A faithless lover run to
ground
By Wesley Pruden
PrudenPolitics.com
This week was supposed to be a big deal at the
United Nations, where the 66th General Assembly
convened to watch a motley collection of men (and
the occasional woman) try to look important in a big
town making with the big talk.
The Muslims have been having a high old time of it
all week, living it up in their role as the splinter
in the world’s big toe. The delegates to the U.N.
have been making life miserable for everyone on the
east side of Manhattan, with cops blocking streets
without notice, trying to clear the way for rented
limousines through gridlocked streets. Sirens shriek
like banshees deep into the not-so-good night. Few
of the notables actually look very notable and some
of the dignitaries look more dignified than others,
but praise be to Allah, if the folks back home in
the Islamic Republic of Kabootchie or the Royal
Kingdom of Scaroompie could see them now.
Mahmoud Abbas, the president of the Palestinian
Authority, has been having the highest old time of
all at the center of the raging controversy, as
controversies rage in a forum as ultimately
inconsequential as the United Nations. The question
before the house was whether a Palestinian state
should take its place among Gabon, Lower Slobbovia,
Upper Volta and the other world powers. The noise
signifying not very much has been deafening (if
you’ve forgotten to turn down the volume in your
earphones).
The White House has been in a panic since Democrats
lost a New York seat they’d held since the Coolidge
era.
Mr. Abbas is 76 years old, and he won’t get many
more thrilling climaxes, and he naturally relishes
every one of the cajoleries, pressures, threats and
bribes offered this week to either (a) tone down or
(b) turn up the pressure for a vote for the
Palestinians in the Security Council. Mr. Abbas, in
the view of the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, “has
suddenly been cast out-of-character as a Caesar who
gazes at the teeming arena below him before
dispassionately turning his thumbs down, as the
Arabs and Palestinians ecstatically cheer him on.”
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the clown prince of comedy from
Iran—who says the dour disciples of Mohammed have no
sense of humor?—reprised his vaudeville act at
midweek with a noisy riff on the wickedness of the
Great Satan. He had no new material, merely
repeating the indictment of the Americans as
slavemasters, warmakers, whoremongers and worst of
all, enablers of the Little Satan. The Americans in
the audience and some of their friends hit the exits
early hoping to beat the traffic back to their hotel
suites.
This was serendipity for Barack Obama, who got
caught with his pants at his knees by the sudden
squall over Palestinian statehood. The president,
who works hard to keep his indifference to Israeli
survival under wraps, spent the week trying to keep
the question of Palestinian statehood from coming to
a vote in the Security Council, where it would
probably succeed and he would have to order an
American veto.
The veto might reassure American Jewish voters who
finally recognize their Obama love as unrequited,
but a veto would enrage the Muslims in the Middle
East whom the president has courted with passion and
apologies over the first three years of his
presidency. In the event, he didn’t have to order
the veto and he got to make a speech. He spread the
usual jelly of moral equivalency, hectoring in equal
measure both Jew and Muslim to restrain themselves,
and get back to the table to process peace. Alas,
processed peace, like processed cheese, is neither
peace nor cheese.
The Palestinian statehood frenzy, as anyone can see,
is not really about Palestine but about the
presidential politics of 2012. The White House has
been in a panic since the Republicans captured that
House seat in a heavily Jewish district in Brooklyn
and Queens, which had been held by a Democrat since
the Coolidge era. That result turned on the question
of whether Barack Obama or the Republicans were the
truest and bluest friends of Israel. Suddenly the
Jewish vote was in play. Losing only a fraction of
it would spell Democratic disaster in Florida, Ohio
and Pennsylvania, where the president is already
hip-deep in alligators.
The president has been making goo-goo eyes at the
Palestinians, casting himself in the role of
faithless lover. He knows all the honeyed words, he
has the diamond bracelet in hand, and he’s confident
he can spread enough kosher goo to keep hope alive.
But the abused Jewish voter has the motel receipt
found in his coat pocket. A guilty lover’s lot is
not always a happy one.
Wesley Pruden is editor emeritus of The
Washington Times.