security of the United States versus its vulnerability. We live in a post-9/11 world, and I cannot imagine even the most liberal of liberals thinking that the U.S. should go undefended. If the destruction of the World Trade Center can be called an “act of war” (and there is no reason not to call it that), some kind of response is needed. But what shall it be? And what shall the accompanying rhetoric be? In the Deuteronomic model there is rhetoric of the status quo—contrasting shame and shamelessness, kindness and unkindliness, pity and indignation, envy and emulation—but there is also rhetoric of change—centering on anger, hatred, and fear (as opposed to calmness, friendliness, and confidence). In this situation, maintaining the status quo is unacceptable: not responding to terrorism would be construed as weakness, and thus an invitation to further attacks. The Bush Administration, understandably, responded by declaring a “War on Terror.” The president, in his post 9/11 statements, was careful to sound a balance of themes—anger (saying that other nations were either “for us or against us”), confidence (assuring the public that America would prevail over its enemies), and friendliness (making pains to call Islam a “religion of peace”). Other voices in the Administration, especially during the election campaign, played on people’s fears (e.g. Vice President Cheney saying that a Kerry victory would invite terrorist attacks).
Still, the question remains: is this War literal or metaphorical? An example of the latter would be the “war on drugs” as Roth pointed out—obviously not war in its usual sense, but an intense governmental effort to combat some vexing social ill. A literal war, on the other hand, raises certain questions. For example, with whom are we at war and what is the objective? How is this war to be fought and under what circumstances can it be terminated? If applied to previous conflicts—Vietnam, Korea, WWII, etc.—nation states were at war in the conventional sense, and each question could be clearly answered. Inability to address the questions, as in Vietnam, created terrible problems. But calling the effort to combat terrorism a "War on Terror" (in the literal sense) is rather misleading. Who is the enemy—al Qaeda? Hamas? Islamic Jihad? The Axis of Evil? At first we went after Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan, toppling the Taliban in the process, but then the target became, inexplicably, Saddam Hussein. This shift clouds the issue of with whom we are at war. Next, what is the objective? President Bush has said it is the elimination of terrorism from the face of the earth, but who can take that seriously? The latter set of questions—how the war is to be fought and how it might be ended—can hardly be answered at all. Apparently, the War on Terror will be terminated when, and only when, the President of the United States says it is. Truth is, the War on Terror is even more nebulous than the War on Drugs, and for the government to assume new and far-reaching powers under these circumstances is truly dangerous (and probably unconstitutional).
From a Platonic standpoint the opposing sides in this current debate appear to be arguing two different issues. Consider the following assertions:
Bush supporters— 1) the reason there has not been another 9/11 is because we’ve taken the fight “over there” (Iraq, Afghanistan); 2) the U.S. is “safer” now that Saddam Hussein is in custody; 3) since the U.S is the world’s only superpower, there is no need for the approval of the UN or any other nation regarding our actions.
Bush critics— 1) the president was “asleep at the wheel” and ignored pre-9/11 warnings of impending attacks; 2) the invasion of Iraq had been in the works well before 9/11, and that tragedy was used as a pretext for war; 3) Bush exaggerated the Iraqi “threat” and used shoddy intelligence in a deliberate campaign of deception.
If you analyze the two sets of allegations, the difference is striking: Bush supporters are talking about defending the nation from foreign attackers, while his critics are talking about an abuse of governmental power. It is no wonder, then, that the tenor of the national debate became so shrill and heated—especially before the election. From the conservative viewpoint, criticizing the president is tantamount to saying the United States shouldn’t defend itself, that we should just sit idly by and watch as our enemies attack. The liberal view is that the government is using the fear of terrorism to vastly increase its power—and to curtail civil liberties. Keeping with the Platonic theme, there is a tension between “seeming” (the illusion of security) and “being” (the danger of a too powerful government), and between “pleasure” (the satisfaction of military revenge) and “truth” (whether Iraq was really a threat). The emotional response of anger, humiliation, and desire for revenge seems to be fueling the right, while the rational response, strangely enough, falls to the left. To demonstrate this, let’s take another look at the arguments:
Bush supporters—1) This argument tends to ignore the facts of the 9/11 plot: nineteen jihadists, operating on a shoestring budget of $500,000 and armed with box cutters, commandeered commercial jets and transformed them into guided missiles. How can the presence of American troops in Afghanistan and Iraq possibly foil another such plot on American soil? Increased airport security is what will prevent this particular tactic from being used again; 2) this is based upon the assumption that Saddam Hussein was a grave threat to the United States. Subsequent discoveries in Iraq suggest otherwise—after all, where were the dreaded weapons? 3) Although the U.S. has every right to defend itself, this new doctrine of “preemptive war” is fraught with difficulties. Like every other empire in history, the U.S. may have to learn of its folly the hard way.
Bush critics—1) this seems a bit unfair. Whatever intelligence failures there may have been, no one in the government had actual foreknowledge of 9/11 (so far as we know); 2) the first part of the allegation is true: neo-cons in the Department of Defense had plans for invading Iraq dating back to the first Bush Administration. Whether 9/11 was used as a pretext is hotly debated; perhaps only the president knows for sure; 3) although the situation was not at all clear prior to the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, failure to locate the weapons of mass destruction or uncover any collusion between Iraq and al Qaeda supports the argument.
Despite the government’s claims about “winning the War on Terror,” it is hard to fathom how such a war could ever be “won.” Terrorism is a tactic. Laqueur (1996, p.24) defines it as “the substate application of violence or threatened violence intended to sow panic in a society, to weaken or even overthrow the incumbents, and to bring about political change.” Terrorist methods may vary—car bombs, improvised explosives (currently popular in Iraq), hijackings, hostage taking, anthrax through the mail, guns and bullets, even box cutters. Conceivably, any fringe group (or disturbed individual) with a grievance can readily adopt terrorist methods. How do you “win” a war against such a diffuse impulse to political violence? However, putting the nation in a state of war is a very effective way of enhancing governmental power—all in pursuit of a thing which doesn’t exist in nature, namely “security.”
Conclusion
One often hears the words of Benjamin Franklin these days: "He who gives up an essential liberty for a measure of safety, deserves neither liberty nor safety." The U.S government, in response to 9/11, seems willing to sacrifice all manner of civil liberties to ensure our "safety." If we allow this to continue, then, with Franklin, I say we deserve neither. To put it bluntly: we have more to fear from a too-powerful government than we do from any terrorist plot. Chances are the vast majority of Americans will never be the victims of terror, but we could all be victimized by the government (from which, short of emigration to another country, there is no escape).
This has to do with what I call the "response paradigm"—i.e. the way government chooses to address vital issues. For example, in the War on Drugs the response paradigm was to treat it as a criminal justice matter. But this policy has been an unmitigated failure, resulting in clogged courts, overcrowded prisons, more—not less—crime, and so on. A more sensible approach would be to deal with substance abuse as a public health issue—getting addicts and small time users into mandatory rehab rather than prison. The response paradigm to terrorism has been, predictably, to treat it as a threat to national security. Problem is, almost any sort of egregious abuse is justified on "national security" grounds. To create an America that is absolutely safe from terrorist attack will require transforming it into a garrison state, like Stalinist Russia. A different response paradigm is sorely needed, and that should be accompanied by a more rational and less divisive public discourse. Those who dissent, for example, should never have their patriotism questioned and catch-phrases like “support our troops” should not serve as blunt instruments to stifle the debate. Franklin D. Roosevelt, at the start of his presidency, declared, "There is nothing to fear but fear itself." Thus, we should not fear the threat of terrorism, whatever the cost, for that fear is bound to cripple us.
References
Laqueur, Walter. "Postmodern terrorism." Foreign Affairs, Sept-Oct 1996 v75 n5 p24(13).
Roth, Kenneth. "The Law of War in the War on Terror." Foreign Affairs, Jan-Feb 2004 v83 i1 p2.
posted by Carl Miffleton | 7:50 AM
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