Mangala God
of War and Empire
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Clashes continue along supply lines
Corpse-Spotting
Posted
08:13 GMT
Mangala looked down at the scattering of corpses littering the Mesopotamian landscape, and his heart was disturbed. Seeking solace amid the small carnage done and the large carnage to come, Mangala nipped quickly up to one of the Buddhist heavens where he encountered the venerable Sariputra, who of course really wasn't, but to an unenlightened mind, possessed an illusory is.
"O Sariputra," said Mangala. "A few corpses now. Many corpses to come."
"Friend," said Sariputra. "What is a corpse but a body that has ceased to function? What is a body but a corpse that functions still?"
Scratching his head in puzzlement, as he often did when visiting the Buddhist heavens, Mangala nodded respectfully to the venerable Sariputra, and returned to corpse-spotting in the valleys of the Tigris and the Euphrates.
Suicide bombing kills 4 soldiers
Second Thoughts at Night
Posted
09:14 GMT
Mangala glanced down at the ruins of a market in Baghdad, the gutted buildings amid the midday bustle of the living city. His gaze slid along to a checkpoint where five had died, four young Americans armed with rifles and a young Iraqi armed with a bomb, and further to a place in Kuwait City where a missile had struck, and at Basra, where Iraqi men with guns in the name of Saddam had shot dead Iraqi civilians without guns trying to escape the city in the name of survival.
A sudden presence tugged at Mangala's consciousness. He expanded his mind, past the boundary of sunlight to the darkness one third a world away, and into a bedroom where a man lay in bed at 3 a.m., eyes wide open, muttering, "Why are we doing this?"
Mangala's gaze slid sadly back to the busyness of war before him. "War once begun has its own momentum," Mangala said. "Once war has begun, one should never ask why, but only how."
U.S. forces fight to protect supply lines
What Were They Thinking?
Posted
15:52 GMT
Mangala nodded sympathetically as Gen. William S. Wallace confided his frustration with the course of war and the irregular tactics of his enemies: "The war we're fighting is different from the one we'd war-gamed against."
"Yes, friend William," Mangala replied. "But what else did your leaders expect? Irregular tactics are the methods of the weak, and with such a power gradient on your battlefield, it is natural that your enemy would adopt them. Likewise, those who express dismay that the Shiites have not raised a revolt against the Iraqi government: The Shiites did so in 1991, and were massacred. Would they repeat acts that led to disaster?"
Mangala paused in thought. "Friend, from what I hear, one would think there are generals who are attempting to fight the last war."
False Goals
Posted
09:02 GMT
Mangala spoke:
You armchair generals! You set goals that true generals must meet, and then condemn them for having failed to match your expectations.
Success means catching Saddam. No, Saddam is irrelevant if the regime is changed.
Success means killing no civilians. No, war is killing, and civilians will inevitably die.
We are angering the Arab world. No, the Arab world will hate us in any case.
We have outrun our suppies. No, we are establishing a supplyline in good order.
We have too few soldiers. No, technology provides the punch for our present number to do the job.
We have failed to provide humanitarian aid. No, victory first, then succor.
I say to you, beware of such false goals, which drop from the lips like leaves from a sickly tree. Empires have goals large and small, long-range and close, local and universal, military and diplomatic, strategic and tactical, mandatory and optional.
In a world of complexity, goals change to meet circumstances, methods change to meet new goals. Such simple-minded analysis is unworthy.
Baghdad hit hard from air as ground forces regroup
Republican Guard units move south from Baghdad, hit by U.S. warplanes
Strategy
Posted
16:24 GMT
Although not omniscient, Mangala saw broadly. He had escaped the small mindedness that often afflicts both cable-news commentators and the pickier sort of god. ("Rules, rules, rules. Jehovah, enough with the rules!" Mangala would sometimes say to his colleague.)
Still standing with one toe in the Euphrates and another in the Tigris, Mangala surveyed the field of battle, a week into the war.
Mangala spoke:
You have accomplished much. The pattern of battle is thus:
The Americans have thrust strongly up the west bank of the Euphrates and crossed over, and have begun a second thrust up the east bank of the river. Having thrust, they pause to consolidate, as is the usual practice in battle when lines are extended and hostile positions passed by.
The British besiege Basra, but barely budge from their badly battle-battered bunkers.
(This, while not strictly true in a mortal, does make an immortally interesting sentence.)
More Americans have landed in the north, either to prepare for a thrust down toward Baghdad or to mimic the proxy war of Afghanistan.
The Iraqis so far forego mass engagements, instead harrassing through guerrilla attacks, a tactic practiced with great success when the British invaded Massachussetts a short time back.
The campaign has been costly in treasure but cheap in lives. When in history has an army moved so far, so fast, with so few casualties on either side?
This is war as it should be practiced, an exercise in logic rather than video-game reflex.
Sandstorm delays Army's advance; U.S. reports fierce battle in south
Manichees
Posted
14:05 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Thus, the Iraqis: "Accursed be those criminal villains who claimed loftiness out of lowliness and falsely took pride in democracy and the leadership of the free world. Indeed, they turned out to be the most evil beasts on earth."
Thus, the Americans: "This war is an act of self-defense to be sure, but it is also an act of humanity. Coalition forces are eliminating a regime that is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of its own people and which is pursuing weapons that would enable it to kill hundreds of thousands more."
Thus, the dueling dualisms.
Dust
Posted
08:45 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Basra has fallen. Basra resists.
The Americans are failing. The Americans are rolling to certain victory.
The Iraqis, demoralized, teeter on collapse. The Iraqis, brave, prepare a long resistance.
This is the dust of war, the storm that obscures vision and addles the mind. Each observer sips battle through a straw, and reaches flawed conclusions: What happens here is the totality; what happens there does not exist.
Such shows of knowledge are not the way of wisdom.
With such a disparity of power, can the outcome be in doubt? Can the relative cost in lives and treasure be questioned?
Eventline
Posted
07:07 GMT
A huge dust storm blanketed the battlfields.
U.S. forces push closer to Baghdad as Iraqi resistance proves persistent
The Difficult Road
Posted
17:11 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Empire is not a freeway. Empire drains treasure from your storehouse and blood from your young. Empire costs, and the road to hegemony is filled with ruts and holes. You who seek empire, be careful what you wish for.
Would you resist empire? The cost for you is heavier, for after your payments of treasure and blood comes the heaviest coin of all: submission.
Eventline
Posted
17:09 GMT
Thus it happened: The Iraqis and Americans engaged in heavy fighting at the Euphrates River crossing of An Nasiriyah. Marines died in combat. A dozen American soldiers were taken captive, one of them a woman, and were exhibited on TV, along with corpses. Iraqis also died, in numbers unknown.
Clashes at key river crossing bring heaviest day of American casualties
Consuming Your Own
Posted
18:30 GMT
Mangala spoke:
O Americans! Do you call yourselves soldiers? Forward of your advance you throw great flames from a distance to consume the guilty and the innocent. At the headquarters behind the lines, your own seeks to consume his brothers.
O Iraqis! Do you call yourselves soldiers? At your lines of defense you cower and ponder surrender. Behind the lines your own seeks to consume his brothers.
Eventline
Posted
18:29 GMT
Thus it happened: A grenade was thrown into a command facility at the 101st Airborne Division's Camp Pennsylvania in Kuwait. One soldier died. Another soldier was arrested as a suspect.
Troops advance halfway to Baghdad; others close in on second-largest city
The Shaq'an'al
Posted
17:09 GMT
As the earth moved from dusk to night in Iraq, at Mangala's feet balls of flame grew in Baghdad then collapsed into burning pools, and elsewhere in the land it was the same, and it went on, and on, and on, as though there would never be an end to it. Were there screams? No mortal knew, nor did the gods. No body would be found and buried by loved ones, nor eaten by maggats, nor by vultures. All was flame, then gas, then nothing.
"This is the Shaq'an'al," Mangala whispered, "the miracle of shock and awe that changes the hearts of men, or leaves them forever changeless."
He glanced to his left. Lunchtime at 21st and K in Washington, D.C. A young woman, well buttressed in her tights, stepped into the health club as a well-dressed man bought food from the cart of a woman who had much mustard but little English. A mother pushed her baby in a cart, and a young man at in front of a small cafe, sipping coffee mindfully. Men and women smiled, or frowned, or kept a cold public face amid the gentle showers of spring.
Mangala again looked at the flames. "Same planet, same instant, same children of the gods," he said, shaking his head sadly.
Strikes intensify as forces move north
Mesopotamian Lights
Posted
17:19 GMT
Mangala looked down from his great height and saw flashes of light and plumes of smoke and bright contrails in the night. "Such beauty!" he exclaimed. "Neither shock nor awe can mar this glorious sight. The Mesopotamian lights!"
Eventline
Posted
17:08 GMT
Thus it happened: The American military's "shock and awe" campaign of massive bombardment began in Baghdad and other cities in Iraq.
Ground war starts, airstrikes continue as U.S. keeps focus on Iraq's leaders
Incident at Kilo 160
Posted
08:16 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Blessings upon you, Ahmad Walid al-Bath. At the age of 33 you parked your taxi at a building far west of Baghdad and stepped in to call your employer. While on the line a missile came and blew the building, the phone and you to Heaven. Blessings upon you, friend Ahmad, and your wife and your son of 10 months, for you have become the first human sacrifice in the liberation of the country next to your Jordan, thereby fulfilling the words of the prophet Jesus to love your neighbor as you love yourself. Be proud, my friend, for the day of your glorious death was sealed from the moment of your humble birth.
Touch Blades
Posted
03:52 GMT
Mangala stood on the banks of the Tigris River in the dark hours before the Mesopotamian dawn. Looking up at the stars, he saw several cruise misssiles flash past in the direction of Baghdad.
"War's first salvo," Mangala said, and he sang:
Touch blades, touch blades, my gentleman warriors
Touch blades in honor my swordsmen true
A flash of the dagger, assassins at night,
Have merit aplenty before this great fight.
Eventline
Posted
18:00 GMT
Thus it happened: The Americans launched a "decapitation operation" aimed at killing Saddam Hussein and his sons, Odai and Qusai.
U.S. opens war with strikes on Baghdad aimed at Hussein
Mangala's Nature
Posted
11:41 GMT
Now you must not think that Mangala, just because he was the god of war and empire, particularly looked forward to war. Like the rest of the world, Mangala's stomach churned, his brows furrowed, he looked at men and women and wondered if they were already among the future dead.
For the job of a god of war is neither to promote war nor to prevent it. Mangala observes as a naturalist does the typical behavior of a species, admires the admirable and dismisses from the realm of beauty and truth that which is unworthy. For a god of Mangala's job description, as for a general or a president, war is a project, one of human relations for the president, of science for the general, and of art for the god.
So like the rest of the world, Mangala waited.
Hussein scorns ultimatum as war nears
The Pause
Posted
10:15 GMT
Mangala spoke:
When bickering has run its course, when great armies are assembled, equipped and poised to strike, when all are silent save endlessly chattering heads ripe for disregard, when choice has narrowed to do this or do that but not do nothing, then comes the pause, the day of furrowed brows, the day of churning stomachs and yet unnamed fear, the day of war still of the imagination but soon to be made manifest. On that day many among you will walk, dead already, though they know it not.
Dogs of War
Posted
17:18 GMT
Mangala heard in the distance a baying and yelping, and mingled therein, words to chill the blood of mortals: "... no certainty except the certainty of sacrifice ... we are a peaceful people, yet we are not a fragile people ... fearful consequences .... the security of the world ... just demands of the world ... human liberty... liberty and peace ... defend our people by uniting against the violent ... accept our responsibility ... 48 hours "
"Ah," Mangala sighed with a broad smile. "The dogs of war give cry this night. There will be bloody work afoot." And he quickened his pace, heading swiftly toward the Tigris and the Euphrates.
President tells Hussein to leave Iraq within 48 hours or face invasion
Eventline
Posted
14:39 GMT
Thus it happened: U.S. President George W. Bush in a television address announced the end of efforts to win United Nations support for an invasion of Iraq.
Stumbling Into Empire
Posted
17:15 GMT
Mangala spoke:
A people builds an empire out of fear or greed. Those are the raw materials of imperial ambition. Fear builds an empire of straw, for it is a fleeting emotion. Greed builds an empire of the strongest steel, for from human greed there is no surcease.
O America, thou art so rich, thou hast no need of greed. And thou art so powerful, thou hast little to fear but fear itself. Why, then, dost thou stumble toward imperial glory?
Global Politics
Posted
03:30 GMT
Mangala spoke:
There was a time when but a single rule arbitrated clashes among great states: He who has the power wins all.
How far you have come since then. You now have a politics of international relations: Votes openly bought and sold, mid-sized barons able to shut down any endeavor, and the most powerful among you haggling in the bazaar for the authority to do that which its power is perfectly capable of doing alone. It is unseemly, this politics of the great transition from dog-eat-dog to brave new world.
For now, puissant states who once raved across the land swinging sword and club where they willed now find themselves entangled in delicate threads that bind them to something that begins to resemble a global rule of law.
Party Time
Posted
12:00 GMT
Mangala lay stretched out on a sofa as Secretary of State Colin Powell completed yet another call to Guinea.
"Friend Colin," Mangala said as his friend hung up. "The Army is ready. The Air Force is ready. Your people is ready. The beer and wine and tanks have been delivered. The snacks and bombs are laid out and ready. The neighbors, if not happy, won't call the cops if things get noisy. But the snooty folks from the other side of town are theatening to stay home." Powell from his chair gave a hard stare.
"Friend," Mangala said. "What if you give a party and nobody comes?" Powell sat in silence. "No matter, friend Colin, the answer is plain." Mangala rose with a grin. ": Party on!" he said and strolled out the door, pleased with the comfort he had given his friend.
Cases of Conscience
Posted
04:18 GMT
In the Hudson Valley, sitting across from John Brady Kiesling, Mangala stared intently as the young man explained why he had thrown away a 20-year career with the State Department by resigning as political officer in the American embassy in Athens. "Is the Russia of the late Romanovs really our model, a selfish, superstitious empire thrashing toward self-destruction in the name of a doomed status quo," the young man said. "Our closest allies are persuaded less that war is justified than that it would be perilous to allow the U.S. to drift into complete solipsism."
Later, Mangala stepped across the pond to London and stared with equal intesity as Clare Short explained why she threatened to resign from her government post as minister of international development. "If there is not U.N. authority for military action or the reconstruction of the country, I will not uphold a breach of international law or this undermining of the U.N. and I will resign from the government," she said as Mangala nodded with understanding.
Mangala pondered the conversations. "Two people of conscience," he concluded. "But War will survive their consciences, and Empire their reservations."
A New Game
Posted
04:07 GMT
Mangala flew through the dark night of Europe. Glancing down, he saw a small bonfire and two men, who appeared to be passing a bottle between them, slapping their thighs and laughing uproariously. Straining his ears, Mangala faintly heard, "Da, da, Jacques! We make the hegemon dance. Ha ha ha." "Oui, Oui, Vladmir. We make the hegemon dance! Hee hee hee!"
Mangala wheeled about in the clouds to investigate the odd scene further, but he could no longer see the two men, or even a bonfire. "A strange illusion," Mangala muttered as he resumed his journey.
We ain't done yet
Posted
16:41 GMT
Mangala was striding through the Bay Pines VA Medical Center in Florida, when he stopped, transfixed at the feeling that someone among the veterans of wars passed had sensed his presence. He looked across the ward and his gaze halted on Alfred Pugh, blinded by mustard gas in the Argonne Forest.
(Mangala knows all veterans, and cherishes them for their sacrifice.)
As Mangala drew near, Alfred whispered, "We were told that my war would be the end of warfare, and yet here I am, the oldest living veteran of World War I, and we ain't done yet." Mangala stood silent, then, nodding fraternally at the 108-year-old man, he walked away thinking, "Nor shall we ever be."
A tightly reasoned argument
Posted
05:09 GMT
Mangala spoke:
O my foolish friend Dominique de Villepin! Ye say that war is always an admission of failure. Was failure admitted when the Allies invaded Europe in 1944? Whose failure? Or when the Prussians invaded France? Whose failure?
War is an admission solely of victory or defeat. Success and failure are made manifest at the end, not at the outset.
Would ye know war, friend Dominique? Know thou this: War is a tightly reasoned argument, and the army with the best logic wins.
The Shrub
Posted
02:25 GMT
Several years ago Mangala was strolling along the beach in Florida when he happened to bump into his colleague Jehovah.
"Oh, Mangala," said Jehovah, with a look of great sadness. "I am sore wroth. At last with America my creation had a achieved a slight degree of goodness and civility, and look what they have done." He pointed at a slight man bathed in bright light as he stammered answers to questions. "This man George hath taken that which is not his and brought doubt and cynicism to this fine land."
"How sad, Jehovah," said Mangala with the great sympathy he is famous for. "What shalt thou do?"
Jehovah pondered, then raised his right hand and said with an air of grim satisfaction, "I shall turn him into a burning Bush, and thus shall he pay for his overweening ambition."
"Stay thy hand, friend Jehovah," said Mangala with some alarm. "Let him not suffer so. Show mercy!"
Jehovah gave Mangala a glance and thought of his friend's kindness. "I relent, Mangala," Jehovah said. "I shall not turn him into burning Bush. I shall make him merely a Shrub. And while he shall not burn, the world around him will. For mark this well: People are responsible for their governance. As they choose, so shall be their lot."
"A harsh philosophy, Jehovah," Mangala said to his friend, shaking his head, and as he took his leave, he glanced back and saw his friend Jehovah staring hard at Miami and muttering "Alas, alas, Babylon, thou might city Babylon," and much more in that vein.
Mercy and no mercy
Posted
18:09 GMT
As Mangala wandered about the good earth, he met his friend George, a man of passion and resolve.
"Well met, friend," Mangala said in greeting. "I have wondered this day about the good earth, and there is great turmoil here and there this day."
"There is, friend," good George replied. "I, too, have gazed about the earth, and there is much turmoil on the earth today. I must protect my people. I will not leave the American people at the mercy of the Iraqi dictator and his weapons."
"But friend," said Mangala. "When have your people ever known peace, and when have they ever not been at someone's mercy?"
Good George kept a moment of puzzled silence, and then said, "I must protect my people. I will not leave the American people at the mercy of the Iraqi dictator and his weapons."
Mangala smiled, and took his leave.
Good friends
Posted
07:31 GMT
When Mangala came down from heaven he watched the carnage in Flanders Fields and in Normandy. Then, with a glance at his watch, which said 19:74, he strolled into Iraq, where he saw the French Premier Chirac negotiating nuclear reactor deals with the Iraqi Vice President Saddam. (For Mangala, a year is but a minute.) As Saddam rose and Chirac rose and fell and rose again, Mangala followed their progress and their profitable deals, and he thought, "What good friends. How happy they are together." By this time Mangala's watch had crossed 20:, and he saw the Frenchman once again helping his Iraqi friend. Mangala looked around with a smile and said: "Friendship is a beautiful thing."
Eventline
Posted
06:00 GMT
Thus it happened: France, Germany and Russia sought to block the United States from winning United National support for an invasion of Iraq.
Preemptive War
Posted
01:00 GMT
Mangala spoke:
The power of preemptive war is the power to govern. What is government but the preemption of private violence? O America! By girding for battle by right on the possibility another might comptemplate evil, you are rushing pell-mell to seize the global imperium. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, but would it not be better to open your eyes as you rush, lest you trip and fall?
Bomb first, ask questions later
Posted
09:00 GMT
Mangala spoke:
O America! Here is thy motto: "My country 'tis of thee, bomb first and ask questions later". In the short years since 1945, thou hast bombed these countries:
China 1945-46, Korea 1950-53, China 1950-53, Guatemala 1954, Indonesia 1958, Cuba 1959-60, Guatemala 1960, Congo 1964, Peru 1965, Laos 1964-73, Vietnam 1961-73, Cambodia 1969-70, Guatemala 1967-69, Grenada 1983, Libya 1986, El Salvador 1980s, Nicaragua 1980s, Panama 1989, Iraq 1991-2003, Sudan 1998, Afghanistan 1998 and Yugoslavia 1999.
Words for war
Posted
00:59 GMT
Mangala spoke:
These are the words for war: War itself, conflict, armed conflict, military confict, intervention, armed intervention, arms, the sword, quarrel, struggle, warpath, real war, hot war, aggressive war, war of conquest, war of expansion, imperialist war, preemptive war, limited war, war of containment, localized war, all-out war, major war, general war, the disaster. Is there any good in these?
War on both hands
Posted
22:00 GMT
Mangala spoke:
War on your right hand, war on your left hand. What's an empire to do? It comes as no surprise to Mangala that "imperial overreach" is a synonym for disaster.
How empire happens
Posted
11:41 GMT
Mangala spoke:
You Americans! You differ not a whit from the British, or the Romans,
falling into Empire clueless of your path. Mangala saw their blind gropings,
and Mangala sees yours.
Empires are forced on a people by opportunity and necessity. Power expands
because that is the nature of power.
The most powerful dog on the block without effort accepts opportunities to
gain territory and authority. Ambition sees him and whispers, He is the dog
to beat. We wish to take his position and be free of his sway.
To survive, by unerring necessity, he presses to expand his power beyond all
reasonable bounds. So it is that republics, from the best of motives,
becomes empires.
Thus is a dog's life. Thus is yours.
Global public opinion in the making
Posted
09:36 GMT
Mangala received an email one day from his friend Becca.
Date: Tue, 4 Mar 2003 06:45:09 -0500
Sender: Buddhist Academic Discussion Forum
From: beka
Subject: [BUDDHA-L] Please sign emergency petition to the U.N.
To: BUDDHA-L@LISTSERV.LOUISVILLE.EDU
Dear friends,
I'm hoping you can join me on an emergency petition from citizens around the
world to the U.N. Security Council. The petition's going to be delivered to
the 15 member states of the Security Council on THURSDAY, MARCH 6.If
hundreds of thousands of us sign, it could be an enormously important and
powerful message -- people from all over the world joining in a single call
for a peaceful solution. But we really need everyone who agrees to sign up
today. You can do so easily and quickly at:
http://www.moveon.org/emergency/
The stakes couldn't really be much higher. A war with Iraq could kill tens
of thousands of Iraqi civilians and inflame the Middle East. According to
current plans, it would require an American occupation of the country for
years to come. And it could escalate in ways that are horrifying to
imagine. We can stop this tragedy from unfolding. But we need to speak
together, and we need to do so now. Let's show the Security Council what
world citizens think. Thank you,
becca
"How wonderful!", Mangala exclaimed. "This is truly global public opinion in the making."
Torture
Posted
08:34 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Having captured the hapless Khalid, ye crow in triumph and speak of torture
to loosen his tongue. Know ye not that al Quaeda is a many headed hydra? A
master of netwar? Torture would gain ye little and cost ye a small corner of
thy soul.
War 101
Posted
04:16 GMT
One day a group of young people came to Mangala, fresh from a 17-hour session playing Ultima Online, and said, "O Mangala, tell us about war."
"War is simple," Mangala replied.
 | This is a warrior. |
This is what warriors do. |  |
The young gamesters walked away silently pondering Mangala's words.
Red meme walking
Posted
15:52 GMT
Walking past a television screen, Mangala heard CNN promote a debate on whether Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, the #3 person in al Quaeda, should be tortured.
"Red meme walking!", Mangala exclaimed.
Rainbow of memes
Posted
04:28 GMT
Mangala spoke:
The rhetoric of war is the toolkit of memes. When the tongue-tied son of a tongue-tied father finds his voice, when Cato the Elder deploys his troops with a sneer and a winning smile, when de Torquemada, having draped the nude statues of Justice in a proper modesty, promises to root all evil out of our midst, each speaks from a place in the spectrum of memeplexes that governs the Vir Auld, the root of the World, the fleeting “Age of Man” in opposition to the good Earth, which for us is eternal.
These are the ideas of Ken Wilber, who presented a rainbow of memes in his book
A Theory of Everything.
The red meme speaks of hatred and fear, the language of antique revenge. He tried to kill my daddy. He gassed his own people. Everything changed on September 11.
The blue meme speaks of rules and the judgment of a just god: He has had (pick a number) of (years or months or days) to come into compliance. Resolution 1441 says he must declare all weapons of mass destruction. It is too early for war; we must give the inspection regime a chance. Any recent statement of Osama bin Laden. Material breach.
The orange meme speaks of logic and profit: We will help the Iraqi people create a free and democratic nation. It's not about oil, but we cannot stand by while the world's economy is held hostage by a tyrant.
The green meme speaks of peace, consequences and conditional love: We are in Baghdad as voluntary human shields to protect the Iraqi people. War is an admission of failure, there is no excuse for war. Those who would make war are criminals.
The higher memes—yellow, turquoise and beyond—have been mainly silent in these mad days. Or perhaps they speak and we cannot hear. Yellow and beyond speak the language of value and acceptance. Each meme has its role in the Vir Auld, and each has value on its own terms. The higher memes guard against the runaway passions of the red, the rigid rule-making of the blue, the logical twists of the goal-pursuing orange and the self-righteous love of the green. They must be guided, and perhaps even warred upon, but always with unconditional love and with a deep appreciation of their merits.
Wars are sold like this: Politicians favoring war use blue meme rhetoric to achieve orange meme purposes and soothe red meme fears while politicians opposing war use green meme rhetoric to achieve orange meme purposes and revolutionaires use red meme methods to promote blue meme goals.
Moral dilemma
Posted
00:39 GMT
Mangala spoke:
Empire and its handmaiden, War, are a moral dilemma of the highest order: How do you conquer evil without yourself doing evil? Is your evil more justified than your opponent's? How do you rank evil? What is its taxonomy, its genus and species?
If you can answer these questions questions with moral certainty, then you are not qualified to conduct war. Only the doubters are truly qualified to walk the path of Empire.
War of the Anglo-Saxons
Posted
11:43 GMT
Listening to National Public Radio at the start of the day, Mangala heard an interview with Nicholas von Hoffman: "This is the war of the Anglo-Saxons. The Anglo-Saxons are saying to the world: Your religion is no good. We'll get you a better religion. Your government is no good. We'll get you a better government. We'll get you better social arrangements. We'll show you how your marriages ought to work." And von Hoffman added that the war is a project of "American and British upper-class Anglo-Saxonism."
"Most interesting," Mangala thought "Three cheers for Empire. And keep a stiff upper lip."
Later, he read an article by Von Hoffman in the New York Observer, and looked at the web site o fthe NPR program that interviewed Hoffman, Been There, Done That.
Logic of empire
Posted
00:55 GMT
Mangala spoke:
This is the logic of Empire: Throw down your weapons, for you need no defense from the righteous. Throw out your king, for he is evil and thinks not of your happiness. He will not step down without refuge? The unrighteous shall have no asylum. Revolt and cast him out. If his soldiers attack you, remember that our hearts are with you. You
hunger and have no food? You shall be fed in the hour of our victory. Trust us.
This is the logic of Empire: We demand. You choose. We win. You lose.
