Empire or not, read this book

Is the United States of America an empire?

One could have a lot of fun and spend a considerable amount of time debating, researching, learning or whatever one might fancy in an effort to determine an answer to that question. Even then, ultimately, an answer could be lacking.

Author Robert D. Kaplan, national correspondent for the Atlantic Monthly magazine, raises this question which keeps popping up from time-to-time in our American discourse, in his book “Imperial Grunts.” But probably more important Kaplan writes in his book that today’s irregular U.S. military forces — the Marines and special forces — are an extremely capable and amazing instrument of a foreign policy whether intentionally or not crowns the American Empire.

Kaplan travels to global spots such as Mongolia, the Philippines, Colombia, Yemen, Afghanistan and Iraq where he looks at how the nation-building that U.S. special military forces are doing is as central to empire-building as military might. For those who thought “winning the hearts and minds” of a people ended after U.S. troops tried it in Vietnam, Kaplan delivers a more modern view of how this is being done as routine military fare.

Empire and nation-building, foreign policy and the George W. Bush-era version of military usage, however, are not as important and as aptly portrayed in this book than the author’s insightful exposition of the mostly young men who are at the heart of the new American military.

Kaplan draws the distinction between the “Big Army,” in which tons of regulations and layers of bureaucracy rule their world and the small teams and ease of operation which is the hallmark or the U.S. Army special operations. At the very heart of the latter is a society of soldiers ranging in rank from major down to senior non-commissioned officers — traditionally from the religious South or U.S. Heartland — whose most important attributes are their ability to adapt and adjust than strictly their use of M-4s or explosives. The special operators’ penetrating knowledge of local peoples who they must both teach and sometimes fight is also an important aspect of the American arsenal. As one special forces soldier in Afghanistan said of the Afghans: “These people like guns and fighting. Give them beer and a mobile home and they’d be just like us.”

Also very different in books about today’s military, Kaplan presents an almost uncensored view not seen in most media of the U.S. national guard troops who also serve as special operators. These citizen-soldiers are more open about their view of the military world because it is not their full-time job. One guardsman, for instance, said his civilian job was just a way he could pay for his special forces habit.

There are a number of Kaplan’s conclusions of which I am either unsure of or with which I disagree. But this is one of the best books I have read about today’s soldiers. I suppose my reason for saying so has to do with my past experience covering the Army as a reporter. Kaplan had the luxury — not a very apt word if you read about some of his lodging in the book — of accessing high-ranking SF types who helped him into some otherwise difficult places to report on these soldiers. Once he got to these places he was on his own and had to win the trust of the operators. But he also was able to stay with the soldiers for extended periods and build trust.

Thus, Kaplan had a more honest and open view of what was going on. This in sharp contrast to my having interacted with soldiers who were usually under the watchful eye of some public information officer types. I did my best but you can guess what makes much better reading.

If you are looking for their opinions of what the soldiers of the empire-or-not do, this is the book. If you want to know about their feelings for things other than work, then you should look elsewhere.

A best picture race for an Oscar and the surrounding hoodeleyap

It’s the day after the primary elections here in Texas. I hope everybody’s candidate won. Think about that for a minute.

These days I don’t make it to the movies much anymore. I don’t know why. But I have been following all the buzz about a nominee for Best Picture at the Academy Awards this week. Of course, there is always some buzz surrounding the coveted of the coveted Oscars. It’s office politics, which I don’t like at all. So I sure as hell don’t like the office politics of the Oscars. This year in particular it’s disgusting — sort of — and I’ll tell you why if you don’t go off in a huff and leave what you are reading. Don’t worry, I’ll get there soon. Soon enough.

Most of the hoodeleyap (Hey, that’s a good word I just made up! It’s pronounced “WHO-del-e-yap,” only faster and means bodougleypot. “BO-doo-gul-e-pot”) concerning the Oscar for best director is over the 2/3rd’s computer-generated Avatar directed by James Cameron and Hurt Locker, which is directed by Cameron’s ex-wife Kathryn Bigelow.

Certainly, the media has made much of possible Oscars going to one of a divorced, but friendly, ex-couple who directed these films. Also, if Bigelow wins she will be the first woman to win the hideous-looking gold statuette for directing. Other sideshows to this story have likewise appeared to build up the hype for the Oscars and their potential winners:

  • While Hurt Locker — a story about an explosives demolition unit on a tour of duty in Iraq — has received critical acclaim the film also has drawn the ire of some Iraq veterans and active duty soldiers. They say the thriller doesn’t realistically portray soldiers doing their job, that it makes troops seem reckless and has other less-than-authentic aspects. This is even though Defense Secretary Robert Gates liked and recommended the movie while the military withdrew its assistance in the film in 2007 for unflattering portrayals of soldiers. Uh, you want reality? Go watch C-SPAN.
  • Yesterday Nicolas Chartier, one of the Hurt Locker‘s producers, was barred from the Oscar presentations for e-mailing messages to Academy members that ask for their votes for the film. No tux and red carpet for you, Mr. Chartier!
  • Today an Army master sergeant and bomb expert filed a suit against the film’s screenwriter, who is also one of the producers, for exploiting the sergeant’s service. The soldier claims the film is based on his experiences and that he coined the term “Hurt Locker.” Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he halfway did.

Well, like “they” say, no publicity is bad publicity. Or maybe it is. But it’s Oscar time! Break out the 40-year-old single malt and the good silverware! That’s not in my case of course, and I most likely, more than most likely won’t be watching the Oscars. But I have to admit, I would like to see the movie, the Hurt Locker.

It’s another one of those far-off Hollywood happenings — the aforementioned hoodeleyapthat don’t really mean anything or matter in the least to the average beer-swilling and gun-toting American who washes up once a week and goes to the picture show. But I suppose all the hype makes us want to watch the car wrecks on the big screen which will, in this case, be big improvised explosive devices that go “boom.”

Wrestling with old habits at the ballot box

My daddy used to say that if a person didn’t vote then that person didn’t have a right to complain about how things turn out in our government. Of course, as Pop well knew, I could complain regardless of whether I voted. But I got his drift.

I thought about this while heading to vote this morning at Central Medical Magnet School in Beaumont. For probably the first time I can remember in an election, I faced a real dilemma although some might call it “choice.” That choice was whether to vote in the Republican or Democratic primary.

The decision of in which primary to vote was as simple as a kindly voting clerk lady saying “Democrat or Republican” when I walked into the boys’ gymnasium where voting was held. It’s funny, that smell of sweat from adolescent boys seems to never fade.

My dilemma stemmed from one race, which was the Republican primary for Texas governor that pits established U.S. Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison and Tea Partier Debra Medina against incumbent Gov. Rick “And His Hair Was Perfect” Perry.

Now as regular readers know, I have no desire to see any of those three — or any three that I can think of — Republicans elected Texas governor. But like other Democrats in the state who really DON’T want Rick “Secede from the Union” Perry reelected, I considered briefly voting for Hutchison who is running uncomfortably behind Perry. A Democratic vote for Hutchison, according to pundits like Texas Monthly’s Paul Burka, might — might — force Perry into a runoff. There the governor could be embarrassed and his campaign weakened. It certainly would mean spending more money, what with another election. All of this could conceivably help the Democratic candidate, likely former Houston mayor Bill White, beat Perry in November.

In the end though, I could not do as one of my favorite bloggers, Eileen Smith of In the Pink: Texas Monthly, said she ultimately did which is vote on the Republican ballot.

When the nice lady said: “Democrat or Republican” this morning I headed straight for the Democrats. Old habits are difficult to quit, like smoking and watching porn. I have always voted the Democratic ballot. The first time was to vote for Jimmy Carter and, yes I am proud to say I did vote for him. No one said our presidents can’t have their faults. (See George W. Bush)

Four more years of Rick Perry is not a prospect I care to think of on a nice pre-spring day on which I heard about three or four great songs in a row on the radio. But I have pretty much been a Democrat all my life and there are just some things I won’t do, like wear a Snuggie, sing “Feelings” in a karaoke bar and vote in a Republican primary. It was a difficult choice to make but it was pretty simple there in the end.

I Want My Face: Living and breathing through social media

The term “social media” has become a big buzz word or buzz phrase — if there is such a thing — among certain circles these days such as, surprise, media types.

We’re talking about media such as Facebook or My Space or Twitter that have these certain types of folks abuzz like a methed-out bumblebee. I’ve never seen a methed-out bumblebee or any insect for that matter. But when you have to say something, you say something. “Something.”

I’ve tried all three.

Twitter is communication in 140 characters or less. It’s kind of like a mini-newswire for everyone and their pet anteater. It’s immediate. Politicians such as Republican Senate members seem to like it, which is kind of odd because they like to talk so much and not say anything. With Twitter you get to talk up to 140 characters and, if you are a politician, not say anything.

My Space is kind of like darkness. It seems to be the preferred social media for nut jobs and killers. Not everyone is crazy who uses My Space. I have an account but don’t use it. Does that make me a nut job? I don’t know, My Space doesn’t really feel like my space.

Facebook, I like. Probably like all three, it can be put to good use depending on how good you use it. Does that make sense? For instance, I posted last night about the week I had in which I sprained my ankle and wrenched my back in a fall, then as I was getting healed I got food poisoning. Projectile vomiting and the whole shootin’ match, although I didn’t go into detail as I have a very eclectic group of Facebook friends.

I have mostly received messages saying they hope I feel better. My friend Bruce, reminded me of my last severe case of food poisoning when I ate a canned ham from a parental Care package while on my Navy ship off New Zealand. I’ll say the feed pizening wasn’t that bad this most recent round.

Weird or even bad events or occurrences get my Facebook friends and other Facebook family members responding. You can see a slice of everyone’s life who you, practically, know or have known in one incarnation or the other at some time or the other.

It all seems pretty good, right now at least, for me. This is a time in my life I need Facebook. I need my Face. Maybe that will be the “it” phrase like “I Want My MTV” was in the 80s. Was it the 80s.

We will see how Facebook progresses, or not. We?  Why do I write that? We, I mean, all of us.