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Folly Marches On

Ignorance was not a factor in the American endeavor in Vietnam pursued through five successive presidencies, although it was to become an excuse. Ignorance of the country and culture there may have been, but not ignorance of the contra-indications, even the barriers, to achieving the objectives of American policy. All the conditions and reasons precluding a successful outcome were recognizes or foreseen at one time or another during the thirty years of our involvement. American intervention was not a progress sucked step by step into an unsuspected quagmire. At no time were the policy-makers unaware of the hazards, obstacles and negative developments. American intelligence was adequate, informed observation flowed steadily from the field to the capital, special investigative missions were repeatedly sent out, independent reportage to balance professional optimism—when that prevailed—was never lacking. The folly consisted not in pursuit of a goal in ignorance of the obstacles but in persistence in the pursuit despite accumulating evidence that the goal was unattainable, and the effect disproportionate to the American interest and eventually damaging to American society, reputation and disposable power in the world.

The question raised is why the policy-makers close their minds to the evidence and its implications? This is the classic symptom of folly: refusal to draw conclusions from the evidence, addiction to the counter-productive.
—Barbara Tuchman, The March of Folly, 1984, 235. (emphasis added)

posted by degustibus at 9:06 PM

 

Robust Lingo

Accompanied by music, Evidently Chickentown
the fucking cops are fucking keen
to fucking keep it fucking clean
the fucking chief's a fucking swine
who fucking draws a fucking line
at fucking fun and fucking games
the fucking kids he fucking blames
are nowehere to be fucking found
anywhere in chicken town

......and so on
(LYRICS © JOHN COOPER CLARKE)

posted by degustibus at 9:06 AM

 
Mind Bloggling

The astonishing spectacle of bloggers falling all over themselves to get credentials to perhaps the most boring and non-newsworthing gatherings this summer . . .
... boggles the mind . . .

There is nothing as stupefying as a polical convention, unless it's, like, . . . a baseball game.

Think of it -- credentials! They'll be recognized now as Real Journalists.
posted by degustibus at 7:36 PM