Dick Cheney

It is a party trick well known to curious teenagers across America. Zoom down on Washington via Google Earth and you get an extraordinary eagle-eyed view of the world’s greatest powerhouse. There’s the White House and its West Wing. There’s the spot where they put the national Christmas tree festooned with lights. Sweeping south-east across the Potomac you soar above the pentagon of the Pentagon; then back up a bit north and you can sit for hours counting the tiles on the roof of the Lincoln memorial. But there is one thing you can’t do. If you scroll over the site of the vice-president’s official residence, all you will see, mysteriously, is a blurry fuzz.
The 46th vice-president of the US, Dick Cheney, has a fondness for remaining invisible. It doesn’t matter whether it’s Google Earth or a bank of television cameras, he won’t play ball. He rarely presents himself to the media, and when he does so he likes to keep it in the family.
Take the interview he gave last October to Scott Hennen, a rightwing talkshow host with North Dakota’s WDAY radio. At the time Iraq was imploding and the Republican party was heading towards meltdown at the mid-term elections. So what does Hennen ask him?
“Mr Vice-President, I know you’re fond of pheasant hunting in South Dakota, but there’s some great bird hunting in North Dakota. Is this going to be the year you come up and do a little bird hunting in North Dakota?“
Cheney: “Well, I don’t know ...“
Incisive stuff. Hennen did, though, almost by accident, extract a seminal soundbite from the vice-president. The discussion turned to terrorism and where to draw the line on the interrogation of suspects.
That quote, so innocently obtained, dunked Cheney himself in deep water. The man who had for months vehemently rejected the title of “vice-president for torture“ found himself agreeing on air that the use of waterboarding--the technique of holding a prisoner underwater to the point of drowning in order to break their will--was a “no-brainer“.
It was a moment of rare candidness from the ultimately controlled and secretive politician. For once that infamous steely guard that seems to shield Cheney--with his unreadable face and equally inscrutable half-smile--appeared to have slipped. Obscurity has been Cheney’s hallmark since he took office in January 2001, and that’s the way he likes it. “Am I the evil genius in the corner that nobody ever sees come out of his hole?“ he quipped in 2004. “It’s a nice way to operate, actually.“
But what started as a single, unguarded gaffe last October appears nine months on to be developing into a pattern. Increasingly, the focus is switching from President Bush to the man who stands in the shadows behind him. This month sees the publication of two books analysing the role of Cheney, one by Stephen Hayes of the neocon bible the Weekly Standard, the second a more critical work called Opportunist, by Robert Sam Anson.
Those volumes will land before the dust has settled over a classic piece of Washington Post journalism. Under the headline “The Angler“--a reference to Cheney’s secret service code name--two Post journalists, Barton Gellman and Jo Becker, have dissected Cheney’s approach to his job in forensic detail. Virtually a book in its own right--the series runs to 20,000 words--they reveal how Cheney has dictated policy in several crucial areas, including the war on terror, the economy and the environment.
In all these polarised accounts Cheney is universally presented as the most powerful vice-president in American history. He has taken an institution that John Adams, its first holder, described as “the most insignificant office that ever the invention of man contrived“ and turned it into a seat of power. “He has expanded the power of the vice-president fiftyfold,“ says Bruce Fein, a lawyer who served in the Reagan administration.
Not Cheney. So dominant has he been in a traditionally submissive role that some commentators are now wondering whether it is time to drop the “V“ from his title. “Cheney is de facto president in all areas of policy, bar just a few aspects of the domestic agenda,“ Fein says.
Ed Pilkington
GUARDIAN.CO.UK

The Supreme Court decision to reinstate Iftikhar Mohammed Chaudhry, Pakistan’s top judge who was fired in March by Pervez Musharraf, its president and army chief, is a big chance for the country.
Rebuke though it is to General Musharraf’s overweening ambition, it could just prove his and Pakistan’s salvation--provided he uses the ruling to regroup around the constitution and the rule of law. There is, so far, no sign of that.
When he seized power eight years ago, after two terms each of venal and incompetent rule by now exiled prime ministers Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif, Gen Musharraf had a chance to relay the foundations of stability and democratic rule. Instead, his whole purpose has been to cling to power, civil and military.
His tactics have been to co-opt Pakistan’s Islamists, while appeasing his allies in Washington by striking episodically at Taliban and al-Qaeda forces dug in inside Pakistan’s frontiers, and pushing aside the country’s mainstream parties. That is not a triangle that can be squared, even by a master tactician such as the general.
Gen Musharraf is using the attack on the Red Mosque for tactical purposes that will prove evanescent. He has rekindled support in Washington, but that could flicker and die once he starts putting out peace feelers to the jihadis--as he will. And he is seeking re-election as president in October without stepping down as army chief--arguing that no civilian government could handle the extremists.
The truth is that Gen Musharraf fears political competition from the mainstream parties he needs to fight extremism more than he fears the risk of jihadist violence seizing hold of Pakistan. Despite the collapse in his domestic support and the creeping Talibanisation of Pakistan, he is presumptuous enough to think he can still act as puppeteer of the religious right.
He is wrong, and the US, rightly concerned by the reconstitution of al-Qaeda on the Pakistani frontier, would be shortsighted to believe him. There are no risk-free policies in Pakistan. But better to back civil society mobilised around Mr Chaudhry, and an open political contest to mobilise the nation against extremism, than continue betting on a general who is too clever by half and an army ambivalent about jihadism.
FT.COM

In diplomacy, as in other walks of life, perseverance pays off. North Korea’s decision to shut down a reactor that produced plutonium for nuclear bombs followed the outlines of a deal that has been clear for many years.
Indeed, the same Yongbyon reactor was closed in the mid-1990s as a result of a Clinton-era agreement that traded western aid for a North Korean nuclear halt. The main difference between then and now is that Kim Jong-il’s regime has since got the bomb--partly due to the Bush administration’s repudiation of the Clinton deal.
That fact is a disaster in itself--not just because of its regional implications but also because North Korea is no ordinary state but instead a compulsive black-marketeer. A country that has trafficked missile technology to Pakistan is not a welcome addition to the nuclear club. So President George W. Bush’s subsequent recognition of the need for dogged diplomacy is highly welcome. The US gritted its teeth and kept talking, even as Pyongyang delayed and distracted its interlocutors. An initial agreement struck in February has only now been put into effect.
Such American tactics owe much to the way the Iraq war exposed the limits of American power, even as Pyongyang built up its nuclearprogamme. But just because no other realistic options were avail-able, there was no guarantee that this administration would proceed down the dealmaking route.
The effort was not American alone. Perhaps the only wayMr Bush has improved on Bill Clinton’s approach was his move to bring China into the talks. It was Beijing, aghast at the implications of an Asian arms race, that brought most pressure to bear on Mr Kim.
Still tougher challenges lie ahead. Convincing North Korea to halt plutonium production is one thing. The next step--persuading Pyongyang to come clean about its whole nuclear programme and permanently disable the Yongbyon reactor--will be much more difficult. The final step of convincing Mr Kim to give up the bombs he already has will be still harder. No doubt other hefty inducements will be required, beyond the fuel oil shipment already agreed and North Korea’s removal from the US’s terrorist list.
But the work must go on. Dealing with the North Korean bomb is much more important than Mr Bush’s chief counter-proliferation accomplishment--the dismantling of Libya’s amateurish and incomplete nuclear programme.
ZMAG.ORG

It is the biggest publishing event in history-- proof positive that Britain is the most dominant force in world culture. The seventh and final edition of Harry Potter is a landmark moment; 12 million advance copies printed in the US alone.
Is Harry Potter so good and author JK Rowling so brilliant that these books deserve their status as, cumulatively, the best-selling ever? The strict answer is, obviously no. They are great stories, synthesizing with enormous narrative skill the best of CS Lewis, Tolkien and Jill Murphy’s Worst Witch books--not to mention some Greek myths--along with some old-fashioned black magic. But there is something else afoot when 325 million copies have been sold worldwide--now certain to approach 400 million with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Rowling is repeating the Da Vinci Code effect--but much more shrewdly. In the creative industries, success always begets more success, but in an era of globalization the success can be very big indeed, as both Rowling and Dan Brown can testify. But before the success arrives, ignorance and uncertainty rule. Thus the history of creativity is littered with examples of publishers and agents who did not spot the winner. American author and screen writer William Goldman nailed it when he said of the film industry that: “Nobody knows anything.“
With more than 200,000 titles every year, the social effect in publishing is particularly vital.
There should be no surprise that Rowling was turned down eight times before an inquisitive reader’s eye was caught. That made Christopher Little, her literary agent, a very rich man. The readers were like those in that pop music test. But once Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was published to critical acclaim, Rowling had begun to break through the “nobody knows“ barrier. And by telegraphing there were more books to come, she cleverly laid the bait for each successive book to become an even greater event. With the Harry Potter website on top, she has become the uber-mistress of the social nature of creative success, showing her profound understanding of how the creative market works.
Yet of the 325 million books snapped up worldwide, only 21 million have been sold in Britain. The key to its global success has been the US, where more than one in four Americans over 12 claim to have seen a Potter movie. This is a second iron rule in the creative industries. No global cultural hit is possible without prior success in the US-- which means it has to be first created in English. Had Rowling been French or German she would never have been worth her estimated £545 million.
America remains the soft power capital of the world; Potter books are now translated into 65 languages, with every national publisher trusting that if the formula works in the US, it must work locally. And with such universal themes--the struggle of the apparently bumbling Potter against the dark forces of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, cross-cut with magic rituals and the inadequacies of the Ministry of Magic--every culture can relate to the plot. From Thailand to Russia kids are copying the spells.
Yet the British cannot be complacent about our creative industry success, as The Work Foundation report I led on the creative industries, “Staying Ahead,“ flagged up. British competition rules permit supermarkets to wreck the book distribution network so important to publishing, as their disregard for selling the Deathly Hallows at the £17.99 recommended retail price, or even at the price they buy it for, highlights. Important copyright rules are being allowed to fray, hurting the publishing and music industry alike. The distressed EMI is being taken over to be asset-stripped by private equity company Terra Firma, who will eviscerate the costly networks through which it trawls for new bands, in order to service the massive debt it has incurred. It is much harder now for a small publisher to stay alive than it was for Bloomsbury 10 years ago when it discovered Rowling.
Part of the problem is a reluctance to tackle malfunctioning “business structures“ because that might be interpreted as being anti-business. But the greater problem is intellectual. The Potter industry, like other parts of our creative economy, may be worth billions and have created tens of thousands of jobs, but it is not down a mine or in a factory, so it feels fluffy. It is not. Britain allowed its manufacturing base to wither needlessly quickly. It should not do the same with its creative industries.
Will Hutton
THEMONITOR.NET

Former British prime minister Tony Blair has just begun his new role as Middle East envoy for the Quartet group--the United States, the United Nations, the European Union and Russia--seeking to broker peace between Israel and Palestine. From the fractured situation in Gaza to the wider issues of land rights in the West Bank, Israeli security guarantees and the bolstering of Palestinian capabilities, his will be an ambitious appeal to a largely skeptical audience. As ever in the Middle East, the road ahead will be pitted with obstacles, historical and emotional.
Ninety years ago, another Briton took a more hands-on approach to the Middle East. Gaza, former Palestine and Syria were in turmoil, at the hands of one of Britain’s finest generals. The legacy he bequeathed for the Middle East was profound. Waging a lightning campaign from October 1917 to November 1918, based on mechanization and mobility, he in effect extinguished 600 years of Ottoman Turkish rule from Gaza to Damascus. Even today, from Beirut to Tel Aviv, street names and a crucial land crossing between Jordan and Israel still recall his achievements. His name: General Edmund Allenby (1861-1936). While his maverick subordinate T E Lawrence was leading the Arab Revolt, in 1917 General Allenby’s aims were larger--the fall of the Ottoman Empire itself.
From the first, Allenby had built a formidable military reputation, identified early on by General Herbert Kitchener as a rising star. His abilities were first evident as a cavalry commander in the Boer War (1899-1902). Tall and powerfully built, his flashes of temper and obsession with detail became legendary in the British Army prior to World War I. Ripe for caricature, he was nevertheless one of Britain’s most able generals, then or since. Nicknamed “The Bull“ by subordinates, he inspired respect and fear in equal measure. Each time he left his headquarters, nervous junior officers telegraphed each other the Morse letters BBL (“Bloody Bull Loose“).
With the outbreak of World War I in August 1914, Allenby went straight to the western front. After battle experience in Flanders and on the Somme in 1916, he took command of the British 3rd Army, planning and executing the major offensive at Arras in April 1917. The offensive achieved mixed success and Allenby’s performance was criticized by army commander Sir Douglas Haig. In turn, Allenby’s supporters argued that his tactics were sound. Whatever the doubts, London eventually concluded that he was an ideal choice to take charge of the deteriorating situation in the Middle East. Allenby was destined for the campaign against the Turks in Palestine.
Assuming command of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force in Cairo in June 1917, his robust command style reaped early benefits. He ordered the relocation of British General Headquarters from Cairo to Rafah, hard by the British forward positions facing Gaza. He visited every unit under his command, rapidly gaining the confidence of all ranks in the process.
Allenby’s strategic remit in the Middle East-- set for him by prime minister David Lloyd George--was challenging: nothing less than the capture of Beit-ul-Moqaddas and the removal of Turkey as a viable German ally in Palestine. By mid-1917, the British situation in the Middle East was critical. Costly failures at Gallipoli in 1915 and Kut, Mesopotamia, in 1916 had stymied early British victory. Turkish forces with German commanders were proving a successful combination. T E Lawrence’s 1917 Arab Revolt, with irregular cavalry and saboteurs disrupting Turkish lines of communication, was an irritant but no more to Constantinople and Berlin. Even Lawrence’s inspired capture of the Red Sea port of Aqaba was little more than a sideshow.
Allenby quickly assessed the situation. He ordered preparations for a massive assault toward Beit-ul-Moqaddas via Gaza and Beersheba, with the aim of driving the Turks back northward, out of Palestine and Syria altogether. After the slow progress made in Mesopotamia throughout 1916 and 1917, he wanted a decisive British victory in the Middle East. He believed he was the man destined in history to achieve it.
ATIMES.COM