As is clear from Michael Goldfarb’s response, the right will seek to portray any questioning of McCain’s cross story as an attempt “to disparage a fellow countryman’s memory of war from the comfort of mom’s basement….” But that’s just the point: If McCain falsified this account, then it is he who disparaged his own memory of war.
“[B]ut most Americans,” Goldfarb continues, “have the humility and gratitude to respect and learn from the memories of men who suffered on behalf of others.” It is precisely because the vast majority of us do respect McCain’s POW experience, and feel humble and grateful in the face of it, that a falsification of that experience would represent such a severe breach of trust. But this is the circular logic of Bush-era patriotism. The moral authority of an ex-POW is absolute, we are told. But what if that ex-POW lied about something that forms the very basis of his moral authority, and one of the key arguments for his fitness to be president? And is there a sin more naked than lying about a moment involving the worship of Christ, in order to pander to an evangelical audience in the pursuit of high office?
As I’ve said, these are very serious charges, and the Swiftboating precedent against John Kerry should make us cautious. I wouldn’t believe the case against McCain myself, if not for the fact that he never mentioned the cross in the dirt story — a story he says he will “never forget” — in numerous accounts of his captivity over the course of 25 years. In a speech in 2000, he did tell the story, but in the third person. And the account also appears in other people’s writings, involving characters who aren’t John McCain. Something is awry. If people like Goldfarb really cared about patriotism and service, they’d want the truth.
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