BY DAN VALENTI

PLANET VALENTI NEWS AND COMMENTARY

(FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, TUESDAY, NOV. 17, 2015) — French President Francois Hollande gave the speech of his life Monday at the Palace of Versailles in response to the terrorist attacks in Paris. He began with an FDR-like soundbite, appealed for unity, and closed with a rousing pledge to the strains of the Marseillaise, the French national anthem. The speech played to those with a nationalistic bent, a thirst for justice, and the emotional strength to cry when tears are needed.

In other words, the speech failed spectacularly.

War? Against What? Against Whom?

Hollande began with the somber declaration, “France is at war. Our enemy is Daesh (the Islamic State).” Good so far. The IS exists in force and in territory. You can point to a map between Iraq and Syria and identify IS’ headquarters. Indeed, Hollande ordered air raids on Raqqa, Syria, vowing a “merciless” strike.

Then Hollande called for an alliance among France, the United States, and Russia “so we can unite our forces to achieve the result that has taken too long.” The notion of international unity in the face of terrorism has undeniable appeal, and, if enough money and lives are spent, such a triad would have a good chance at reducing IS to Barney Rubble.

Then what would happen? The seeds for a nastier discontent would be sown in Syria, Iraq, the Middle East, and anywhere where there are enough hopeless, impoverished young people and enough cynical “mullahs,” “elders,” and the like to exploit them. The seeds would prosper, for example, among regional fundamentalists blowing themselves up deciding who among the Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds were The Great Prophet’s closest descendants.

Hollande closed by insisting that France was at war not against another country, not against another civilization, but against terrorism.

“We will eradicate terrorism,” he said.

Can’t be done.

We Can Fight Things, But We Can’t Beat “Isms”

As THE PLANET said yesterday, terrorism, like all “isms,” is an idea. It is not bound by geopolitical borders. It has no army with identifiable uniforms and rank. It lacks regimented command in the tradition of the two “great”  wars we honor with Roman numerals.

World War I.

World War II.

Like the Super Bowl, it has to be important if we assign Roman numerals.

The rise of terrorism as an effective tool of international politics correlates to the rise of technology and the “shrinking” of the world over the past generation. Newer, faster, smaller means of communications — from the most intricate global networks to one person’s smart phone — and an amped up production of more sophisticated, deadlier, mobile weapons have made national borders actually what they are: Imaginary lines drawn upon a map, usually by the victors as spoils (and punishment) in the wake of war.

Killing as Symbolism

The Baader-Meinhoff Gang, the militant West German group from the 1970s, became arguably the first modern terrorist “army” to realize that killing people was not important in itself. The important “kill” was to institutions and ideals. The B-M Gang didn’t expect to “win,” for they already considered themselves beaten. They wanted to “wage” war on reactionary forces such as capitalism, greed, and the like. “Waging” was “winning.”

The plan was to unleash spasms of terror against society, real in their mayhem but magnified in their symbolic effect. Terrorists would act swiftly and unrelentingly, and count on the media to publicize the carnage well beyond its local effect. Although they could only hit in limited and isolated ways, no one — including governments — couldn’t know or predict how and when they next would strike.

Today, with screens and computers being omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent in our way of life, terrorism has never had it so good. The “ism” today has practically every citizen of every country asking “Will today be the day?” No national bomb or bullet can wipe out that question, let alone answer it.

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“Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more?” — Herman Melville, Moby Dick, (1851), written, of course, in Pittsfield, Mass.

“OPEN THE WINDOW, AUNT MILLIE.”

LOVE TO ALL.

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