Newsgroup: it.politica.internazionale
Titolo: Doctorow sul bastard-in-chief

An essay by E. L. Doctorow
Edgar Lawrence Doctorow occupies a central position in the history of
American literature. He is generally considered to be among the most
talented, ambitious, and admired novelists of the second half of the
twentieth century. Doctorow has received the National Book Award, two
National Book Critics Circle Awards, the PEN/Faulkner Award, the Edith
Wharton Citation for Fiction, the William Dean Howell Medal of the
American Academy of Arts and Letters, and the residentially conferred
National Humanities Medal.
Doctorow was born in New York City on January 6, 1931. After
graduating with honors from Kenyon College in 1952, he did graduate
work at Columbia University and served in the U.S. Army. Doctorow was
senior editor for New American Library from 1959 to 1964 and then
served as editor in chief at Dial Press until 1969. Since then, he has
devoted his time to writing and teaching. He holds the Glucksman Chair
in American Letters at New York University and over the years has
taught at several institutions, including Yale University Drama
School, Princeton University, Sarah Lawrence College,
and the University of California, Irvine.
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I fault this president (George W. Bush) for not knowing what death is.
He does not suffer the death of our twenty-one year olds who wanted to
be what they could be. On the eve of D-day in 1944 General Eisenhower
prayed to God for the lives of the young soldiers he knew were going
to die. He knew what death was. Even in a justifiable war, a war not
of choice but of necessity, a war of survival, the cost was almost
more than Eisenhower could bear.
But this president does not know what death is. He hasn't the mind for
it. You see him joking with the press, peering under the table for the
WMDs he can't seem to find, you see him at rallies strutting up to the
stage in shirt sleeves to the roar of the carefully screened crowd,
smiling and waving, triumphal, a he-man. He does not mourn. He doesn't
understand why he should mourn. He is satisfied during the course of a
speech written for him to look solemn for a moment and speak of the
brave young Americans who made the ultimate sacrifice for their
country. But you study him, you look into his eyes and know he
dissembles an emotion which he does not feel in the depths of his
being because he has no capacity for it. He does not feel a
personal responsibility for the thousand dead young men and women who
wanted be what they could be.
They come to his desk not as youngsters with mothers and fathers or
wives and children who will suffer to the end of their days a terribly
torn fabric of familial relationships and the inconsolable remembrance
of aborted life.... They come to his desk as a political liability
which is why the press is not permitted to photograph the arrival of
their coffins from Iraq.
How then can he mourn? To mourn is to express regret and he regrets
nothing. He does not regret that his reason for going to war was, as
he knew, unsubstantiated by the facts. He does not regret that his
bungled plan for the war's aftermath has made of his
mission-accomplished a disaster. He does not regret that rather than
controlling terrorism his war in Iraq has licensed it. So he never
mourns for the dead and crippled youngsters who have fought this war
of his choice. He wanted to go to war and he did
He had not the mind to perceive the costs of war, or to listen to
those who knew those costs. He did not understand that you do not go
to war when it is one of the options, but when it is the only option;
you go not because you want to but because you have to. This president
knew it would be difficult for Americans not to cheer the overthrow of
a foreign dictator. He knew that much.
This president and his supporters would seem to have a mind for only
one thing --- to take power, to remain in power, and to use that power
for the sake of themselves and their friends. A war will do that as
well as anything. You become a wartime leader. The country gets behind
you. Dissent becomes inappropriate. And so he does not drop to his
knees, he is not contrite, he does not sit in the church with the
grieving parents and wives and children.
He is the President who does not feel. He does not feel for the
families of the dead; he does not feel for the thirty five million of
us who live in poverty; he does not feel for the forty percent who
cannot afford health insurance; he does not feel for the miners whose
lungs are turning black or for the working people he has deprived of
the chance to work overtime at time-and-a-half to pay their bills ---
it is amazing for how many people in this country this President does
not feel.
But he will dissemble feeling. He will say in all sincerity he is
relieving the wealthiest one percent of the population of their tax
burden for the sake of the rest of us, and that he is polluting the
air we breathe for the sake of our economy, and that he is decreasing
the safety regulations for coal mines to save the coal miners' jobs,
and that he is depriving workers of their time-and-a- half benefits
for overtime because this is actually a way to honor them by raising
them into the professional class. And this litany of lies he will
versify with reverences for God and the flag and democracy, when just
what he and his party are doing to our democracy is
choking the life out of it.
But there is one more terribly sad thing about all of this. I remember
the millions of people here and around the world who marched against
the war. It was extraordinary, that spontaneously aroused oversoul of
alarm and protest that transcended national borders. Why did it
happen? After all, this was not the only war anyone had ever seen
coming. There are little wars all over the world most of the time. But
the cry of protest was the appalled understanding of millions of
people that America was ceding its role as the last best hope of
mankind. It was their perception that the classic archetype of
democracy was morphing into a rogue nation. The greatest
democratic republic in history was turning its back on the future,
using its extraordinary power and standing not to advance the ideal of
a concordance of civilizations but to endorse the kind of tribal
combat that originated with the Neanderthals, a people, now extinct,
who could imagine ensuring their survival by no other means than
pre-emptive war.
The president we get is the country we get. With each president the
nation is conformed spiritually. He is the artificer of our malleable
national soul. He proposes not only the laws but the kinds of
lawlessness that govern our lives and invoke our responses. The people
he appoints are cast in his image. The trouble they get into and get
us into, is his characteristic trouble.
Finally the media amplify his character into our moral weather report.
He becomes the face of our sky, the conditions that prevail: How can
we sustain ourselves as the United States of America given the stupid
and ineffective warmaking, the constitutionally insensitive lawgiving,
and the monarchal economics of this president? He cannot mourn but is
a figure of such moral vacancy as to make us mourn for ourselves.
E.L. Doctorow

 
...disse il bastard-e-basta... :)
*LOL*
-Stefano