There are many contenders for Biggest Political Opportunist since the September 11 atrocities. Politicians ramming through life-changing laws while telling voters are still mourning, corporations diving for public cash; pundits accusing their opponents of treason.
Yet amidst the chorus of Draconian proposals and McCarthyite threats, one voice of opportunism still stands out. That voice belongs to Robyn A. Mazer. Ms. Mazer is using September 11 to call for an international crackdown on counterfeit t-shirts.
Not surprisingly, Ms. Mazer is a trade lawyer in Washington D.C. Even less surprising, she specializes in trade laws that protect the United States' single largest export: copyright. That's music, movies, logos, seed patents, software and much more. Trade Related Intellectual Property rights (TRIPS) is one of the most controversial side-agreements in the run-up to next month's World Trade Organization meeting in Qatar. It is the battleground for disputes ranging from Brazil's right to disseminate free generic AIDS drugs to China's thriving market in knock-off Britney Spears CDs.
What if our leaders are actually following us, instead of the other way around?
What if they are scouring the overnight polls and reinventing themselves to be the kind of leaders we say we want? What if they wage war not because they have found an effective response to terrorism, but because we have told the pollsters we are growing impatient?
According to a New York Times poll, 58 per cent of Americans support going to war "even if means many thousands of innocent civilians may be killed." Can we really live with that? I'm not talking only about morality but also about strategy: can we sustain the potential fallout from all this "collateral damage?"
Collateral damage is the jargon used to describe the "unintended" consequences of war, the innocent civilians that die when bombs rain down. But there are many more unintended consequences of war, so many, in fact, that the CIA invented a phrase to describe what happens when short-term wartime decisions come back to haunt the people who made them: "blowback."
Now is the time in the game of war when we dehumanize our enemies.
They are utterly incomprehensible, their acts unimaginable, their motivations senseless. They are "madmen" and their states are "rogue." Now is not the time for more understanding—just better intelligence.
These are the rules of the war game.
Feeling people will no doubt object to this characterization: war is not a game. It is real lives ripped in half; it is lost sons, daughters, mothers, and fathers, each with a dignified story. Tuesday's act of terror was reality of the harshest kind, an act that makes all other acts seem suddenly frivolous, game-like.
It's true: war is most emphatically not a game. And perhaps after Tuesday, it will never again be treated as one. Perhaps September 11, 2001 will mark the end of the shameful era of the video game war.
Actually, I don't have time to respond to all the distortions in this week's Economist but I couldn't let this one stand. Here is a letter to the editor I just sent.
To the editors of The Economist
In your happy little leader "Brands are good for you," you quote a passage from my book No Logo referring to ours as "a fascist state where we all salute the logo and have little opportunity for criticism because our newspapers, television stations, Internet servers, streets and retail spaces are all controlled by multinational corporate interests." By taking these words out of context, you have intentionally distorted my meaning to suit your own weak argument.
Part of the tourist ritual of traipsing through Italy in August is marvelling at how the locals have mastered the art of living—and then complaining bitterly about how everything is closed.
"So civilized," you can hear North Americans remarking over four-course lunches. "Now somebody open up that store and sell me some Pradas NOW!" This year, August in Italy was a little different. Many of the southern beach towns where Italians hide from tourists were half-empty, and the cities never paused. When I arrived two weeks ago, journalists, politicians and activists all reported that it was the first summer of their lives when they didn't take a single day off.
How could they? First, there was Genoa, then: After Genoa.