DON'T MAKE SY HERSH LAUGH

Systemic failure, the fondly brandished euphemism for failure to take personal responsibility, came in for more bashing yesterday. This time it was the Bush administration's former weapons inspector David Kay who did the bashing.

In what Philip Shenon reports this morning as "uncharacteristically caustic remarks," Kay pointed out that "until people and organizations are held responsible" at the National Security Council and the Central Intelligence Agency for the "overwhelming failure" of intelligence in Iraq, he can't see how the appointment of a new, overall intelligence czar can correct things.

But even Kay avoided calling out the responsible individuals, key among them Condoleeza Rice. Though he put the blame squarely on her shoulders for misleading the Nincompoop in Chief and his waffling minion, Secretary of State Colin Powell -- nailing the fact that systemic failure is not some kind of faceless enterprise -- he "did not identify Ms. Rice by name."

Kay chose not to despite remarks "clearly aimed at her performance," Shenon writes, and reflecting "a widespread view among intelligence specialists that Ms. Rice, perhaps Mr. Bush's most trusted aide, and the National Security Council have never been held sufficiently accountable for intelligence failures before the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and the Iraq war."

This criticism "mirrored that made earlier this year by Richard A. Clarke, Ms. Rice's former top counterterrorism deputy." But Clarke at least named her when he "accused her of paying little attention to dire intelligence threats throughout the spring and summer of 2001 that Al Qaeda was about to strike against the United States."

Meantime, the latest "high-level Army inquiry" into the Abu Ghraib prison scandal, expected to be released next week, according to another report in this morning's New York Times, will point to another instance of systemic failure. Translation (italics mine): "The inquiry found no evidence of direct culpability above the colonel who commanded the military intelligence unit at the prison," officials familiar with the report told the Times.

If it's any consolation to the tortured prisoners, to the seven low-level soldiers who've been charged with abuse, or to Americans who feel dishonored by what happened, the investigation is expected to blame "at least two dozen military intelligence personnel, civilian contractors and [CIA] officers for wrongdoing."

Yet, while the investigation faults the Army for "failing to provide leadership," senior commanders in Baghdad and the top commander himself, Lt. Gen. Ricardo S. Sanchez, as well as senior Pentagon officials, "were found to have had no role in ordering or permitting the abuse." Parse that, if you can. It was the system's fault, not the fault of those running it. Lack of leadership equals exoneration of the leaders. That's where the buck stops. Never mind "Chain of Command: The Road from 9/11 to Abu Ghraib." Now I get it.

Postscript: Have a look at the trailer for "Uncovered: The War on Iraq," a new documentary by Robert Greenwald.

August 19, 2004 11:07 AM |

Categories:

Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
SAMMY'S WHITE DREAMS 
Four decades ago Lenny Bruce sentenced Sammy Davis Jr. to "30 years in Biloxi," stripping him of "his Jewish star" and "his religious statue of Elizabeth Taylor." Now we have two new biographies of Davis that spring him from ridicule, if not from doubts about his legacy, and restore a measure of dignity to a black entertainer whose huge fame and success never overcame his devout wish -- indeed his lifelong effort -- to be white.
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