Mark Helprin had one of those let's bomb Sudan and everyone who doesn't want to do so immediately is obviously complicit in genocide in Darfur op-eds the other day. The trouble, as Mark Goldberg from UN Dispatch points out, is that this is completely detached from the nature of the problem in Darfur, which wouldn't at all be solved even if the Sudanese government was "persuaded" by air strikes to withdraw its forces from the arena. What's needed to provide security are actual boots on the ground that can do some good, and "So far, the only organizations willing to take on this challenge are the African Union and UN peacekeeping, which Helprin dismisses as a 'camping trip to the tower of babble.'"
Now Mark's far too polite to point this out, but what you're seeing once again is that there's a certain set of people for whom Darfur is an interesting situation just insofar as it provides a venue for UN-bashing and a "more bombs would make the world awesome" worldview. It's obviously frustrating to contemplate how unsatisfactory current UN and AU efforts in Sudan have been, but the reality is that they've done much more good than anything else. The idea that if we would just cast off these shackles of multilateralism that an excellent solution is just around the corner is daft.


Interview the Mark Helprin, Salon 7/15/96:
"I write about war heroes because they are ever at risk of their lives. The interest of the group comes ahead of your own personal experience. This is important to politics, as well as in literature. If you think too much of yourself, and about preserving yourself, you don't have the spark of life. It is the same thing from a literary point of view. The liveliness of character and personality comes from one's commitment to the world. Something that puts you at the door of death can do that.
I once had that experience. I was cross-country skiing down a glacier on Mt. Rainier, jumping crevasses. I was sailing over those crevasses one after another. I was perhaps a little out of it, maybe there was not enough oxygen in my blood cells. I sailed over one patch of snow and fell into a deep crevasse. I tumbled in, and was showered with snow and ice crystals. I can still feel the taste of them as they touched my lips. It looked to be 600 feet down. I thought I was going to die. I was in ecstasy."
Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of cross-country skiing.
Posted by joejoejoe | March 26, 2008 11:09 AM