Friday, May 12, 2006

How come you of all people were right...

...the "stopped clock is right twice a day" theory is right up there with "Yeah, you ended up being right, but you only disagreed with him in the first place because you hate him...not because you actually knew what you were talking about" theory. In my case, it was "How come a broke, sleep-deprived graduate student with no access to confidential information who plays too many video games and listens to too much loud music was right about Iraq but the most respected, most experienced, most intelligent, most serious thinkers in the United States got it wrong?" I don't know, but I was. And so were most of my friends. People were wrong because they refused to see reality.

My friend on the other side managed to slip in, "Y'know, Tristero got it right from the start. He knew Bush was lying. He was right. And he was worried about the aftermath from the start."

"So, you were right," he said, a little bit of anger now creeping into his voice.

"Yes, I was right, and I knew I had to be right from the beginning, in 2002 and 2003," I said, with not a trace of false modesty - or any other kind.

"Okay," he rapidly wiped his lips with a napkin. "You know, a stopped watch is right twice a day."

"True," I said, "but I wasn't a stopped watch about Iraq."

Eyes blinked, but he didn't skip a beat.

"Okay, you were right. I 'll grant you that. You were right when the rest of us were wrong..."

"Well, actually..." I was trying to tell him that in fact the majority of the world opposed the invasion and I was simply in the majority, but I couldn't. He was angry and unstoppable.

"No, no, let me ask you a question. How come you, a musician, maybe a good one, maybe a well-read one, but a musician with no training in affairs of state - how come you of all people were right about Iraq but the most respected, most experienced, most intelligent, most serious thinkers in the United States got it wrong?"

"That is a question I ask myself every day, because it scares the daylights out of me," I replied.

My eyes started to tear up and the winter of 02/03 raced through my head. That awful sense of dissociation watching every American media outlet try to outdo its rivals by printing lies, the unspeakable dread as I watched my country willingly go over the abyss. The shock of realizing that nearly everyone I knew had bought the myth of the Good War and that nothing I could say or do, nothing anyone could say or do could change their mind. It was too late.

I tried to say more, but I couldn't, and then the subject changed and the dinner went on.