Reflections of a stormy petrel|
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Fabio Paolo Barbieri's LiveJournal:
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|Friday, March 7th, 2014|
|"History is on our side." It probably is, and that is why you are doomed to lose.
The people who say that history is on their side are the people who look back to the recent past and see a direction in it. That is why they are bound to lose: because the future is practically never like the past. It changes, and changes exactly at the point when a tendency has reached its peak and seems established as a law of history - because when a tendency has reached its peak, it has peaked. Example: Hitler grew up in a world where Germany was growing economically and politically stronger and stronger, till by 1914 she was effectively the strongest power in the world, strong enough to launch that bid for world domination that became known as World War One. (Very simplified version of what happened - but that is what happened.) Hitler could not imagine a world where German power would not go on growing above all others, as he had seen it in his childhood and adolescence, and so he went into another World War, without being able to get his head around the fact that in the intervening years America and Russia had grown way beyond Germany's potential. Come the war, America and Russia ate Germany and burped. Likewise, Lenin grew in a period when the Socialist movement was growing riotously all over Europe, from about 1890 to about 1910, when most European countires had a Socialist plurality among their electorates and in their parliaments. Convinced that socialism was the wave of the future because it was the wave of his own recent past, Lenin brutally imposed his own tyrannical version of it on Russia - but Socialism was in fact peaking across the West. It would never achieve more than a plurality in any election, and never, in spite of its claim to represent "the people", represent more than an important section of it. And on this partial and mistaken claim Lenin and his followers built their demand for absolute power. Indeed, by introducing into the unstable Socialist movement the acidic element of his own centralized and aggressive movement, and by associating it with tyranny and unreason, Lenin may actually have sped up its decline. People can't see the future, only the recent past, and the very fact that they declare that history is on their side proves it beyond any doubt - for history is the record of the past.
|Sunday, March 2nd, 2014|
I just had an insight, from the New York Times' disgraceful attack upon the Little Sisters of the Poor. It is this: Freud was right in pointing to transference as a mechanism, but wrong in believing that it is principally a defence mechanism. Here, for instance, we have a classic case of transference: the New York Times claims that the Little Sisters’ suit “boils down to an unjustified attempt by an employer to impose its religious views on workers.” We know perfectly well that that is transference, that the so-called newspaper of record is the place where unshared religious opinions would not long survive. But the point is that there is nothing defensive about it. The Times, even in its current parlous financial state, has nothing to fear from the Little Sisters, any more than Obama has. The fact is that they are simply transfering the company's own standard behaviour on to the nuns because that is what they would do in their place, or in anybody's place. The oppression of conscience and the silencing of religious independence is their way to be. And when you look at cases of transference, you will always find it clear: the person who ascribes to others his or her own standard behaviour does so because it finds it natural. It also explains a streak of paranoia that made Freud see this as a defensive reaction. There may be nothing to defend oneself against, but there would be
if the modus operandi that the person sees as natural
were actually present. If others behaved to the NYT executives as the NYT executives behave to their employees and to anyone under their influence, they NYT executives would have reason to fear. And the same goes for anyone whose similarly low expectations of human nature are really based upon their own low standards.
|Sunday, February 16th, 2014|
|Tokenism, treason and murder
There are few things I hate more than tokenism. It is evil in itself, a manifestation of hypocrisy and cowardice, particularly vile in that it shows itself perfectly aware that the thing it effectively denies its victims
is the right, just and proper thing. It just will not do what is right. Instead of making life easier for disabled employees, put some rich friend's disabled son on the Board, or maybe in a management sinecure; instead of treating people according to their merits, make sure that a couple of dark-skinned people and a few women are prominent in every group photo. But sometimes it goes beyond even that; and a few weeks ago there was a news item that really made me scream with rage.
Everybody knows that the Taliban are only waiting for the announced and timetabled withdrawal of Allied forces to take over Afghanistan, whether by a spectacular second invasion or, more likely, with a smooth deal with existing government. President Mohammed Karzai is well known to have made his deal already, whether or not it will be kept; and frankly, who can blame him? The Allies have completely failed to root up the Taliban from Afghan society, and their withdrawal is an act of surrender. In particular, the all-important security forces are penetrated from top to bottom – just ask the relatives of any of the dozens if not hundreds of Allied soldiers murdered by “men in Afghan uniform”, as the institutional cowardice of the BBC usually has it.
It is at this time, as twelve years of occupation are about to come to an end in effective failure, that the Allies announed that the first women cadets had been admitted to the Allied-established Military Academy of Afghanistan.
I repeat: it is at this time, as twelve years of occupation are about to come to an end in effective failure, that the Allies announced that the first women cadets had been admitted to the Military Academy of Afghanistan.
I would not, perhaps, have become completely
distorted with rage if the BBC had not ran this as their standard “ain't it wunnerful, progress for women” story; a dead and stupid way of looking at things anyway, and, in the case of these pathetic sacrificial victims, as heartless as it was inappropriate. Remember, in a year or two at most, the Taliban will be running things in Afghanistan: the Taliban, the people who bomb girls' schools, throw vitriol in teacher's faces, and shoot young girls in the head if they express any great desire to study. And at the time when this has become clear, not any time before, is this gesture to Western ideas made; I would say, this pitiful gesture, were it not that it's not pitiful, it's murderous. These women are called to make targets of themselves in order for some more than usually heartless and mindless Western decision maker to look as though something had been done for the status and rights of Afghani women. If it was so important to train some women in the profession of arms, why not enlist them in an Allied army and train them at West Point or Sandhurst? No: there had to be this tragic shadow theatre, with these few, probably very brave, certainly reckless, female cadets, playing the part of the vanguard of female enlightenment in a country where such people end up dead. In the end, that was all that was needed to put the final polish on the political, intellectual and moral wasteland that this misbegotten invasion has turned into. Current Mood: what do you think?
|Wednesday, January 29th, 2014|
|Yes, I am angry.
Nothing could be more stupid than the mass negative reaction from every Tory, Republican and Conservative I know to the rising anger about income inequality. Let me explain something to you brain-deads, in the unlikely event that any of you should be able and willing to listen: We have been through five years of HELL caused purely by the idiot greed and purblind optimism of both sides of the ruling classes, left and right. You are both guilty. The majority of the population, middle and working classes and the lumpenproletariat below, were all made to pay to restore some sort of order to the ships of states that the top one per cent had driven straight into the storm; and all this time, not one banker has gone to jail or ended up in the unemployment queues, not one broker had his ill-gotten gains confiscated, not one politician has been convicted or impeached. We all know that we are the victims of the crimes of others and that the criminals are all "too big to fail" or jail. And now, on top of it, we are told to rejoice and give thanks to our wise leaders because larger numbers of McJobs, paid a pittance and as secure as a fungus-eaten tree branch, are becoming available, and the scum on top call this a recovery. Now I know that the left are as guilty of this as the right, and Obama and Labour just as much to blame as Cameron and the Republicans. But if you Stupid Parties allow Obama the monopoly of hypocritical compassion and of tokenistic but visible efforts to raise the bottom wages, then you will be punished at the polls once again, and, you pathetic shower, you will have deserved it. What I think of a continued rule of that gaggle of sexual antinomians and elite ignorami that dares call itself the left, I had better not say. (And Italy just managed to find the worst leader for its own Democratic party it could possibly hope for - but that is another story again.) Roll on the dark ages, come the barbarians, I don't think there is any health left in this world. Current Mood: enraged
|Monday, January 13th, 2014|
|Thursday, December 26th, 2013|
If you ever have a really bright idea, go home and have a good sleep. If the gods are not irretrievably angry with you, by morning you shall have forgotten all about it.
|Saturday, December 21st, 2013|
|GRRRRR.[OR: OSSOBUCO ALLA MILANESE, PART TWO]
Today I visited two places who sell meat (I am being careful not to call them by the professional name of butchers, for reasons that will become clear) to see if, expecting not to find shin of beef on display, I could at least order it. First, I went to the local Sainsbury's, a leading supermarket chain, which, like most English supermarkets, has a pretty meat counter with staff in nice-looking white aprons, for all the world like professional butchers. There I was informed not only that the resources of mighty Sainsbury's were not up to the simple task of ordering an unusual cut of beef if a client wanted one, but that the employee who answered me had never heard of Ossobuco OR of shin of beef, and was only trained to set up the limited amount of cuts that Sainsbury's were willing to sell. To give an idea, the only beef on bone he had ever seen was the T-bone steak, and that, if you please, only for Christmas. With all his white apron and cap and the shiny glass of his display cabinets, he was - God forgive his employers - no more than a shelf-stacker specializing in meat, and had got no more skills than that for the work he did.
Then I went to the nearest independent butcher shop - not very near (more than a mile away), but then this is a suburban district and not densely populated. From the moment I entered I got a seriously weird vibe about the place: apart from being altogether too neat and polished for what is, after all, a bit of a messy trade - especially late in the day as it was - I felt the owner looking at me with a surly, suspicious and certainly unwelcoming stare. I started explaining what I wanted.
"We call it Ossobuco in Italy..."
"I know what you mean."(One relieved Italian, after the incredible experience at Sainsbury's)
"Would you buy the whole part?"(I thought: I must have got him wrong.)
"The whole part - you mean the whole leg?"
"Well - no, I only wanted a Christmas dinner."
"Then it's no good for me, I couldn't sell the rest."
And now tell me again, boys and girls, how and why it is so wicked that Poles and Romanians should come in and take all your jobs. This man, who was rather old, had a store that relied so much on the local clientele that he was startled and looked suspicious when someone unknown walked in. And yet, in front of the problem of disposing of a single leg of beef, he expected me, the customer, to make life easy for him by taking it all myself. Apart from anything else, I am not a butcher, but I can think myself of ways to not only dispose of at least enough of it not to make a loss, but also to do so while brightening the experience of your own clients; and so can any of you who has spent even a little time in business. Exhibit it as a novelty and a rare opportunity. Print out little leaflets with the recipe for Ossobuco alla Milanese, assuring your clients - and it is true - that this is the most admired meat dish in Italy, where people know a thing or two about good food. Assure them - and it is true - that it is easy and inexpensive to make, all that it requires is time and occasional attention. You could even make little packets of herbs and lemon zest to go with each portion; the price would be next to nothing, and it would impress your clients with the thought you'd put in. Talk personally to all those you know to favour casseroles and brisket, cheap stewing cuts, and/or fancy foreign dishes. And price it to sell; shin of beef is not the most expensive cut by a long way. Is that too tough? It's elementary salesmanship. But this man, who had been in his business long enough to know what "ossobuco" was - that is, he was not a glorified shelf-stacker like his unhappy contemporary at Sainsbury's - literally reacted with hostility to a new client, and expected the client to pay a fortune and saddle himself with a years' worth of ossibuchi, rather than do his goddamn job as a butcher. AND NOW TELL ME AGAIN, BOYS AND GIRLS, HOW AND WHY IT IS SO WICKED THAT POLES AND ROMANIANS SHOULD COME IN AND TAKE ALL YOUR JOBS.
|Wednesday, December 18th, 2013|
|What an extraordinary day
1) I received, ahead of time, the first season of Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, that I had ordered through Amazon.
2) I went out to do some shopping and all my shopping plans came together. Including the pleasure of a local charity shop - working for an important and overlooked area of charity, a hospice - taking my whole donation of domestic bits and bobs with every evidence of pleasure.
3) I got an eighteen-inch pizza free.
4) I received a payment for almost 150 pounds, which means that the slight concern I had about being late with the rent is gone. My landlord's agent is going to go on placing me among the reliable payers, which in this climate and country is very very important.
5) Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes turned out to be as good as I hoped, reminding me of why I had loved Marvel.
6) I made it home before it started raining.
|Sunday, December 8th, 2013|
|Horace Odes 1.22
Integer uitae scelerisque purus
non eget Mauris iaculis neque arcu
nec uenenatis grauida sagittis,
siue per Syrtis iter aestuosas
siue facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum uel quae loca fabulosus
Namque me silua lupus in Sabina,
dum meam canto Lalagem et ultra
terminum curis uagor expeditis,
quale portentum neque militaris
Daunias latis alit aesculetis
nec Iubae tellus generat, leonum
Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
arbor aestiua recreatur aura,
quod latus mundi nebulae malusque
pone sub curru nimium propinqui
solis in terra domibus negata:
dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
A man whose life is whole and without evil
Will never feel the need of Maghreb lances,
Nor of its bows and poison-heavy arrows,
Fuscus, my friend;
Whether to travel through the torrid Sirte
Or make it through Caucasus inhospitable
Or where Hydaspes, legend-laden, waters
For I was singing, all cares left behind,
(All weapons too) well past the forest's limits,
With nothing but Lalage on my mind
Here in Sabina;
A wolf saw me unarmed – and ran away,
A monster large as any born from fighting
Daunia, or from Juba's ancient kingdom,
Mother of lions.
So place me where in workless fields no tree
Is ever recreated by soft summer,
That part of earth where mists and a malignant
Or place me where the Sun rides far too close,
The soil denied to human habitation;
The sweetly smiling Lalage I'll still love,
The sweetly talking.
|Thursday, December 5th, 2013|
As a child I must have been one of those fussy eaters. I have an idea, indeed, that very early on I did not even like potatoes. I cannot say I have altogether grown out of the tendency. Some foods I reconciled myself with over time – gorgonzola and blue cheese; sauerkraut; fish; potatoes, of course – if I ever did dislike them at all, and if that is not a false feeling (it is barely articulate enough to be a memory). But some foods I still can't face; I react badly to many kinds of seafood, especially octopus; snails (although I used to go on snail-hunting expeditions with my grandmother); black olives; beetroot and rhubarb; and grapefruit. Most things with bitter in it I dislike. But there is one thing I have only recently rediscovered, and which yet did more than any other foodstuff to darken my early life.
There is a kind of leaf cabbage that grows, it seems, only in Italy, or that at least is only eaten there. It has no head, growing out in great, grim, very dark green leaves with an ugly bubbly surface. The person who first tried to eat it must have been very hungry. But it is an important plant in north and central Italian cuisine, the secret ingredient in two of the most popular and beloved soups, Ribollita and Minestrone.
Now black cabbage must be more dear to the good Lord than any other plant, because the punishment He has placed for anyone who overcooks it is something that has to be felt to be believed. There honestly is magic in it. It is not enough to say that it tastes awful, not even that it tastes like poison. Overcooked black cabbage tastes like the cry of the Nazgûl; there is no other way I can describe it. It tastes as if you will never again be able to remember anything good and pleasant.
My childhood is a long time gone, and there are a lot of things I only remember if I go back and find them. I always remembered, of course, that as a child I hated minestrone – I enjoy it mightily now – and I thought it was just one of those childish fads of mine, that I grew out of. But last year I bought a batch of black cabbage from the local supermarket, as a curiosity; and inevitably I made a mess of the cooking. And I remembered.
There is a busy cottage industry that dedicates itself to denouncing the cruelty of the Catholic Church to children and other living things. By the work people put in it, there must be money in the business. So here is my contribution to it. Most of my years at junior schools were spent in private nuns' schools. I cannot say that those nuns were cruel, or stupid, or bigoted, or nasty, or bullying, or uneducated. (Sorry!) In fact, some of them I remember as wonderful people. But they bloody well overcooked their black cabbage. As I recall it, they overcooked it every time, and their minestrone – which was served most days of the week, especially in winter – came out correspondingly awful. The very first mouthful I took of my own torturously overcooked black cabbage, I remembered. I remembered all I had suffered every winter day that I went to lunch and found minestrone on my plate; and I remembered why there would be merry Hell at home every time mother tried to introduce the idea. My poor mother, she never knew.
So here is my contribution to the “The Catholic Church is a vicious child-abusing torture cult” industry. I have had bad luck; I never met a vicious or savage nun of the kind that other people remember so well, nor even an abusive priest (though I know that such people exist). The priests and nuns of my childhood were decent people and they tried their best. But good God, did they overcook their black cabbage.
|My first post in a month and a half (I'll explain later); Obama, the Vatican and Italy
President Obama has made a unilateral decision to place the American Embassy to the Vatican in the same building as that to Italy, excusing that with expenditure and security considerations. This is my comment on it, as a historian who knows a little about diplomacy and its conventions, and an Italian who knows a lot about Italy and Rome.
Right. To begin with, the diplomatic world is a very artificial world, and there are things you do and don't do according to its own code. The do-est of the do things is that any country or organization of importance gets an embassy. They don't have to be huge mansions – several embassies in several capitals occupy little more than a flat – but they have to stand on their own. And states are not the only thing you send ambassadors to. You have embassies to the UN and to various UN bodies, to international organizations such as Organization of American States, to NATO, and so on. You DO NOT have the same embassy in Brussels merely because you have one mission to NATO, one to the EU, and one to Belgium. That's expensive? Sad. If you are not disposed to spend a certain amount of effectively wasted money, you are only proving that you are not a first-rate presence on the international circuit and that you are not able to afford what such presences are. Diplomacy money is in good part display expenditure, but anyone who does not see that display of various kinds is utterly essential to status in foreign eyes (and that in diplomacy it is part of a fixed system that you simply don't have the power to rewrite, since it is shared by every other state and international organization) should not be in politics in the first place.
Now from the point of view of Washington DC, both embassies in Rome (there is a third, to FAO, of which nobody seems to be talking) are first-rate missions, for wholly different reasons. Italy is a major ally, with the third or fourth largest fleet in NATO, two aircraft carriers, over 120,000 men under arms, NATO and UN missions in various places, efficient and wide-reaching security and secret services, one of the world's top ten economies, a crossways of trade and industry, and a strategically dominant position in the Mediterranean. It is also visited and lived in by millions of Americans who need consular services every day of the week.
The Vatican, on the other hand, is by far the single most important trans-national body other than the UN and its various parts. In some ways it is more important. For one thing it has a far better information service than the USA or anyone. They have men in places where the CIA would not dare send a drone, and because of the nature of priestly work and the close relationship of priests with their bishops, they get to hear things fast. Have you noticed recently that a country called the Central African Republic has come to the attention of leading governments? I had been trying to get people to notice the civil war – or rather, the pseudo-civil war – in that country for about a year. Why? Because I follow the missionaries' information agency, Fides, and I knew that the country was being invaded by a bunch of thieving, murderous jihadis under the guise of a local revolt. And that's me, a private citizen. How many more interesting bits of information like that would a friendly government get from all those nice, unworldly celibates in the Vatican? But Obama has a problem with that, obviously. And he does not want the operational and political support that any American presence in any country could get if they were friendly with the local priests. Obama does not want to be in any kind of debt with the Church, because he has long since declared war on the Church over abortion. And from this point of view, it makes sense that the change was an entirely one-sided affair which the Vatican had to swallow, with no consultation, no previous warning, no courtesy of any sort. And courtesy is the soul of diplomacy.
On a purely local and operational grounds, the two embassy complexes have remarkably different aspects, that correspond remarkably well with their two very different missions. The American Embassy to Italy is in a former World War One military hospital on Via Vittorio Veneto, the famous shopping avenue, near Porta Pinciana; a major highway, densely trafficked, within walking distance of the Italian Confederation of Industry and of the Ministry for Defence (if not to the Italian Foreign Ministry, which is located in the eccentric and distant Farnesina), close to a couple of underground stations and comparatively easy of access to any American in need of help or any Italian in need of any of its services. On the other hand, the US Embassy to the Holy See is in Villa Damiana on the Aventine Hill: a super-luxurious residential neighbourhood made for old money and a few of the more discreet institutions, isolated from main roads (although well connected) and served by churches of incredible antiquity. The head office of the Knights of Malta (a theoretically independent state and the last redoubt of Europe's bluest blood) is not far. It is about as likely to be struck by a riot or invaded by terrorists as one of the more exclusive gated communities in the richer towns in America. And it seems to me rather evident that each of the two settings was chosen – by wiser judges than Obama – with their different role and use very much in mind, and that they confer on each a clear atmosphere that means that the workers of each would find themselves terribly ill at ease in the other. The Embassy to the Holy See is, as I said, in the most expensive, quietest and most secure neighbourhood in inner Rome, a place for soft contacts, fine manners, delicate suggestions and careful deliberation. The Embassy to Italy, a former military hospital, is a large building that towers over the bend of Via Vittorio Veneto, one of Rome's busiest and most luxurious highways, surrounded by hotels, businesses and splendid fashion shops, and constantly at work with American citizens and foreign visa seekers. To bring them together in the Via Veneto building is an act of brutality.
There is no organizational or practical advantage in the transfer, either. Neither location is at all near the Vatican. They are both on the eastern bank of the river, within the circle of the imperial walls, but they could not be much further from each other either. Anyway, physical closeness to the actual territory of the Vatican does not matter. Visit your own capital city; see where the embassies of the main powers are. I shall be very surprised if they are all next door to the White House or to Foggy Bottom. At any rate Roman distances are smaller than American ones, and a healthy man can walk both from Via Vittorio Veneto and from Villa Domiziana to the Vatican in an hour or two (and enjoy some of the world's finest sights along the way). And if we are talking security, the Villa Domiziana, surrounded by high walls and a garden, isolated in quiet residential streets where any intruder would be easy to spot, is considerably safer than the Vittorio Veneto building, open to anything that can come up one of the city's great highways (and there were, in fact, some security scares a few years back). Obama and his accomplices are simply falsifying fact, as is obvious to anyone who knows Rome.
To finish with, it is not just the Vatican that receives a savage and undeserved insult with this crass decision. In case nobody had noticed, Obama has implied that the streets of Rome are no safer than those of Benghazi. Thank you so much, Mr.President. You may not be aware of it, but one of the things that binds Italians together is pride that we have police, carabinieri and security forces loyal, brave and competent enough to have broken the Red Brigades and brushed back the Mafia at the price of many, many courageous dead. This is an insult to them.
|Monday, October 21st, 2013|
|Saturday, October 19th, 2013|
Exhausted. Vaguely feverish.Did not write except for a bit of Facebook aguments. I actually made some progress with ordering my archives, so I can hope the crazy job may actually be finished one day.
|Tuesday, October 8th, 2013|
|Ian Duncan Smith
41 Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels: 42 for I was an hungred, and ye refused me even the least help until you had treated me as a scrounger and a thief and gave a lengthy account of what your blind eyes saw as my failures and immoralities: I was thirsty, and ye privatized water and forced me to pay ridiculous prices for the stuff of life: 43 I was a stranger, and ye not only refused me any space, but insulted those who would: naked, and confiscated my clothes: sick, and in prison, and you cut the funds for hospital and prisons and suggested that would make them more efficient. 44 Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee? 45 Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me. 46 And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: and the name thereof is... ah, but I think you can guess.
|Wednesday, October 2nd, 2013|
|A universal rule
Never trust anyone who will not back what he says with their own money.
|Monday, September 23rd, 2013|
|Happy birthday cette_vie!!
And do stay in touch, you lovely person.
|Sunday, September 22nd, 2013|
|Wednesday, September 18th, 2013|
|From a comment on the Tea Party policies
95% of American so-called conservative policy is nonsense. If you want to cut public expenditure, legislation and what are known as "cuts" are the bluntest and most damaging of blunt instruments. The very fact that Republicans talk about cutting federal departments as the measure of saving shows that they have not begun to understand the problem. The solution to obesity is not to cut off an arm, it is for the whole body to eat less. And that has very little to do with laws. What you want is to foster an administrative culture in which people take pride in doing more with less, in efficiency and effect. And there you can see why Reaganite demagoguery is a million miles from the point. How do you think the little guy at the bottom of the totem pole, the one who actually does the work, feels, when he is told by his own boss - the President is the head of the public sector, among other things - that he is the problem, not the solution, and that the scariest words in the language are "I'm from the government and I'm here to help?" Such demagoguery and effrontery (history books will remember the Ronald Thatcher age as the Age of Bad Manners) may tickle the prejudices of the more ignorant voters, but it will do nothing for your own subordinates (because if you are President, they are) other than embitter them and make them defensive and mistrustful. Congratulations, Great Communicator. Congratulations, cheap imitators.
|Wednesday, September 11th, 2013|
|about Obama's misguided attempt to apply pressure to Assad...
Actually, the time to intervene in Syria is going to be when the fighting ceases. I think by now it is fairly sure that in the long run the Alewis will win, probably yielding some eastern territory to the Kurds - it does not matter to them, there are no Alewis or other minorities there, and the area is far from the Syrian heartland and divided from it by scrub and desert. It is when the Jihadis are finally defeated that the "international community" will be in a position to give orders to the Alewi government, that will need massive investment, and foreign organizational help in resettling those of the refugees who will be willing to come back. But you can't hope to blackmail a military minority while it is fighting for its life.
|Monday, September 9th, 2013|