Dr. Bardamu and I Discuss the Top Story of the Day
I had just gotten my large black coffee—or whatever Italianate name they give it—at the fancy coffee place on the west side of Astor Place when I saw Dr. Bardamu come in. He expression was even guilt-ridden than usual, and he approached me with his hands held palms-out before him, as if ready to plead for understanding and patience—which was exactly what he did.

" . . . you have to understand . . . if you're going to invite me to these inane affairs that your friends and colleague throw and then ask me to write something in that on-line journal of yours . . . well, what did you expect? I still feel some obligation to teach . . . it was like giving a Grand Rounds—not just in my own speciality, but in a broad variety of social pathologies . . .  oh, to be able to teach again! . . . " He clasped his hands against his chest as his voice trailed off and his eyes misted over. I wasn't going to fall for it.



"Ferdinand, I can understand how you might feel contemptuous of many of those people, but must you say that I'm an idiot who would be better off dead? Do you think I like my job?"

He came out of his reverie with a sigh. " . . .  I know you don't—why else would I write that? You say as much yourself! . . .  "

"Ferdinand," I hissed, leaning over the tiny table,"I may hate my job, but I do not go around wishing I were dead or calling myself an idiot!"

He put his hands before him again, this time as if to shield himself from my anger. " . . .  to hear you complain about it as much as you do, it's only a reasonable inference . . .  besides, you have said you're an idiot for sticking with something you can't abide for this long . . .  "

I frowned. We all have our moments of self-loathing, and sometimes share them with others, perhaps unwisely. I still felt slighted. "Look, that's not the point. What do you think I feel when I read something like that?"

He shrugged. " . . .  recognition, perhaps?"

"Never mind," I said, pulling out a copy of yesterday's New York Times. "Look at this article—what do you make of it?"

"Huge Cache of Explosives Vanished From Site in Iraq"

BAGHDAD, Iraq, Oct. 24 - The Iraqi interim government has warned the United States and international nuclear inspectors that nearly 380 tons of powerful conventional explosives - used to demolish buildings, make missile warheads and detonate nuclear weapons - are missing from one of Iraq's most sensitive former military installations.

The huge facility, called Al Qaqaa, was supposed to be under American military control but is now a no man's land, still picked over by looters as recently as Sunday. United Nations weapons inspectors had monitored the explosives for many years, but White House and Pentagon officials acknowledge that the explosives vanished sometime after the American-led invasion last year.

He shook his head non-commitally. " . . .  what you make of it depends upon your predisposition to the war . . .  those supporting it will clamor that we have to redouble our efforts, that we have to exterminate the brutes before a terrorist plants a nuclear weapon in some suburb it would be an act of mercy to destroy . . .  those opposed to it will go on about the malfeasance and ineptitude of the Bush administration, and that we need someone competent to clean up the mess . . .  those opposed with a conspiratorial frame of mind will say that this weapons dump was left open on purpose, in the hopes that terrorists would lay their hands on it, so that the Bush supporters will froth at the mouth as they do . . .  "

The even-handedness of his misanthropy was starting to annoy me. "No, no, no—read on, look at this." I pointed to a particular passage:

The remaining stockpile was no secret. Dr. Mohamed ElBaradei, the director general of the arms agency, frequently talked about it publicly as he investigated - in late 2002 and early 2003 - the Bush administration's claims that Iraq was secretly renewing its pursuit of nuclear arms. He ordered his weapons inspectors to conduct an inventory, and publicly reported their findings to the Security Council on Jan. 9, 2003.


During the following weeks, the I.A.E.A. repeatedly drew public attention to the explosives. In New York on Feb. 14, nine days after Secretary of State Colin L. Powell presented his arms case to the Security Council, Dr. ElBaradei reported that the agency had found no sign of new atom endeavors but "has continued to investigate the relocation and consumption of the high explosive HMX."


A European diplomat reported that Jacques Baute, head of the arms agency's Iraq nuclear inspection team, warned officials at the United States mission in Vienna about the danger of the nuclear sites and materials once under I.A.E.A. supervision, including Al Qaqaa.


But apparently, little was done. A senior Bush administration official said that during the initial race to Baghdad, American forces "went through the bunkers, but saw no materials bearing the I.A.E.A. seal." It is unclear whether troops ever returned.


By late 2003, diplomats said, arms agency experts had obtained commercial satellite photos of Al Qaqaa showing that two of roughly 10 bunkers that contained HMX appeared to have been leveled by titanic blasts, apparently during the war. They presumed some of the HMX had exploded, but that is unclear.


Other HMX bunkers were untouched. Some were damaged but not devastated. I.A.E.A. experts say they assume that just before the invasion the Iraqis followed their standard practice of moving crucial explosives out of buildings, so they would not be tempting targets. If so, the experts say, the Iraqi must have broken seals from the arms agency on bunker doors and moved most of the HMX to nearby fields, where it would have been lightly camouflaged - and ripe for looting.


But the Bush administration would not allow the agency back into the country to verify the status of the stockpile. In May 2004, Iraqi officials say in interviews, they warned L. Paul Bremer III, the American head of the occupation authority, that Al Qaqaa had probably been looted. It is unclear if that warning was passed anywhere. Efforts to reach Mr. Bremer by telephone were unsuccessful.

"Don't you get it, Ferdinand? The I.A.E.A. was on this since before the war started. They told Bremer back in May that these explosives might have gone missing. And it's only now that our chosen Iraqi government is telling us this? It's insane."

Dr. Bardamu fixed me in with a pitiless gaze. "The trouble with you, my good friend, is that you never learn anything from these outrages. . . . I look at this, and I see business as usual—in fact, I see that the Times is maintaining its commitment to journalistic irrelevance by burying the pertinent information in the middle of the story! What you mentioned just now, that should be the lead . . . but I refuse to exercise my indignation about that, or about the explosives that have gone missing . . . these are all the usual horrors of everyday life . . . "

I was flummoxed by his indifference. "This is a goddamn cover-up! Don't you care?"

He got up with a sigh. " . . . I should care, I know . . . it's just rotten of me, but I can't care about the principles involved . . . it pales in comparison to the sufferings of those who'll be affected by it . . . "

"What? Who are you talking about?"

Now it was his turn to get in my face. " . . . don't be so innocent—you know who I mean, the whole rotten lot of you, complaining about principles and cover-ups, braying that we need a better press corps . . . well, what about a better populace? . . . who do you think will be doing the dying and the bleeding from those 380 tons—yes, tons! I do manage to get the pertinent details right—of high explosives? Certainly your conservative opponents—constipated wretches, all of them!—will flatter themselves by believing that their mindless conformity is a principled and dangerous stand, and that therefore they're in imminent jeopardy! Don't try to deny it—they think the so-called 'war on terror'—so help me, that damned mongrel did make some sense!—they think it's all about them, that their liberty to listen to a cheap dope fiend or a would-be rapist spew hate and stupidity on the radio has the least bearing on what the jihadists want! . . . but you and your type—you're no better! . . . there are actual people, half the world away, who will be blown to bloody bits by these explosives, and you're worried about principles? Have you any idea what the lucky ones, the ones with shrapnel wounds, have to endure? But no—the death and dismemberment of people on the other side of the globe, that's not a reason to be upset . . . Homeland safety! Government transparency! The conservatives and progressives, you're both depraved hypocrites! The second coming would be reduced to matter of partisan politics with these opposing groups of imbeciles! . . . no, no, the world would be better served if the politically engaged Americans would just take up arms against each other—let the blood run in the streets here, you and your opposite numbers can slaughter each other in an orgy of self-righteousness! . . . the jihadists would be without their bogeyman then, and the rest of the world could finally enjoy some peace!"

He had begun his peroration by leaning towards me and hissing into my face, but then became louder and louder as he stood up, until he was standing up straight and shouting at the top of his lungs. After he finished there was an uncomfortable moment of silence; the eyes of everyone in coffee place were on him. And then, as if nothing unusual had happened, the low chatter returned and people occupied themselves with whatever had claimed their attention previously. Embarassed, Dr. Bardamu collapsed back into his chair. I took the chance to turn the knife.

"You're a character, Ferdinand, you know that? You act as if you had a monopoly on compassion. You! What a riot—the great physician, Ferdinand Bardamu, inveighs against the callousness and insensitivity of his fellow man! If the people who put you away could only hear you now—"

"—enought of that!" he cut in, whispering sharply. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, you're not supposed to talk about it, no one is supposed to talk it!"

"I may not be able to talk about it, but I know what you did, Ferdinand. And it's hilarious that you of all people should go around lecturing others about compassion!" I took my first gulp of coffee. It was cold. I didn't care. "You think I don't care about the consequences? You're wrong my friend. You think my fellow progs/libs/lefties don't care? Wrong again. We were the ones worried about them from the start."

He got up, groaning. " . . . very good—you're all the soul of compassion. Is that why the man you support intends to leave the troops over there rather than just bring them back?"

I shook my head. "You don't get it. I don't like that any more than you do. It's just imperative to get rid of Bush."

" . . . so you say, so you say, . . . " he muttered. "I must be going . . . my parole officer is coming by sometime this week . . . I should make my flat halfway decent for him, the rotten busybody . . . "

"You don't know when?"

He shook his head.

I stood up and shook his hand. "Give me call after the ordeal is over," I said, forcing a smile. He murmured a weak adieu and shuffled to the door.

I took out my laptop and began to check a few of the PBA blogs on the matter, just to keep what he had said out of my mind. David Anderson was on this yesterday, noting that conservatives are ignoring this and waxing wroth that John Kerry isn't as cozy with the UN as he claims to have been—as if they thought that institution was a paragon of virtue, anyway. Ferdinand is right, you know. Majikthise links to Josh Marshall's report that the DOD pressed Iraq not to inform the IAEA. People are going to be blown to bloody bits, have been blown to bloody bits, and its all just partisan talking points for the Presidential election. Mousemusings thinks this means we'll have Bush's head on a plate, and put together a detailed timeline of neglect and incompetence.

I turned off the laptop and sighed. At least it isn't a story that a stockpile of enriched uranium has gone missing, I thought, and then realized both that I had proved his point and that there was no way to know that for certain.