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February
1, 2008
Eeeek!
Understanding
US Foreign Policy
by Fred Reed
A malign and poorly understood influence on
foreign policy is the paranoid truculent male
(though a few females share the ailment). The PTM
is a fairly well-defined type, who believes that
They Are Out to Get Us. He doesn't much care who
They are. If one They fails him, he will find
another. These They must be fought to the death.
It's us or They.
As a current example, I get email telling me
that Moslems hate us and want to enslave us. We
must therefore gird our loins and prepare for an
apocalyptic conflict that will determine whether
Western civilization will survive. A war of peoples
approaches, and we must win it.
This of course is transparent nonsense. A week
or so ago I spoke with a friend in government
service who recently returned from an extended
period in Jordan. Perfectly friendly people, he
reported. That was my own experience, years back.
They knew he was an American, and consequently
wanted to talk to him. He traveled by public
transportation to Petra and so on. Not the
slightest problem.
The difference between documentable fact and
ferocious email was predictable. An unvarying
characteristic of the PTM is the belief that his
current enemies are implacably evil and united in
pursuit of his enslavement. Frequently he hasn't
had the most minimal experience of this relentless
enemy. Few of today's PTMs have passed time in
Moslem countries. Many do not have passports. The
proportion who speak Arabic or Farsi or actually
know any Moslems is very low. It doesn't matter.
PTMs share a specific personality that wants an
enemy. They will always find one.
The PTM endows the enemy with near-magical
powers. The utter irrationality of this doesn't
faze him because he doesn't notice it. Only
sub-clinical paranoia can explain the view that
Moslems are going to enslave America, or even want
to. A reasonable person looking at the Moslem world
sees a disunited, industrially backward,
technologically primitive group of ramshackle
semi-civilizations that couldn't enslave
Guatemala.
The same thing happened during the days of the
Soviet Union. It was in fact a vast, rickety,
unstable, and backward empire butting heads with
the US in the standard manner of large nations. To
the PTM, the USSR was -- altogether now -- evil,
relentlessly focused on our destruction, plotting a
nuclear first strike, and desirous of enslaving us.
("Enslaving" is a favorite word of PTMs.) Odd. When
I visited the USSR, I liked the people and they
liked us. Nations in conflict, yes. Weird obsessive
hatred of us, no.
The Soviets too had magical powers, said the
PTMs. They were stealing our secrets. They were
rapidly catching up with the US in all
technologies, and actually ahead in the crucial
ones. Their weapons coming off the assembly lines
were better than ours, shrieeeek! Their tanks were
robust, deadly, and practical, not high-tech gizmos
like ours.
I had covered American tanks extensively, and
knew a lot about Soviet armor. I went to Aberdeen
Proving Ground in Maryland to talk to the enlisted
men who actually worked with captured Russian
tanks. Junk they said. Hard to use, broke down
constantly. I knew that Russian armor was at best
using microchannel photomultipliers for
night-vision instead of thermals. I had spent a lot
of time with the M1 Abrams. I knew exactly what
would happen if the two fought each other, and it
always did.
None of this dented the PTM's delusional armor.
The Russian weapons that I had seen, that the
Israelis had faced in '67 and '73, were "monkey
models," said the PTMs: primitive versions stripped
of their lethal everything, just to fool us into
complacency. (Everything is a conspiracy. No
exceptions.) I reflected that the whole Russian
economy must have been a monkey model. In Russia
the stores had used the abacus. The only computer I
saw was the Agat, a bad knock-off of the Apple II,
I think it was, with an English operating system.
Russia amounted to Mexico, without the consumer
goods and technology.
An unvarying part of the PTM's mental furniture
is the belief that enemies within bore away at the
national fabric. (Does one bore at fabric? I won't
take responsibility for my metaphors. The little
voices give them to me.) Spies multiply like nits.
Secret saboteurs await their chance. We must be
afraid of everything. The world is a dark and
perilous place, and They are everywhere. We must
Suspect.
Thus Commies were lurking under rocks,
penetrating every aspect of American society. Today
of course it's terrorists. We must tighten
security, multiply surveillance, read email,
suspect secret messages in photos, search all and
sundry. The price of liberty is eternal vigilance,
say the PTMs (eternal lunacy might be closer). It
doesn't occur to them that excessive vigilance ends
liberty, because they don't about liberty. They
want war with the hated enemy.
The notion that the enemy is demonically evil
and magically powerful justifies any
countermeasures, certainly including nuclear war,
which latter appeals to the PTM's adrenals. They
believe they are practicing realism. The usual
argument is that the enemy -- Russia, the Moslems,
soon China -- has a huge population and therefore
can afford to lose several hundred million people
in a nuclear exchange (which sounds like Christmas
presents). The stupidity is patent, but the PTM
allows nothing to compromise his delusion. Since
the enemy is determined to destroy us, we must be
willing to kill those hundreds of million.
The tendency to see life as conflict with a
merciless opponent engenders another favorite
preoccupation of the PTM, that We Have Grown Soft.
Yes. Americans no longer chop cordwood of a
morning, don't hunt bears. The rude strength that
made the country great is sapped by suburban life.
We are become a nation of metrosexuals. Awake,
America! Before it is too late! Gird those
loins.
PTMs can be highly intelligent, and their barely
subdermal hostility -- the largest component in
their makeup, along with a total lack of empathy --
gives them a lot of horsepower. Questions of
morality do not interest them: Greater things are
at stake. We must fight! Thus one often finds them
at the levers of power.
It can be difficult to distinguish the true PDM
from the merely conscienceless without talking to
them. Still, Curtis LeMay was a prime example,
perfectly willing to burn a hundred thousand
civilian alive in a night. Ariel Sharon fits. So do
a lot of the neocons who run the US. And so
America, with no military enemies, raises the
military budget relentlessly and finds ways to use
it. Few in the military are PTMs, but the Pentagon
embraces them to justify get more money, and the
weapons contractors milk them like cows. Hey, scare
the public, take up a collection, and blow hell out
of the demons twisting in the inner shadow.
Reed
Archive
Copyright 2008 by Fred Reed and reproduced here by
permission of the author.
About
the Author (by the author):
Fred Reed is a Marine combat veteran, police
reporter, amateur biochemist, former long-haul
hitchhiker, and part-time sociopath living in
Mexico. Fred, a keyboard mercenary with a
disorganized past, has worked on staff for Army
Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune,
Federal Computer Week, and The Washington
Times. He has been published in Playboy,
Soldier of Fortune, The Wall Street Journal, The
Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal,
Air&Space, and suchlike. He has worked as a
police writer, technology editor, military
specialist, and authority on mercenary soldiers. He
is by all accounts as looney as a tune.
Visit the "Fred
on Everything" website to read his previous
columns and sign up for his regular e-mail
feature.
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The essays in A Brass Pole in
Bangkok, are sometimes wildly funny,
sometimes deadly serious, always merciless
in their unmasking of the pretenses and
charlatans of society. Fred, a former
Marine, subscribes to no ideology ("an
ideology is just a systematic way of
misunderstanding the world") but
exuberantly wreaks havoc on practically
everything, and delights in everything
else: the psychotherapy swindle, squalling
feminists, race racketeers, damn fool
wars, red-light districts in Asia, and
tequila fests in Mexico, where he
lives.
A
Brass Pole in Bangkok: A Thing I Aspire To
Be, by Fred Reed
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Buy Fred's new reprehensible book,
Nekkid In Austin! Another
collection of Fred's collected outrages,
irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry
from "Fred On Everything" and some
innocent magazines that, he says,
foolishly published him. Wildly funny,
sometimes wacky, always provocative essays
on the collapse of America.
Nekkid
in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a
Well, by Fred Reed
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