Nothing in this post is novel, but it was interesting to think through again. James Fallows, one of the finest reporters working today, just published a foreign policy cover piece in The Atlantic arguing for a declaration of victory in the war on terror, and a new approach to securing the country. Interesting stuff, and well worth a read. But while people were recommending and condemning the article to me, the big question seemed to be whether Fallows was pro-war. A fair number were certain he was, a similarly strong contingent positive he wasn't. So I went back to the tape.
The big Fallows cover on Iraq was The 51st State, which still stands as the most prescient and illuminative explanation of what an occupation would look like. No chocolate, no flowers, no wreaths or relieved Iraqis. Just an unpredictable logistical nightmare which we'd be lucky to survive, much less mold in our image. But the article never actually argues against the war. It explains how terrifically tough the undertaking will prove, but Fallows never takes that final step and declares that the margin of error is too small, and the downsides too high, to enter the conflict. A pro-war reader could absorb the article, marvel that we'd better do this right, and go back to his cheerleading -- hypothetical wars being rather simple to adeptly conduct.
Nor is the online only interview with Fallows much better. Here he does cop to the dovish position, but he won't actually say so. Instead, when asked where he's leaning, he says:
The cast of mind of the cautious military officials is the one that seemed most sensible to me. Showdowns, even wars, are sometimes inevitable. John Kennedy had to draw a line with the Soviet Union in 1962. It may eventually become clear that the U.S. has to draw a line by removing Saddam Hussein from power. My purpose in writing this article was to provide a clear-eyed look at exactly what we could expect in those circumstances. It is implicitly an argument for trying other measures first. And it may even be that if we try other measures, including building an alliance and pressing for more effective inspections, we would be in better shape if the alternatives failed and we finally must attack. In that case, we'd be more likely to do it with allies and international legitimacy, which would make the whole aftermath less difficult.
But that perspective, while not pro-war, is not anti-war. Yet Fallows, even at this time, clearly was an opponent of the conflict. He just refused to say so. Part of that, surely, is the natural inclination of a careful thinker to hedge his bets, not close off the possibility of being wrong. But another part was the crush of pro-war sentiment, the race to not be on the wrong side of history. The end result, sadly, was that those seeking to find where they stood had the cheering of Friedman, Pollack, and Hitchens on one end, and the caution of Fallows on the other. That's not to dismiss the truly anti-war voices like Krugman, Herbert, and Meyerson, but it is to step in the wayback machine and recall that the fury of the moment not only marginalized the anti-war side, but subtly cowed, and thus distorted, those who knew better.
