From British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s speech to the Los Angeles World Affairs Council:

The purpose of the provocation that began the conflict [between Israel and Hizbullah] was clear. It was to create chaos, division and bloodshed, to provoke retaliation by Israel that would lead to Arab and Muslim opinion being inflamed, not against those who started the aggression but against those who responded to it.

It is still possible even now to come out of this crisis with a better long-term prospect for the cause of moderation in the Middle East succeeding. But it would be absurd not to face up to the immediate damage to that cause which has been done.

We will continue to do all we can to halt the hostilities. But once that has happened, we must commit ourselves to a complete renaissance of our strategy to defeat those that threaten us. There is an arc of extremism now stretching across the Middle East and touching, with increasing definition, countries far outside that region. To defeat it will need an alliance of moderation, that paints a different future in which Muslim, Jew and Christian; Arab and Western; wealthy and developing nations can make progress in peace and harmony with each other. My argument to you today is this: we will not win the battle against this global extremism unless we win it at the level of values as much as force, unless we show we are even-handed, fair and just in our application of those values to the world.

The point is this. This is war, but of a completely unconventional kind.

9/11 in the US, 7/7 in the UK, 11/3 in Madrid, the countless terrorist attacks in countries as disparate as Indonesia or Algeria, what is now happening in Afghanistan and in Indonesia, the continuing conflict in Lebanon and Palestine, it is all part of the same thing. What are the values that govern the future of the world? Are they those of tolerance, freedom, respect for difference and diversity or those of reaction, division and hatred? My point is that this war can’t be won in a conventional way. It can only be won by showing that our values are stronger, better and more just, more fair than the alternative. Doing this, however, requires us to change dramatically the focus of our policy.

Unless we re-appraise our strategy, unless we revitalise the broader global agenda on poverty, climate change, trade, and in respect of the Middle East, bend every sinew of our will to making peace between Israel and Palestine, we will not win. And this is a battle we must win.

[…]

Whatever the outward manifestation at any one time – in Lebanon, in Gaza, in Iraq and add to that in Afghanistan, in Kashmir, in a host of other nations including now some in Africa – it is a global fight about global values; it is about modernisation, within Islam and outside of it; it is about whether our value system can be shown to be sufficiently robust, true, principled and appealing that it beats theirs. Islamist extremism’s whole strategy is based on a presumed sense of grievance that can motivate people to divide against each other. Our answer has to be a set of values strong enough to unite people with each other.

This is not just about security or military tactics. It is about hearts and minds about inspiring people, persuading them, showing them what our values at their best stand for.

[…]

But we only win people to these positions if our policy is not just about interests but about values, not just about what is necessary but about what is right.

Which brings me to my final reflection about US policy. My advice is: always be in the lead, always at the forefront, always engaged in building alliances, in reaching out, in showing that whereas unilateral action can never be ruled out, it is not the preference.

How we get a sensible, balanced but effective framework to tackle climate change after the Kyoto Protocol expires in 2012 should be an American priority.

America wants a low-carbon economy; it is investing heavily in clean technology; it needs China and India to grow substantially. The world is ready for a new start here. Lead it.

The same is true for the WTO talks, now precariously in the balance; or for Africa, whose poverty is shameful.

If we are championing the cause of development in Africa, it is right in itself but it is also sending the message of moral purpose, that reinforces our value system as credible in all other aspects of policy.

It serves one other objective. There is a risk that the world, after the Cold War, goes back to a global policy based on spheres of influence. Think ahead. Think China, within 20 or 30 years, surely the world’s other super-power. Think Russia and its precious energy reserves. Think India. I believe all of these great emerging powers want a benign relationship with the West. But I also believe that the stronger and more appealing our world-view is, the more it is seen as based not just on power but on justice, the easier it will be for us to shape the future in which Europe and the US will no longer, economically or politically, be transcendant…

I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty — to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.

— Abraham Lincoln

The mother raccoon with three babies I mentioned is relatively new from the perspective of the wildlife here.  She and her offspring took me by surprise when first they visited me some four or five weeks ago.  I was enamored immediately with the family.  In each of them could be seen a disparate personality.  Yes, the typical raccoon curiosity and violent nature presented on many an occasion, but as with all creatures, they were easily identified by distinct traits.

The mother was protective yet aloof, letting her children exercise self-protection by engaging competitors.  When the offending raccoon responded, her maternal instincts immediately spurned her to act.  She engages whatever interloper is harassing her kids with a vehement response that is as much quick as it is commanding.

One of her offspring is so timid and anxious that it scurries up the tree at the slightest noise.  And then it takes the poor soul forever to find enough bravery for the descent.  Too many times have I stood and chuckled quietly as I watched the wee baby sit about eye level in the tree, head turning this way and that, occasionally looking at me to ensure I was not also leaping the fence in preparation for attack, and ultimately too afraid to be as pot-bellied and healthy as it appears to be.

Another of the little bandits is the complete opposite.  While still weary of a strange and alien world to which it must still adapt and for which it must still prepare, it seems more comfortable than its siblings do.  This one has very little concern for my presence.  In fact, in a somewhat disturbing way for which I can offer no explanation, since the first time it visited it has always come to the fence to sit right in front of my feet when it is either somewhat concerned about a disturbance or when it has retrieved a favorite morsel and wishes to dine in peace.  I stand and peer over the fence when upright; I lean in close enough to see clearly without endangering myself when I’m kneeling.  Regardless of my position, this one seems bizarrely attached so long as things are not particularly worrisome.  If they are, however, it too becomes the nervous little ball of ferocious fur that raccoons are known for.

And the third?  Yes, the third…  The last child landed betwixt the other two.  It neither seemed interested nor disinterested, neither nervous nor unnaturally relaxed.  It would come to the fence and investigate me for a brief moment before returning to whatever tasty bonanza I earlier prepared and served for them.  If its mother seemed apprehensive, it was apprehensive.  If Mother ran, by golly it would run too.  Overall, the tot was essentially the averagely inclined raccoon.  I would not expect it to climb the fence and challenge me any more than I would expect it to flee if a leaf rustled in the undergrowth.

Becoming familiar with the various animals that come through has been as educational as it has been fun.  I learned two evenings ago that it is also emotional.  When the mother raccoon made her appearance, stepping quietly through the natural barrier constructed of bushes, only two babies were with her.  They have grown in the short time they’ve been visiting.  Despite that, I find it difficult to believe the young one left of its own accord.  Because two of her children were still with her, there is no way to justify the premise she forced the third ring-tailed juvenile to leave the family.

Perhaps in a few weeks they will be ready to move out, or perhaps in a month, or perhaps even longer (I’m not entirely familiar with the intricacies of raccoon parenting and development).  The absence of her third adolescent struck me to the core.  I stood for several minutes whispering into the tree.  The endeavor was borne of my hope the tyke escaped into the tree upon hearing my noisy exit through the bedroom door.  I then stood quietly for several more minutes to see if lack of sound and movement would bring a small furry bundle down from the upper branches now hidden in night’s darkness.

Resolved no baby was forthcoming from the shadowed foliage, and equally resolved it had not slipped around the corner and was waiting to see what mayhem I might unleash, my eyes fell upon the remainder of the family as the realization sank in: it was dead.  Too young to survive on its own, a fact certainly confirmed by the other two offspring still foraging with and relying on their mother, and too small to survive the various predators and threats overly plentiful in this area, a sorrowful cloud enveloped me as I mourned the loss, wept for the absence of a simple child, and washed my cheeks with silent tears memorializing the cruel hand nature dealt the youthful marauder.

Why does such a thing bring me to lament?  It was not a pet.  It was not a family member.  It was, however, a friend, even if such a thing is defined by the casual bond I feel for all living things, but most especially for those I know well enough to identify under the cloak of darkness and amidst several look-alikes.  I stood there that night, a moment of anguish washed in gloom, and I watched the surviving members.  Did she miss her child?  Did they miss their sibling?  Even then as they ate, did any memory of the now lost soul reside within them, a conscious gap in normalcy that strummed their heartstrings with even the most basic of loss?  I am sure of it.

At least a few times of late have I discussed such matters with friends and family, and in all cases, no one disagreed.  Despite the inability of most to demonstrate in ways we might understand that which is felt, all animals share the same emotional foundation.  We see it in creatures both fantastic and mundane.  I believe a common ancestor, the same source responsible for two eyes and one nose and one mouth being placed in such recognizable patterns on the faces of a great many species, gave every creature the depth of heart to feel things and to express those feelings in ways understandable at least to their own kind, if not the dedicated observer.  For hair and skin and two arms and two legs and many other traits, emotions likewise burst forth from that which preceded all of us, a feeling creature of similar makeup in both fundamental appearance and emotional awareness.  We creatures have at least that to celebrate as shared.  It is up to the open of mind and accepting of spirit to identify and enjoy this collective sensitivity.

For the life bequeathed to that end unto which all life travels, I cry.  My heartsong’s behest is that all beings of consciousness realize the destination all paths flow toward carries each of us to the same target.  That journey grants us the irrefutable gift of blessed and cursed feeling.  Therein lies the substance of sentiment, and in that substance is a link between all that feel.  As I dried my physical tears that evening, so I dry the tears of passion now bereft of the wonder and beauty offered by such simple an experience as having briefly known this tiny animal.  A living thing of breath and fur is lost.  A wandering spirit of flesh succumbed to that end we all will meet.  I wish I could share more directly in their loss.  Mine is poignant; theirs is more so, and it is sharp and immediate and direct.

I need not see their weeping to know it is there.

Rick is out of town this week.  As is normally the case under these circumstances, I’m house- and dog-sitting.  I arrived at his place by 6:00 this morning to take Wylie for a walk.  Only a few minutes on foot takes us from Rick’s house to the lake.  It is there we play Frisbee, Wylie’s favorite game.

It was hot and humid, yet a strong wind kept it from feeling as oppressive as it actually was.  Carried on the wind were the smells and sounds of this wildlife refuge.  Living in the middle of the city as I do, this slice of nature in the midst of the urban jungle is an escape worthy of song, a respite from the woes and tumult of the busy metropolis called Dallas.

So we two, both dog and human, let nature enwrap us.  It was wonderful.  I could hear owls hooting on either side of us from behind foliage too thick in the darkness to reveal any secrets.  Yet we knew the winged predators were there for we could hear their distant calls.

Birds were just beginning to stir in the first rays of morning light, so the air was quickly filling with a wide variety of winged creatures.  In the span of a few minutes we were graced with the visuals of mockingbirds, swallows, doves, parakeets, flycatchers, bitterns, and sparrows, not to mention at least a few species I do not yet recognize.  The diversity of avian life here always amazes me.

And then I saw them: bats.  They flew low overhead and swooped about consuming a bit more sustenance before returning to daytime slumber hidden around the shores.  I was smitten by the site of these small flying mammals, none of them larger than a sparrow in body or a cardinal in wing, dark and deliberate predators embraced only by the night.  They dipped low in chase of insects flying not much higher than I could reach.  Twice, and only when one of them aimed directly at us and approached, the barely perceptible echolocation tickled my eardrum like a presumption.  Wylie was the only proof the sound was more than my imagination.  He immediately snapped to attention and focused on the inbound beast held aloft by leathery wings.  Canine ears stood at attention in that cute fold-over style he prefers.

It was then Wylie briefly gave chase to a rabbit that wandered too close and could no longer remain unseen by the dog.  I knew he would not harm the animal and indulged him for a moment.  (You have to know Wylie, but essentially he adores other animals and we constantly laugh that he would love to have his own pets.)  Despite knowing the bunny had nothing to fear from him, a quick toss of the Frisbee across his path was all that was necessary to divert Wylie’s attention.  With the pursuing monster temporarily distracted, the rabbit scurried away in hasty broad hops.

We played for some time as sunlight poured over the horizon and filled the sky with nothing more than illuminated darkness capable of varied hues that darkened as it traveled westward.  It would be some time before this magnificent star crawled above the world’s eastern edge.  Nevertheless, I found the dawn sufficiently lit and wished for a reprieve from the sun, even if only for this one day.

As we slowly made our way back toward the house, I relished the experience this place affords.  It is robust with diverse life demonstrating nature’s many wonders.