Out of the Doldrums

WHAT explains the recent tentative but unmistakable upsurge of antiwar feeling on the left and center-left of American politics? Admittedly, that feeling is scattered unevenly on the left side of the spectrum—unevenly but not quite randomly. It is felt most strongly, or at least expressed most candidly, by those who are not standing for election. The New York Times editorial page, Democratic National Committee chairman Terry McAuliffe, etc., all take a grudging tone toward the idea of removing Saddam Hussein from power. (Even Republican House majority leader Dick Armey meets this standard; stepping down after this Congress, he has now given voice to the antiwar skepticism that has real, if modest, support on the right.) They cite the military difficulties of intervention; they exaggerate the hostility of U.S. allies to it; they demand a national debate, a congressional authorization, a pause for reflection. And in general they give the impression of wanting to divert any U.S. action into a cul-de-sac of second thoughts without taking the bold and perhaps unpopular step of opposing it outright.

Some on the antiwar left are doubtless expressing their true feelings after a long, frustrating silence born of awe at the popular reaction to September 11. They popped their heads briefly over the peace barricades to warn cautiously of a “quagmire” in Afghanistan. Then, when the “quagmire” became a cakewalk, they retreated into a further period of silence. But their various instincts—inverted patriotism, a kind of promiscuous and irresistible sympathy with the Third World (what the French call tiersmondisme), a hostility to all things military—have irresistibly eroded their political prudence. So they raise a series of objections to U.S. intervention.

About the Author

John O’Sullivan

John O’Sullivan is a senior fellow at National Review Institute and a contributing editor of National Review.

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WHAT explains the recent tentative but unmistakable upsurge of antiwar feeling on the left and center-left of American politics? Admittedly, that feeling is scattered unevenly on the left side of the spectrum—unevenly but not quite randomly. It is felt most strongly, or at least expressed most candidly, by those who are not standing for election. The New York Times editorial page, Democratic National Committee chairman Terry McAuliffe, etc., all take a grudging tone toward the idea of removing Saddam Hussein from power. (Even Republican House majority leader Dick Armey meets this standard; stepping down after this Congress, he has now given voice to the antiwar skepticism that has real, if modest, support on the right.) They cite the military difficulties of intervention; they exaggerate the hostility of U.S. allies to it; they demand a national debate, a congressional authorization, a pause for reflection. And in general they give the impression of wanting to divert any U.S. action into a cul-de-sac of second thoughts without taking the bold and perhaps unpopular step of opposing it outright.

Some on the antiwar left are doubtless expressing their true feelings after a long, frustrating silence born of awe at the popular reaction to September 11. They popped their heads briefly over the peace barricades to warn cautiously of a “quagmire” in Afghanistan. Then, when the “quagmire” became a cakewalk, they retreated into a further period of silence. But their various instincts—inverted patriotism, a kind of promiscuous and irresistible sympathy with the Third World (what the French call tiersmondisme), a hostility to all things military—have irresistibly eroded their political prudence. So they raise a series of objections to U.S. intervention.