Monday, August 18, 2014

Mysteries of Nixon


Although he served two terms as vice president, and his disgrace as president played a role in re-shaping the vice presidency, I didn't write much about him for my dissertation. I had a draft case study about him, but chose not to finish it – he was not particularly influential as VP (I’ll discuss that below.)

But the big reason I didn’t write about Nixon is because one of the keys to finishing a dissertation is to avoid rabbit holes. A rabbit hole is an intriguing area of inquiry that is related to your dissertation, but tangential to your main theme. But you start poking into it and then you fall in
and can't get out.

Iran-Contra was one such rabbit hole. I had to address it, but I couldn't write a whole separate book about it. Richard Nixon was another. Once you start writing about Nixon, he is so fascinating, brilliant, and conflicted, and the events around him are so complicated that it's easy to get sucked in and never, ever come out.

Nixon As Vice President
Nixon was not influential. Eisenhower, when asked about Nixon's accomplishments famously said, "Give me a week and I'll think of one."

Eisenhower apologized to Nixon for that and stated that Nixon had been more involved than any previous Vice President. This may have been true (strictly speaking it wasn't there had been a pair of influential Vice Presidents much earlier in U.S. history), but being more significant and involved than his predecessors was vaulting a pretty low bar.

He rarely exercised influence, although Nixon’s counsel on strictly political matters - particularly dealing with the Senate, was appreciated. My hypothesis proposes that Nixon should have been an influential vice president, since he served an outsider vice president. But this was not the case for several reasons. Eisenhower was an anomaly among outsider presidents in that he was not a governor, but rather had been a general so his outsider knowledge was on national security affairs. Further, as a national hero governing in a period of economic prosperity, he was relatively free of political pressures. No matter what Eisenhower did, his approval ratings were strong because of his personal standing. On many occasions Nixon offered Eisenhower practical political advice – such as supporting a hike in the minimum wage, or proposing aerospace programs  that would have helped Nixon in California in the 1960 elections. Eisenhower was a traditionalist on economics and didn’t need the political benefits of these policies, which his economic counselors advised against.

Nixon labored under other difficulties as vice president. He did not have much staff, had limited access to the president (he saw Eisenhower a few times a week - as opposed to modern VPs who might see the President a few times a day), and did not have a West Wing office. It is an interesting question if, given those vantages, Nixon could have slowly won allies on Eisenhower’s staff. With an office in the West Wing he might have had a better sense of the state of play of issues, and - combined with access to the President and White House staff - been better able to offer useful, relevant advice. Nixon was an impressive capable guy – if anyone could have pulled it off, it would have been Nixon.

(It's also worth noting that Eisenhower fundamentally saw the Vice President as part of the legislative branch, so this may have also shaped his his thinking about the vice president's role.)

But this only puts him on a par with all of the other vice presidents. In fact, according to Jeffrey Frank’s fascinating Ike and Dick: Portrait of a Strange Political Marriage, being Eisenhower’s vice president was not an easy gig.

First, in an important way Nixon did play an increased role as VP. He was the political hitman, the road warrior on the campaign trail. Eisenhower didn't want to sully himself with politics - it went against his public image as a genial national hero. Further, Eisenhower suffered health problems. So Nixon hit the road, putting in weeks of 16-hour days on the campaign trail. Nixon was a capable campaigner, but it was hard work for him. Further, being the political hitman, throwing "red meat" to the party's base, painted him as a cruel, unsophisticated idealogue to everyone else. it was an image that stuck and haunted him.

If Eisenhower had been merely ambivalent about Nixon, that would have been manageable. Instead, nearly from the beginning, but particularly after a story broke that Nixon had a slush fund, had reservations about Nixon. The slush fund story wasn’t significant – many politicians had funds donated by wealthy supporters to augment their staff allowances. But Eisenhower’s support ranged from lukewarm to ambivalent until Nixon delivered the career saving Checkers speech. But in 1956, Eisenhower again toyed with dropping Nixon, hinting that Nixon should consider a cabinet post in the next administration. Nixon engineered a write-in campaign for himself in the New Hampshire primary, which highlighted his strength with the party base. (Eisenhower may have been a brilliant natural politician, but Nixon had a much better sense of the tough business of politics.)

But then even after the issue seemed settled, White House staffer Harold Stassen ran a campaign to dump Nixon from the ticket. Eisenhower eventually shut Stassen down – but Stassen remained in the White House. 

Even Nixon’s finest, most substantial moments as vice president were painful and difficult as when he had to appear to be in charge when Eisenhower was ill. Nixon chaired cabinet and national security council meetings and had the difficult task of showing the American that their government was still working, but without appearing to be taking usurp the Presidency (such appearances have sunk other careers.) At the same time, Nixon had to oversee cabinet members and other key advisors who were Eisenhower's contemporaries and allies. John Foster Dulles, Eisenhower's Secretary of State, who became close to the Vice President, praised Nixon's performance in this difficult situation.

It should be emphasized that at other times Eisenhower did praise and thank Nixon. He saw Nixon's 1960 defeat as a personal failure. Eisenhower had wanted to do more campaigning for Nixon, but because of worries about the President's health Nixon did not ask for much help.

One can have some sympathy for Nixon here. He was not quite 40 when chosen to be vice president and he was serving with a world-renown, all-American hero, at the peak of his powers. Vice presidents occasionally can have “wait a minute” moments with the president. But it is difficult to imagine the relatively young Nixon having one with Eisenhower. Eisenhower was occasionally supportive of Nixon, but the vice president was never in the inner circle golfing, playing bridge, or socializing with the president. And Nixon knew it. He was desparate for the President's approval, but when it came it was always half-hearted.

It could not have been an easy thing for Nixon to manuever around Eisenhower - who beneath his genial veneer and standing as a national hero was a brilliant strategist. Nixon wrote that Eisenhower was "a far more complex and devious man than most people realized."

Flawed Genius
It is easy to mock Nixon’s lack of charisma – although next to JFK, few would appear as anything but a wallflower. Yet Nixon won elections. Only FDR ran on the ticket of a major party for a national office as many times (5) and no one served more time in a national office than Nixon (13 years, 8 months – just edging out FDR who served 12 years and 2 months).

He won through brains and hard work.

Nixon was brilliant. Imagine if, after nearly a decade in the political wilderness, Dan Quayle had schemed and plotted his way to the presidency in 2000 or Gore had done so in 2008. That was Nixon. After a very close loss to Kennedy in 1960 and then an embarrassing loss in the 1962 California gubernatorial campaign (after which he gave his famous press conference stating, “You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore”) somehow Nixon maneuvered his way to the presidency in 1968.

Alan Greenspan, in his memoir wrote that Nixon was, alongside Bill Clinton, the most brilliant president he had worked with – but that he occasionally launched into strange ugly tirades. And that raises the other side of Nixon, the darkness, the shadow in his person. Jon Stewart’s America: (The Book), mentions Nixon’s 1960 debate with JFK in which voters made an utterly superficial decision that turned out to be completely correct. There was something off about Nixon.

The charm that came easily to Kennedy, Roosevelt, Clinton and many politicians, eluded Nixon. They could win people over effortlessly. When Nixon tried, it was an effort and it repelled as much as it attracted. He came off as trying to hard. Think in your own life. People who awkwardly try to win you over are assumed to "have an angle" and "be on the make."

Nixon was clearly a striver.  He did everything right, punched every ticket, but on a fundamental level people did not like Richard Nixon. He wanted the sorts of things that politicians want. But in pursuing them a bit too obviously, people assumed he was up to something.

When his efforts failed, because of these suspicions, Nixon - realizing that doing everything right was not enough and the devious "Tricky Dick" emerged.

This is the stuff of novels - how each of us contains our opposite. Many great politicians, like Eisenhower, are genial on the outside but tough and even callous in private. For Richard Nixon, the devious schemer was on the surface. We (the collective American people - not me personally, I was a kid when Nixon resigned) saw the schemer beneath the earnestness. Did we press him towards it, or merely see what was already there.

As a scholar of the vice presidency, I can't help but wonder: Did Eisenhower see what the American people seemed to suspect? Did his rough, cavalier treatment of Nixon shape the devious flawed Nixon who threw away his Presidency in a bizarre - and frankly unneccessary - conspiracy?

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Elegy for Ajami

A few weeks ago, when Fouad Ajami, the Lebanese-American lion of Middle East studies, died suddenly, I dashed of a short memorium to him and Politix was kind enough to run it. He was full of insight, but also a generous and genteel man. Personally, I was always jealous of him both for his keen insight but also for his masterful command of language. Knowing that English was his third language was only salt inth wound. He'll be missed as a person and as a scholar.
--------

This Incisive Middle East Scholar Envisioned a Better Iraq

Op-ed by Aaron Mannes
July 9, 2014

Fouad Ajami’ s elegy to pan-Arabism, The Dream Palace of the Arabs: A Generation’s Odyssey, begins with the suicide of Arab poet Khalil Hawi after Israel invaded Lebanon in 1982. Lebanon’s collapse and the subsequent Israeli invasion exposed pan-Arabism, the ideology to which Hawi had devoted his life, as a hollow failure. There is a terrible irony that Ajami, an incisive analyst of Arab politics who was deeply associated with the American undertaking in Iraq, died of cancer on June 22 at the age of 68 just as that endeavor was coming undone.

Born in the shadow of the Crusader-built Beaufort Castle in 1945, a member of Lebanon’s marginalized Shia community, Ajami came to America in 1963. He earned his doctorate from the University of Washington in Seattle and taught at Princeton and later Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies in Washington, DC. Initially enthralled with the fiery pan-Arabism of Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, Ajami embraced his adopted country, grew to love it, and begin to swim against the tide of orthodoxy in Middle East studies. His first book, The Arab Predicament: Arab Political Thought and Practice Since 1967, rejected traditional Arab complaints of Western colonialism and placed the blame for the region’s ills squarely on the corrupt self-serving Arab leaders.

Academic work that is clear and intelligible is often described as “lucid.” But this is insufficient to describe the power and beauty of Ajami’s prose, particularly in what was perhaps his greatest work, The Dream Palace of the Arabs. The title itself evokes the sense of unreality that pervades Arab politics. Poetry resonates in the Arab world and language and Ajami traces the evolution and decay of pan-Arabism through the eyes of poets and intellectuals who were inspired by this dream and then fell into despair. The Dream Palace of the Arabs, a book on a seemingly obscure topic, is spellbinding, captivating, and sad. Describing the dashed hopes of a people, it is an elegy: a mournful poem, a funeral song, from the Greek for lament.

Developed in the first half of the 20th century, pan-Arabism was an effort to develop an Arab modernism that would pull the Arabs into the contemporary world. Its chief architects were Arab Christians who sought a worldview that would end the pervasive religious and tribal divides and place them on an equal footing with their Muslim neighbors. It was an enterprise doomed from its inception. Ajami writes that a village elder told Anton Saadah, the Christian founder of the Syrian Social Nationalist Party, “…you want to rule the Muslims and they will not be ruled by someone from outside their faith. If you persist they are sure to kill you.”

(Saadah was executed by Lebanese authorities in 1949.)

This is the great lesson of Ajami’s book. The Middle East is riven with these deep divides, rooted in history and geography, between sects and clans, families and languages. Political parties and ideologies (to some extent Islam itself) are efforts to bridge these chasms by creating all encompassing super-tribes. But alas, whatever the virtues of these ideologies, they become tools that empower tyrants, a new veneer over hoary structures built on clan and sect.

Even the tendentious skirmishes of the Arab literati and intelligentsia were ultimately fronts in these ancient feuds. Ajami himself was reminded of all this after an academic junket to Kuwait. He made a few, innocuous recommendations to improve the political science program at Kuwait University and found himself attacked by a leading Kuwaiti pundit as an agent of imperial interests. Of course the real source of animus was that Ajami was Shia. Ajami wrote, for Americans “…these furies were incomprehensible. But those for whom Arab lands were home… were face to face with atavistic feuds that had never gone away.”

In all of this, Ajami was a sober observer who recognized the dark unfathomable waters that could sink Western ambitions in the Middle East, and yet Ajami became a leading proponent of the American endeavor in Iraq. In part this reflected Ajami’s stubborn hope that the Middle East did not have to trapped in its brutal cycle of cruelty.

Ajami threw his formidable literary talents into The Foreigner’s Gift: The Americans, The Arabs, and the Iraqis in Iraq to explain to Americans what was happening, what was possible, and what was at stake. He unabashedly supported the enterprise, but was clear-eyed about the difficulties. Ajami believed the United States could do a great good in Iraq, not a establish a democracy but instead, “…something more limited but important and achievable in its own way: a state less lethal to its own people and to the lands and peoples around it.”

The Foreigner’s Gift was written, in great part, because Ajami feared that “innately optimistic America” would tire of Iraq, “a land steeped in a history of sorrow.” Changing Iraq would take many years, but “The custodians of American power were under great pressure to force history’s pace.”

Even a few months ago it was possible to believe that Iraq could muddle through. While the Prime Minister was showing “autocratic tendencies” this was a vast improvement over the Saddam’s naked tyranny. But the collapse of Iraq’s army in the face of the rag-tag followers of the a pretender to the Caliphate and the re-emergence of Shiite militias to oppose them shatters any illusions that Iraq was somehow finding its way. Ajami himself knew better, just weeks before he died he wrote in The Wall Street Journal that President Obama, in his desire to be free of Iraq, had indulged the Iraqi Prime Minister’s growing despotism. The scenario Ajami had feared came to pass. Sect and clan have re-emerged, shredding the delicate cloak of Constitutionalism brought by the Americans.

Unlike the despairing Khalil Hawi of The Dream Palace of the Arabs, Ajami continued to hope. Over his career he wrote half a dozen books and hundreds of articles and essays. In recent years, at the Hoover Institution, he wrote The Syrian Rebellion and called on the United States to support efforts to end the cruel tyranny of the Assads. His latest book, The Struggle in the Fertile Crescent, on the history of great power involvement in what is now Iraq, has been published posthumously.


As a prognosticator and advocate, Ajami may have embraced his adopted land’s optimism more than the land of his origin warranted. But as a historian he was clear-eyed and honest about the Middle East in a way few others have been. Born Shia, he could respect the needs and priorities of the Sunni powers. An acolyte of Arab nationalism, he grew to understand Israel. A child of Lebanon, he came to love the United States. Our discourse will be poorer and less profound without him.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Winning by Losing: US & the World Cup

It was good for Belgium to beat the United States at soccer (or football, as the rest of the world insists on calling it.) Not because a loss to a tiny European country that in population and area is smaller than Pennsylvania will force the United States to really invest in soccer and build a strong program - quite the opposite.

Let the rest of the world have soccer – the United States is the greatest country ever. I mean great in its true sense, great – big – large. We do things on a bigger scale, whatever it may be, than anyone ever has before. We also are, on the whole, pretty good (or at least we try.) We are most certainly not perfect, but I would argue that we are the least bad great power ever. Few would seriously trade American hegemony for the alternatives. We get into trouble when we press the point too far. Unfortunately it is in our national character, our fatal flaw if you will, to do exactly that. The late Robertson Davies, a Canadian novelist, in speaking against NAFTA observed:
…the extravert is one who derives his energy from his contacts with the external world; for him everything lies outside and he moves outward toward it, often without much sensitivity to the response of that toward which he moves…. The extraversion of the United States is easy to see. It assumes that it must dominate, that its political and moral views are superior to all others, and that it is justified in interference with countries it thinks undemocratic, meaning unlike itself. It has also the unhappy extravert characteristic of seeing all evil as exterior to itself, and resistance to that evil as a primary national duty. Americans are generous to a fault…the Americans [are] charming, extraverted, certain of their acceptance everywhere…
(Aaron, you cite a Canadian novelist on international affairs a lot, which is odd, particularly since Davies himself had so little interest in politics which he called “external things: only a fool gives his soul to them.” 

Me: True, and that’s kind of the point, Davies was interested in what really mattered and sometimes those things are not subject to traditional analysis, not what truly moves us.)

The point here is that the United States is enormously powerful and rich and – on the whole – a force for good in the world. I'm writing this under an American flag, waving on my front porch - I think the US is awesome.

However, imagine if, in your own life, you had a supremely talented, charming, and wealthy friend. This friend helps you all the time, while also regularly besting you at most things (and perhaps is less than humble about all of it). Might you not resent this friend just a bit (and perhaps the fact that the friend is so generous makes your own resentment grow?) You might begin to suspect your friend’s motives. You might, alternatively, tell your self that your more modest, but well-appointed home is in fact much more comfortable and pleasant than your friend’s rather gaudy mansion. You might convince yourself your friend, for all of his outward success, has no interior life and is not truly happy. You might focus on your friend’s failings.

You will almost certainly gather with other acquaintances and gossip about the overbearing friend – focusing on all of these things and reinforcing your resentments. You might also, REALLY, REALLY enjoy seeing this friend lose or fail at something – especially if it is to you. That’s us and, if we can be objective, we can see why other countries – even ones with which we have innumerable shared interests – might resent us on occasion.

Having some failings and weaknesses makes the US easier to take. In the big picture, losing to Belgium – a small, lovely country with a rich history and complex identity of its own, that also makes fantastic beer and chocolate – is kind of a win.

(That's me at a beer festival in Brussel's beautiful Grand Place - because there is a lot more to life than politics.)

Sunday, March 23, 2014

High Priest as Moses' VP - the destiny of Aarons?

I remember, as a little boy, my excitement on stumbling upon a biography of Aaron Burr.  The only other famous namesake I had was Moses' brother. There was Hank Aaron, but he was really Hank. Now, almost forty years later the list of famous people named Aaron remains short.  I have to add Aaron Copeland and a whole bunch of actors. Not a great bench.

Of course Aaron Burr was a world-class creep who killed the former Secretary of the Treasury (Alexander Hamilton) in a duel and flirted with treason, spearheading a plan to carve out a new nation in the Louisiana Purchase.

The ranks of renowned Aarons is thin enough, that my aspirations to join are not completely unrealistic (or maybe it is a message that peope named Aaron are simply not fated to greatness.)

This weekend, on Shabbat, the portion of the Torah read was Shemini, in which two of Aaron's sons are burned to a crisp for offering alien fire at the altar.  (Occasionally religious studies inform my academic work see here and here.) As a friend delivered a lesson about the interaction between Aaron and his brother Moses, I was struck.  I am named Aaron. The Aaron the High Priest played second-fiddle to Moses.  He spoke for Moses and handled the ceremonial duties. But he didn't have the gumption or vision to lead the people out of Egypt.  When the Israelites started constructing the Golden Calf, Aaron couldn't stop them - he could only try to influence their actions on the margin and make it less offensive to Hashem.  Moses was one who hurled the thunderbolts.

Aaron was like Moses' vice president.  And then, the other famous Aaron of history was in fact a vice president (a rotten one, but still...)

Was I somehow destined to study Vice Presidents - the close, but not-quite great?

It is somehow comforting to think so.

Friday, March 14, 2014

A Funny Data-Point: The VP as comic-in-chief

I suppose I should be writing about Ukraine or Syria - big things are happening in the world. But my mind is elsewhere. I found an intriguing new datapoint for my dissertation. Influential vice presidents are funny, and can make the president laugh.

Mondale is funny, it did not translate into a broader appeal, but people who worked with him always remarked on his quick and ready wit, which he happily turned on himself. When asked how he thought one of his speeches went he answered, "I don't know, I fell asleep half-way through."  After losing the 1984 Presidential election he said, "All my life I wanted to run for the Presidency in the worst way. And that's just what I did."

He is also a big Monty Python fan.

George H.W. Bush, according to people I interviewed, loved a good joke. They used to circulate funny memos around the office (at their lunches, Reagan and Bush told each other jokes.) As President, when he learned that Saddam Hussein intended to try him in a "people's court" he sent a memo to White House Counsel C. Boyden Gray instructing him to go to Baghdad an defend him. At the height of a crisis he had time for a little fun with his advisors.

Gore, by many accounts was really, really funny.  My interviews have mentioned it, as did several White House memoirs.  George Stephanopoulos reports that Gore could always make the President laugh, delivering daily briefings on the John Wayne-Lorena Bobbit affair, and poking fun at Clinton when he was frustrated prepping for press conferences.

I don't know about Quayle, but there is substantial evidence that Cheney had a good sense of humor.  In his memoirs, Bush mentioned Cheney's dry wit. A few weeks before leaving office, there was a conference of White House chiefs of staff to meet the incoming chief of staff - Rahm Emmanuel. Cheney had been Ford's chief of staff. Each one offered their advice to Emmanuel. Cheney suggested, "Whatever you do, make sure you've got the vice president under control."

The vice president has long been the target of humor, but this is different.  I don't have many datapoints here (but my whole research project is pretty small-n). But, the ability to make the President laugh - particularly at himself - is a real asset. Both in building the needed chemistry between the POTUS and the Veep, but also in managing the inevitable and massive stresses of the top office.

Too bad Spiro Agnew couldn't make Nixon laugh - they both could have used it. And ultra-serious Henry A. Wallace almost certainly would have been well-served by a good sense of humor in dealing with the breezy, witty Roosevelt.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Appointing Donors as Ambassadors: A Colloquy

Recent Obama appointments to Ambassadorial spots around theglobe have blundered through their confirmation hearings.  Naturally, Republicans have leapt on this as a political issue accusing Obama have handing out ambassadorships to big unqualified big donors.  Of course the Republicans do not have exactly a clean record on this – although one Bush 43 donor/diplomat (Dopomat? Diplor?) observed that he was well briefed for his hearings.  This seems more like an operational failure.  Anyone with the chops to be a major campaign fundraiser ought to be able to manage a comfortable diplomatic appointment (they are going to places like Argentina and Norway.)

But this raises a deeper question.  The Foreign Service Association is pressingfor more stringent standards for Ambassadorial appointments.  They don’t reject political appointments. They just want to avoid the patronage for big donors.  Understandable, but as long as the President has the power to make political appointments, it will be difficult to screen out appointments based on patronage from the well-qualified, non-foreign service appointments.

Why can’t major campaign contributors be banned from diplomatic appointments?

First you’d have to answer the question of what’s a major donor?  Imagine a long-time friend of the President who, having run a major international corporation, would be well qualified for a diplomatic spot.  Would this good friend of the President be forbidden from making a campaign donation to his friend?

No, we just want to stop the bundlers – the big-time fundraisers - from buying Ambassadorships.

Sure, but the funny thing about campaign finance is that there are always work-arounds.  If our big-time bundler knows what he or she is doing the bundling can occur under someone else’s name, but everyone will know who was really the solicitor.

OK, fine, so the question is why not just rely on the Foreign Service for Ambassadors?

First, for all of the gaffes of the big donor ambassador-candidates, we haven’t seen much evidence that they do any harm.  They get sent somewhere quiet, pleasant and safe.

On the other hand, many distinguished individuals have served capably as Ambassadors to critical countries.  Japan, in particular, has received a steady stream of extremely distinguished elder statesman including former Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield, former Vice President Walter Mondale, former Speaker of the House Tom Foley, and now Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg.  Japan is a major ally that often does not get the attention it needs.  Sending such a highly regarded figure is a good way to honor a critical ally in a way that sending even the most senior and experienced FSO cannot.  

The appointment of Max Baucus to China fits in that realm as well.  While Baucus admitted that he is no “China expert” as a former U.S. Senator (and chair of the Finance Committee) he brings a great deal of relevant expertise to his new position.  Further, he will have a sense of how things will play back home  - while also honoring Beijing with a distinguished emissary.

Another figure that comes to mind is the great Bob Strauss, a long-time Democrat who served President George H. W. Bush as Ambassador to the Soviet Union and Russia. (And this list is NOT exhaustive.)


The Senate does have the power to reject nominees for Ambassador and if they truly feel an appointment might damage U.S. interests they may do so.  (Jesse Helms blocked Massachusetts Governor William Weld from serving as Ambassador to Mexico – although that might have been personal.)  But the cost of sending some political operatives to quiet tourist havens is small compared to the advantage of the President having the authority to send a trusted, capable ally to nations that are particularly important.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Remembering Prof. Barry Rubin: Scholar, Lion, Mensch


No one wrote better faster and no one wrote faster better.

That would be a fitting, but insufficient epitaph for the renown scholar Barry Rubin, who died earlier this week after a long struggle with cancer.

The stories of Prof. Rubin's facility as a writer a legendary.  A mutual friend recalled a chat with Barry, in the midst of which Rubin declared, "Done."

During the conversation, Rubin had dashed off a publication quality op-ed, while still holding up his end of the conversation.

I remember after drinks and hours of talk at a three-day conference, when I was ready for bed Rubin heading to his room to dash off a few pages for his upcoming book about Syria - he'd learned something new and it couldn't wait.

Rubin was a leading scholar of Middle Eastern politics and history, but even that vast topic couldn't contain his energies.  He wrote about U.S foreign policy, democratization, and model trains (and probably a bunch of other things that I haven't heard about - but this post about an adventure as a civil war re-enactor is simply too wonderful not to share.)

This is a photo of my, all too modest, library of Barry Rubin books (he wrote over three dozen - plus innumerable academic and popular articles).  But - and this just exemplifies his approach to scholarship and sharing - he had made over a dozen of his books are available for free online.



But Barry was more than writer/scholar - although dayeinu it would have been enough.

He also built institutions, founded journals, and was a pioneer in using the Internet to promulgate quality scholarship. He had regular access to established media, but embraced new media whole-heartedly.

He had a tremendous talent for explaining the vast complexities of Middle East affairs and in illuminating them he could explain and defend Israel and its actions.  In this he was indefatigable.  I remember him speaking at my synagogue, happily taking questions for over an hour.  This wasn't a tough crowd but it re-energized him to face the hostile audiences that a defender of Israel encounters and that he took on willingly and eloquently.

Every once in a while, it was a great pleasure when, in conversation, he told me, "I didn't know that" or "You've persuaded me."

That it didn't happen often reflects my comparatively paltry knowledge and reasoning skills - not any stubbornness or inflexibility on his part.

But here's the punchline, I didn't know him that well.  He took an interest in me and was generous with his time (and with my modest capabilities I did any favor for him that I could.)  But I wouldn't claim that we were that close, I was one of dozens (hundreds!) of aspiring scholars and activists he helped.

Barry Rubin was a first-rate scholar, a lion in defending Israel, and a real mensch.  He was only 64 when he died and undoubtedly had at least another dozen good books left in him (at least one book will be published posthumously).  But we must be grateful we had him with us as long as he did.