The puppy's name -- for those of us who cared to give her a name -- is "Felafel." She lives at a patrol base we've handed over; I'm not sure what the Iraqis call it now. They don't call the puppy anything at all, but she comes running when she sees an American hummer.
The Iraqis are skeptical of the American love of dogs. "You should not touch dogs," they tell us. "Dogs are filthy."
"Yes, she is!" we reply, crouching down to rub her belly. "You're a filthy girl!" Dust pours off her when you rub her belly, and she is very grateful.
I recall the look from our Iraqi hosts, which I suppose I would describe as frustration. They're trying to make a point, and we seem to be agreeing with them, and yet are enthusiastically doing the opposite of what they advise.
Our chaplain had a few free classic TV DVDs, including a selection of a show about Jim Bowie from the 1950s. The hymn-like music is risible, but there's a bit of honest folk wisdom to be had.
"I don't know which is the bigger nuisance to the world, the tight fisted money-grabber, or the dreamy-eyed rainbow-chaser."
The shopkeeper's sneer at Jim Bowie strikes a bit too close to home, too: "And you're home about two weeks out'n the year..."
*Cough!* I feel just that way when I talk to folks back here, sometimes.
Rolled under a young buckskin's side he had started to train;The finest words in the English language are, I am convinced: "You've earned it."
Slipped under his side in the mud and the September rain;And she'd sing: "Rowls that ring like bells in the night;
Silver spurs flashing in the Utah moonlight;
Hoofbeats that echo out over the hills;
Songs and stars and a memory that thrills
My heart, my heart, my heart,
Like the ring of his spurs...The last words that he whispered to me as I knelt by his side;
'You know Jack, I'd give anything just to see my boy ride;'
These were your father's, you've earned them, and now son they're yours;
As he took from his heels and handed me these silver spurs.
If you've another suggestion, post it below. Yet beware: What can match it? Here is a recognition that what you have is won by right, given by men of equal standing. We are Americans, after all: this admission is granted freely, by free men. What matches it?
Religious Flexibility
In Wednesday's Best of the Web, James Taranto blogs about "Islamic mortgages" in Minnesota (scroll to "very interesting"). He opines that the method used to get around the Koranic prohibition of interest is just a "loophole" - and intelligently compares it to Jewish techniques for getting around the prohibition on leavened bread at Passover (simple: sell it to a Gentile, leave it physically where it is, and buy it back when it's over). This is of course a commonplace in religious history. If you read even John Robinson's Dungeon, Fire and Sword: The Knights Templar in the Crusades, you'll read many examples: medieval Catholicism opposed usury quite strictly, but the Templars provided financial services suspiciously like banking. No interest, of course, but the beneficiary would make a donation to the holy Order...In another part of the book, Frederick II is leading a Crusading army that wants to follow him, but technically they can't listen to him because his excommunication hasn't been lifted; he gets around it by issuing all orders "in the name of Jesus Christ" (it was his crusade, after all) - quite good enough.
Mr. Taranto expresses the humane hope that "if Islam can adapt so that Muslims can get mortgages, perhaps the more invidious elements of Shariah are open to reinterpretation as well." He doesn't seem aware that this already happens all the time. See the scholarly Islamic side of this debate with the anti-Islamic fanatic Ali Sina. The good professors squarely face the more brutal verses you know - smite the unbelievers' fingertips off, fight them until they convert "or, with willing hands, pay the jizya, and feel themselves utterly subdued," etc. etc. They argue, as many of the Muslims called moderate do, that those verses were only for that time (lawyers call it "limiting the case to its facts"). They argue that whoever lived at the time of Mohammed could see his Godly nature and had no excuse to deny it; but men ever since have only hearsay, and can't be held so strictly liable. Moreover, and this fascinates me, they take this doctrine as obvious and self-evident. Theologians can do to the plainest scripture what the Supreme Court did to the Commerce Clause, or the Ninth Circuit to the Second Amendment - and often they do this in a way that accomodates a stark doctrine to Life as we live it on the Earth, and makes it more humane. You know what Jesus said about divorce; perhaps you've read what Milton did with it?
The uniform variations are endlessly hilarious to US soldiers. Our XO said that a good unit of the IA will have at least nine different kinds of uniforms, none of which will be worn to standard; and our HTT leader once said that he was going to just start calling them "polyforms."
On the other hand, note the correct eyepro, the soldierly bearing, and the fact that somebody thought enough of him that they gave him a combat patch (even if he is wearing it with a Marine Corps uniform). That's not too surprising. The 9th IA, under staff Major General Qassim, is pretty squared up. Someday this will all be theirs... someday soon, as likely as not.
Dreamtime
The discussion I was having with our captain in the Civil Military Operations section pertained to a labor dispute that had reached the point of absolute crisis. We were rushing to prepare a plan of action when the alarm went off, letting me know that I was late to... ...No, that was not it at all. I wasn't late. I was waking up, in Georgia, on leave. It was the strangest sensation, and clear proof that my mind had not -- has not yet -- adjusted to being home.
It is a strange thing to come back from that world to this one. They would be hard-pressed to be less similar. The world in Iraq is a world of work: from the time you wake until the time you lie down is uninterrupted labor. Thirteen hour days are normal, fifteen not unusual, longer yet not shocking. There is no weekend, though you may be given a few hours of Sunday morning for worship services if you like. There is otherwise no rest of any kind. Every moment is employed.
It is also a world of crisis. The war has reached the point at which it is, frankly, no longer a war at all: it is now what is properly called a Foreign Internal Defense mission. The war is over. Yet the crises continue, because now there are new problems -- like how to reduce forces. The brigade I work with is now occupying the space of what was, a year ago, four brigades' space -- a division. When it arrived, it had one brigade's space, then three (as it replaced a brigade that had already assumed a second brigade's battlespace), then four. The operating environment has constantly expanded as it has taken over land where other brigades were leaving and not being backfilled. The planning and logistical and operational challenges of that kind of continual movement and expansion are not small.
It is also a world without tenderness, although there is plenty of companionship between comrades. At home, when you grow tired or sad or any of a host of other things, there is a wife or a loved-one to comfort you. At least there is a dog or a cat! Not so in Iraq, where there is no whining permitted. Drive on.
This is a major gear shift when you come home suddenly on leave, as I have just done. The travel home provides no opportunity to begin the mental transition, as it is itself a grueling ordeal of paperwork and lines and multiple flights on military and civilian aircraft. Then, suddenly, it is over. The birds are singing, and you have nothing to do. You are home, for a while.
Hospitality and Politeness
Michael Totten writes of "the personal and political in the Middle East." He opens thusly:
Roger Cohen is taking heavy criticism for a piece he recently wrote in the New York Times in which he said the “annihilationist” anti-Semitic rhetoric of the Iranian regime tells us less about Iran than the fact that he, an American Jew, was treated with “consistent warmth” on his trip to Tehran and Isfahan. I can’t say I agree, but I sympathize to an extent with what he’s saying because I've had similar surprises in the Middle East, happening upon hospitality instead of expected hostility.It fits right in with Theodore Dalrymple's first experience with Afghans ("Even their hospitality was fierce...You knew that they would defend you to the death, if necessary—or cut your throat like a chicken’s, if necessary. Honor among them was all."), and, for that matter, Genesis 19:8.
Arabs, Persians, and Kurds are so well-known for their considerate treatment of guests it has become a guidebook cliché.
But what I like is the`way Mr. Totten illustrates the larger point - in a time of topsy-turvy manners, it's important to draw the distinction between good manners and substantive agreement. In some parts of the world, even this online world, there are those who can only be civil if you don't disagree with their cherished views - in others, like the houses Mr. Cohen visited in Iran, and Grim's Hall for that matter, the contrary is true. But if you are used to the former, you may conclude too much from your host's kindness when you're in the latter.
I remember, in rude boyhood, thinking that manners and "etiquette" were barriers to honesty, but now think quite the opposite. We are biased and emotional creatures, and find it hard anytime to listen aright (and thus to answer straight) to a truly opposing argument. But it is harder still when the opponent is rude, and the harder argument over facts can be replaced with a scolding about tone. And this to me is the most hateful thing about PC: It takes the perfectly natural and legitimate desire not to be personally offensive, and distorts it into a creed to stifle subtantive ideas.
NEWTON'S OPTIC: THE ANSWER to all our problems is staring us in the face. It may even be quite literally staring at you, right now, across the breakfast table.
So put the paper down, stare back and ask yourself a selfless question.
Does the woman in your life really need a job?
(via Instapundit)
Suicide Bomber Motivations
Not Exactly Rocket Science (I'll have to update my favorites list soon, and this site's going on) reports a study of support for suicide attacks among Palestinians and Jews, and finds that support does not correlate strongly with "religious devotion" per se, but does correlate somewhat with "frequent attendance at religious services." (The author suggests that it is the collective "us against them" mentality, reinforced by communal devotions, rather than the religion itself that contributes the most.)
Some years ago, Robert Pape came out with Dying to Win, arguing that the presence of foreigners on home territory was the stronger motive ("The taproot of suicide terrorism is nationalism, not religion.") I didn't agree after I read chapter 2 of this CTC study, because while most AQIZ members were native Iraqis, most of their suicide bombers appeared to be non-Iraqis motivated by religion. Anyway, here is another piece of the puzzle.
Birth of Ganesha puppet show
And the world's your oyster. This is about the best cultural experience I've had here so far - traditional Thai puppetry at the Joe Louis Theatre.
Interesting name - indirectly related to my fellow Alabamian. The man who was responsible for the revival of traditional Thai puppetry was born Sut Sakorn, but he was a sickly child. By ancient Thai custom, you can protect a child from illness and misfortune by having him ceremonially "adopted" by some admired personage - a monk, a friendly spirit, even a Buddha statue (I am indebted to Thai Ways by Denis Segaller - an experienced expat - for the snippets I've learned about traditional Thai culture). The family chose a monk, and the monk renamed the child "Lhiew." When the boy was a teenager in the 1930's, he got the nickname "Joe Louis," and there you have it.
Anyway, the show starts with the National Anthem (as all theatrical performances here do - sometimes they use the Royal Anthem instead), and the performers take a few minutes to ritually thank their teachers - then it begins.
Thai puppetry is gloriously inefficient. The puppeteers are darkly dressed and out there on the stage, manipulating the puppets. There are generally three dancers per puppet (always of the same sex as the character - which in some cases is very helpful to me, in telling the characters apart), and the manipulations follow classical dance moves for expressing emotions. The puppeteers are themselves skilled dancers, and while they use their arms to manipulate the puppet, all three are moving their heads and legs in exactly the same way as the puppet is. There's also a traditional orchestra (most distinctive - a sort of wooden xylophone) and a few singers who sing or chant narrative and dialogue.
The performance isn't 100% traditional - they use modern lighting, dry ice, one moment of projection onto the back screen, and a couple of shadow puppets partway through. And I say they are right - I don't think ancient arts were designed with "purity" in mind, but rather to tell magnificent tales in a compelling way with the tools they had available, and if new tools are available now, why not use them? And magnificent tales they are! The preferred subject is the Ramakien, which is simply a Thai translation of the Ramayana.
(Aside: Indian mythology is to Thailand as Greek mythology was to later Rome, or post-Renaissance Europe - the Ramakien, in particular, is taught to all schoolchildren from an early age, and two versions were composed by kings of the current dynasty, all of whom bear the throne-name "Rama." Thai religion is apparently eclectic; practically everyone is Buddhist, but they see no contradiction in addressing prayers to Hindu gods, friendly spirits - former humans or spirits associated with a specific place - or even national heroes; which answers my earlier question about the shrine to King Naresuan.)
The story we heard was not from the Ramakien, but was the Birth of Ganesha (Ganesha is an elephant-headed god I sometimes see in shrines here - and his head appears on the Thai airborne badge; according to this, they pray to him before jumps; according to an informant of mine, the Thai airborne school is near a mountain sacred to him). And here is the tale as our program summarized it (with comments by me):
Isuan is in deep mourning for the loss of his consort, Satee. He becomes a recluse and an ascetic. The demon, Taraka, sees Isuan incapacitated by grief and wickedly plans to dislodge him as master of the universe. He asks Brahma to make him invincible and, seeing that Isuan has become an ascetic, concedes that the only person who would have the power to kill him would be Isuan’s son. Brahma grants him is wish.I'm not really clear why he would do that, but in the Ramakien, Isuan himself agrees to have the demon king's city repaired, in part to maintain the balance of power between Rama and the demon king, so the higher gods seem to have at least some neutrality.
This shot is shown by a film projection behind the stage, a striking contrast to the rest of the show; the subsequent love scene is by shadow puppets.Upon obtaining his powers, he invades heaven with an army of demons. Taraka takes on Indra, but the gods are unsuccessful in their defence of heaven. Indra flees the battle and goes to Brahma to tell him what has happened. Brahma commands Karmasut, the god of love, to shoot his arrow at Isuan to make him fall in love with Uma, his late consort’s reincarnation, so that he will have a child with her who will kill Taraka.
The scene changes. Isuan, who has denied himself the pleasures of this world, is seated on a rock. Uma approaches and offers him a garland. Karmasut, the god of love, fires his arrow (in fact, flowers). Isuan and Uma's eyes meet and they instantly fall in love.
For this part, the lights go dim, and the five-headed spear flies across the stage and severs Kumarn's head - I believe one of the three dancers simply carries it across at a run.The scene changes. Isuan has gone on a retreat. Uma is fast asleep. Seated next to her is Vichaya, her lady-in-waiting. Loud noises are heard. Uma awakes and asks Vichaya what is the cause of the noises. Vichaya says the noises are caused by the invasion of heaven by demons led by Taraka. She advises Uma to have her door guarded. Uma withdraws into her boudoir and, from the perspiration of her body, she creates a child whilst being blessed with water from Kongka, the goddess of the waters. The resulting child – a large child – is Kumarn. Uma then tells Kumarn to guard the palace door.
The scene changes. Isuan, returning from his retreat, arrives at the palace door with Visukam. They are prevented from entering the palace by Kumarn. Isuan is angry. He orders Visukam to kill Kumarn. However, Visukam is defeated so Isuan throws his trident at Kumarn and severs his head.
At that moment, Uma arrives and is horrified. She weeps abjectly. When Isuan asks, she tells him that the person whose head he has just severed is their son. Isuan is now horrified, too. He orders Visukam to go in a westerly direction to find the boy’s head. Visukam leaves.According to Segaller, West and the setting sun are traditionally associated with death (he reports a similar version of the legend, in which the head must be taken from the first animal found asleep with its head facing west).
During the fight, the demon transforms - the puppet is replaced by a live, human-sized dancer, in the appropriate mask, so the puppet has to fight it out with the larger opponent.The scene changes. Visukam hands Isuan the severed head of an elephant, the only head he was able to find. By magic, Isuan moves the head and connects it with Kumarn’s body. Kumarn comes back to life. Isuan names him Ganesha. Indra tells Isuan to send Ganesha to destroy the demons who are invading heaven. Indra and Ganesha leave.
The scene changes. Battle between the gods and the demons. First Indra then Ganesha arrive and join the fight. When the demons are vanquished, the senior demon Taraka appears. Taraka and Ganesha engage in a war of words during which Taraka tries to find out who Ganesha is. When Ganesha tells him he is the son of Isuan and Uma, he does not believe him: after all, Isuan had become an ascetic and would therefore not have a child! Taraka and Ganesha fight.
If you're ever in Bangkok and you love such tales, as I do, I highly recommend an evening at this theater.Ganesha orders Buangbat – a giant serpent – to coil itself around Taraka and beats him to death with his club.
The final scene is of Ganesha seated on the great serpent and all gather around him to pay homage. Ganesha is venerated as the god of success and the patron of learning.
Why Buddhism Never Caught On in Greece
All right, you've read the Phaedo - Socrates was halfway to Buddhism on his deathbed (philosophy as a means of "getting off the earth" - ghosts were perhaps men who were too attached to this existence) - so you've been wondering, why didn't the Buddhists take Greece by storm?
A few weeks ago, one of my relatives accidentally offended a customer. She showed she understood his order by flashing the "OK" sign. Only this customer was just off the boat from Greece, and in his native country, that sign means "You are an a*****e." The symbolism is straightforwardly geometrical, as befits the people of Euclid.
Well, when Mrs. W. and I visited the ancient Thai capital at Ayutthaya, we found a museum with many Buddha images, displaying the various appropriate mudras, including the one for "preaching." And, well, you've guessed already:
King Naresuan
Alexander very much saw himself as a Homeric leader, and a front-line fighter, but the Oriental despots he fought were not the type to oblige him with a single combat. William, I read, challenged Harold to single combat for the kingdom (I don't know if he had any epic inspirations - the Song of Roland is of course full of single combats, but I don't know if any early versions reached William). Shakespeare was fond of having the warring kings and princes or usurpers cross swords - the stage directions require Henry V to fight and defeat the Dauphin himself, and Henry Tudor has to do the same to Richard III. There may be some truth in that - as far as we can tell, Richard really did charge a knot of soldiers around Henry in the hopes of ending the battle by killing him. I don't know if he was influenced by Arthurian heroics or not (Caxton's printing of Mallory was the year of Bosworth Field). (Incidentally, Laurence Olivier's film version tracks the climax of the battle reasonably well, given the requirements of the poetry and the smallish cast of extras.)
Well, I'm currently in Thailand as part of a
The two Siamese Princes found the whole Burmese army advancing against the Thai troops in haste and disorder. At that time, both Prince Naresuan’s elephant, Phraya Chaiyanuphab, and Prince Ekatotsarot’s elephant, Phraya Prabtraichakra, happened to be in musk. Thus, when the two animals saw their rivals, they gave chase furiously, taking the two Princes, accompanied only by their immediate attendants, into the midst of the Burmese army.In Ayuthaya itself, there's a large pagoda said to have been built by him in commemoration of this victory, and here's a statute of the king himself nearby -
To his surprise, Prince Naresuan saw the Burmese Maha Uparaja whom he had known well during childhood, close by him, also mounted on an elephant. Undeterred by his own disadvantage, Prince Naresuan called out, "Brother Prince, leave the shelter of that tree. Come out and fight with me, for the honour of our names and the wonder of future ages."
In fact, at that time Naresuan, the beloved Prince of Ayutthaya, was in the midst of the enemy. If the Burmese Maha Uparaja had given a word, the two Siamese Princes would have been either killed or captured, and Ayutthaya would have been easily subdued.
Thinking of his royal dignity and his own acquaintance with the Siamese Prince, Maha Uparaja accepted the challenge and drove his elephant by name of Phatthakor toward Naresuan’s elephant. Phraya Chaiyanuphab, in a period of musk, immediately attacked his approaching rival furiously, and thus put his master into a disadvantageous position. The Burmese Prince dealt a fierce blow with his halberd at Naresuan’s head. Fortunately, Naresuan bent in time to avoid the blow, but his leather cap was cut through. When the elephants broke away, Prince Naresuan at once dealt a blow with his halberd at the right shoulder of the Burmese Prince. The ill-fated Prince fell dead on his own elephant’s neck.
At the same time, Prince Ekatotsarot himself had engaged in single combat with the prince of Zaparo, whom he also slew on his elephant’s neck. When the Burmese troops realised that their Princes were dead, they fiercely attacked the Siamese Princes. Prince Naresuan was wounded in the hand from a gun shot. By that time, a large Siamese army had managed to force their way through the Burmese ranks, the two Princes were rescued, and the Burmese had to retire.
The halberd used that day was later named the "Halberd Defeating all Enemies," while the leather cap was named the "Cut through Cap." The victorious elephant was given the name, "Conqueror of Hongsawadi."
(photo by Mrs. W., who is a picture-taking fiend. The building is surrounded by scores of sculpted roosters, but I do not know the symbolism. We had to take our shoes off, as we did at Buddhist temples, and there were locals praying in front - I can't tell you whether to him, for him, or something else.)
I know very little Asian military history and found the story interesting on several points. I don't know much about the heroic culture of Naresuan's court, but he may have been influenced by the Ramayana (which the Thais accept as a national epic; I saw many painted scenes from it in the old Royal Palace in Bangkok, and "Rama" is apparently a popular throne name). Rama, on the verge of inheriting the throne of his kingdom, defeats the king of the Rakshasas with his own arrow. (The description of the fight - reducing the description to a pair of decisive blows - reminds me also of the Song of Roland, but some readers here may better be able to judge how realistic it is.)
Also, this was the only time I'd read about elephants being used like horses - as a platform for a couple of humans to fight each other. From classical sources, I'd gotten used to thinking of elephants as a form of artillery - launched at the beginning of a battle, to break up enemy formations and disrupt their morale - rather than cavalry. Just clicking through the Wikipedia battles involving war elephants, I didn't see a lot to modify my earlier thinking, so this may have been a one-off.
There's a lot to be said about military leaders risking themselves at the front, but as John Keegan said most of it in The Mask of Command, I can't say I have anything to add. In any case, if the Ministry's version is right, this wasn't deliberate risk-taking by the King, but the display of a core military skill known as making the best of a bad situation.
BISHKEK, Kyrgyzstan (AP) — Kyrgyzstan's parliament will delay a vote on expelling U.S. troops from an important base there until it receives $450 million in aid and loans promised by Russia, a lawmaker said Monday.
This makes me laugh.