George Bush’S Great America [EN]: Chapter 11

The Great America of George W. Bush – Episode 10

In Korea, there’s something called the ‘Taegeukgi Unit’ [a group known for parading with the South Korean flag, often in displays of patriotism or political support]. Actually, this isn’t unique to Korean culture. While each country has its own distinct appearance, tendencies, and ideologies regarding flag units, marching while draped in flags is a common sight in almost every nation, with a few exceptions.

Of course, the United States also had its own ‘Stars and Stripes Unit.’

“Bush! Bush! Bush!”

“USA! USA!”

The Stars and Stripes Unit was marching through the streets of Washington.

Though their appearances varied, they all waved the Stars and Stripes on flagpoles in one hand, holding placards that read ‘Ah! President Bush!’ or, in my own words:

“God Bless America! Fuck Yeah!”

The sight of them marching was truly spectacular.

FOX, often dubbed Republican News, naturally aired special programs about the historical achievements of the Bush administration, which was only eight months old. They also collected interviews with veterans to launch a massive propaganda campaign aimed at establishing a pro-Bush administration support base. Even CNN and the New York Times, which were usually quick to criticize the Bush administration, reported as much positive news as possible.

『The 9/11 terrorist attacks were a tragedy that America must never forget, nor will ever forget. Thanks to President Bush’s decisive will and the swift response of the Department of Defense, in just one week…』

At that moment, the TV was turned off.

“Ah, I was watching that.”

“His approval rating hit a whopping 97%, and it seems like there aren’t many complaints from either the Republican or Democratic parties.”

It was the Vice President who turned off the TV with a touch of irritation.

“I chose a good running mate.”

“If you’re going to do something like that, you should at least consult with that running mate. Are you even aware that it took five people nine hours to write that speech?”

The relationship between Bush and Dick Cheney was not only that of President and Vice President, but also that of a senior figure who had been involved in politics since the days of President Lyndon B. Johnson, and a family-like figure who had worked with Bush’s father as well. They had a long history and a deep connection.

“Ah, that was too cliché. There might not be any legal issues, but mentioning Iraq in particular could draw too much attention to the Middle East. That’s a problem.”

But not anymore.

“Haven’t you forgotten Saddam Hussein, who almost killed your father? He’s an enemy of America who even celebrated the 9/11 attacks on a national level!”

Indeed, Saddam Hussein was a bitter enemy to the Bush family. Harboring resentment from the Gulf War, Hussein orchestrated a car bomb attack when the elder Bush visited Kuwait. This later became one of the reasons why his son, Bush, waged war on Iraq. The personal vendetta was undeniable.

In any case, the elder Bush was safe, and since he didn’t want war, he could quietly bury the matter. However, the 9/11 celebration made it seem like Iraq was behind it to anyone who saw it. That’s right. The Iraq War arose from Saddam Hussein’s attention-seeking behavior, the neocons’ [neoconservatives, a political movement advocating for an interventionist foreign policy] hegemony, and the filial piety of his son, George.

Perhaps someone online said it best after the full story came out: I thought he was just an idiot, but he turned out to be a complete idiot.

“That’s a separate issue.”

However, that’s the story of his son, George, and I’m a bit different. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about Iraq. It would be a lie to say I had no feelings about it, but I didn’t want to ruin the entire United States just to strike Iraq. The stakes were too high.

“Separate? How is it separate! We need to show them what’s what, just like in Afghanistan!”

“A lot of money has already been spent in Afghanistan. It’s a miracle that not a single soldier has died.”

“Oh! Bush!”

“We can’t put any more effort into the Middle East. It’s a place where monsters live. A place where money-eating monsters are lurking.”

“Money? Did you say money? That’s where the black blessing [oil] comes from! Even if we don’t occupy it, just cooperating with them can help us overcome the current era of high oil prices!”

“Dick, let’s stop talking about that. I believe we can overcome this era of high oil prices with America’s strength alone.”

“I’ve always thought this, but you’re too much of an idealist.”

“Dick is too much of a realist. He’s meticulous and thorough, but that’s why he can’t have hope.”

Dick and I exchanged glances without a word. His eyes were very straight and upright. They were the steadfast eyes that one could only have when they truly believed in what they were saying. He was unwavering in his convictions.

The problem is that his steadfastness ended up ruining the strongest nation in history, the United States. His unwavering belief led to unforeseen consequences.

“Dick, when you were at Yale, there was a course called ‘The Content and Influence of Mass Media.’ Did you have that course back then?”

“We didn’t have it back then. Or maybe we did. I was just drinking all the time.”

He froze for a moment at the sudden mention of Yale. Yale wasn’t a place of fond memories for him. That must be why he froze like that. It brought back complicated feelings.

“I got a 70 in that course. But now that I see it, I seem to be strong in practice.”

In fact, this wasn’t something that was mentioned on the news I watched like eating. I learned about it by chance when I read George W. Bush’s autobiography after he retired. But once I became that Bush, there was nothing as useful as that memory. It was surprisingly relevant.

“Dick, do you know what?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Once power is concentrated in the hands of a few people through a revolution, they abandon the beliefs that led them to start the revolution. That’s what one of my professors, Stanley Mellon, said in class.”

“Ah, I see. Good point.”

“I never want to abandon my beliefs. Can you help me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been your running mate from the start.”

“I don’t like to beat around the bush. Vice President. If you want to hold onto the power you’ve been promised during my term, you’ll follow my orders.”

* * *

“…Direct! Damn it! Too direct, George Walker Bush! Did you awaken some genetic trait you inherited from your father when you became president?”

When he came to Dick for a running mate, he initially refused. He had distanced himself from politics and made it his life’s purpose to spend quality time with his family. Moreover, the position of Vice President was just a gilded cage. There was no real power, no real work, just a symbolic position. It was a step down from what he was used to.

He would become the next president if the president died, but Dick had no intention of doing so. He respected the Bush family, at least. Such thoughts were rude in themselves. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Therefore, when his son Bush came to him a second and even a third time, it was quite difficult. Dick was satisfied with his life. He didn’t want to go back.

So, he tried to find a running mate candidate for him. If there was a running mate candidate, he would no longer bother him. Moreover, he owed a lot to the elder Bush when he was in power. He needed to repay some of that debt. He felt obligated to help.

But, well, as it turned out. After five times, ten times, and more than twelve times, his thoughts gradually changed. Maybe. Just maybe. What if he could have power as Vice President? In the end, the authority of the Vice President was determined by the President. The potential was there.

If, really, just if. What if the authority he had as Vice President was as strong as the President’s?

So, the final decision-maker is the President, but if the Vice President can persuade the President in the end. Wouldn’t that be the same thing? He could still wield influence.

But if the administration or Congress objects, it would be a problem no matter how much he persuades the President. But what if the administration or Congress was made up of Dick Cheney’s people? That would change everything.

Dick Cheney suddenly became interested. So, he sought advice from his most trusted legal counsel. He wanted to explore the possibilities.

The result was. ‘Since the Vice President doesn’t belong to any faction, the only person who has the authority to restrain the Vice President is the President.’ The implications were significant.

Ah, could it be any better than this? The opportunity was too good to pass up.

Thus, on his thirteenth visit. Dick refused one last time to solidify his theory. By that time, Dick’s decision was already firm. He was playing hard to get.

And on the long-awaited fourteenth visit. Finally, Dick Cheney accepted Bush’s offer to be his running mate. He couldn’t resist any longer.

The Vice President of the most powerful country in the world!

The most historically powerful Vice President in the world!

“Damn it.”

But what on earth is going on? He had shown such boundless trust until the 9/11 terrorist attacks, but suddenly, he had changed 180 degrees. It was as if he had Herbert [referencing Herbert Hoover, often criticized for his handling of the Great Depression] as a middle name. His actions were exactly like his father Bush. Of course, the son’s actions were far more unconventional. At least, no president in history had ever thrown away his speech during a speech. He was unpredictable.

If you made me dream, aren’t you responsible for making that dream come true? He felt betrayed.

Perhaps, it was just his delusion. Maybe he was overthinking things.

Even if it was the ghost of power in his old age that was holding him hostage, it was fine. He was willing to do whatever it took.

Dick. The most outstanding politician in the Cheney family wanted to see his limits. He wanted to push himself to the edge.

“Power has no beliefs.”

The obsession that Rumsfeld had abandoned clung to Cheney. He was consumed by ambition.

* * *

The trial of al-Qaeda’s top leader, Osama bin Laden. His trial was faster than any other in American history. The only trials faster than this were the witch trials of the Middle Ages. Even most of that short trial time was spent listing his charges, it was so simplified. The outcome was predetermined.

The outcome of the trial was known to everyone without saying. Even the most extreme philanthropist would have hoped that the sentence Osama bin Laden received was at least not life imprisonment. The world wanted justice.

“I have a will.”

From the moment he was captured, Osama repeated these words like a broken radio. He didn’t seek a lawyer, didn’t remain silent. He didn’t even make excuses. He was fixated on one thing.

“I have a will.”

“You son of a bitch! Shut up! You devil!”

He was so loud that even when the guard hit the iron door of the solitary cell and scolded him, he only repeated those words. The exhausted guard beat him to death, hoping that he would say something else if he was sick, but he only repeated the words ‘I have a will’ like a parrot. The guards were driven to their breaking point.

The time he spent in this prison was only 3 days. It was 72 hours, but that short amount of time was more than enough to exhaust all the guards in the prison. He was a force of nature.

He repeated the same words even during other tortures, and the exhausted guards restrained his arms behind his back and gagged him. They tried everything to silence him.

Do you know what he did then? He banged his head to draw blood and wrote ‘I have a will.’ with it. After that, they put him in a straitjacket. That was on the second day. Then, would you believe that he tried to commit suicide by holding his breath this time? He was determined to have his say.

He didn’t receive a death sentence, he committed suicide. Therefore, the death penalty needed to be carried out. Death penalty! Death! The situation was absurd.

“Just do it.”

The warden was on the verge of going crazy. If it was just a heinous criminal or a political prisoner, there would be no need to rack his brains like this. However, it wasn’t just a simple execution by firing squad, it was an international execution with reporters from all over the world. If this fell through, the backlash would ultimately be borne by the warden, and the result was obvious. The warden felt the blood draining from his face as he thought that he might end up taking all sorts of buried corruption with him on the way down. He was terrified of the consequences.

“He’s going to die anyway, so why not let him have his will! Just do it!” The pressure was immense.

And the execution day arrived.

“I have a will.”

Osama, who had not shut his mouth until the very end, finally opened his mouth even as the firing squad was being carried out. He was relentless.

“I’ll let you have it, so please shut up.”

Because there were domestic and foreign media gathered, the guard couldn’t shout loudly and whispered to Osama in a small voice. That guard had been in charge of Osama as soon as he came to this prison. That was because he was the only guard in the prison who could speak Arabic, so he was forced to take on the position. He was stuck with the unenviable task.

Finally, after three days of struggle, he was allowed to have his will and was seated in the execution chair with his mouth tightly shut. Flashes from newspaper cameras went off incessantly, and the passionate mouths of reporters in front of broadcasting cameras never knew how to close. The world was watching.

All procedures were completed for the execution. Now, only the last step remained. Everyone held their breath in anticipation of his will, and their eyes were focused on Osama’s bloodied lips for a single word. The tension was palpable.

“State your will.”

Osama bin Laden looked at the countless cameras looking at him. He had the stage.

It was truly the best and the greatest. This was his moment.

“Oh Muslim brothers! Do not give in!!! Allahu Akbar!!!” [God is the greatest]

And the execution was completed. His final act of defiance.

“Ah, it’s really as you said.”

“Okay! It’s over!”

“Ugh! It was really exhausting. As expected of a terrorist, he’s like that until the very end.” They were relieved it was over.

They were the security chief and CIA agents disguised as reporters, respectively. They could finally drop the act.

“No, damn it. But why are we doing this acting?”

“It’s a presidential decree. They say they’re going to use it as internal data later, but no matter how I think about it, I think they’re trying to screw that guy over.” There was more to the story than met the eye.

“Ah, indeed. It can’t be done under the constitution.” The situation was politically sensitive.

Osama bin Laden’s tragic end became a simple joke between the CIA chief and the warden. The absurdity of it all was not lost on them.