In the 1950s, America’s infrastructure was the envy of the world and it was getting better. Plans to build the Dwight D. Eisenhower System of Interstate and Defense Highways, commonly called the Interstate Highway System, inspired highway projects around the world. These included the national highway systems of France, Italy, the United Kingdom and South Africa.

The message was the Americans knew what they were doing and the sensible thing was to emulate them.

At the same time, on farmland in Northern Virginia, the federal government authorized construction of an international airport named for the secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, and designed by the Finnish architect Eero Saarinen. It was an act of faith. From its opening in 1962 until the early 1980s, Dulles International Airport was something of a white elephant. Today, it has taken its place as one of the busiest international airports and the premier airport for Washington, D.C.

It is awesome to contemplate that the politicians and bureaucrats could have been so farsighted as to build a giant airport in the belief that the airplanes would come. But those were the days when people were confident and planners believed that infrastructure was integral to future prosperity. They only had to look at the railroads, still largely intact, carrying goods and passengers between cities; waterways, constructed by the Army Corps of Engineers, operating as the least expensive means of moving heavy loads, and a private bus network linking villages and towns to the metropolises. The electrification of rural America, which began in the 1930s, was nearly complete. And in Shippingport, Pa., Adm. Hyman Rickover, the father of the nuclear navy, was building the prototype of a civilian nuclear power plant.

In the 1960s, the change from major to minor in infrastructural thinking was sudden and catastrophic. Big government building was out, local control was in. Transportation projects were shelved by the thousands, from small local highways to grand urban bypasses. The Army Corps of Engineers was denounced, nuclear power was opposed, and new transportation initiatives were seen as being at odds with the integrity of local communities. The first steps toward the gridlocking of America were taken.

The hostility to growth in the 1960s was initiated and executed by the left, operating through environmentalists, social reformers, academic dreamers, and even the anti-Vietnam War activists and the women’s movement.

Today, the hostility to growth and repair of the infrastructure comes as much from the right as from the left. The left sings its old choruses against big public works projects, including airports, dams, highways, new electric generation and nuclear. Its only remaining dream from the days of Franklin D. Roosevelt is urban transportation. And the right? It is singing harmoniously with the left against the future. Its rationale is different, but the consequences are the same. The right reasons that governments can do nothing right, and therefore nothing should be done; and there can be no money for big projects, because new taxes are an unspeakable evil.

So it is that last week, the Department of Transportation pulled the plug on a plan to extend Washington’s subway system to Dulles International Airport. There is irony here: the airport was built by visionaries and this needed link has been felled by the shortsighted. The amount of federal money at stake is one-fifth of the total cost of the project, some $900 million.

This is the picture: there is money to stimulate the economy, but no money to build the infrastructure that created the economy. The neoagrarians of the left and those who have no hope on the right are allied against the future.

By the way, much that the government has done over time has returned enormous dividends for the people; materials from NASA, dams and ports built by the Army Corps of Engineers. And, yes, the last gift that big, bad government gave to us was the Internet.

If you listened only to talk radio, you might not realize that behind the conservative ascendancy were some powerful intellectual ideas, honed by political thinkers such as David Frum. They were the people who gave direction to the “Reagan Revolution,” but they had been disappointed by George H.W. Bush and stymied by the political skills of Bill Clinton. And they had expected the world of George W. Bush.

In George W. Bush, they felt they had a pure Republican: an untrammeled conservative who would make America respected abroad and rich at home. As Newt Gingrich, the former Republican speaker of the House, told a gathering at the American Enterprise Institute in early 2001, Bush would be a “transformational president.”

What Gingrich did not say was that AEI, a conservative think tank, would play a critical role in advising and staffing the Bush administration. It was the home to many neoconservatives, some old-line men and women of the right, and a cadre of thinkers with very strong views about the Middle East and the Arab-Israeli conflict.

While AEI is still close to the administration, it is now the home of revisionists who believe that Bush has damaged conservatism and betrayed some of its core objectives, such as shrinking the size of government.

Central to the new thinking at AEI is David Frum. He was too young to influence the Reagan years. But during the Clinton tenancy at the White House, he was building a war chest of conservative ideas.

Frum writes books that influence those who call the shots in Washington. A list of their titles is revealing: “Dead Right,” “What’s Right,” “How We Got Here: The 70’s,” “An End To Evil,” and “The Right Man.” The latter is an impassioned defense of Bush, which Frum wrote after he left his speechwriting job at the White House–which is where he entered the pantheon of the memorable by putting three words into a State of the Union address: “axis of evil.”

Now Frum is the voice of the disillusioned right. His latest book, entitled “Comeback: Conservatism That Can Win Again,” is both a call to arms and a fairly specific assault on what has happened to conservatism in the nation and in the White House.

“Americans are trapped in obsolete politics, engaging in phony arguments over issues that are in fact largely settled,” Frum says in the book. “Political partisans fail to learn from their opponents even when they discover something new and true.”

The nation, according to Frum, has solved many of the problems that defined the politics of the 1970s and 1980s. New challenges call for new creativity, he says.

This is his indictment:

· “America’s war on terror is not being won; the struggle for world economic leadership looks to many as if it is being lost.

· “Standards of living are stagnating for the American middle class because health care costs zoom uncontrollably.

· “High energy costs transfer the world’s wealth to thug regimes, even as evidence accumulates of serious environmental risks from the fuels we burn.

· “The United States seems increasingly divided by race and class, and individual Americans express mounting alienation from their political system.

· “New medical technologies offer dazzling cures and therapies—and present horrifying moral dilemmas.”

 

Frum says that instead of addressing these challenges, the political system seems capable only of polarizing

He believes that conservatives should stop denying realities like the mess in health care, the insecurity of the middle class, the evidence of global climate change, and the rise of China. Also, he believes that foreign policy should be more flexible in order to be more successful. In fact, the author of the axis of evil told the AEI gathering that the United States should offer to restore diplomatic relations with Iran.

Other radical offerings from Frum: make private health insurance available to every American; lower taxes on savings and investment, financed by higher taxes on energy and pollution; promote federal policies to encourage larger families; make reductions in unskilled immigration; launch a compassionate conservative campaign for prison reform, and government action against the public health disaster of obesity.

At the reception afterwards, some of the high priests of conservatism were nodding approvingly, and the books were selling briskly.

 

From the time that Ceylon, now known as Sri Lanka, passed into British control in 1815, it was the place that British civil servants longed to be posted. The oblong island off the southeast coast of India had everything that a colonial administrator wanted: a settled population, a huge tolerance of religions, a prosperous plantation economy, and a great relationship between the British and the Sinhalese.

To this day, Sri Lankans speak well of the British colonial experience. They point out that only one life was lost in the 133 years of British rule: an Englishman was executed by the colonial government for conduct unbecoming.

The word that characterized Ceylon was peace. Its tropical climate was ameliorated by sea breezes. And in a relatively small geographic area, there was a feast of topography; deserts, forests, mountains, and plains added to the island’s charm.

Alas, Sri Lanka’s days of peace and plenty came to an end in the 1970s. That is when the ethnic Tamils in the north and the east began demanding their own homeland, and launched an undeclared civil war that has raged since then, costing tens of thousands of lives. The Sri Lankan government will tell you that Tamil atrocities, complete with the use of suicide bombings against civilians, rank with the worst on earth. The Tamils will tell you that the Sri Lankan military is as brutal as was the French military in Algeria.

Last week a ceasefire, brokered by Norway in 2002, was formally abandoned by the government in Colombo. In abandoning the ceasefire, the government was simply recognizing that it had never held, despite the peace-keeping efforts of the Norwegians.

The Sri Lankan conflict may be the first insurgency where the Internet has played an important role. Although the Tamils are proscribed as a terrorist organization by most nations, there are Tamil communities scattered around the world and these are accused of fanning the insurgency, arming, equipping and masterminding it through the Internet.

Sri Lankan officials told me that they are particularly distressed by the role played by Tamil supporters in faraway Canada and New Zealand. But fund-raising takes place globally, and the money is channeled into the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, just 19 miles off the coast of Sri Lanka.

While ethnic Tamils in India support the insurgents, known as the Tamil Tigers, the Indian government has been more ambivalent. In 1987, India sent troops to the northern areas of Sri Lanka to mediate the Tigers dispute with the Sri Lankan government. The Tigers rejected the Indian effort and turned their hostility the troops, who withdrew in 1990 in something close to defeat. The following year, a Tiger assassinated Indian prime minister Rajiv Gandhi, for his betrayal of their cause.

The territorial claims of the Tigers preclude any logical settlement, according to the Sri Lankan government. The Tigers are laying claim to the entire northern part of the island, the East coast, and part of the West coast. The Tamils are in the majority only in the north.

The Tamils are Hindus, but the majority of Sri Lankans are Buddhists. Significantly the civil war is a political and ethnic war, not a religious one. Like the Kurds, the Tamils are an ancient people who have never really enjoyed a recognized homeland–even Tamil Nadu has mostly been part of India.

Stephen Cohen, a South Asia expert at The Brookings Institution, says there is no hope for peace in Sri Lanka. He believes the barbarous civil war will drag on for decades. In fact, he told me that he knew of no conflict as hopeless as the one in Sri Lanka.

However, at least in their northern stronghold, the Tamils have won. There, the Sri Lankan government is forced to operate through Tamil agents: a de facto recognition of Tamil autonomy. Like Hizbollah in Lebanon, the Tigers have established legitimacy. The dilemma for the United States is recognizing that a group we have labeled as “terrorist” has become the legitimate expression of a people’s aspiration.

]

On Christmas Eve, here is a thought: Are we in the media up to covering the story of Christmas?

Imagine that time is a continuum, having no beginning or end; so that what has passed is to come, and what is to come has passed. Hold on, this is not crazy. Mathematicians have been wrestling with this possibility for a long time.

Now imagine that you are sitting in the executive suite of a great cable television network, located on the Avenue of the Americas. Yes, Fox. An excited scientist is explaining to a room full of Fox executives and news producers that scientists at a U.S. national laboratory have found a tear in time, and they believe that a reporter could travel through it to cover the first Christmas.

The room is electrified. A young producer shouts, “The greatest story ever told, and we are there!”

“Sounds like a job for Bill O’Reilly,” says the wily boss of Fox, Roger Ailes, deftly slipping a candy into his mouth.

Another producer, who has just accepted early retirement, demurs, “O’Reilly isn’t a reporter; he’s a commentator. We need somebody who can interview without interrupting.” Everyone scowls at the departing producer.

“How about Geraldo Rivera? It’s his kind of thing,” says an ambitious young woman, who hopes that Ailes will notice her contribution.

“No, not him,” Ailes says. “He hasn’t found Al Capone’s treasure yet. Nobody believes Geraldo.”

The scientist takes the floor again. He explains, “The time tear is at the end of BC 1, so you could be on location at the manger in Bethlehem. But there are limits. At the end of a very complex calculation, we discovered that the tear is small and only one person can get through it. Your reporter will need transport when he or she arrives, and the options are a camel or a donkey. Your reporter will have to conceal his or her camera and recording equipment. And he or she will have to speak Hebrew.”

“No donkey,” a senior Fox producer says flatly. “We are not going to give the Democrats a boost.”

Ailes’s face clouds. The thought of Bill O’Reilly, his greatest asset, traveling into time on a camel worries him. Suppose the hateful people at MSNBC get a video of Bill on a camel, riding into time? Ailes shudders. Suppose O’Reilly berates a Roman soldier and gets a broad sword across his neck?

One producer asks, “What about the other networks? CNN’s Wolf Blitzer speaks Hebrew.”

“Glenn Beck speaks in tongues,” another producer adds.

Fox executives, who were dreaming of the greatest TV spot every sold, are beginning to realize that the greatest story ever told is turning into the greatest risk ever taken.

People start shuffling out of the room, calculating the chances of an upset in Iowa on their clipboards. The most ambitious of the ambitious young producers approaches the scientist.

“Could the national lab prove that Obama is a Muslim, or that Hillary is a communist?” he asked. “That’s the kind of story we need this Christmas. It would be a huge gift to our viewers.”

There is a melancholy that pervades the Russian character which outsiders can see but cannot know. A brutal history played out against a harsh land has made the Russians fatalistic and inclined to believe things will get worse rather than better. Oh well, they sigh, there is always music, poetry and vodka. Always vodka.

Then along came Vladimir Putin. Since his arrival at the Kremlin in 2000, pride and possibility have come to Russia. To prove it, Putin’s United Russia party has swept the polls, garnering an extraordinary 64 percent of the vote. Yes, the polling was suspect. Yes, Putin has curbed the media and thugs have murdered journalists. Indeed, the pro-Putin rallies have smacked of state sponsorship. But nonetheless, Putin has restored Russian confidence and has replaced chaos with order.

The Russians love Putin. To them he is either the young Jack Kennedy or Ronald Reagan–the Reagan of “Morning in America.” Putin has meant “Morning in Russia” to most Russians. He did not have to rig an election, any more than Richard Nixon’s people had to break into the Watergate; but paranoia goes with power.

Putin’s election victory is all about Putin, although he was not on the ballot. He told the Russians to vote for his team and they did in droves. More, they did it with very little idea about the philosophy of the United Russia party. He told them there is a plan for the future, but he has not disclosed it. Presumably, it is more of Putin; although he says he will honor the constitution and step down in March, when his two terms are up. Of course, Putin could tear up constitution, and all that would be heard would be the deafening roar of an approving public.

Politics in Russia is the politics of personality. The only real opposition to Putin’s bunch is the Communist Party, a spent force. Two smaller parties vote with the Putin bloc.

With the press muzzled or intimidated, Putin was able to pull off his election coup with little analysis of how he has run the country or who wields the power in his administration. Most Russians grasp that the State Duma, the parliament’s lower house, has little real power. That rests with the “siloviki”–the former KGB men and military officers who have carved out powerful positions in the administration. They do this by controlling part of the cash flow of the state-owned gas and oil behemoths, Gazprom and Rosneft. While the siloviki understand power, they are inept managers. But thanks to record oil and gas prices, there is enough money to paper over the cracks.

The Russians know that, by and large, they are better off today than they have been in living memory—that includes the waning days of the Soviet Union and the economic chaos of the Yeltsin years. A young Russian friend of mine, who has grown up and prospered in Putin’s Russia, thinks Putin is a saint. He thinks the evidence for this is that Putin has not made himself president for life. Instead, Putin’s own future is extremely hazy. He may settle for the weak office of prime minister, or, as rumored, as head of Gazprom or Rosneft.

Russians understand the cruelty of fate, the wonder of music and literature, and the efficacy of vodka. But they are awed by a potential dictator who would walk away from power. That, Ivan, calls for another vodka.

A new species has invaded the financial markets of the world: sovereign wealth funds. Some see these state-run investment pools as a godsend; for example, Citigroup has just been helped over a hurdle by a $7.5 billion infusion from the Abu Dhabi Investment Authority. Others see sovereign funds, which are growing in size and influence daily, as another threat to the well-being of the United States and its Western allies.

Sovereign funds are set up when countries, often with small populations, have more money than they know what to do with. After the central banks of these countries have accumulated sufficient foreign reserves to meet any contingency, they form sovereign funds that are free to invest in financial assets such as stocks, bonds or property.

On the up side, sovereign funds are pumping a lot of cash into financial markets and are helping to offset banks’ losses from the subprime mortgage fiasco. But these are not foreign companies investing; these are foreign countries investing. Abu Dhabi now owns 4.9 percent of Citi, the nation’s largest bank. This is not the same as a wealthy foreigner buying a chunk of an American corporation. And that worries some people.

Sovereign funds are not new. What is new is that they are growing at an extraordinary pace and very small, resource-rich countries have the money to demand that they are taken seriously. Of the 10 largest sovereign funds, seven are based on oil and gas. Only China, South Korea and Singapore have funds that are based on non-oil and gas trade surpluses.

No one knows exactly how much money is being controlled by sovereign funds because there is no regulation or formal reporting mechanism. Best estimates are that $3 trillion to $7 trillion are under management by sovereign funds. It is expected that this sum will increase to $10 trillion in five years.

To understand the implications of this expansion of sovereign funds, take a look at little Qatar—a desert sand spit that protrudes 100 miles into the Arabian Sea. It has some oil and the world’s second largest reserves–after Russia–of natural gas. While Russia has more than 140 million people to take care of, Qatar has less than a million, including hundreds of thousands of guest workers.

There is nothing much in Qatar. The Gulf state has a large U.S. air base; the pristine capital city of Doha; and, well, a lot of sand. The two big activities, from what I could discern when I visited there, were racing off-road vehicles on the sand dunes and shopping. The Qataris are trying to create a great financial center in their desert home. But this will just be window-dressing for the gigantic flows of cash that their liquefied natural gas exports around the world are going to produce.

It probably does not matter if Qatar buys large chunks of U.S. companies over time, or snatches up a lot of real estate. Americans will not have a fit if the Qataris buy chunks of Manhattan. But there are countries that are a lot less attractive and have agendas that are not benign. They include China, Kazakhstan, Libya and Iran, which is free to invest in parts of the world that are not honoring the U.N. sanctions.

In short, there is an enormous amount of money sloshing around the world, and with hydrocarbons fetching record prices, there will be more money looking for a home in a stock market near you.

Like immigration, sovereign funds have grown quietly but relentlessly, to a point where the governments that control them are going to have a say—political as well as economic—in the countries that need the investment. Sadly, the United States is one of those countries. For all our power and superiority, we are a debtor nation and we cannot question the color of the money we need.

]

Ian Smith, who led the last settler government in what was then Rhodesia and is now Zimbabwe, was a man of great physical courage, modesty, and historical and political blindness.

Smith, a hero to conservatives in Britain and America, came to global attention in November 1965, when he declared Rhodesia to be a free-standing country, independent of Britain. But despite sympathy from conservatives around the world, Rhodesia was immediately isolated and subjected to United Nations sanctions. And the conditions that led to the bitter “bush war” of independence were set in motion.

I knew Smith and I did not like him. I thought he was wrong and was leading his Rhodesian Front Party into catastrophe. But I admired him.

Smith’s World War II record was exemplary. He learned to fly in the Royal Rhodesian Air Force and was transferred to the Royal Air Force, operating out of a base in Wales. Smith’s first test was when his plane crashed on takeoff; his face was severely burned and primitive plastic surgery left part of it rigid. But he went back to war. When a Spitfire he was piloting was shot down in Italy, he parachuted to safety, landing behind enemy lines. Partisans helped him get back to Allied forces.

But the Britain for which he had fought so boldly was a post-war disaster for the young Rhodesian. It was a land of strikes, socialism and class warfare. What a pleasure it must have been for Smith to return to his homeland: a halcyon place of hope, order, and the values that had obtained in Britain before the two world wars.

The big year in Smith’s life was 1948. That was the year that the returning war hero bought the farm that was to be his home and refuge in Selukwe, a small farming and mining community where his father, a butcher from Scotland, had settled in 1898. The early Rhodesians were soldiers, miners and farmers: working men and women looking for a place in the sun.

Nineteen forty-eight was also the year that Smith married and entered politics as a Liberal. The colony was prospering and attracting many tax refugees from Britain. These new arrivals were well-to-do, well-educated, often aristocrats, and they gave Rhodesia its upper-class British flavor. They founded and joined clubs, played polo and, using local labor, lived in a way that their families had lived until the great convulsions of two world wars.

The new Rhodesians treated their central African home as they would have treated an estate in England. They imported everything they could from London, sent their children to school in Britain, and had very little interest in the indigenous inhabitants. They also had little interest in people like Smith, who spoke with a different accent and had no aristocratic pretensions. And they had the option of returning to Britain, if the political situation changed.

In 1948, and through most of the 1950s, the idea that white dominance might be challenged seemed decades–if not hundreds of years–in the future. But forces outside of the comprehension of the 240,000 white Rhodesians were building in London, Washington, Moscow and Beijing. Why, the settlers asked themselves, would anyone interfere with the little Eden that was Rhodesia? It was more prosperous than any country in black Africa, and more egalitarian and just than South Africa. Democracy? It was there for anyone who wanted it—black or white. If you wanted to vote, you could do so by qualifying through property ownership and proficiency in English. It was the same franchise that Cecil John Rhodes had offered in Cape Colony nearly 100 years earlier. The standards were too onerous for the majority and too comforting for the minority.

As other white leaders before him, Smith saw his moral and political duty as securing total independence for the colony from Britain. The British government saw its duty as protecting the black majority and establishing back rule.

In November 1965, Smith declared unilateral independence from Britain. Over the next 15 years he negotiated–often in bad faith–with the British. He became a master of broken promises and prevarication. Smith had no intention of capitulating to black demands.

In the early 1970s, guerrilla war began to escalate with attacks on remote farms, indiscriminate murder met with brutal reprisals, until it was clear that 5 percent of the population could not hold onto power much longer. Yet, Smith was slow to sue for peace. The last two years of the bush war were the most brutal with the most casualties–and the most avoidable.

In the end, Smith was forced to negotiate with an uncompromising British government in London and an outlandishly unreasonable black coalition, led by Robert Mugabe. The result was the Lancaster House Agreement in December 1979, which gave the nationalists everything they wanted and entrenched Mugabe in power. Soon Mugabe turned on his allies in the southern part of the country, and slaughtered tens of thousands of them—something Smith ought to have known would happen.

Smith showed his extraordinary courage in continuing to live on his farm and participating in national politics until 1987, when protected white seats were abolished. The most unbecoming thing about Smith was his propensity for blaming other people for the bad outcome in Rhodesia. He blamed Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger in the United States; Harold Macmillan and Harold Wilson in Britain; and above all, he blamed South Africa. Somehow he thought South Africa would overtly come to his aid. In fact, South Africa had gone as far as it could go in covertly breaking the sanctions, keeping Smith’s Rhodesia afloat, and trying to persuade the Rhodesian leader to settle with Britain. South African leaders could see the writing on their own wall and did not want to take on an additional race-based fight.

Those who opposed Smith also got it wrong: I was among them. I wrote against him in newspapers in America and Britain. But the school of thought that liberal Rhodesians subscribed to was flawed: We simply believed that a multi-racial democracy had a chance.

In the 1980s and early1990s, it looked as though we were right. Then Mugabe began his march into insanity; destroying everything that he had inherited, making life impossible for the remaining whites and most blacks, and sanctioning lawlessness on a grand scale.

The question that will always hang over Smith’s legacy is whether his intransigence created Mugabe.

 

HOUSTON — Saudi Arabia has more oil, Rotterdam has more tankers, New York has more money, but Houston has the heart of the global oil industry. These days, it is not beating well. Study after study, executive after executive, and analyst after analyst is warning that there are rough times ahead for oil supply.

Here oil news is analyzed, sorted and shelved. But in 37 years of writing about energy, in boom and bust, I have never found the kind of fatalism that now grips the oil patch.

The cause of the furrowed brows is simple: the global production and supply of oil, at between 85 and 86 million barrels a day, is straining the system. At those rates, supply and demand are in rough equilibrium which, according to many experts, should put the price at about $80 a barrel. The difference between that price and what we are paying (as much as $98 a barrel on some contracts) is a market premium extracted because of future fear–fear of war with Iran, fear that big oil producers will demand payment in euros, and simple fear that demand in Asia is outstripping the world’s ability to produce much more oil.

The gloomiest predictions come from a loose agglomeration of economists and geologists who believe in the theory of “peak” oil. This is a view that holds that Saudi Arabia, and other high-producing areas, have peaked and will begin to go into decline without enormous new discoveries and tremendous new investment that is not being made.

The most persuasive voice of this gloom is Mathew Simmons, a Houston-based geologist and banker. Given the production realities, he believes that $100-a-barrel oil would be a bargain, and that the world should brace for $300-a-barrel oil.

In pessimism, Simmons is closely followed by Chris Skebrowski of the Petroleum Review in London. Skebrowski, who used to work for British Petroleum and the Saudis, believes that the world will be in oil chaos within five years. In that time, he believes demand will grow by 7 million barrels, which will be in deficit.

A third voiced of gloom comes from Christophe de Margerie, head of the French oil giant Total SA. He says the world will be hard put to produce the 118 million barrels the Energy Information Administration of the U.S. Department of Energy has predicted for 2030.

If you think the negatives are coming only from oil patch radicals, try Rex Tillerson, chairman of ExxonMobil. He told the World Energy Conference in Rome that if the world oil-dominating, state-owned oil companies are not freed from political control and allowed to bring in Western technology and capital, then a crisis is inevitable.

There is evidence that the oil majors themselves are hurting. When oil passed $60 a barrel, their profits shot up. But they are not up commensurately with oil at $90 a barrel. The big guys are getting squeezed.

State-owned oil companies have been criticized for not spending enough on new exploration and technology. The big American companies have been accused of preening themselves for Wall Street, with stock buybacks and other beauty treatments, instead of finding and exploiting new oil reserves.

All of this makes Houston, well, a different place. It has not totally recovered from the collapse of Enron. Amid the prosperity, some of the old bombast has gone. Oil people used to love to ridicule Washington and pour scorn on New York. Now I find a more subdued, tolerant, and even chastised Houston.

I liked the old Houston with its larger-than-life wildcatters, even if they thought I was an effete, Eastern, big government-loving liberal. I liked the guy who told me I could ride with him to Morgan City, where the oil rigs are made, so that we could drink in the roughest bar in Texas. “If you don’t have a gun, they’ll issue one at the door,” he said matter of factly.