Labor Day weekend. It's truly a blessing -- gorgeous late-summer weather, a paid vacation day, a three-day weekend. The skies are blue, the sun is high, and there's a distinct "getaway" feel in the air that makes me eager to drop everything I'm doing and go somewhere, anywhere, for a few days. Since I'm working today and won't travel tomorrow, that leaves Sunday/Monday. But just as my mind begins to wrap itself around the thought of taking off for a day or two, I remember: everyone is going somewhere this weekend. If I think Sunday afternoon traffic is generally bad during the summer, I'm going to go out of my mind if I allow myself to get stuck in Labor Day traffic. In truth, this is one of the worst drawbacks of living where I do; there is no way around the traffic jams. When you're stuck, the best you can do is crank up the radio and try not to care. But I do care. I hate crowds, and I hate traffic. Not a particularly patient person in general, slow-moving mobs drive me mad. So where does that leave me? A day trip on Sunday? I could go hiking... along with half the outdoor-loving population of the area. Hmm... crowds in the great outdoors are even more annoying than crowds in the city. But maybe it won't be as crowded as I think. Don't most people go to the beach on Labor Day weekend? So then, the mountains should be a bit of a haven.
In the alternative, I could stay home. For three days straight... then again, no way. Even I can't bury myself in books for that many consecutive hours. To the sunshine!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Musings on Music
Finally listened to my "Scott and Todd's Studio Sessions" album from my radio stations morning show, which includes tracks of fifteen live in-studio performances. In general, I'm not a big fan of recorded "live" performances, in all their dull and off-key glory, and such performances often tend to be especially bad at 8:45 am, when any singer in his right mind is still sleeping, not sitting in front of a microphone. But there are three tracks on this album that are so beautifully performed, I think I'd rather listen to them than to the original studio recordings (Five For Fighting's "Superman", Daniel Powter's "Bad Day", and Dave Matthews' "Space Between"). There's something to be said about the quality of a musician who can do such a beautiful job at such an early hour.
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Beauty of the Berkshires
I had actually forgotten the beauty and serenity to be found in the mountains. It must have been longer since my last foray into the country than I had thought. Walking along a mountain road in the midst of a blustery storm is an experience which offers a lightening of the spirit not to be found anywhere else, I think.
Off to Gracie Mansion for the rest of the afternoon. Oddly enough, I've never actually been to that part of Manhattan. Who even knew there was such a street as "East End"?
What I Learned Today: The "K" number listed in the title/description of a piece by Mozart comes from the complete, chronological catalogue of Mozart's works called the "Köchel catalogue" or the "Köchel-Verzeichnis", published in 1862. Apparently, Ludwig von Köchel was the first ever to succeed in creating a coherent, comprehensive catalogue of Mozart's works, which included 626 entries. 626. I know that Mozart was a genius, but 626 pieces? Was he trying to make the rest of us look bad?
Off to Gracie Mansion for the rest of the afternoon. Oddly enough, I've never actually been to that part of Manhattan. Who even knew there was such a street as "East End"?
What I Learned Today: The "K" number listed in the title/description of a piece by Mozart comes from the complete, chronological catalogue of Mozart's works called the "Köchel catalogue" or the "Köchel-Verzeichnis", published in 1862. Apparently, Ludwig von Köchel was the first ever to succeed in creating a coherent, comprehensive catalogue of Mozart's works, which included 626 entries. 626. I know that Mozart was a genius, but 626 pieces? Was he trying to make the rest of us look bad?
Friday, August 08, 2008
Speaking of Facebook
If I'm not careful, I may end up setting a record for number of times a person who doesn't care about Facebook includes mention of it in a single blog. Ah, well. It's not like they need the advertising.
I received a "friend request" this morning from someone whose name I didn't recognize at all. Rather than deleting the request out of hand, I opened the notification e-mail to see whether there was a note attached. There was. This person claimed to know me from not one, but two places. Apparently, we worked together for about a week three years ago, before I changed jobs. He saw me (and presumably spoke with me) shortly thereafter at the home of some (apparently) mutual friends in Brooklyn. Having absolutely no recollection of either of these events, I asked a couple of pointed questions in the effort to try to jog my memory (after having accepted his friend request, of course). It turns out that, not only did we work at the same company, but he sat directly across from my cubicle, on the other side of the wall. Nope, still no recollection. Apparently, I received a bouquet of flowers at the office that week. (Really? Someone gave me flowers?? Who????) And it would also appear that I was so happy to be leaving that particular place of employment, I "sang all week". Now, while I'm not generally in the habit of bursting into song when other people are present, it's not entirely outside the realm of possibility. There was a pretty high rate of turnover at one point; I have a dim recollection of the desk on the other side of the wall changing hands a few times. And the flowers could easily have been a nice-to-have-known-you or good-luck gift, if they weren't sent for some other reason. It's all plausible. I just don't remember any of it.
This leads me to conlude that my memory, which I've long known holds only vague impressions of past events, holds absolutely no impressions at all of others. While this would ordinarily be mildly disconcerting, the knowledge that a virtual stranger remembers things about me and my activities that I have no recollection of is downright unsettling.
Coincidentally (and this is where Facebook is disturbingly cool), I noticed that this person and I have a "Mutual Friend" in New Jersey. I asked how he knew MF, and he told me that his wife went to school with MF's wife (also a friend of mine). Really? Turns out that he and his wife attended MF's wedding. A wedding which I also attended. Did I meet this guy and the wedding, as well as at the office, as well as in Brooklyn?
I received a "friend request" this morning from someone whose name I didn't recognize at all. Rather than deleting the request out of hand, I opened the notification e-mail to see whether there was a note attached. There was. This person claimed to know me from not one, but two places. Apparently, we worked together for about a week three years ago, before I changed jobs. He saw me (and presumably spoke with me) shortly thereafter at the home of some (apparently) mutual friends in Brooklyn. Having absolutely no recollection of either of these events, I asked a couple of pointed questions in the effort to try to jog my memory (after having accepted his friend request, of course). It turns out that, not only did we work at the same company, but he sat directly across from my cubicle, on the other side of the wall. Nope, still no recollection. Apparently, I received a bouquet of flowers at the office that week. (Really? Someone gave me flowers?? Who????) And it would also appear that I was so happy to be leaving that particular place of employment, I "sang all week". Now, while I'm not generally in the habit of bursting into song when other people are present, it's not entirely outside the realm of possibility. There was a pretty high rate of turnover at one point; I have a dim recollection of the desk on the other side of the wall changing hands a few times. And the flowers could easily have been a nice-to-have-known-you or good-luck gift, if they weren't sent for some other reason. It's all plausible. I just don't remember any of it.
This leads me to conlude that my memory, which I've long known holds only vague impressions of past events, holds absolutely no impressions at all of others. While this would ordinarily be mildly disconcerting, the knowledge that a virtual stranger remembers things about me and my activities that I have no recollection of is downright unsettling.
Coincidentally (and this is where Facebook is disturbingly cool), I noticed that this person and I have a "Mutual Friend" in New Jersey. I asked how he knew MF, and he told me that his wife went to school with MF's wife (also a friend of mine). Really? Turns out that he and his wife attended MF's wedding. A wedding which I also attended. Did I meet this guy and the wedding, as well as at the office, as well as in Brooklyn?
Thursday, August 07, 2008
The Thing About Facebook
Not feeling the all-consuming desire to maintain an online presence that so many possess (as best evidenced by my rather ... [cough] lengthy absences from the blogosphere) , I don't generally feel any particular need to engage in online social networks of any kind. In fact, certain aspects of those networks -- and of all online presence in general -- leave me feeling decidedly creeped out. For that reason, I flatly refused to join Facebook for a long time. But earlier this year, I found that the following pattern had begun to develop in my conversations with friends who live as nearby as the Upper West Side and as far away as New Zealand :
Me: It's so good to talk with you! It's been ages. How are you?
Friend: I'm great. I've started dating super-amazing, fabulous person/gotten a new dog/bought a new house/dyed my hair green.
Me: Really? That's terrific! Do you have any pictures?
Friend: Of course. I posted them on Facebook. You HAVE to see them.
Me: I don't have a Facebook account. Will you email them to me?
Friend: [several seconds of silence] Uh... I don't know if I'll really have time... e-mail is such a hassle, you know? And what do you MEAN, you don't have a Facebook account??
Now, I didn't think much of it the first couple of times I had this conversation, but by the fifth or sixth time, I began to waver a bit on my hard-and-fast "no social networks" rule. So when a friend in England then told me that the only way I was going to get to see pictures of his young son was if I created a Facebook account (is there a name for this type of blackmail?), I caved. (His son is adorable, of course.) I felt great about my decision all afternoon. After all, this was just another way of connecting with my friends and family. What could be bad about that?
A few hours later, it all came back to me, in the form of a conversation with a New Friend as we walked across town to the East Side.
NF: You'll never guess who called me last night. It was so weird.
Me: Who?
NF: Mutual Acquaintance.
Me: He called you at home? That is weird. What for?
NF: Well, you know that his wife is head of HR at the company she works for? She received a resume that looked interesting, and she googled Applicant's name to see what the internet had to say about her. Of course, Applicant's Facebook page came up, and Wife noticed that I was listed as one of Applicant's friends. She knew that her husband knew me, so she asked him to call me and ask whether I would recommend Applicant for the job.
Me: So you got a call from MA at the request of his wife, whom you have never met, in order to solicit your opinion on the character of someone who blindly sent a resume to Wife in consideration for a job, and the only reason Wife even knew that you were acquainted with Applicant was because you were listed on her Facebook page?
NF: Yep. But it got a little awkward because I didn't really even know Applicant very well. I'd just met her at a party a week before and we had spent an hour or two chatting at the bar. There wasn't much I could tell MA that wouldn't make Applicant sound a little bit like a drunk... not entirely sure that she isn't a drunk... oh, well. I did the best I could. But it was weird.
Me: Yeah, weird... [wondering furiously how anyone could consider Facebook innocuous and mentally cursing every friend who played a part in leading me into that sticky web]
Since then, I have felt a deep appreciation for my participation in this Social Networking Phenomenon.
- Hey look, acquaintance in Boston just had a baby. Did I even know she was pregnant??
- Ooh, friend in Israel just started a new job.
- Young cousin still hasn't managed to choose a date for the prom. Tsk, tsk!
It's a warm feeling to be able to log into my account and in one fell swoop, get the down-low on several dozen friends/acquaintances/family members I'm not in constant communication with. Of course, that warm feeling is always accompanied by a concurrent feeling of guilt over not communicating directly with these people, either via phone or e-mail. (How did I not know she was pregnant?? It's been nine months -- it's not like there hasn't been time to find out!) Then sense kicks in and I remember that in our modern age of ever-expanding social circles, we know far too many people to keep in touch with everyone all the time. Our parents used to write Holiday Cards once a year as a form of annual catch-up, and that was often the only contact people had from one year to the next. Now, it's online social networking, which, despite its drawbacks, at least provides consistent, ongoing real-time updates. This is a Good Thing (though I still decry the loss of more personal -- and more meaningful -- forms of contact).
Then there's that grey area consisting of "Friends" who aren't really friends. Casual acquaintances, former classmates, friends of friends, colleagues. People we've met once or twice and never thought about since. People we used to date. Inevitably, at least some of these people end up on our Facebook pages. In one sense, it's kind of nice to see how things are going for former high school classmates. Then again, these are people I have not seen or spoken with since the day we graduated over ten years ago. Is it not a tiny bit strange that I know which radio station FHSC is listening to on her drive to work? Seems odd to me. Not harmful; just odd, and I can deal with odd. What I have a hard time dealing with is the knowledge that FHSC will be able to read whatever is posted on my pages. Of course, there is nothing overtly personal on there. But that's not the point. While I make no secret of which movies I've seen in the last month, it strikes me as a bit creepy that someone in Texas I haven't seen since I was seventeen is privy to that list. Again, not harmful, but still creepy.
Hence, my hesitance to make more than the most minor of forays into the online world. My worst anxieties about maintaining a blog were realized about a year and a half ago, when I met a Random Person from somewhere out west. During our conversation, he mentioned that he had a blog and promised to send me the URL, in case I was interested. I replied that I also had a blog, but rarely wrote in it. He asked me to send him a link, anyway, which I did. His response was immediate, and stunning:
RP: This is YOU?? No way! I started reading your blog months ago, and I love it!
Me: Umm... excuse me?
RP: I can't even believe this. You know, you should post a picture on your blog. Then I would have known immediately it was you.
Me: Umm... excuse me?
RP: This is so cool!
Me: Umm... uh... WHAT??????? Hardly anyone even knows I have a blog, let alone reads it!
RP: Really? So-and-so has a link to your blog on their webpage, and I clicked on it one day just to see what it was. Been reading your blog ever since.
Me: Really? Huh. Well... uh... that's... uh... nice. [weak smile] Small world, huh?
And there it was. I had always known, in theory, that random people would likely stumble onto this page from time to time. After all, Blogger has its own network. And this page is linked to other people's blogs/websites. But to be faced with the grinning acknowledgement of a stranger who lives 2,000 miles away, whom I met only by chance and whom I would likely never see again, abruptly twisted that theoretical knowledge into a shocking reality. Random people really do read my blog. And they won't always remain random.
Compared to this, maybe Facebook isn't so bad. At least the people who see my profile aren't random. I might not know them well, but I do know who they are. That's something, right?
Me: It's so good to talk with you! It's been ages. How are you?
Friend: I'm great. I've started dating super-amazing, fabulous person/gotten a new dog/bought a new house/dyed my hair green.
Me: Really? That's terrific! Do you have any pictures?
Friend: Of course. I posted them on Facebook. You HAVE to see them.
Me: I don't have a Facebook account. Will you email them to me?
Friend: [several seconds of silence] Uh... I don't know if I'll really have time... e-mail is such a hassle, you know? And what do you MEAN, you don't have a Facebook account??
Now, I didn't think much of it the first couple of times I had this conversation, but by the fifth or sixth time, I began to waver a bit on my hard-and-fast "no social networks" rule. So when a friend in England then told me that the only way I was going to get to see pictures of his young son was if I created a Facebook account (is there a name for this type of blackmail?), I caved. (His son is adorable, of course.) I felt great about my decision all afternoon. After all, this was just another way of connecting with my friends and family. What could be bad about that?
A few hours later, it all came back to me, in the form of a conversation with a New Friend as we walked across town to the East Side.
NF: You'll never guess who called me last night. It was so weird.
Me: Who?
NF: Mutual Acquaintance.
Me: He called you at home? That is weird. What for?
NF: Well, you know that his wife is head of HR at the company she works for? She received a resume that looked interesting, and she googled Applicant's name to see what the internet had to say about her. Of course, Applicant's Facebook page came up, and Wife noticed that I was listed as one of Applicant's friends. She knew that her husband knew me, so she asked him to call me and ask whether I would recommend Applicant for the job.
Me: So you got a call from MA at the request of his wife, whom you have never met, in order to solicit your opinion on the character of someone who blindly sent a resume to Wife in consideration for a job, and the only reason Wife even knew that you were acquainted with Applicant was because you were listed on her Facebook page?
NF: Yep. But it got a little awkward because I didn't really even know Applicant very well. I'd just met her at a party a week before and we had spent an hour or two chatting at the bar. There wasn't much I could tell MA that wouldn't make Applicant sound a little bit like a drunk... not entirely sure that she isn't a drunk... oh, well. I did the best I could. But it was weird.
Me: Yeah, weird... [wondering furiously how anyone could consider Facebook innocuous and mentally cursing every friend who played a part in leading me into that sticky web]
Since then, I have felt a deep appreciation for my participation in this Social Networking Phenomenon.
- Hey look, acquaintance in Boston just had a baby. Did I even know she was pregnant??
- Ooh, friend in Israel just started a new job.
- Young cousin still hasn't managed to choose a date for the prom. Tsk, tsk!
It's a warm feeling to be able to log into my account and in one fell swoop, get the down-low on several dozen friends/acquaintances/family members I'm not in constant communication with. Of course, that warm feeling is always accompanied by a concurrent feeling of guilt over not communicating directly with these people, either via phone or e-mail. (How did I not know she was pregnant?? It's been nine months -- it's not like there hasn't been time to find out!) Then sense kicks in and I remember that in our modern age of ever-expanding social circles, we know far too many people to keep in touch with everyone all the time. Our parents used to write Holiday Cards once a year as a form of annual catch-up, and that was often the only contact people had from one year to the next. Now, it's online social networking, which, despite its drawbacks, at least provides consistent, ongoing real-time updates. This is a Good Thing (though I still decry the loss of more personal -- and more meaningful -- forms of contact).
Then there's that grey area consisting of "Friends" who aren't really friends. Casual acquaintances, former classmates, friends of friends, colleagues. People we've met once or twice and never thought about since. People we used to date. Inevitably, at least some of these people end up on our Facebook pages. In one sense, it's kind of nice to see how things are going for former high school classmates. Then again, these are people I have not seen or spoken with since the day we graduated over ten years ago. Is it not a tiny bit strange that I know which radio station FHSC is listening to on her drive to work? Seems odd to me. Not harmful; just odd, and I can deal with odd. What I have a hard time dealing with is the knowledge that FHSC will be able to read whatever is posted on my pages. Of course, there is nothing overtly personal on there. But that's not the point. While I make no secret of which movies I've seen in the last month, it strikes me as a bit creepy that someone in Texas I haven't seen since I was seventeen is privy to that list. Again, not harmful, but still creepy.
Hence, my hesitance to make more than the most minor of forays into the online world. My worst anxieties about maintaining a blog were realized about a year and a half ago, when I met a Random Person from somewhere out west. During our conversation, he mentioned that he had a blog and promised to send me the URL, in case I was interested. I replied that I also had a blog, but rarely wrote in it. He asked me to send him a link, anyway, which I did. His response was immediate, and stunning:
RP: This is YOU?? No way! I started reading your blog months ago, and I love it!
Me: Umm... excuse me?
RP: I can't even believe this. You know, you should post a picture on your blog. Then I would have known immediately it was you.
Me: Umm... excuse me?
RP: This is so cool!
Me: Umm... uh... WHAT??????? Hardly anyone even knows I have a blog, let alone reads it!
RP: Really? So-and-so has a link to your blog on their webpage, and I clicked on it one day just to see what it was. Been reading your blog ever since.
Me: Really? Huh. Well... uh... that's... uh... nice. [weak smile] Small world, huh?
And there it was. I had always known, in theory, that random people would likely stumble onto this page from time to time. After all, Blogger has its own network. And this page is linked to other people's blogs/websites. But to be faced with the grinning acknowledgement of a stranger who lives 2,000 miles away, whom I met only by chance and whom I would likely never see again, abruptly twisted that theoretical knowledge into a shocking reality. Random people really do read my blog. And they won't always remain random.
Compared to this, maybe Facebook isn't so bad. At least the people who see my profile aren't random. I might not know them well, but I do know who they are. That's something, right?
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Save Net Radio
It's not often that I pick up the flag of a cause and run with it, but sometimes situations arise in which every voice counts and must demand to be heard. This month, that cause is internet radio in the USA, and our opinions DO matter. Please help to save internet radio by signing the petition linked below.
About the SaveNetRadio coalition:
The SaveNetRadio coalition is made up of artists, labels, listeners, and webcasters. Please contact us if you are interested in sponsoring an event, making a donation, or would like to become a leader in the fight to save Internet radio. The recent ruling by the Copyright Royalty Board to increase webcasters' royalty rates between 300 and 1200 percent over the next 5 years jeopardizes the industry and threatens to homogenize Internet radio.
Artists, listeners, and Webcasters, have joined our coalition to help save Internet radio. The coalition believes strongly in compensating artists, but Internet radio as we know it will not survive under the new royalties. We need your help. Please take a moment to sign our petition to let your member of Congress know how much Internet radio means to you. Together, we can force Congress to create a structural solution for this problem and create an environment where Internet radio, and the millions of artists it features, can continue to grow for generations to come.
About the Issue
On March 2, 2007 the Copyright Royalty Board (CRB), which oversees sound recording royalties paid by Internet radio services, increased Internet radio's royalty burden between 300 and 1200 percent and thereby jeopardized the industry’s future.
At the request of the Recording Industry Association of America, the CRB ignored the fact that Internet radio royalties were already double what satellite radio pays, and multiplied the royalties even further. The 2005 royalty rate was 7/100 of a penny per song streamed; the 2010 rate will be 19/100 of a penny per song streamed. And for small webcasters that were able to calculate royalties as a percentage of revenue in 2005 – that option was quashed by the CRB, so small webcasters’ royalties will grow exponentially!
Before this ruling was handed down, the vast majority of webcasters were barely making ends meet as Internet radio advertising revenue is just beginning to develop. Without a doubt most Internet radio services will go bankrupt and cease webcasting if this royalty rate is not reversed by the Congress, and webcasters’ demise will mean a great loss of creative and diverse radio. Surviving webcasters will need sweetheart licenses that major record labels will be only too happy to offer, so long as the webcaster permits the major label to control the programming and playlist. Is that the Internet radio you care to hear?
As you know, the wonderful diversity of Internet radio is enjoyed by tens of millions of Americans and provides promotional and royalty opportunities to independent labels and artists that are not available to them on broadcast radio. What you may not know is that in just the last year Internet radio listening jumped dramatically, from 45 million listeners per month to 72 million listeners each month. Internet radio is already popular and it is already benefiting thousands of artists who are finding new fans online every day.
Action must be taken to stop this faulty ruling from destroying the future of Internet radio that so many millions of listeners depend on each day. Instead of relying on lawyers filing appeals in the CRB and the courts, the SaveNetRadio Coalition has been formed to represent every webcaster, every Net Radio listener, and every artist who enjoys and benefits from this medium. Please join our fight for the preservation of Internet radio.
http://www3.capwiz.com/saveinternetradio/issues/alert/?alertid=9631541
About the SaveNetRadio coalition:
The SaveNetRadio coalition is made up of artists, labels, listeners, and webcasters. Please contact us if you are interested in sponsoring an event, making a donation, or would like to become a leader in the fight to save Internet radio. The recent ruling by the Copyright Royalty Board to increase webcasters' royalty rates between 300 and 1200 percent over the next 5 years jeopardizes the industry and threatens to homogenize Internet radio.
Artists, listeners, and Webcasters, have joined our coalition to help save Internet radio. The coalition believes strongly in compensating artists, but Internet radio as we know it will not survive under the new royalties. We need your help. Please take a moment to sign our petition to let your member of Congress know how much Internet radio means to you. Together, we can force Congress to create a structural solution for this problem and create an environment where Internet radio, and the millions of artists it features, can continue to grow for generations to come.
About the Issue
On March 2, 2007 the Copyright Royalty Board (CRB), which oversees sound recording royalties paid by Internet radio services, increased Internet radio's royalty burden between 300 and 1200 percent and thereby jeopardized the industry’s future.
At the request of the Recording Industry Association of America, the CRB ignored the fact that Internet radio royalties were already double what satellite radio pays, and multiplied the royalties even further. The 2005 royalty rate was 7/100 of a penny per song streamed; the 2010 rate will be 19/100 of a penny per song streamed. And for small webcasters that were able to calculate royalties as a percentage of revenue in 2005 – that option was quashed by the CRB, so small webcasters’ royalties will grow exponentially!
Before this ruling was handed down, the vast majority of webcasters were barely making ends meet as Internet radio advertising revenue is just beginning to develop. Without a doubt most Internet radio services will go bankrupt and cease webcasting if this royalty rate is not reversed by the Congress, and webcasters’ demise will mean a great loss of creative and diverse radio. Surviving webcasters will need sweetheart licenses that major record labels will be only too happy to offer, so long as the webcaster permits the major label to control the programming and playlist. Is that the Internet radio you care to hear?
As you know, the wonderful diversity of Internet radio is enjoyed by tens of millions of Americans and provides promotional and royalty opportunities to independent labels and artists that are not available to them on broadcast radio. What you may not know is that in just the last year Internet radio listening jumped dramatically, from 45 million listeners per month to 72 million listeners each month. Internet radio is already popular and it is already benefiting thousands of artists who are finding new fans online every day.
Action must be taken to stop this faulty ruling from destroying the future of Internet radio that so many millions of listeners depend on each day. Instead of relying on lawyers filing appeals in the CRB and the courts, the SaveNetRadio Coalition has been formed to represent every webcaster, every Net Radio listener, and every artist who enjoys and benefits from this medium. Please join our fight for the preservation of Internet radio.
http://www3.capwiz.com/saveinternetradio/issues/alert/?alertid=9631541
Friday, February 09, 2007
More Quotations
Today, just a few more quotations from the pens of wise men:
He who dares not offend cannot be honest. --Thomas Paine
(Is it just me, or are most people far too terrified of offending others to pronounce an honest opinion or judgment?)
History teaches that grave threats to liberty often come in times of urgency, when constitutional rights seem too extravagant to endure. --Thurgood Marshall (Oh, that we should not be learning that lesson yet again!)
As long as a man stands in his own way, everything seems to be in his way. --Ralph Waldo Emerson (Who knew that poets were also psychologists?!)
He who dares not offend cannot be honest. --Thomas Paine
(Is it just me, or are most people far too terrified of offending others to pronounce an honest opinion or judgment?)
History teaches that grave threats to liberty often come in times of urgency, when constitutional rights seem too extravagant to endure. --Thurgood Marshall (Oh, that we should not be learning that lesson yet again!)
As long as a man stands in his own way, everything seems to be in his way. --Ralph Waldo Emerson (Who knew that poets were also psychologists?!)
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Miscommunication
You know how sometimes when you're talking with someone, what you say and what the other person hears are two completely different things? You always figure that the other person is wrong, that she just wasn't listening closely enough or she didn't care enough about what you were saying to really pay attention. Then one day, you have an argument so huge that you are left stunned and bewildered, wondering how you could possibly be so colosally misunderstood by someone who is not being intentionally dense. A moment comes when you realize that you're both talking past each other instead of to each other. But neither of you can figure out why the misunderstanding continues to grow, so you each continue to try to explain your positions, hoping that somehow, the key will be found and the answer revealed. It never occurs to either of you that you're not comprehending the other's points because you're speaking completely different languages. Neither of you has the faintest idea that your perspectives are so mutually foreign that you might as well be from different countries.
How ironic that we sometimes have the most trouble communicating with people who speak the same language as we do. When dealing with foreigners, we approach all communication with the knowledge that we will have to work at being understood, and that cultural differences might lead to non-verbal cues being misinterpreted. But when we deal with our compatriots, and perhaps most especially with those of our own generation, we completely forget that we are separated by differences no less substantial than those we possess with others. We forget that differences of upbringing, geography, family, race, religion, education, health, prosperity, and personal philosophy all unite to form vastly disparate perspectives. And even though we know full well that people disagree about a multitude of things all the time, we continue to blunder blindly forward under the fundamental belief that at least we're all looking at the same picture, even if we're interpreting it differently. How is it that it never even occurs to me that the brilliantly-colored oil painting I gaze at with rapture is nothing but a crude charcoal sketch to my companion? And how is it that she can see nothing but charcoal?
How ironic that we sometimes have the most trouble communicating with people who speak the same language as we do. When dealing with foreigners, we approach all communication with the knowledge that we will have to work at being understood, and that cultural differences might lead to non-verbal cues being misinterpreted. But when we deal with our compatriots, and perhaps most especially with those of our own generation, we completely forget that we are separated by differences no less substantial than those we possess with others. We forget that differences of upbringing, geography, family, race, religion, education, health, prosperity, and personal philosophy all unite to form vastly disparate perspectives. And even though we know full well that people disagree about a multitude of things all the time, we continue to blunder blindly forward under the fundamental belief that at least we're all looking at the same picture, even if we're interpreting it differently. How is it that it never even occurs to me that the brilliantly-colored oil painting I gaze at with rapture is nothing but a crude charcoal sketch to my companion? And how is it that she can see nothing but charcoal?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Teaching Math in the United States
Jokes are funny because they contain elements of truth. Below, an e-mail (forward) I received this morning:
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and told her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. When he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.
Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.
What is his profit?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80.
What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is $80.
Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is $80 and, therefore, his profit is $20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s:
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger was cutting down their homes? (Note: There are no wrong answers.)
6. Teaching Math In 2006:
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100.
El costo de la producciones es $80.
Es verdad.
Muchas gracias
Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $1.58. The counter girl took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her discomfort and told her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. When he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.
Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:
1. Teaching Math In 1950s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.
What is his profit?
2. Teaching Math In 1960s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80.
What is his profit?
3. Teaching Math In 1970s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is $80.
Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Math In 1980s:
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100.
His cost of production is $80 and, therefore, his profit is $20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.
5. Teaching Math In 1990s:
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger was cutting down their homes? (Note: There are no wrong answers.)
6. Teaching Math In 2006:
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100.
El costo de la producciones es $80.
Es verdad.
Muchas gracias
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
September 11th
Friends from abroad asked me yesterday, "How are things in New York today? Are you okay?" How were things in New York yesterday? About as one might imagine on the five-year anniversary of the sudden massacre of thousands of innocents within our midst; about as one might imagine, knowing that our television broadcasts, newspapers, magazines, and online news sources ceaselessly inundated us with reminders ranging from the tragic to the infuriating to the ridiculous; about as one might imagine, when ceremonies commemorating the heros of that fateful day are used as merely a backdrop for political manoeuvering and angry protests; about as one might imagine, knowing that we are no safer now than we were then.
An acquaintance of mine seemed not his usual self today. He told me that he had spent yesterday evening watching CNN, and that he was sad and depressed. When I asked what about it, specifically, he was having such a hard time with, his answer surprised me. "I just still can't believe something like that could happen. I can't believe that there are evil people in the world who would do something that horrible." Now, judging as best I can, I believe that I can safely assume that this isn't a man who has lived a particularly sheltered existence, by any measure. Yet, he still finds himself in a state of utter disbelief as to the events of five years ago. I wanted to tell him, "Of course it can happen; it's been happening nearly every day, somewhere in the world, for decades. It's not over. This wasn't a one-time event. There really are people out there who are so sick that they will gladly sacrifice their own lives to murder as many innocent people as they can. There are a lot of them. So find a way to wrap your mind around it, buddy, because you can't fight back if you're too stunned to move." But his eyes were so full of pain, his air so confused and desolate. All I could do was smile sympathetically and instruct him to turn off CNN. "It does no good to dwell on upsetting images; get some sleep tonight."
An acquaintance of mine seemed not his usual self today. He told me that he had spent yesterday evening watching CNN, and that he was sad and depressed. When I asked what about it, specifically, he was having such a hard time with, his answer surprised me. "I just still can't believe something like that could happen. I can't believe that there are evil people in the world who would do something that horrible." Now, judging as best I can, I believe that I can safely assume that this isn't a man who has lived a particularly sheltered existence, by any measure. Yet, he still finds himself in a state of utter disbelief as to the events of five years ago. I wanted to tell him, "Of course it can happen; it's been happening nearly every day, somewhere in the world, for decades. It's not over. This wasn't a one-time event. There really are people out there who are so sick that they will gladly sacrifice their own lives to murder as many innocent people as they can. There are a lot of them. So find a way to wrap your mind around it, buddy, because you can't fight back if you're too stunned to move." But his eyes were so full of pain, his air so confused and desolate. All I could do was smile sympathetically and instruct him to turn off CNN. "It does no good to dwell on upsetting images; get some sleep tonight."
Thursday, September 07, 2006
For the Grandmas and the Trees
The following was written by Livnot U'Lehibanot's Educator Extraordinaire, Michael Even-Esh, who recently returned from reserve duty in Lebanon. Michael's stories of people and times past never fail to stir emotion and introspection; his stories of times present evoke stronger reactions still.
For the Grandmas and the Trees
The cellphone rang at 2:35 am. "Shalom Michael. This is a computerized emergency telephone call-up from your unit. If this is indeed you, press 1." Am I really me? This is an existential question I've been grappling with for years, but I figured this wasn't the time for philosophizing; I pressed 1. "Shalom Michael. Enter your IDF serial number, followed by the pound sign." I did. "Michael. Be at your prearranged pickup site tomorrow morning at 9am; from there you will proceed to your base for equipment and instructions. If you received this message, press 1." I pressed 1, but in my mind I finally understood why they asked me if I'm really me: if you don't know who you really are, you probably shouldn't be holding a gun in the first place.
The next morning I wore green and made it to the pickup site, and soon found myself near a school in Tiberias, waiting for the ride that would take me to my base. As the air-raid sirens went off, the local folks (the staff of the school was there, too) said "here we go again" and "at least we had a couple days of quiet," and we (at first, I was the only soldier present) hurried into the nearby bomb shelter. I knew that our Livnot friends in Tzfat had been doing this regularly, but I personally had never done it before. Within seconds, explosions could be heard nearby. Some folks shrugged, some were quiet, some were close to panic. Cellphones were pulled out and soon everybody knew what was hit and where. The Tiberias Jewish Intelligence Network was running smoothly.
This same scene took place 3 more times, and finally the driver, another soldier and I left the building to get into the car and drive to the base; how long can one wait? Ah, what service -- a ride to the gate of my base! As we reached the car, the sirens went off again, and the three of us scurried off for cover. An elderly woman, perhaps in her mid-seventies, came out of nowhere to look for safety, and I motioned for her to come join me. "There are gas containers on the other side of this building, so let's stay here." Her eyes were open very wide and at first it seemed as if she wanted to talk but simply couldn't. Then, right before we heard the nearby landings a minute later, she told me in near-panic that she left her grandchildren with the babysitter and had to get back "as soon as possible." I talked to her and calmed her and when all was clear, we parted as if we were old friends. "You go get them," she said to me, putting one hand on my shoulder and pointing north with the other. "This cannot continue. We cannot let this happen again. You go get them." The image of this frail elderly woman from Tiberias, and her plea, would be like a compass to me in the weeks to come
Over 200 rockets rained down that day on northern Israel. Until now I'd heard about such scenes, but after seeing it with my own eyes, it just drove home the point that somebody's gotta go in there and stop those murderers. And if the air force can't do it without hurting innocent civilians, then it's up to ground forces to get in there and discern between good and evil.
In a huge hangar in our army base, a grand reunion was taking place; our unit was reassembling. Back- slapping, hugs and even kisses were being exchanged by the hundreds. And after I gave and received some of my own, I took a step back and looked at the entire scene with an internal fish-eye lens; we were a motley, diverse, cross-section of Israeli society. The officers, who had been called up two days earlier, told us the plan: two days of training, and then entering eastern Lebanon on foot to clear out rocket launchers that have been raining missiles.
"This will not be a classic battle. We will essentially be going in to hide in strategic spots, hunt for launchers and terrorists with special equipment, and then coming out after two or three days. Beware: because we'll be hiding, and because transportation is too dangerous due to anti-tank missiles, do not expect outside assistance! We'll have to be totally self-sufficient. All the food and water and equipment that will be used, we'll have to take with us on our backs. And if you get injured, you should all know that it's possible that you'll have to wait until nightfall before you can get evacuated, even by helicopter."
After lunch, the unit's rabbi made an announcement. "After consulting with the chief halachic rabbinic authorities, we have been exempted from fasting tonight and tomorrow for Tisha B'Av. Anything that concerns saving lives is tantamount; nobody is allowed to be weak and frail. But don't forget the significance of the day." We then focused on equipment, guns, food and water. Meanwhile, some grabbed catnaps, some called home, some mulled around, some stared out into space, but most had conversations with friends. There's a special glue here that binds us all. Like an unspoken covenant.
Meanwhile, our entrance into Lebanon has been delayed until Saturday night. We spent time training and talking -- and bonding. It was a most strange Tisha B'Av, eating and drinking. But the meaning of the timing was not lost on many. Baseless love to combat baseless hatred; unity instead of division; building and not destroying
If the fast day on Thursday wasn't a fast day, then Shabbat on Saturday wasn't really a Shabbat. Last-minute preparations were the order of the day. This was our last chance to fix equipment, camouflage it, make it comfortable, make final preparations. We practiced a lot, we drove to an area where the foliage and the scenery and the landscape were very similar to Lebanon, and we acted out various scenarios. A surprise ambush; a minefield; a booby-trapped house; evacuating wounded; officers getting hurt and others taking charge; soldiers getting lost; anti-kidnapping measures.
No less important was the shlepping. After putting on a flak jacket and an ammunition pack, we had to shlep equipment. The army actually went out with cash to camping stores and bought hundreds of king-size backpacks; some folks brought their own trusty backpacks from home. Friday night we packed everything into these big backpacks -- ammunition, equipment, clothes, food, lots of water, personal items -- and went for a trial march. The packs were incredibly heavy. I don't think I've carried anything so heavy since I was in the regular army in the early 1980's. People were groaning from the weight; it was hard to breathe, harder to run and extremely hard to stand up after kneeling during waits.
And after everybody knew what hurt and what wasn't right, we went back and fixed it all in our tents. Inserting padding here, moving bottles there, repacking, taping this and tying that, finding kneepads or making them from scratch, and of course camouflaging everything so we would be virtually invisible. Remembering a few incidents in the previous war in Lebanon in 1982, I added a few items to my pack: toilet paper, 12 energy bars, smoke grenades, and lots of water. The only Shabbat-like things that happened were quick Shabbat-like meals (with military chulent, if you can believe that), and Kabbalat Shabbat. Friday night as the sun was setting, it was as if everybody came out of their little green rabbit hole to pray. Believers and atheists, men and women, officers and soldiers, black and white, head-covered and bare-headed. We sang, we danced, we prayed. A huge circle was formed. The mood was not joyous, but hopeful. Not celebratory, but spiritual. How else can one prepare for a war? Sing, dance, pray, hope
Saturday afternoon the busses came and took us north. As the sun was setting we came towards Kiryat Shmonah, almost a ghost town. Company commanders gave last orders. We had a huge Havdallah ceremony. Soldiers got in circles according to their companies, smelled the scents and saw the fire and drank the wine. Everybody sang: "Kol Haolam Kulo Gesher Tzar Meod. . . The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing to recall is to have no fear at all." It was a very moving moment. So Jewish.
We got on the buses again, and went up the mountain to the border. We all noticed a terrible smell: a burning forest. Hundreds of pines were burning thanks to a katyusha barrage. Grrrr I thought. It's not enough to kill people, you have to burn forests, too? It was a very upsetting sight. Isn't it obvious to the world what's going on here? Evil people are destroying human, animal and plant life. That elderly woman in Tiberias was right: we have to go in there and stop them. Every additional moment that they aren't stopped, means death to innocent living things. To me, the arithmetic was very simple: if you care about The Sanctity of Human Life, you sometimes have to act. Like a doctor who performs an operation, sometimes you have to cut off a limb to save a life. Ethical soldiers sometimes have to stop/maim/kill terrorists in order to save innocent lives. The Talmud said it so beautifully and simply: "One who is kind to the cruel, is actually being cruel to the kind." Most of our lives should be spent in kindness; but there are times when -- for brief moments -- we have to put kindness on the back-burner. Otherwise we're in danger of being too naive and causing damage to the innocent. It's called "balance".
Near the border, we got off the busses with our gear. Last bathroom stop. Last cigarette -- none were allowed in Lebanon. Last cellphone calls -- no phones were allowed in Lebanon. We put all our phones and tobacco in a wooden box and gave it to our support unit that would be assisting us on the Israel side. Last bite to eat before we enter. Everybody checked everybody else for anything that might be shining: watches, earrings, jewelry, equipment zippers, etc. Camouflage make-up kits were taken out; the few folks who knew what they were doing painted our faces. We laughed at each others' frog-like faces, and then marched over to the fence.
The battalion commander spoke: "We have two missions here: to make sure our task is accomplished militarily, and to make sure we all get back home safely. I want you all to know that while we're inside Lebanon, I will think a hundred times before giving any orders. Be responsible and do what you have to do as best as you can. Remember: we're doing this for our own homes. I am very proud to be leading you all. Shalom." The battalion rabbi said, with us all, Shma Yisrael. Gulp. We all hugged each other, got our gear on, and started marching. We walked right through an empty patch in the border fence. That's it; we were in Lebanon. I said a silent prayer, and I looked back one last time.
Two images were engraved in my mind: the burning forest and its smell, and that elderly woman in Tiberias and her words. "This cannot continue. We cannot let this happen again. You go get them." Yes, I thought, this is why we're here; we're doing this for them. We're doing this for the grandmas and the trees.
For the Grandmas and the Trees
The cellphone rang at 2:35 am. "Shalom Michael. This is a computerized emergency telephone call-up from your unit. If this is indeed you, press 1." Am I really me? This is an existential question I've been grappling with for years, but I figured this wasn't the time for philosophizing; I pressed 1. "Shalom Michael. Enter your IDF serial number, followed by the pound sign." I did. "Michael. Be at your prearranged pickup site tomorrow morning at 9am; from there you will proceed to your base for equipment and instructions. If you received this message, press 1." I pressed 1, but in my mind I finally understood why they asked me if I'm really me: if you don't know who you really are, you probably shouldn't be holding a gun in the first place.
The next morning I wore green and made it to the pickup site, and soon found myself near a school in Tiberias, waiting for the ride that would take me to my base. As the air-raid sirens went off, the local folks (the staff of the school was there, too) said "here we go again" and "at least we had a couple days of quiet," and we (at first, I was the only soldier present) hurried into the nearby bomb shelter. I knew that our Livnot friends in Tzfat had been doing this regularly, but I personally had never done it before. Within seconds, explosions could be heard nearby. Some folks shrugged, some were quiet, some were close to panic. Cellphones were pulled out and soon everybody knew what was hit and where. The Tiberias Jewish Intelligence Network was running smoothly.
This same scene took place 3 more times, and finally the driver, another soldier and I left the building to get into the car and drive to the base; how long can one wait? Ah, what service -- a ride to the gate of my base! As we reached the car, the sirens went off again, and the three of us scurried off for cover. An elderly woman, perhaps in her mid-seventies, came out of nowhere to look for safety, and I motioned for her to come join me. "There are gas containers on the other side of this building, so let's stay here." Her eyes were open very wide and at first it seemed as if she wanted to talk but simply couldn't. Then, right before we heard the nearby landings a minute later, she told me in near-panic that she left her grandchildren with the babysitter and had to get back "as soon as possible." I talked to her and calmed her and when all was clear, we parted as if we were old friends. "You go get them," she said to me, putting one hand on my shoulder and pointing north with the other. "This cannot continue. We cannot let this happen again. You go get them." The image of this frail elderly woman from Tiberias, and her plea, would be like a compass to me in the weeks to come
Over 200 rockets rained down that day on northern Israel. Until now I'd heard about such scenes, but after seeing it with my own eyes, it just drove home the point that somebody's gotta go in there and stop those murderers. And if the air force can't do it without hurting innocent civilians, then it's up to ground forces to get in there and discern between good and evil.
In a huge hangar in our army base, a grand reunion was taking place; our unit was reassembling. Back- slapping, hugs and even kisses were being exchanged by the hundreds. And after I gave and received some of my own, I took a step back and looked at the entire scene with an internal fish-eye lens; we were a motley, diverse, cross-section of Israeli society. The officers, who had been called up two days earlier, told us the plan: two days of training, and then entering eastern Lebanon on foot to clear out rocket launchers that have been raining missiles.
"This will not be a classic battle. We will essentially be going in to hide in strategic spots, hunt for launchers and terrorists with special equipment, and then coming out after two or three days. Beware: because we'll be hiding, and because transportation is too dangerous due to anti-tank missiles, do not expect outside assistance! We'll have to be totally self-sufficient. All the food and water and equipment that will be used, we'll have to take with us on our backs. And if you get injured, you should all know that it's possible that you'll have to wait until nightfall before you can get evacuated, even by helicopter."
After lunch, the unit's rabbi made an announcement. "After consulting with the chief halachic rabbinic authorities, we have been exempted from fasting tonight and tomorrow for Tisha B'Av. Anything that concerns saving lives is tantamount; nobody is allowed to be weak and frail. But don't forget the significance of the day." We then focused on equipment, guns, food and water. Meanwhile, some grabbed catnaps, some called home, some mulled around, some stared out into space, but most had conversations with friends. There's a special glue here that binds us all. Like an unspoken covenant.
Meanwhile, our entrance into Lebanon has been delayed until Saturday night. We spent time training and talking -- and bonding. It was a most strange Tisha B'Av, eating and drinking. But the meaning of the timing was not lost on many. Baseless love to combat baseless hatred; unity instead of division; building and not destroying
If the fast day on Thursday wasn't a fast day, then Shabbat on Saturday wasn't really a Shabbat. Last-minute preparations were the order of the day. This was our last chance to fix equipment, camouflage it, make it comfortable, make final preparations. We practiced a lot, we drove to an area where the foliage and the scenery and the landscape were very similar to Lebanon, and we acted out various scenarios. A surprise ambush; a minefield; a booby-trapped house; evacuating wounded; officers getting hurt and others taking charge; soldiers getting lost; anti-kidnapping measures.
No less important was the shlepping. After putting on a flak jacket and an ammunition pack, we had to shlep equipment. The army actually went out with cash to camping stores and bought hundreds of king-size backpacks; some folks brought their own trusty backpacks from home. Friday night we packed everything into these big backpacks -- ammunition, equipment, clothes, food, lots of water, personal items -- and went for a trial march. The packs were incredibly heavy. I don't think I've carried anything so heavy since I was in the regular army in the early 1980's. People were groaning from the weight; it was hard to breathe, harder to run and extremely hard to stand up after kneeling during waits.
And after everybody knew what hurt and what wasn't right, we went back and fixed it all in our tents. Inserting padding here, moving bottles there, repacking, taping this and tying that, finding kneepads or making them from scratch, and of course camouflaging everything so we would be virtually invisible. Remembering a few incidents in the previous war in Lebanon in 1982, I added a few items to my pack: toilet paper, 12 energy bars, smoke grenades, and lots of water. The only Shabbat-like things that happened were quick Shabbat-like meals (with military chulent, if you can believe that), and Kabbalat Shabbat. Friday night as the sun was setting, it was as if everybody came out of their little green rabbit hole to pray. Believers and atheists, men and women, officers and soldiers, black and white, head-covered and bare-headed. We sang, we danced, we prayed. A huge circle was formed. The mood was not joyous, but hopeful. Not celebratory, but spiritual. How else can one prepare for a war? Sing, dance, pray, hope
Saturday afternoon the busses came and took us north. As the sun was setting we came towards Kiryat Shmonah, almost a ghost town. Company commanders gave last orders. We had a huge Havdallah ceremony. Soldiers got in circles according to their companies, smelled the scents and saw the fire and drank the wine. Everybody sang: "Kol Haolam Kulo Gesher Tzar Meod. . . The whole entire world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing to recall is to have no fear at all." It was a very moving moment. So Jewish.
We got on the buses again, and went up the mountain to the border. We all noticed a terrible smell: a burning forest. Hundreds of pines were burning thanks to a katyusha barrage. Grrrr I thought. It's not enough to kill people, you have to burn forests, too? It was a very upsetting sight. Isn't it obvious to the world what's going on here? Evil people are destroying human, animal and plant life. That elderly woman in Tiberias was right: we have to go in there and stop them. Every additional moment that they aren't stopped, means death to innocent living things. To me, the arithmetic was very simple: if you care about The Sanctity of Human Life, you sometimes have to act. Like a doctor who performs an operation, sometimes you have to cut off a limb to save a life. Ethical soldiers sometimes have to stop/maim/kill terrorists in order to save innocent lives. The Talmud said it so beautifully and simply: "One who is kind to the cruel, is actually being cruel to the kind." Most of our lives should be spent in kindness; but there are times when -- for brief moments -- we have to put kindness on the back-burner. Otherwise we're in danger of being too naive and causing damage to the innocent. It's called "balance".
Near the border, we got off the busses with our gear. Last bathroom stop. Last cigarette -- none were allowed in Lebanon. Last cellphone calls -- no phones were allowed in Lebanon. We put all our phones and tobacco in a wooden box and gave it to our support unit that would be assisting us on the Israel side. Last bite to eat before we enter. Everybody checked everybody else for anything that might be shining: watches, earrings, jewelry, equipment zippers, etc. Camouflage make-up kits were taken out; the few folks who knew what they were doing painted our faces. We laughed at each others' frog-like faces, and then marched over to the fence.
The battalion commander spoke: "We have two missions here: to make sure our task is accomplished militarily, and to make sure we all get back home safely. I want you all to know that while we're inside Lebanon, I will think a hundred times before giving any orders. Be responsible and do what you have to do as best as you can. Remember: we're doing this for our own homes. I am very proud to be leading you all. Shalom." The battalion rabbi said, with us all, Shma Yisrael. Gulp. We all hugged each other, got our gear on, and started marching. We walked right through an empty patch in the border fence. That's it; we were in Lebanon. I said a silent prayer, and I looked back one last time.
Two images were engraved in my mind: the burning forest and its smell, and that elderly woman in Tiberias and her words. "This cannot continue. We cannot let this happen again. You go get them." Yes, I thought, this is why we're here; we're doing this for them. We're doing this for the grandmas and the trees.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Equilibrium
E.B. White said it well: "If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
The fact is, contstantly wanting to improve the world, or an organiztion, or someone's frame of mind, makes it awfully difficult to just sit back and enjoy oneself. There are always thoughts swirling through the mind, mixing with the guilt felt over wasting time having fun when there are newspapers to read and people to meet with and new information to absorb. But there is so much beauty in life, so much to see and do and be amazed by, that it's important to take time out to be amazed. Essential, even.
And that's the main point, isn't it? The struggle exists everywhere. The battle for balance. Equilibrium. We must work, or our minds decay; we must rest, or we burn out. We must eat enough food, or we starve; too much, we grow fat and have heart attacks. We must be subjected to criticism, or we will grow complacent; too much, and our self-esteem vanishes completely. We must have love, or our spirits wither; too much, and... okay, I can't think of a downside for that one. But the point is, we need balance. Put another way: moderation in all things. That's the healthy way to go.
So, here's the question: how in the world are we supposed to be moderate in our quest for moderation???
The fact is, contstantly wanting to improve the world, or an organiztion, or someone's frame of mind, makes it awfully difficult to just sit back and enjoy oneself. There are always thoughts swirling through the mind, mixing with the guilt felt over wasting time having fun when there are newspapers to read and people to meet with and new information to absorb. But there is so much beauty in life, so much to see and do and be amazed by, that it's important to take time out to be amazed. Essential, even.
And that's the main point, isn't it? The struggle exists everywhere. The battle for balance. Equilibrium. We must work, or our minds decay; we must rest, or we burn out. We must eat enough food, or we starve; too much, we grow fat and have heart attacks. We must be subjected to criticism, or we will grow complacent; too much, and our self-esteem vanishes completely. We must have love, or our spirits wither; too much, and... okay, I can't think of a downside for that one. But the point is, we need balance. Put another way: moderation in all things. That's the healthy way to go.
So, here's the question: how in the world are we supposed to be moderate in our quest for moderation???
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Muslim Myopia
The following text appeared as an editorial in yesterday's New York Times. I am always happy to discover that someone is speaking out against the politically blind and historically ignorant who are so sure that Islam's jihad against the West is somehow our fault. And look -- the author of this particular piece is Muslim.
Muslim Myopia
By IRSHAD MANJI
LAST week, the luminaries of the British Muslim mainstream — lobbyists, lords and members of Parliament — published an open letter to Prime Minister Tony Blair, telling him that the “debacle” of both Iraq and Lebanon provides “ammunition to extremists who threaten us all.” In increasingly antiwar America, a similar argument is gaining traction: The United States brutalizes Muslims, which in turn foments Islamist terror.
But violent jihadists have rarely needed foreign policy grievances to justify their hot heads. There was no equivalent to the Iraq debacle in 1993, when Islamists first tried to blow up the World Trade Center, or in 2000, when they attacked the American destroyer Cole. Indeed, that assault took place after United States-led military intervention saved thousands of Muslims in Bosnia and Kosovo.
If Islamists cared about changing Iraq policy, they would not have bothered to abduct two journalists from France — probably the most antiwar, anti-Bush nation in the West. Even overt solidarity with Iraqi suffering did not prevent Margaret Hassan, who ran a world-renowned relief agency in Baghdad, from being executed by insurgents.
Meanwhile, at least as many Muslims are dying at the hands of other Muslims as under the boots of any foreign imperial power. In Sudan, black Muslims are starved, raped, enslaved and slaughtered by Arab militias, with the consent of an Islamic government. Where is the “official” Muslim fury against that genocide? Do Muslim lives count only when snuffed out by non-Muslims? If not, then here is an idea for Muslim representatives in the West: Go ahead and lecture the politicians that their foreign policies give succor to radicals. At the same time, however, challenge the educated and angry young Muslims to hold their own accountable, too.
This means reminding them that in Pakistan, Sunnis hunt down Shiites every day; that in northern Israel, Katuysha rockets launched by Hezbollah have ripped through the homes of Arab Muslims as well as Jews; that in Egypt, the riot police of President Hosni Mubarak routinely club, rape, torture and murder Muslim activists promoting democracy; and, above all, that civil wars have become hallmarks of the Islamic world.
Muslim figureheads will not dare be so honest. They would sooner replicate the very sins for which they castigate the Bush and Blair governments — namely, switching rationales and pretending integrity.
In the wake of the London bombings on July 7, 2005, Iqbal Sacranie, then the head of the influential Muslim Council of Britain, insisted that economic discrimination lay at the root of Islamist radicalism in his country. When it came to light that some of the suspects enjoyed middle-class upbringings, university educations, jobs and cars, Mr. Sacranie found a new culprit: foreign policy. In so doing, he boarded the groupthink express steered by Muslim elites.
The good news is that ordinary people of faith are capable of self-criticism. Two months ago, 65 percent of British Muslims polled believed that their communities should increase efforts to integrate. The same poll also produced troubling results: 13 percent lionized the July 7 terrorists, and 16 percent sympathized. Still, these figures total 29 percent — less than half the number who sought to belong more fully to British society.
Whether in Britain or America, those who claim to speak for Muslims have a responsibility to the majority, which wants to reconcile Islam with pluralism. Whatever their imperial urges, it is not for Tony Blair or George W. Bush to restore Islam’s better angels. That duty — and glory — goes to Muslims.
Irshad Manji, a fellow at Yale University, is the author of “The Trouble with Islam Today: A Muslim’s Call for Reform in Her Faith.”
Muslim Myopia
By IRSHAD MANJI
LAST week, the luminaries of the British Muslim mainstream — lobbyists, lords and members of Parliament — published an open letter to Prime Minister Tony Blair, telling him that the “debacle” of both Iraq and Lebanon provides “ammunition to extremists who threaten us all.” In increasingly antiwar America, a similar argument is gaining traction: The United States brutalizes Muslims, which in turn foments Islamist terror.
But violent jihadists have rarely needed foreign policy grievances to justify their hot heads. There was no equivalent to the Iraq debacle in 1993, when Islamists first tried to blow up the World Trade Center, or in 2000, when they attacked the American destroyer Cole. Indeed, that assault took place after United States-led military intervention saved thousands of Muslims in Bosnia and Kosovo.
If Islamists cared about changing Iraq policy, they would not have bothered to abduct two journalists from France — probably the most antiwar, anti-Bush nation in the West. Even overt solidarity with Iraqi suffering did not prevent Margaret Hassan, who ran a world-renowned relief agency in Baghdad, from being executed by insurgents.
Meanwhile, at least as many Muslims are dying at the hands of other Muslims as under the boots of any foreign imperial power. In Sudan, black Muslims are starved, raped, enslaved and slaughtered by Arab militias, with the consent of an Islamic government. Where is the “official” Muslim fury against that genocide? Do Muslim lives count only when snuffed out by non-Muslims? If not, then here is an idea for Muslim representatives in the West: Go ahead and lecture the politicians that their foreign policies give succor to radicals. At the same time, however, challenge the educated and angry young Muslims to hold their own accountable, too.
This means reminding them that in Pakistan, Sunnis hunt down Shiites every day; that in northern Israel, Katuysha rockets launched by Hezbollah have ripped through the homes of Arab Muslims as well as Jews; that in Egypt, the riot police of President Hosni Mubarak routinely club, rape, torture and murder Muslim activists promoting democracy; and, above all, that civil wars have become hallmarks of the Islamic world.
Muslim figureheads will not dare be so honest. They would sooner replicate the very sins for which they castigate the Bush and Blair governments — namely, switching rationales and pretending integrity.
In the wake of the London bombings on July 7, 2005, Iqbal Sacranie, then the head of the influential Muslim Council of Britain, insisted that economic discrimination lay at the root of Islamist radicalism in his country. When it came to light that some of the suspects enjoyed middle-class upbringings, university educations, jobs and cars, Mr. Sacranie found a new culprit: foreign policy. In so doing, he boarded the groupthink express steered by Muslim elites.
The good news is that ordinary people of faith are capable of self-criticism. Two months ago, 65 percent of British Muslims polled believed that their communities should increase efforts to integrate. The same poll also produced troubling results: 13 percent lionized the July 7 terrorists, and 16 percent sympathized. Still, these figures total 29 percent — less than half the number who sought to belong more fully to British society.
Whether in Britain or America, those who claim to speak for Muslims have a responsibility to the majority, which wants to reconcile Islam with pluralism. Whatever their imperial urges, it is not for Tony Blair or George W. Bush to restore Islam’s better angels. That duty — and glory — goes to Muslims.
Irshad Manji, a fellow at Yale University, is the author of “The Trouble with Islam Today: A Muslim’s Call for Reform in Her Faith.”
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Truth Is Heard
The following text has circulated in an e-mail for almost two years, ever since Ms. Gabriel made the speech transcribed below. When I first read it, I dismissed it as overly-sentimental and possibly untrue. But the fact is, Ms. Gabriel not only did deliver this speech, she fully endorses the sentiments she expressed that day. And as head of American Congress for Truth, she works ceaselessly to expose the threat of Islamic fundamentalism to the West.
Remarks of Brigitte Gabriel, delivered at the Duke University
Counter Terrorism Speak-Out, October 14, 2004
I'm proud and honoured to stand here today, as a Lebanese speaking for Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East. As someone who was raised in an Arabic country, I want to give you a glimpse into the heart of the Arabic world. I was raised in Lebanon, where I was taught that the Jews were evil, Israel was the devil, and the only time we will have peace in the Middle East is when we kill all the Jews and drive them into the sea. When the Moslems and Palestinians declared Jihad on the Christians in 1975, they started massacring the Christians, city after city. I ended up living in a bomb shelter underground from age 10 to 17, without electricity, eating grass to live, and crawling under sniper bullets to a spring to get water. It was Israel who came to help the Christians in Lebanon. My mother was wounded by a Moslem's shell, and was taken into an Israeli hospital for treatment. When we entered the emergency room, I was shocked at what I saw. There were hundreds of people wounded, Moslems, Palestinians, Christians, Lebanese, and Israeli soldiers lying on the floor. The doctors treated everyone according to their injury. They treated my mother before they treated the Israeli soldier lying next to her. They didn't see religion, they didn't see political affiliation, they saw people in need and they helped. For the first time in my life I experienced a human quality that I know my culture would not have shown to their enemy. I experienced the values of the Israelis, who were able to love their enemy in their most trying moments. I spent 22 days at that hospital. Those days changed my life and the way I believe information, the way I listen to the radio or to television. I realized I was sold a fabricated lie by my government, about the Jews and Israel, that was so far from reality. I knew for fact that, if I was a Jew standing in an Arab hospital, I would be lynched and thrown over to the grounds, as shouts of joy of Allah Akbar, God is great, would echo through the hospital and the surrounding streets. I became friends with the families of the Israeli wounded soldiers: one in particular Rina, her only child was wounded in his eyes. One day I was visiting with her, and the Israeli army band came to play national songs to lift the spirits of the wounded soldiers. As they surrounded his bed playing a song about Jerusalem, Rina and I started crying. I felt out of place and started waking out of the room, and this mother holds my hand and pulls me back in without even looking at me. She holds me crying and says: "It is not your fault." We just stood there crying, holding each other's hands. What a contrast between her, a mother looking at her deformed 19 year old only child, and still able to love me, the enemy, and between a Moslem mother who sends her son to blow himself up to smithereens just to kill a few Jews or Christians. The difference between the Arabic world and Israel is a difference in values and character. It's barbarism versus civilization. It's democracy versus dictatorship. It's goodness versus evil. Once upon a time, there was a special place in the lowest depths of hell for anyone who would intentionally murder a child. Now, the intentional murder of Israeli children is legitimized as Palestinian "armed struggle." However, once such behaviour is legitimized against Israel, it is legitimized everywhere in the world, constrained by nothing more than the subjective belief of people who would wrap themselves in dynamite and nails for the purpose of killing children in the name of God. Because the Palestinians have been encouraged to believe that murdering innocent Israeli civilians is a legitimate tactic for advancing their cause, the whole world now suffers from a plague of terrorism, from Nairobi to New York, from Moscow to Madrid, from Bali to Beslan. They blame suicide bombing on "desperation of occupation." Let me tell you the truth. The first major terror bombing committed by Arabs against the Jewish state occurred ten weeks before Israel even became independent. On Sunday morning, February 22, 1948, in anticipation of Israel's independence, a triple truck bomb was detonated by Arab terrorists on Ben Yehuda Street, in what was then the Jewish section of Jerusalem. Fifty-four people were killed, and hundreds were wounded. Thus, it is obvious that Arab terrorism is caused not by the "desperation" of "occupation" but by the VERY THOUGHT of a Jewish state. So many times in history in the last 100 years, citizens have stood by and done nothing, allowing evil to prevail. As America stood up against and defeated communism, now it is time to stand up against the terror of religious bigotry and intolerance. It's time to all stand up and support and defend the state of Israel, which is the front line of the war against terrorism.
Remarks of Brigitte Gabriel, delivered at the Duke University
Counter Terrorism Speak-Out, October 14, 2004
I'm proud and honoured to stand here today, as a Lebanese speaking for Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East. As someone who was raised in an Arabic country, I want to give you a glimpse into the heart of the Arabic world. I was raised in Lebanon, where I was taught that the Jews were evil, Israel was the devil, and the only time we will have peace in the Middle East is when we kill all the Jews and drive them into the sea. When the Moslems and Palestinians declared Jihad on the Christians in 1975, they started massacring the Christians, city after city. I ended up living in a bomb shelter underground from age 10 to 17, without electricity, eating grass to live, and crawling under sniper bullets to a spring to get water. It was Israel who came to help the Christians in Lebanon. My mother was wounded by a Moslem's shell, and was taken into an Israeli hospital for treatment. When we entered the emergency room, I was shocked at what I saw. There were hundreds of people wounded, Moslems, Palestinians, Christians, Lebanese, and Israeli soldiers lying on the floor. The doctors treated everyone according to their injury. They treated my mother before they treated the Israeli soldier lying next to her. They didn't see religion, they didn't see political affiliation, they saw people in need and they helped. For the first time in my life I experienced a human quality that I know my culture would not have shown to their enemy. I experienced the values of the Israelis, who were able to love their enemy in their most trying moments. I spent 22 days at that hospital. Those days changed my life and the way I believe information, the way I listen to the radio or to television. I realized I was sold a fabricated lie by my government, about the Jews and Israel, that was so far from reality. I knew for fact that, if I was a Jew standing in an Arab hospital, I would be lynched and thrown over to the grounds, as shouts of joy of Allah Akbar, God is great, would echo through the hospital and the surrounding streets. I became friends with the families of the Israeli wounded soldiers: one in particular Rina, her only child was wounded in his eyes. One day I was visiting with her, and the Israeli army band came to play national songs to lift the spirits of the wounded soldiers. As they surrounded his bed playing a song about Jerusalem, Rina and I started crying. I felt out of place and started waking out of the room, and this mother holds my hand and pulls me back in without even looking at me. She holds me crying and says: "It is not your fault." We just stood there crying, holding each other's hands. What a contrast between her, a mother looking at her deformed 19 year old only child, and still able to love me, the enemy, and between a Moslem mother who sends her son to blow himself up to smithereens just to kill a few Jews or Christians. The difference between the Arabic world and Israel is a difference in values and character. It's barbarism versus civilization. It's democracy versus dictatorship. It's goodness versus evil. Once upon a time, there was a special place in the lowest depths of hell for anyone who would intentionally murder a child. Now, the intentional murder of Israeli children is legitimized as Palestinian "armed struggle." However, once such behaviour is legitimized against Israel, it is legitimized everywhere in the world, constrained by nothing more than the subjective belief of people who would wrap themselves in dynamite and nails for the purpose of killing children in the name of God. Because the Palestinians have been encouraged to believe that murdering innocent Israeli civilians is a legitimate tactic for advancing their cause, the whole world now suffers from a plague of terrorism, from Nairobi to New York, from Moscow to Madrid, from Bali to Beslan. They blame suicide bombing on "desperation of occupation." Let me tell you the truth. The first major terror bombing committed by Arabs against the Jewish state occurred ten weeks before Israel even became independent. On Sunday morning, February 22, 1948, in anticipation of Israel's independence, a triple truck bomb was detonated by Arab terrorists on Ben Yehuda Street, in what was then the Jewish section of Jerusalem. Fifty-four people were killed, and hundreds were wounded. Thus, it is obvious that Arab terrorism is caused not by the "desperation" of "occupation" but by the VERY THOUGHT of a Jewish state. So many times in history in the last 100 years, citizens have stood by and done nothing, allowing evil to prevail. As America stood up against and defeated communism, now it is time to stand up against the terror of religious bigotry and intolerance. It's time to all stand up and support and defend the state of Israel, which is the front line of the war against terrorism.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Ah, the Media
It is no secret that the media spin stories as they see fit. It is also no secret that sometimes their so-called spin is better described as exaggeration or, in extreme instances, downright fallacy. But what about distoritions that are no less insidious, but more difficult to detect? Doctored and/or mislabeled photos have long constituted a part of the international community's (mis)perception of Israel and Israeli actions. Here are yet more examples, taken from recent media coverage of Israel's current war against Hizbollah.
http://www.aish.com/movies/PhotoFraud.asp
http://www.aish.com/movies/PhotoFraud.asp
Monday, July 31, 2006
Tragedy and Apology Do Not Mean Standing Down
Perhaps it's efficiency. Perhaps it's laziness. But whatever the origin, I am always happy when someone else successfully encapsulates my thoughts in writing, so that I won't have to attempt to do it myself.
Today, my thoughts conform with those of an editorial in The Jerusalem Post:
" 'It's absolutely dreadful, it's quite appalling,' said UK Foreign Secretary Margaret Beckett, among the many international reactions of shock following the deaths of some 50 Lebanese citizens in a building that Israel believed harbored Hizbullah terrorists launching missiles at Israeli cities. Yes, it is appalling. It is appalling that Hizbullah would deliberately target Israel's cities, and do so from civilian areas, hoping that Israel would kill greater numbers of Lebanese civilians. It is appalling that this barbaric tactic - after some 5,000 Israeli bombing sorties - has proved "effective," with tragic consequences for innocent Lebanese people, and producing the expected international fallout: not against Hizbullah, but against Israel. It is also appalling that for three weeks over a million Israelis - Jews and Arabs - have been living in bomb shelters, never knowing when a missile aimed at them will kill them or destroy their homes... Are we, the nations of the world that are threatened by an Iranian victory, automatons who are helpless to act in our own overwhelming interests? Are we powerless to overturn the bizarre moral calculus by which Israel is held accountable for the barbaric tactics of its enemies? We are not. We - the US, UK, and Israel, for starters - must stand together for the truth and our own interests. We must not submit to the epitome of stupidity and immorality, masquerading as moral blackmail. If we do, we have no one to blame but ourselves."
Today, my thoughts conform with those of an editorial in The Jerusalem Post:
" 'It's absolutely dreadful, it's quite appalling,' said UK Foreign Secretary Margaret Beckett, among the many international reactions of shock following the deaths of some 50 Lebanese citizens in a building that Israel believed harbored Hizbullah terrorists launching missiles at Israeli cities. Yes, it is appalling. It is appalling that Hizbullah would deliberately target Israel's cities, and do so from civilian areas, hoping that Israel would kill greater numbers of Lebanese civilians. It is appalling that this barbaric tactic - after some 5,000 Israeli bombing sorties - has proved "effective," with tragic consequences for innocent Lebanese people, and producing the expected international fallout: not against Hizbullah, but against Israel. It is also appalling that for three weeks over a million Israelis - Jews and Arabs - have been living in bomb shelters, never knowing when a missile aimed at them will kill them or destroy their homes... Are we, the nations of the world that are threatened by an Iranian victory, automatons who are helpless to act in our own overwhelming interests? Are we powerless to overturn the bizarre moral calculus by which Israel is held accountable for the barbaric tactics of its enemies? We are not. We - the US, UK, and Israel, for starters - must stand together for the truth and our own interests. We must not submit to the epitome of stupidity and immorality, masquerading as moral blackmail. If we do, we have no one to blame but ourselves."
Friday, July 28, 2006
So Many Reasons to Love Tony Blair
The man talks sense. His words are rational, logical, well-reasoned, articulate, and -- perhaps most importantly -- CORRECT. Thank you, Mr. Blair, for remaining a dependably upright leader with integrity and vision.
Case in point, a brief segment of today's discussion in the House of Commons:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1Kl7TRFEdQ&NR
Case in point, a brief segment of today's discussion in the House of Commons:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1Kl7TRFEdQ&NR
Monday, July 17, 2006
Round I: Iran vs. the West
Jerusalem Issue Brief
Institute for Contemporary Affairs
Vol. 6, No. 1 –17 July 2006
The Opening Round of Iran's War Against the West
by Dore Gold
Since the 1982 Lebanon War, the United Nations Security Council has repeatedly demanded that all foreign forces leave Lebanese territory. This evacuation of outside armies and terrorist groups was rightly seen as the prerequisite for the pacification of the volatile Israel-Lebanon border and the restoration of Lebanese sovereignty.
It was disturbing to see Secretary-General Kofi Annan shaking hands with Hizballah leader Sheikh Hassan Nasrallah on June 20, 2000, during a visit to Beirut. The UN strategy was to give Hizballah some recognition and thereby obtain good behavior on its part.
In 2002, Lebanese media reported the arrival of Iranian Revolutionary Guards to train Hizballah in the use of Fajr 3 and Fajr 5 medium-range missiles with a range of 70 kilometers, deployed in southern Lebanon and aimed at Israel’s northern cities. So in return for Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon, it acquired a more powerful Hizballah, as well as Iranian forces taking up positions directly on its borders.
The chief aims of the entire Western alliance — including Israel — in the current conflict are: full implementation of UN Security Council resolutions that call for the complete dismantling of Hizballah and the deployment of the Lebanese army along the Israel-Lebanon border; and the removal of all Iranian forces and equipment from Lebanese territory, along with any lingering Syrian presence.
Defeating Iran’s opening shot in this Middle Eastern war is not just Israel’s interest, but the collective interest of the entire civilized world. Israel’s strategy depends upon isolating the Hizballah insurgency in Lebanon from any reinforcement from Iran and its allies by air, land, or sea.
The UN and Lebanon
Since the 1982 Lebanon War, the United Nations Security Council has repeatedly demanded that all foreign forces leave Lebanese territory. This evacuation of outside armies and terrorist groups was rightly seen as the prerequisite for the pacification of the volatile Israel-Lebanon border and the restoration of Lebanese sovereignty. When the Israeli government completed its withdrawal from its security zone in southern Lebanon in 2000, one might have expected that this international principle would have been asserted, and a concerted UN effort begun to rid Lebanon of the Syrian army and other foreign forces — notably those of Iran.
Unfortunately, the situation in Lebanon was totally neglected, and ominous developments followed. Israel’s withdrawal to what the UN called the “blue line” was recognized by Secretary-General Kofi Annan as a full Israeli withdrawal from Lebanese territory. His determination was confirmed by the UN Security Council on July 27, 2000, with the adoption of Resolution 1310. But the Iranian-backed terrorist group Hizballah claimed that Israel actually had more land to give to Lebanon. In particular, they wanted a tiny sliver of Golan territory, called the Shebaa Farms, that had been disputed between Israel and Syria.
This outstanding grievance, which had no international backing, was used to justify Hizballah’s continuing war against Israel. But rather than forcefully reject Hizballah's stand, different UN agencies seemed to treat the organization as a legitimate party to Lebanon’s conflict with Israel. It was disturbing to see Secretary-General Kofi Annan shaking hands with Hizballah leader Sheikh Hassan Nasrallah on June 20, 2000, during a visit to Beirut. The UN strategy was to give Hizballah some recognition and thereby obtain good behavior on its part. To make matters worse, UNIFIL, the UN peacekeeping force, sent liaison officers to Hizballah. But this approach only legitimized an organization that, prior to 9/11, was widely viewed as more dangerous than al-Qaeda.
What made Hizballah's decision to maintain its dispute with Israel so dangerous was Iran’s decision to deploy medium-range missiles in southern Lebanon, aimed at Israel’s northern cities. In 2002, Lebanese media reported the arrival of Iranian Revolutionary Guards to train Hizballah in the use of these new weapons, known as the Fajr 3 and Fajr 5, which, unlike the older Soviet-made Katyusha rockets, had a range of up to 70 kilometers. Israel had withdrawn from Lebanon, but in return, not only had it acquired a more powerful Hizballah, but also Iranian forces taking up positions directly on its borders.
The situation was eerily reminiscent of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis. Then, the Soviet Union had only unreliable intercontinental ballistic missiles for striking the U.S., so they positioned shorter-range missiles in nearby Cuba instead. Today, the Iranians have a 1,300-kilometer-range Shahab missile for striking Israel, and are working feverishly to improve its capabilities, while investing in longer-range missiles aimed at Western Europe. Teheran doubtless calculates that if the West tries to take measures against its nuclear program, its Lebanese arsenal could hold Israel hostage. The difference between 1962 and 2006 is that, while President Kennedy made sure that the Soviets withdrew their missiles from Cuba, the international community has done nothing about the growing missile threat in Lebanon.
International attention was drawn again to Lebanon in 2005 after the assassination of Prime Minister Rafik Hariri by Syrian agents and the “Cedar Revolution” that followed. The UN Security Council called yet again (in Resolution 1559) for all non-Lebanese forces to leave Lebanon. This time it added a call “for the disbanding and disarmament of all Lebanese and non-Lebanese militias,” and repeated its 2004 call to the Lebanese government “to ensure its effective authority throughout the south, including the deployment of Lebanese armed forces.” The UN Security Council wanted the Lebanese Army sitting on the Israeli-Lebanese border — not Hizballah.
Had UN resolutions on Lebanon been implemented, then no Israeli soldiers would have been kidnapped in northern Israel this month and there would be no Hizballah rockets raining on Israeli civilians in Haifa, Nahariya, Safed, and Tiberias.
So what should be the aims of the entire Western alliance — including Israel — in the current conflict? The chief goals are:
First, full implementation of UN Security Council resolutions that call for the complete dismantling of Hizballah and the deployment of the Lebanese army along the Israel-Lebanon border instead.
Second, the removal of all Iranian forces and equipment from Lebanese territory, along with any lingering Syrian presence.
A Regional War
At the same time, there is a need to recognize that this is a regional war. Iran is seeking to dominate Iraq, particularly its southern Shia areas — the provinces where British troops are deployed — and hopes to encircle both Israel and the Sunni heartland of the Arab world. Syria is Iran's main Arab ally in this effort. There is no question that Iran’s main aim is to dominate the oil-producing areas by agitating the Shia populations of Kuwait, Bahrain, and the eastern provinces of Saudi Arabia.
Defeating Iran’s opening shot in this Middle Eastern war is not just Israel’s interest, but the collective interest of the entire civilized world. Israel’s strategy depends upon isolating the Hizballah insurgency in Lebanon from any reinforcement from Iran and its allies by air, land, or sea. Hence, Israel has had to bomb the runways of Beirut International Airport and the Beirut-Damascus highway, and impose a naval blockade around Lebanon.
The Gaza Front
Finally, there is a second front in this war: the Gaza Strip. The Hamas movement, which came out of the Sunni Muslim Brotherhood, has decided to throw in its lot with Shia Iran and Hizballah. Indeed, just after Israel withdrew its settlements from the Gaza Strip last August, Hizballah moved its headquarters for coordination with the Palestinians from Beirut to Gaza itself. Iran is paying for Palestinian attacks against Israeli civilians. Like Hizballah, Hamas has embedded its military capabilities in civilian areas. Israeli planes drop leaflets to warn Palestinian civilians of impending attacks, even if they give the terrorists advance warning as well.
Israel must protect its own civilians from ongoing missile attacks, whether from Lebanon or the Gaza Strip. The first duty of any government is the defense of its citizens. It is also Israel's legal right as enshrined in Article 51 of the UN Charter. International media are focusing on Israeli air strikes on Beirut, leading viewers to forget that Israel is the victim in this conflict. Its air force would not be in the skies of Lebanon and its tanks would not be in northern Gaza if Israel had not been attacked first.
In this context, primary responsibility for what is happening rests squarely with Iran and its local proxies. Our common adversaries want to replace the hope for Arab democracy with a dictatorial theocracy. The international community must see the UN resolutions on Lebanon implemented and international security restored. That is the first step towards securing a pluralistic Middle East, founded on representative government and respect for international law.
Dore Gold is the President of the Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs, and served as Israel’s ambassador to the UN from 1997 to 1999
This Jerusalem Issue Brief is available online at:
http://www.jcpa.org/brief/brief006-1.htm
Dore Gold, Publisher; Yaakov Amidror, ICA Program Director; Mark Ami-El, Managing Editor. Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs (Registered Amuta), 13 Tel-Hai St., Jerusalem, Israel; Tel. 972-2-5619281, Fax. 972-2-5619112, Email: jcpa@netvision.net.il. In U.S.A.: Center for Jewish Community Studies, 5800 Park Heights Avenue, Baltimore, MD 21215; Tel. 410-664-5222; Fax 410-664-1228. Website: www.jcpa.org. © Copyright. The opinions expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the Board of Fellows of the Jerusalem Center for Public Affairs.
The Institute for Contemporary Affairs (ICA) is dedicated
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Saturday, July 15, 2006
Quotations to Remember
I see as I begin to compose this message that it has been a year since I created this blog. A year. Twelve full months. A lot has happened in those months, of course, but to think that twelve of them have gone by completely boggles my mind. And then I note how few posts I have made in the course of those twelve months, and I have to smile. It's not that I haven't had anything to say; quite the opposite, in fact. But there are so many things that it would be so imprudent to say online, where they will live on in perpituity, that the trouble has been finding things to say that won't get me into trouble at some point down the line. I have no quarrel with trouble in general, when it comes from standing up for something I believe in. But I would prefer that a potential future employer not find my site and discover that I support medical marijuana, for example, and assume that I am a pothead, or find that my political rantings directly conflict with her own. These are subjects best left to the sphere of in-person conversation, I believe, at least for now.
So why have a blog? Well, because I can. And just in case I ever have something to say -- and a desire to sit down at my computer during one of my few free hours in order to say it-- that I feel like putting out there for anyone and everyone to see. Today, I felt like posting a handful of quotes that I find particularly inspiring, or beautiful, or entertaining. That way, if I should ever lose any of the small slips of paper on which I have collected them, I still won't have lost them. Because, after all, once they're online, they're there to stay.
So, without further ado, today's collection:
If Tyranny and Oppression come to this land, it will be under the guise of fighting a foreign enemy. -- James Madison [Think we can manage to slip a copy of "The Federalist Papers" to George W.? He might learn something.]
Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know. -- E. Hemingway
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another, and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it. -- J. M. Barrie
One of my greatest pleasures in writing has come from the thought that perhaps my work might annoy someone of comfortably pretentious position. Then comes the saddening realization that such people rarely read. -- John Kenneth Galbraith
Soyez comme l'oiseau posé pour un instant
sur des rameaux trop frêles
qui sent ployer la branche, et qui chante pourtant
sachant qu'il a des ailes -- Victor Hugo, "Les Chants du crépuscule"
Translation: Be like the bird perched for a moment
on branches too weak
who feels the branch give way, and sings anyway
knowing that he has wings.
I think there is only one quality worse than hardness of heart, and that is softness of head. -- T. Roosevelt
Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little. -- Edmund Burke
A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. -- Herm Albright
L'âme a des illusions comme l'oiseau a des ailes; c'est ce qui la soutient. -- Victor Hugo
Translation: The soul has illusions like the bird has wings; that's what sustains it.
You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do. -- Anne Lammott
If you greatly desire something, have the guts to stake everything on obtaining it. -- Brendan Francis
If everyone likes you, you have failed to stand up for something important. -- ??
So why have a blog? Well, because I can. And just in case I ever have something to say -- and a desire to sit down at my computer during one of my few free hours in order to say it-- that I feel like putting out there for anyone and everyone to see. Today, I felt like posting a handful of quotes that I find particularly inspiring, or beautiful, or entertaining. That way, if I should ever lose any of the small slips of paper on which I have collected them, I still won't have lost them. Because, after all, once they're online, they're there to stay.
So, without further ado, today's collection:
If Tyranny and Oppression come to this land, it will be under the guise of fighting a foreign enemy. -- James Madison [Think we can manage to slip a copy of "The Federalist Papers" to George W.? He might learn something.]
Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know. -- E. Hemingway
The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another, and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it. -- J. M. Barrie
One of my greatest pleasures in writing has come from the thought that perhaps my work might annoy someone of comfortably pretentious position. Then comes the saddening realization that such people rarely read. -- John Kenneth Galbraith
Soyez comme l'oiseau posé pour un instant
sur des rameaux trop frêles
qui sent ployer la branche, et qui chante pourtant
sachant qu'il a des ailes -- Victor Hugo, "Les Chants du crépuscule"
Translation: Be like the bird perched for a moment
on branches too weak
who feels the branch give way, and sings anyway
knowing that he has wings.
I think there is only one quality worse than hardness of heart, and that is softness of head. -- T. Roosevelt
Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do only a little. -- Edmund Burke
A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort. -- Herm Albright
L'âme a des illusions comme l'oiseau a des ailes; c'est ce qui la soutient. -- Victor Hugo
Translation: The soul has illusions like the bird has wings; that's what sustains it.
You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do. -- Anne Lammott
If you greatly desire something, have the guts to stake everything on obtaining it. -- Brendan Francis
If everyone likes you, you have failed to stand up for something important. -- ??
Sunday, March 26, 2006
On Being Sick
What is it about getting sick that makes me feel ashamed? Everyone gets sick once in a while. People catch colds and flus all the time. Then they stumble all over the place trying to go about their normal daily business while trying not to die. Or fall over. Me, I catch a cold and feel like I've somehow failed. I have failed my body in my attempts to stay healthy. I run down the checklist in my head:
Exercise? Check.
Proper nutrition? Check.
Proper hydration? Check.
Enough sleep? As much as I can get.
Naturally, therein lies the pitfall -- somehow I seem to feel that "as much [sleep] as I can get" must surely be enough (even when I'm averaging five hours a night), and that therefore when I fall ill, it must be because I'm doing something terribly wrong in another area of my life.
But seriously, what's this failure thing all about? Where did I get the idea that somehow, if I do everything just right, my body will always be healthy? And what's up with this feeling that I'm somehow competing with other people who get less sleep than I and yet somehow don't wind up catching colds? I don't remember my competitive streak ever coming out this strongly on something so silly.
Then, of course, comes the concept of "sick days". Now, I must be one of the luckiest people in the world when it comes to sick days. First, I don't have a set number of days that I'm allowed to take. If I'm sick, I can stay home. End of story. Second, my responsibilites are generally of a nature that will allow me to disappear for a day or two without causing any great calamity to befall a client. Third, I don't have anyone to take care of but myself. Therefore, I don't have to drag myself out of bed for any reason at all if I decide not to go into the office. So here's the question that I have not yet found a satisfactory answer to: why in the world won't I just take a stupid sick day when I'm sick and stay home and rest??? And when I do finally force myself to do so, why can't I just relax and enjoy the couch time? I took one day last week to try to get over this nasty cold I came down with the day before, and I was practically climbing the walls from boredom! When did I become that girl who can't just sit still? That's not me! I've always things to do when I'm at home: books/magazines to read, movies to watch, closets to organize, something new to practice on the piano, something new to sing, a dozen e-mails to catch up on, a blanket to crochet. Granted, when my head feels all fuzzy and I can't take ten steps without needing a tissue, my range of activity is severely limited. But still, don't most people take pleasure in a day of staring stupidly at a television set? Me, I want to shoot things at my television set when I have to watch it for more than an hour. When did that happen? And what am I supposed to do rest when resting drives me so crazy?
Went back to work after one day, and naturally, I was no better than the day before. And two days later, I'm still sick, contemplating not going into the office tomorrow and wondering if I really want to take another day. Meanwhile, a friend keeps urging me to see a doctor, just to make sure the cold is nothing more than a cold. Better safe than sorry, she says. Me, I say I'm not going to be sorry. There's nothing a doctor can do about a cold, so why in the world should I see one? Then I wonder if I'm just being stupid and unnecessarily stubborn. After all, it could be something slightly worse; you never know. But really, why waste all that time and trouble -- and all the doctor's time and trouble -- just to get confirmation of something I already know? Seems a bit silly.
Current status: wait-and-see. If I feel tomorrow morning as badly as I feel now, I'll take another day. If not, I am so going to work.
I shake my head at myself. I am NOT a workaholic. But boy, do I sure sound like one! Now, if I were totally healthy and well, and the weather were beautiful and I could do whatever I wanted, I could think of a hundred things I'd rather do than go to the office. But if my choice is between being stuck at home all day or being stuck at the office all day, I would so much rather be at the office. Weird. And a little sick.
Maybe I'm sick in the head, too. That could explain a lot.
Exercise? Check.
Proper nutrition? Check.
Proper hydration? Check.
Enough sleep? As much as I can get.
Naturally, therein lies the pitfall -- somehow I seem to feel that "as much [sleep] as I can get" must surely be enough (even when I'm averaging five hours a night), and that therefore when I fall ill, it must be because I'm doing something terribly wrong in another area of my life.
But seriously, what's this failure thing all about? Where did I get the idea that somehow, if I do everything just right, my body will always be healthy? And what's up with this feeling that I'm somehow competing with other people who get less sleep than I and yet somehow don't wind up catching colds? I don't remember my competitive streak ever coming out this strongly on something so silly.
Then, of course, comes the concept of "sick days". Now, I must be one of the luckiest people in the world when it comes to sick days. First, I don't have a set number of days that I'm allowed to take. If I'm sick, I can stay home. End of story. Second, my responsibilites are generally of a nature that will allow me to disappear for a day or two without causing any great calamity to befall a client. Third, I don't have anyone to take care of but myself. Therefore, I don't have to drag myself out of bed for any reason at all if I decide not to go into the office. So here's the question that I have not yet found a satisfactory answer to: why in the world won't I just take a stupid sick day when I'm sick and stay home and rest??? And when I do finally force myself to do so, why can't I just relax and enjoy the couch time? I took one day last week to try to get over this nasty cold I came down with the day before, and I was practically climbing the walls from boredom! When did I become that girl who can't just sit still? That's not me! I've always things to do when I'm at home: books/magazines to read, movies to watch, closets to organize, something new to practice on the piano, something new to sing, a dozen e-mails to catch up on, a blanket to crochet. Granted, when my head feels all fuzzy and I can't take ten steps without needing a tissue, my range of activity is severely limited. But still, don't most people take pleasure in a day of staring stupidly at a television set? Me, I want to shoot things at my television set when I have to watch it for more than an hour. When did that happen? And what am I supposed to do rest when resting drives me so crazy?
Went back to work after one day, and naturally, I was no better than the day before. And two days later, I'm still sick, contemplating not going into the office tomorrow and wondering if I really want to take another day. Meanwhile, a friend keeps urging me to see a doctor, just to make sure the cold is nothing more than a cold. Better safe than sorry, she says. Me, I say I'm not going to be sorry. There's nothing a doctor can do about a cold, so why in the world should I see one? Then I wonder if I'm just being stupid and unnecessarily stubborn. After all, it could be something slightly worse; you never know. But really, why waste all that time and trouble -- and all the doctor's time and trouble -- just to get confirmation of something I already know? Seems a bit silly.
Current status: wait-and-see. If I feel tomorrow morning as badly as I feel now, I'll take another day. If not, I am so going to work.
I shake my head at myself. I am NOT a workaholic. But boy, do I sure sound like one! Now, if I were totally healthy and well, and the weather were beautiful and I could do whatever I wanted, I could think of a hundred things I'd rather do than go to the office. But if my choice is between being stuck at home all day or being stuck at the office all day, I would so much rather be at the office. Weird. And a little sick.
Maybe I'm sick in the head, too. That could explain a lot.
Friday, December 02, 2005
I Just Don't Get Some People
This morning, one of my colleagues came in, upset, and shared the following story with us:
As her subway train approached a station stop, someone pulled the emergency brake, bringing the train to an abrupt halt. Within three minutes, the area was flooded with police officers as onlookers watched, wide-eyed. Several of the officers walked across the platform to the space immediately next to the car my colleague was sitting in, and asked, "Where is she?" A couple of people pointed down onto the tracks immediately under where my colleague was sitting and said, "Right there. She's right there."
She? She who? What??
As these events unfolded, passengers onboard the train were becoming increasingly agitated. Not, as one might imagine, because the surrounding context seemed to indicate that a woman was lying on the track directly under their car, almost assuredly dead, but rather because they were not being allowed to exit the train, and the precious minutes slipped along, stealing their chances to get to work on time.
Pardon me? You're honestly so self-involved that all you can think about is being late to work? How can anyone be so heartless? Who ARE these people? Who can stand there and gripe about being held for a few minutes when some poor soul was just killed right beneath their feet only moments before? How is that even possible?????
I truly don't understand some people.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
On the Use of Torture
And now, after a decidedly long absence from blogging activities, I go political with my post. I have been extremely interested in the most recent developments in the debate on the use of torture in obtaining information from prisoners, and today I have found an article that reflects my views exactly (though rather better articulated than I could manage). That article is reprinted below with permission of The Weekly Standard, where it first appeared on 12/5/2005. For more information, visit www.theweeklystandard.com.
The Truth about Torture
It's time to be honest about doing terrible things, by Charles Krauthammer
The Weekly Standard12/05/2005, Volume 011, Issue 12
DURING THE LAST FEW WEEKS in Washington the pieties about torture have lain so thick in the air that it has been impossible to have a reasoned discussion. The McCain amendment that would ban "cruel, inhuman, or degrading" treatment of any prisoner by any agent of the United States sailed through the Senate by a vote of 90-9. The Washington establishment remains stunned that nine such retrograde, morally inert persons--let alone senators--could be found in this noble capital.
Now, John McCain has great moral authority on this issue, having heroically borne torture at the hands of the North Vietnamese. McCain has made fine arguments in defense of his position. And McCain is acting out of the deep and honorable conviction that what he is proposing is not only right but is in the best interest of the United States. His position deserves respect. But that does not mean, as seems to be the assumption in Washington today, that a critical analysis of his "no torture, ever" policy is beyond the pale.
Let's begin with a few analytic distinctions. For the purpose of torture and prisoner maltreatment, there are three kinds of war prisoners:
First, there is the ordinary soldier caught on the field of battle. There is no question that he is entitled to humane treatment. Indeed, we have no right to disturb a hair on his head. His detention has but a single purpose: to keep him hors de combat. The proof of that proposition is that if there were a better way to keep him off the battlefield that did not require his detention, we would let him go. Indeed, during one year of the Civil War, the two sides did try an alternative. They mutually "paroled" captured enemy soldiers, i.e., released them to return home on the pledge that they would not take up arms again. (The experiment failed for a foreseeable reason: cheating. Grant found that some paroled Confederates had reenlisted.)
Because the only purpose of detention in these circumstances is to prevent the prisoner from becoming a combatant again, he is entitled to all the protections and dignity of an ordinary domestic prisoner--indeed, more privileges, because, unlike the domestic prisoner, he has committed no crime. He merely had the misfortune to enlist on the other side of a legitimate war. He is therefore entitled to many of the privileges enjoyed by an ordinary citizen--the right to send correspondence, to engage in athletic activity and intellectual pursuits, to receive allowances from relatives--except, of course, for the freedom to leave the prison.
Second, there is the captured terrorist. A terrorist is by profession, indeed by definition, an unlawful combatant: He lives outside the laws of war because he does not wear a uniform, he hides among civilians, and he deliberately targets innocents. He is entitled to no protections whatsoever. People seem to think that the postwar Geneva Conventions were written only to protect detainees. In fact, their deeper purpose was to provide a deterrent to the kind of barbaric treatment of civilians that had become so horribly apparent during the first half of the 20th century, and in particular, during the Second World War. The idea was to deter the abuse of civilians by promising combatants who treated noncombatants well that they themselves would be treated according to a code of dignity if captured--and, crucially, that they would be denied the protections of that code if they broke the laws of war and abused civilians themselves.
Breaking the laws of war and abusing civilians are what, to understate the matter vastly, terrorists do for a living. They are entitled, therefore, to nothing. Anyone who blows up a car bomb in a market deserves to spend the rest of his life roasting on a spit over an open fire. But we don't do that because we do not descend to the level of our enemy. We don't do that because, unlike him, we are civilized. Even though terrorists are entitled to no humane treatment, we give it to them because it is in our nature as a moral and humane people. And when on rare occasions we fail to do that, as has occurred in several of the fronts of the war on terror, we are duly disgraced.
The norm, however, is how the majority of prisoners at Guantanamo have been treated. We give them three meals a day, superior medical care, and provision to pray five times a day. Our scrupulousness extends even to providing them with their own Korans, which is the only reason alleged abuses of the Koran at Guantanamo ever became an issue. That we should have provided those who kill innocents in the name of Islam with precisely the document that inspires their barbarism is a sign of the absurd lengths to which we often go in extending undeserved humanity to terrorist prisoners.
Third, there is the terrorist with information. Here the issue of torture gets complicated and the easy pieties don't so easily apply. Let's take the textbook case. Ethics 101: A terrorist has planted a nuclear bomb in New York City. It will go off in one hour. A million people will die. You capture the terrorist. He knows where it is. He's not talking.
Question: If you have the slightest belief that hanging this man by his thumbs will get you the information to save a million people, are you permitted to do it?
Now, on most issues regarding torture, I confess tentativeness and uncertainty. But on this issue, there can be no uncertainty: Not only is it permissible to hang this miscreant by his thumbs. It is a moral duty.
Yes, you say, but that's an extreme and very hypothetical case. Well, not as hypothetical as you think. Sure, the (nuclear) scale is hypothetical, but in the age of the car-and suicide-bomber, terrorists are often captured who have just set a car bomb to go off or sent a suicide bomber out to a coffee shop, and you only have minutes to find out where the attack is to take place. This "hypothetical" is common enough that the Israelis have a term for precisely that situation: the ticking time bomb problem.
And even if the example I gave were entirely hypothetical, the conclusion--yes, in this case even torture is permissible--is telling because it establishes the principle: Torture is not always impermissible. However rare the cases, there are circumstances in which, by any rational moral calculus, torture not only would be permissible but would be required (to acquire life-saving information). And once you've established the principle, to paraphrase George Bernard Shaw, all that's left to haggle about is the price. In the case of torture, that means that the argument is not whether torture is ever permissible, but when--i.e., under what obviously stringent circumstances: how big, how imminent, how preventable the ticking time bomb.
That is why the McCain amendment, which by mandating "torture never" refuses even to recognize the legitimacy of any moral calculus, cannot be right. There must be exceptions. The real argument should be over what constitutes a legitimate exception.
Let's Take An Example that is far from hypothetical. You capture Khalid Sheikh Mohammed in Pakistan. He not only has already killed innocents, he is deeply involved in the planning for the present and future killing of innocents. He not only was the architect of the 9/11 attack that killed nearly three thousand people in one day, most of them dying a terrible, agonizing, indeed tortured death. But as the top al Qaeda planner and logistical expert he also knows a lot about terror attacks to come. He knows plans, identities, contacts, materials, cell locations, safe houses, cased targets, etc. What do you do with him?
We have recently learned that since 9/11 the United States has maintained a series of "black sites" around the world, secret detention centers where presumably high-level terrorists like Khalid Sheikh Mohammed have been imprisoned. The world is scandalized. Black sites? Secret detention? Jimmy Carter calls this "a profound and radical change in the . . . moral values of our country." The Council of Europe demands an investigation, calling the claims "extremely worrying." Its human rights commissioner declares "such practices" to constitute "a serious human rights violation, and further proof of the crisis of values" that has engulfed the war on terror. The gnashing of teeth and rending of garments has been considerable.
I myself have not gnashed a single tooth. My garments remain entirely unrent. Indeed, I feel reassured. It would be a gross dereliction of duty for any government not to keep Khalid Sheikh Mohammed isolated, disoriented, alone, despairing, cold and sleepless, in some godforsaken hidden location in order to find out what he knew about plans for future mass murder. What are we supposed to do? Give him a nice cell in a warm Manhattan prison, complete with Miranda rights, a mellifluent lawyer, and his own website? Are not those the kinds of courtesies we extended to the 1993 World Trade Center bombers, then congratulated ourselves on how we "brought to justice" those responsible for an attack that barely failed to kill tens of thousands of Americans, only to discover a decade later that we had accomplished nothing--indeed, that some of the disclosures at the trial had helped Osama bin Laden avoid U.S. surveillance?
Have we learned nothing from 9/11? Are we prepared to go back with complete amnesia to the domestic-crime model of dealing with terrorists, which allowed us to sleepwalk through the nineties while al Qaeda incubated and grew and metastasized unmolested until on 9/11 it finished what the first World Trade Center bombers had begun?
Let's assume (and hope) that Khalid Sheikh Mohammed has been kept in one of these black sites, say, a cell somewhere in Romania, held entirely incommunicado and subjected to the kind of "coercive interrogation" that I described above. McCain has been going around praising the Israelis as the model of how to deal with terrorism and prevent terrorist attacks. He does so because in 1999 the Israeli Supreme Court outlawed all torture in the course of interrogation. But in reality, the Israeli case is far more complicated. And the complications reflect precisely the dilemmas regarding all coercive interrogation, the weighing of the lesser of two evils: the undeniable inhumanity of torture versus the abdication of the duty to protect the victims of a potentially preventable mass murder.
In a summary of Israel's policies, Glenn Frankel of the Washington Post noted that the 1999 Supreme Court ruling struck down secret guidelines established 12 years earlier that allowed interrogators to use the kind of physical and psychological pressure I described in imagining how KSM might be treated in America's "black sites."
"But after the second Palestinian uprising broke out a year later, and especially after a devastating series of suicide bombings of passenger buses, cafes and other civilian targets," writes Frankel, citing human rights lawyers and detainees, "Israel's internal security service, known as the Shin Bet or the Shabak, returned to physical coercion as a standard practice." Not only do the techniques used "command widespread support from the Israeli public," but "Israeli prime ministers and justice ministers with a variety of political views," including the most conciliatory and liberal, have defended these techniques "as a last resort in preventing terrorist attacks."
Which makes McCain's position on torture incoherent. If this kind of coercive interrogation were imposed on any inmate in the American prison system, it would immediately be declared cruel and unusual, and outlawed. How can he oppose these practices, which the Israelis use, and yet hold up Israel as a model for dealing with terrorists? Or does he countenance this kind of interrogation in extreme circumstances--in which case, what is left of his categorical opposition to inhuman treatment of any kind?
But let us push further into even more unpleasant territory, the territory that lies beyond mere coercive interrogation and beyond McCain's self-contradictions. How far are we willing to go?
This "going beyond" need not be cinematic and ghoulish. (Jay Leno once suggested "duct tape" for Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. See photo.) Consider, for example, injection with sodium pentathol. (Colloquially known as "truth serum," it is nothing of the sort. It is a barbiturate whose purpose is to sedate. Its effects are much like that of alcohol: disinhibiting the higher brain centers to make someone more likely to disclose information or thoughts that might otherwise be guarded.) Forcible sedation is a clear violation of bodily integrity. In a civilian context it would be considered assault. It is certainly impermissible under any prohibition of cruel, inhuman, or degrading treatment.
Let's posit that during the interrogation of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, perhaps early on, we got intelligence about an imminent al Qaeda attack. And we had a very good reason to believe he knew about it. And if we knew what he knew, we could stop it. If we thought we could glean a critical piece of information by use of sodium pentathol, would we be permitted to do so?
Less hypothetically, there is waterboarding, a terrifying and deeply shocking torture technique in which the prisoner has his face exposed to water in a way that gives the feeling of drowning. According to CIA sources cited by ABC News, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed "was able to last between two and 2 1/2 minutes before begging to confess." Should we regret having done that? Should we abolish by law that practice, so that it could never be used on the next Khalid Sheikh Mohammed having thus gotten his confession?
And what if he possessed information with less imminent implications? Say we had information about a cell that he had helped found or direct, and that cell was planning some major attack and we needed information about the identity and location of its members. A rational moral calculus might not permit measures as extreme as the nuke-in-Manhattan scenario, but would surely permit measures beyond mere psychological pressure.
Such a determination would not be made with an untroubled conscience. It would be troubled because there is no denying the monstrous evil that is any form of torture. And there is no denying how corrupting it can be to the individuals and society that practice it. But elected leaders, responsible above all for the protection of their citizens, have the obligation to tolerate their own sleepless nights by doing what is necessary--and only what is necessary, nothing more--to get information that could prevent mass murder.
GIVEN THE GRAVITY OF THE DECISION, if we indeed cross the Rubicon--as we must--we need rules. The problem with the McCain amendment is that once you have gone public with a blanket ban on all forms of coercion, it is going to be very difficult to publicly carve out exceptions. The Bush administration is to be faulted for having attempted such a codification with the kind of secrecy, lack of coherence, and lack of strict enforcement that led us to the McCain reaction.
What to do at this late date? Begin, as McCain does, by banning all forms of coercion or inhuman treatment by anyone serving in the military--an absolute ban on torture by all military personnel everywhere. We do not want a private somewhere making these fine distinctions about ticking and slow-fuse time bombs. We don't even want colonels or generals making them. It would be best for the morale, discipline, and honor of the Armed Forces for the United States to maintain an absolute prohibition, both to simplify their task in making decisions and to offer them whatever reciprocal treatment they might receive from those who capture them--although I have no illusion that any anti-torture provision will soften the heart of a single jihadist holding a knife to the throat of a captured American soldier. We would impose this restriction on ourselves for our own reasons of military discipline and military honor.
Outside the military, however, I would propose, contra McCain, a ban against all forms of torture, coercive interrogation, and inhuman treatment, except in two contingencies: (1) the ticking time bomb and (2) the slower-fuse high-level terrorist (such as KSM). Each contingency would have its own set of rules. In the case of the ticking time bomb, the rules would be relatively simple: Nothing rationally related to getting accurate information would be ruled out. The case of the high-value suspect with slow-fuse information is more complicated. The principle would be that the level of inhumanity of the measures used (moral honesty is essential here--we would be using measures that are by definition inhumane) would be proportional to the need and value of the information. Interrogators would be constrained to use the least inhumane treatment necessary relative to the magnitude and imminence of the evil being prevented and the importance of the knowledge being obtained.
These exceptions to the no-torture rule would not be granted to just any nonmilitary interrogators, or anyone with CIA credentials. They would be reserved for highly specialized agents who are experts and experienced in interrogation, and who are known not to abuse it for the satisfaction of a kind of sick sadomasochism Lynndie England and her cohorts indulged in at Abu Ghraib. Nor would they be acting on their own. They would be required to obtain written permission for such interrogations from the highest political authorities in the country (cabinet level) or from a quasi-judicial body modeled on the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court (which permits what would ordinarily be illegal searches and seizures in the war on terror). Or, if the bomb was truly ticking and there was no time, the interrogators would be allowed to act on their own, but would require post facto authorization within, say, 24 hours of their interrogation, so that they knew that whatever they did would be subject to review by others and be justified only under the most stringent terms.
One of the purposes of these justifications would be to establish that whatever extreme measures are used are for reasons of nothing but information. Historically, the torture of prisoners has been done for a variety of reasons apart from information, most prominently reasons of justice or revenge. We do not do that. We should not do that. Ever. Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, murderer of 2,973 innocents, is surely deserving of the most extreme suffering day and night for the rest of his life. But it is neither our role nor our right to be the agents of that suffering. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord. His, not ours. Torture is a terrible and monstrous thing, as degrading and morally corrupting to those who practice it as any conceivable human activity including its moral twin, capital punishment.
If Khalid Sheikh Mohammed knew nothing, or if we had reached the point where his knowledge had been exhausted, I'd be perfectly prepared to throw him into a nice, comfortable Manhattan cell and give him a trial to determine what would be fit and just punishment. But aslong as he had useful information, things would be different.
Very different. And it simply will not do to take refuge in the claim that all of the above discussion is superfluous because torture never works anyway. Would that this were true. Unfortunately, on its face, this is nonsense. Is one to believe that in the entire history of human warfare, no combatant has ever received useful information by the use of pressure, torture, or any other kind of inhuman treatment? It may indeed be true that torture is not a reliable tool. But that is very different from saying that it is never useful.
The monstrous thing about torture is that sometimes it does work. In 1994, 19-year-old Israeli corporal Nachshon Waxman was kidnapped by Palestinian terrorists. The Israelis captured the driver of the car used in the kidnapping and tortured him in order to find where Waxman was being held. Yitzhak Rabin, prime minister and peacemaker, admitted that they tortured him in a way that went even beyond the '87 guidelines for "coercive interrogation" later struck down by the Israeli Supreme Court as too harsh. The driver talked. His information was accurate. The Israelis found Waxman. "If we'd been so careful to follow the ['87] Landau Commission [which allowed coercive interrogation]," explained Rabin, "we would never have found out where Waxman was being held."
In the Waxman case, I would have done precisely what Rabin did. (The fact that Waxman's Palestinian captors killed him during the Israeli rescue raid makes the case doubly tragic, but changes nothing of the moral calculus.) Faced with a similar choice, an American president would have a similar obligation. To do otherwise--to give up the chance to find your soldier lest you sully yourself by authorizing torture of the person who possesses potentially lifesaving information--is a deeply immoral betrayal of a soldier and countryman. Not as cosmically immoral as permitting a city of one's countrymen to perish, as in the Ethics 101 case. But it remains, nonetheless, a case of moral abdication--of a kind rather parallel to that of the principled pacifist. There is much to admire in those who refuse on principle ever to take up arms under any conditions. But that does not make pure pacifism, like no-torture absolutism, any less a form of moral foolishness, tinged with moral vanity. Not reprehensible, only deeply reproachable and supremely impracticable. People who hold such beliefs are deserving of a certain respect. But they are not to be put in positions of authority. One should be grateful for the saintly among us. And one should be vigilant that they not get to make the decisions upon which the lives of others depend.
WHICH BRINGS US to the greatest irony of all in the torture debate. I have just made what will be characterized as the pro-torture case contra McCain by proposing two major exceptions carved out of any no-torture rule: the ticking time bomb and the slow-fuse high-value terrorist. McCain supposedly is being hailed for defending all that is good and right and just in America by standing foursquare against any inhuman treatment. Or is he?
According to Newsweek, in the ticking time bomb case McCain says that the president should disobey the very law that McCain seeks to pass--under the justification that "you do what you have to do. But you take responsibility for it." But if torturing the ticking time bomb suspect is "what you have to do," then why has McCain been going around arguing that such things must never be done?
As for exception number two, the high-level terrorist with slow-fuse information, Stuart Taylor, the superb legal correspondent for National Journal, argues that with appropriate legal interpretation, the "cruel, inhuman, or degrading" standard, "though vague, is said by experts to codify . . . the commonsense principle that the toughness of interrogation techniques should be calibrated to the importance and urgency of the information likely to be obtained." That would permit "some very aggressive techniques . . . on that small percentage of detainees who seem especially likely to have potentially life-saving information." Or as Evan Thomas and Michael Hirsh put it in the Newsweek report on McCain and torture, the McCain standard would "presumably allow for a sliding scale" of torture or torture-lite or other coercive techniques, thus permitting "for a very small percentage--those High Value Targets like Khalid Sheikh Mohammed--some pretty rough treatment."
But if that is the case, then McCain embraces the same exceptions I do, but prefers to pretend he does not. If that is the case, then his much-touted and endlessly repeated absolutism on inhumane treatment is merely for show. If that is the case, then the moral preening and the phony arguments can stop now, and we can all agree that in this real world of astonishingly murderous enemies, in two very circumscribed circumstances, we must all be prepared to torture. Having established that, we can then begin to work together to codify rules of interrogation for the two very unpleasant but very real cases in which we are morally permitted--indeed morally compelled--to do terrible things.
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