I Prefer Flip-Floppers.

90% of the time, when I'm completely, fully, unequivocally sure of something, I manage to make an ass of myself.

And it's very embarrassing, because afterwards you have to go through a whole messy process--admitting you were wrong, apologizing, changing your position, etc. Your reputation may be damaged, for being wrong, but in the long run it is better to be remembered for righting an error, rather than letting hubris blind you.

That's really the main quarrel I have the with Bush Administration, of late. I will grant, for the sake of my argument's brevity, that they believe what they are doing is best for America. (A point to argue at another time.) In fact, they seem to think that just because they do it, it must be best for America. Such a tautology raises little red flags of alarm.

Oh, government, government, is it so hard to admit you were wrong? Mr. Bush, your approval ratings are in the thirties, it can't very well lose you more esteem in our eyes if you got behind the podium and said in that endearingly folksy way of yours, "Sorry, we mighta messed up a little." Iraq is a fiasco, don't you see? The truth is out: there were no nukes, there was no connection to 9/11, there is more clear and present threat now than ever.

If (and this seems increasingly likely) you got us into Iraq on purpose, can't you manage a good lie? Your acting got us there--can we not pull a contrite face and at least apologize for the mistake? Your supporters, or former supporters, are unbelievably forgiving; you might even get approval back into the low forties if you just acknowledge reality.

But no, in this bizarrely neverending battle to "save face," the administration continues to uphold this facade of assuredness, of absolute certainty, of all-encompassing right-ness. Even when, erm, wrong. Dick Cheney, I believe, is still insisting that there were WMDs. President Bush is still under the impression that Iraq was a danger that has now been alleviated. And they're all harboring the delusion, if only in their rhetoric, that they're doing the right thing, really.

In 2004, the Bush campaign ran with the idea that Kerry was a "flip-flopper," whose views on war, from Vietnam to Iraq, had not been certain and unyielding. To citizens still shaking from the aftermath of 9/11, nervous about the war in Iraq, and generally fearful about the newly-found terrors so colorfully illustrated by yellow and orange, doubt seemed bad. Fear grasps desperately for conviction.

But many then, and more now, realize that certainty does not imply correctness, whether you purport to get your advice from God or your own moral compass. And when you are so sure of yourself that it inconceivable that you have erred, when you will defend to the death all your former convictions, when you (as Stephen Colbert so succinctly put it) "believe the same thing on Friday as on Monday...no matter what happened on Wednesday," you are doomed. Doomed to continue down a dead end path because your compass says that way is north, dammit, and you know that (as my friend Anne would say) "turning back is for crybaby punks."

I would hope that, in retrospect, we can all ask ourselves one question: Which leader is better, he who holds to his convictions at all costs, or he who constantly evaluates, questions, and ensures that he's doing what's best?

Okay, I lied, two questions: What's worse, flip-flopping, or being wrong?