{"id":1298,"date":"2007-06-29T11:08:12","date_gmt":"2007-06-29T16:08:12","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.prosebeforehos.com\/article-of-the-day\/06\/29\/ship-o-ghrouls\/"},"modified":"2012-12-26T16:08:43","modified_gmt":"2012-12-26T21:08:43","slug":"ship-o-ghrouls","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.prosebeforehos.com\/article-of-the-day\/06\/29\/ship-o-ghrouls\/","title":{"rendered":"Ship o’ Ghrouls"},"content":{"rendered":"
The Article:<\/strong> One of the better articles I’ve read in a while, Johann Hari describes taking the National Review Cruise in Titanic at the New Republic<\/a> (and via Liberal Avenge<\/a>r).<\/p>\n The Text:<\/strong> I am standing waist-deep in the Pacific Ocean, indulging in the polite chit-chat beloved by vacationing Americans. A sweet elderly lady from Los Angeles is sitting on the rocks nearby, telling me dreamily about her son. \u201cIs he your only child?\u201d I ask. \u201cYes,\u201d she answers. \u201cDo you have a child back in England?\u201d she asks me. No, I say. Her face darkens. \u201cYou\u2019d better start,\u201d she says. \u201cThe Muslims are breeding. Soon, they\u2019ll have the whole of Europe.\u201d<\/p>\n I am getting used to such moments, when holiday geniality bleeds into\u2013well, I\u2019m not sure exactly what. I am traveling on a bright-white cruise ship with two restaurants, five bars, and 500 readers of National Review. Here, the Iraq war has been \u201can amazing success.\u201d Global warming is not happening. Europe is becoming a new Caliphate. And I have nowhere to run.<\/p>\n From time to time, National Review\u2013the bible of American conservatism\u2013organizes a cruise for its readers. Last November, I paid $1,200 to join them. The rules I imposed on myself were simple: If any of the conservative cruisers asked who I was, I answered honestly, telling them I was a journalist. But, mostly, I just tried to blend in\u2013and find out what conservatives say when they think the rest of us aren\u2019t listening.<\/p>\n I arrive at the dockside in San Diego on a Saturday afternoon and stare up at the Oosterdam, our home for the next seven days. We guests have been told to gather for a cocktail reception on a deck near the top of the ship. There are no big hugs or warm kisses at this gathering. This is a place of starchy introductions. Men approach one another with puffed-out chests and sturdy handshakes. Women are greeted with a single kiss on the cheek. Anything more, of course, would be French.<\/p>\n I adjust and stiffly greet the first man I see. He is a judge, he tells me, with the craggy self- important charm that slowly consumes any judge. He is from Canada, he declares (a little more apologetically), and is the founding president of \u201cCanadians Against Suicide Bombing.\u201d Would there be many members of \u201cCanadians for Suicide Bombing?\u201d I ask. Dismayed, he suggests that yes, yes there would.<\/p>\n A bell rings somewhere, and we are all beckoned to dinner. We have been assigned random seats, which will change each night. We will, the pub- licity pack promises, each dine with at least one National Review speaker during our trip.<\/p>\n To my left, I find a middle-aged Floridian with a neat beard. To my right are two elderly New Yorkers who look and sound like late-era Dorothy Parker, minus the alcohol poisoning. They live on Park Avenue, they explain in precise Northern tones. \u201cYou must live near the U.N. building,\u201d the Floridian says to one of the ladies after the entr\u00e9e is served. Yes, she responds, shaking her head wearily. \u201cThey should suicide-bomb that place,\u201d he says. They all chuckle gently.<\/p>\n The conversation ebbs back to friendly chit-chat. So, you\u2019re a European, one of the Park Avenue ladies says, before offering witty commentaries on the cities she\u2019s visited. Her companion adds, \u201cI went to Paris, and it was so lovely.\u201d Her face darkens: \u201cBut then you think\u2013it\u2019s surrounded by Muslims.\u201d The first lady nods: \u201cThey\u2019re out there, and they\u2019re coming.\u201d Emboldened, the bearded Floridian wags a finger and says, \u201cDown the line, we\u2019re not going to bail out the French again.\u201d He mimes picking up a phone and shouts into it, \u201cI can\u2019t hear you, Jacques! What\u2019s that? The Muslims are doing what to you? I can\u2019t hear you!\u201d<\/p>\n Now that this barrier has been broken\u2013everyone agrees the Muslims are devouring the French, and everyone agrees it\u2019s funny\u2013the usual suspects are quickly rounded up. Jimmy Carter is \u201calmost a traitor.\u201d John McCain is \u201ccrazy\u201d because of \u201call that torture.\u201d One of the Park Avenue ladies declares that she gets on her knees every day to \u201cthank God for Fox News.\u201d As the wine reaches the Floridian, he sits back and announces, \u201cThis cruise is the best money I ever spent.\u201d<\/p>\n The next morning, I warily wander into the Vista Lounge\u2013a Vegas-style showroom\u2013for the first of the trip\u2019s seminars: a discussion intended to exhume the conservative corpse and discover its cause of death on the black, black night of November 7, 2006.<\/p>\n There is something strange about this discussion, and it takes me a few moments to realize exactly what it is. All the tropes conservatives usually deny in public\u2013that Iraq is another Vietnam, that Bush is fighting a class war on behalf of the rich\u2013are embraced on this shining ship in the middle of the ocean. Yes, they concede, we are fighting another Vietnam; and this time we won\u2019t let the weak-kneed liberals lose it. \u201cIt\u2019s customary to say we lost the Vietnam war, but who\u2019s \u2018we\u2019?\u201d Dinesh D\u2019Souza asks angrily. \u201cThe left won by demanding America\u2019s humiliation.\u201d On this ship, there are no Viet Cong, no three million dead. There is only liberal treachery. Yes, D\u2019Souza says, in a swift shift to domestic politics, \u201cof course\u201d Republican politics is \u201cabout class. Republicans are the party of winners, Democrats are the party of losers.\u201d<\/p>\n The panel nods, but it doesn\u2019t want to stray from Iraq. Robert Bork, Ronald Reagan\u2019s one-time nominee to the Supreme Court, mumbles from beneath low-hanging jowls: \u201cThe coverage of this war is unbelievable. Even Fox News is unbelievable. You\u2019d think we\u2019re the only ones dying. Enemy casualties aren\u2019t covered. We\u2019re doing an excellent job killing them.\u201d<\/p>\n Then, with a judder, the panel runs momentarily aground. Rich Lowry, the preppy, handsome 38-year-old editor of National Review, announces, \u201cThe American public isn\u2019t concluding we\u2019re losing in Iraq for any irrational reason. They\u2019re looking at the cold, hard facts.\u201d The Vista Lounge is, as one, perplexed. Lowry continues, \u201cI wish it was true that, because we\u2019re a superpower, we can\u2019t lose. But it\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n No one argues with him. They just look away, in the same manner that people avoid glancing at a crazy person yelling at a bus stop. Then they return to hyperbole and accusations of treachery against people like their editor. The aging historian Bernard Lewis declares, \u201cThe election in the U.S. is being seen by [the bin Ladenists] as a victory on a par with the collapse of the Soviet Union. We should be prepared for whatever comes next.\u201d This is why the guests paid up to $6,000. This is what they came for. They give him a wheezing, stooping ovation and break for coffee.<\/p>\n A fracture-line in the lumbering certainty of American conservatism is opening right before my eyes. Following the break, Norman Podhoretz and William Buckley\u2013two of the grand old men of the Grand Old Party\u2013begin to feud. Podhoretz will not stop speaking\u2013\u201dI have lots of ex-friends on the left; it looks like I\u2019m going to have some ex-friends on the right, too,\u201d he rants\u2013and Buckley says to the chair, \u201cJust take the mike, there\u2019s no other way.\u201d He says it with a smile, but with heavy eyes.<\/p>\n Podhoretz and Buckley now inhabit opposite poles of post-September 11 American conservatism, and they stare at wholly different Iraqs. Podhoretz is the Brooklyn-born, street-fighting kid who traveled through a long phase of left- liberalism to a pugilistic belief in America\u2019s power to redeem the world, one bomb at a time. Today, he is a bristling gray ball of aggression, here to declare that the Iraq war has been \u201can amazing success.\u201d He waves his fist and declaims, \u201cThere were WMD, and they were shipped to Syria. \u2026 This picture of a country in total chaos with no security is false. It has been a triumph. It couldn\u2019t have gone better.\u201d He wants more wars, and fast. He is \u201ccertain\u201d Bush will bomb Iran, and \u201cthank God\u201d for that.<\/p>\n Buckley is an urbane old reactionary, drunk on doubts. He founded National Review in 1955\u2013when conservatism was viewed in polite society as a mental affliction\u2013and he has always been skeptical of appeals to \u201cthe people,\u201d preferring the eternal top-down certainties of Catholicism. He united with Podhoretz in mutual hatred of Godless Communism, but, slouching into his eighties, he possesses a worldview that is ill-suited for the fight to bring democracy to the Muslim world. He was a ghostly presence on the cruise at first, appearing only briefly to shake a few hands. But now he has emerged, and he is fighting.<\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t you embarrassed by the absence of these weapons?\u201d Buckley snaps at Podhoretz. He has just explained that he supported the war reluctantly, because Dick Cheney convinced him Saddam Hussein had WMD primed to be fired. \u201cNo,\u201d Podhoretz replies. \u201cAs I say, they were shipped to Syria. During Gulf war one, the entire Iraqi air force was hidden in the deserts in Iran.\u201d He says he is \u201cheartbroken\u201d by this \u201crise of defeatism on the right.\u201d He adds, apropos of nothing, \u201cThere was nobody better than Don Rumsfeld. This defeatist talk only contributes to the impression we are losing, when I think we\u2019re winning.\u201d<\/p>\n The audience cheers Podhoretz. The nuanced doubts of Bill Buckley leave them confused. Doesn\u2019t he sound like the liberal media? Later, over dinner, a tablemate from Denver calls Buckley \u201ca coward.\u201d His wife nods and says, \u201cBuckley\u2019s an old man,\u201d tapping her head with her finger to suggest dementia.<\/p>\n I decide to track down Buckley and Podhoretz separately and ask them for interviews. Bill is sitting forlornly in his cabin, scribbling in a notebook. In 2005, at an event celebrating National Review\u2019s fiftieth birthday, President Bush described today\u2019s American conservatives as \u201cBill\u2019s children.\u201d I ask him if he feels like a parent whose kids grew up to be serial killers. He smiles slightly, and his blue eyes appear to twinkle. Then he sighs, \u201cThe answer is no. Because what animated the conservative core for forty years was the Soviet menace, plus the rise of dogmatic socialism. That\u2019s pretty well gone.\u201d<\/p>\n This does not feel like an optimistic defense of his brood, but it\u2019s a theme he returns to repeatedly: The great battles of his life are already won. Still, he ruminates over what his old friend Ronald Reagan would have made of Iraq. \u201cI think the prudent Reagan would have figured here, and the prudent Reagan would have shunned a commitment of the kind that we are now engaged in. \u2026 I think he would have attempted to find some sort of assurance that any exposure by the United States would be exposure to a challenge the dimensions of which we could predict.\u201d Lest liberals be too eager to adopt the Gipper as one of their own, Buckley agrees approvingly that Reagan\u2019s approach would have been to \u201cfind a local strongman\u201d to rule Iraq.<\/p>\n A few floors away, Podhoretz tells me he is losing his voice, \u201cwhich will make some people very happy.\u201d Then he croaks out the standard-issue Wolfowitz line about how, after September 11, the United States had to introduce democracy to the Middle East in order to change the political culture that produced the mass murderers. For somebody who declares democracy to be his goal, he is remarkably blas\u00e9 about the fact that 80 percent of Iraqis want U.S. troops to leave their country, according to the latest polls. \u201cI don\u2019t much care,\u201d he says, batting the question away. He goes on to insist that \u201cnobody was tortured in Abu Ghraib or Guant\u00e1namo\u201d and that Bush is \u201ca hero.\u201d He is, like most people on this cruise, certain the administration will attack Iran.<\/p>\n \u201cI keep telling people we are in World War Four,\u201d Podhoretz declares. He fumes at Buckley, George Will, and the other apostate conservatives who refuse to see sense. He again declares victory. And for a moment, here in the Mexican breeze, it is as though, thousands of miles away, Baghdad is not bleeding.<\/p>\n I encounter other ghosts of conservatism past wandering the ship as well. From the pool, I see John O\u2019Sullivan, former adviser to Margaret Thatcher and former editor of National Review. And, one morning on the deck, I discover Kenneth Starr, looking like he has stepped out of a long-forgotten 1990s newsreel. His face is round and unlined, like that of an immense, contented baby. As I stare at it, all my repressed bewilderment rises, and I ask: Mr. Starr, do you feel ashamed that, while Osama bin Laden was plotting to murder nearly 3,000 American citizens, you brought the government to a standstill over a few consensual blow-jobs?<\/p>\n He smiles through his teeth and says, in his soft, somnambulant voice, \u201cI am entirely at rest with the process. The House of Representatives worked its will, the Senate worked its will, the chief justice of the United States presided. The constitutional process worked admirably.\u201d It\u2019s an oddly meek defense, and, the more I challenge him, the more legalistic he becomes, each answer a variation on, \u201cIt wasn\u2019t my fault.\u201d<\/p>\n Several days later, the nautical counter-revolution has docked in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where passengers will clamber overboard into a nation they want to wall off behind a 1,000-mile fence. One expresses horror at my intention to find a local street kid to show me around, exclaiming, \u201cDo you want to die?\u201d D\u2019Souza summarizes the prevailing sentiment by unveiling what he modestly calls \u201cD\u2019Souza\u2019s law of immigration\u201d: An immigrant\u2019s quality is \u201cproportional to the distance traveled to get to the United States.\u201d In other words: Asians trump Latinos.<\/p>\n After wandering Puerto Vallarta without bodily harm, I return for dinner with my special National Review guest: Kate O\u2019Beirne. She\u2019s an impossibly tall blonde with the voice of a 1930s screwball star and the arguments of an 1890s Victorian patriarch. She inveighs against feminism and \u201cwomen who make the world worse\u201d in quick quips. She is sitting among adoring fans with her husband, Jim, who quickly announces that he is Donald Rumsfeld\u2019s personnel director. \u201cPeople keep asking what I\u2019m doing here, with him being fired and all,\u201d he says. \u201cBut the cruise has been arranged for a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n The familiar routine of the dinners\u2013getting-to-know-you chit-chat, followed by raging right-wing echo chamber\u2013is accelerating. Tonight, there is explicit praise for a fascist dictator before the entr\u00e9e has arrived. I drop the news that there are moves in Germany to have Rumsfeld extradited to face war crimes charges. A red-faced man who looks like an egg with a moustache glued on grumbles, \u201cIf the Germans think they can take responsibility for the world, I don\u2019t care about German courts. Bomb them.\u201d I begin to cite the Pinochet precedent, and O\u2019Beirne snaps, \u201cTreating Don Rumsfeld like Pinochet is disgusting.\u201d Egg Man pounds his fist on the table: \u201cTreating Pinochet like that is disgusting. Pinochet is a hero. He saved Chile.\u201d \u201cExactly,\u201d adds O\u2019Beirne\u2019s husband. \u201cAnd he privatized Social Security.\u201d<\/p>\n The table nods solemnly before marching onward to Topic A: the billion-strong swarm of Muslims who are poised to take over the world. The idea that Europe is being \u201ctaken over\u201d is the unifying theme of this cruise. Some people go on singles\u2019 cruises, some on ballroom-dancing cruises. This is the Muslims Are Coming cruise. Everyone thinks it. Everyone knows it. And the man most responsible for this insight is sitting only a few tables down: Mark Steyn. He is wearing sunglasses on top of his head and a bright shirt. Steyn\u2019s thesis in his new book, America Alone, is simple: The \u201cEuropean races\u201d\u2013i.e., white people\u2013\u201dare too self-absorbed to breed,\u201d but the Muslims are multiplying quickly. The inevitable result will be \u201clarge-scale evacuation operations circa 2015? as Europe is ceded to Al Qaeda and \u201cGreater France remorselessly evolve[s] into Greater Bosnia.\u201d He offers a light smearing of dubious demographic figures\u2013he needs to turn 20 million European Muslims into more than 150 million in nine years, which is a lot of humping\u2013to \u201cprove\u201d his case.<\/p>\n But facts, figures, and doubt are not on the itinerary of this cruise. With one or two exceptions, the passengers discuss \u201cthe Muslims\u201d as a homogenous, sharia-seeking block\u2013already with near-total control of Europe. Over the week, I am asked nine times\u2013I counted\u2013when I am fleeing Europe\u2019s encroaching Muslim population for the safety of the United States.<\/p>\n At one of the seminars, a panelist says anti-Americanism comes from both directions in a grasping pincer movement\u2013\u201dThe Muslims condemn us for being decadent; the Europeans condemn us for not being decadent enough.\u201d Midge Decter, Norman Podhoretz\u2019s wife, yells, \u201cThe Muslims are right, the Europeans are wrong!\u201d And, instantly, Jay Nordlinger, National Review\u2019s managing editor and the panel\u2019s chair, says, \u201cI\u2019m afraid a lot of the Europeans are Muslim, Midge.\u201d The audience cheers. Somebody shouts, \u201cYou tell \u2018em, Jay!\u201d<\/p>\n He tells \u2018em. Decter tells \u2018em. Steyn tells \u2018em. On this cruise, everyone tells \u2018em\u2013and, thanks to my European passport, tells me. It is, unsurprisingly, the last thing I hear at the end of the voyage. I\u2019m back on the docks of San Diego, watching the tireless champions of the overdog filter past and say their formal goodbyes. As I turn my back on the ship for the last time, I feel the judge I met the first day place his arm affectionately on my shoulder. \u201cWe have written off Britain to the Muslims,\u201d he says. \u201cCome to America.\u201d<\/p>\n Analysis:<\/strong> Sound the alarm, brown people are coming. Wait — Arabs or Mexicans? Or both?<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Article: One of the better articles I’ve read in a while, Johann Hari describes taking the National Review Cruise in Titanic at the New Republic (and via Liberal Avenger). The Text: I am standing waist-deep in the Pacific Ocean, indulging in the polite chit-chat beloved by vacationing Americans. A sweet elderly lady from Los […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":49,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[259],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n