I’ve been out most of this beautiful day, and now I’m going to take a pizza over to my mother’s. So I’ll just say see you tomorrow, with Part IV–the final one in the series, I think.
Question authority: Part III (Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers)
The initial coverup of My Lai in the late 60s, discussed in Part II, helped make Americans more cynical–more likely to believe the government couldn’t be trusted to uncover wrongdoings through the mechanism of internal investigations. The press came to be seen as the more reliable watchdog, and whistleblowers were now more likely to go directly to the media to report governmental offenses. The media, in turn, felt freer to oblige without fear of negative consequences to itself.
My Lai had some special (perhaps even unique) characteristics that make it the purest example of an event that needed a whistleblower. The offenses involved were of an extraordinarily serious and profound nature, and the initial coverup was virtually complete. Furthermore, the whistleblower was not bound by any vow of secrecy. Whether he needed to go to directly to the media (as Ridenhour eventually did, after the second investigation–sparked by his letters–was already in progress and had led to Calley’s being charged with murder) is unclear, however.
Another seminal case from the 60s, somewhat more analogous to present-day leak situations, is that of Daniel Ellsberg and the Pentagon Papers. It is perhaps the most famous example of someone in a national security position leaking classified information to journalists. Far more than My Lai, the Ellsberg case has certain parallels with the present situation involving the CIA detention center leaks.
At the time he gave the Pentagon Papers to the press, Ellsberg was not a CIA employee. But he was an employee of the RAND Corporation, with access to classified information; one can safely assume he had taken an oath to keep those papers secret. His growing disillusionment with the Vietnam war (although, interestingly enough, Ellsberg had been strongly against the war from his earliest exposure to it, way back in 1961) led him to copy the classified documents with the idea of making them public and exposing the cynicism and duplicity with which he felt the Vietnam war had been conducted.
Ellsberg hoped that the publication of the Papers would cause people to become upset on learning they had been lied to by their government, and then to clamor for the war to end. As such, his position was essentially political–although it was not narrowly partisan, since the Pentagon Papers was an equal-opportunity disclosure; the information obtained therein implicated both Democrat and Republican administrations.
Like Ridenhour, at the outset Ellsburg did not release the documents to the press, but sought instead to persuade certain sympathetic antiwar Senators (chief among them J. William Fulbright) to go public with them on the Senate floor. His motivation for this scheme was that he knew he would be liable to prosecution if he went to the press, and he fully expected to be sent to prison as a result, whereas Senators would be immune from such prosecution.
But no Senator would take the bait, not even Fulbright. As a result, Ellsberg gave the Pentagon Papers to the media. Initially, he made an effort to escape prosecution by hiding out:
Although the Times did not reveal Ellsberg as their source, he knew that the FBI would soon determine that he was the source of the leak. Ellsberg went underground, living secretly among like-minded people. He was not caught by the FBI, even though they were under enormous pressure from the Nixon Administration to find him.
However, Ellsberg surrendered voluntarily to authorities only a few weeks later:
On June 28, Ellsberg publicly surrendered to the US Attorney’s Office in Boston, Massachusetts. He was taken into custody believing he would spend the rest of his life in prison; he was charged with theft, conspiracy, and espionage.
But Ellsberg never went to prison. In a stunningly ironic turn of events, the actions of Nixon’s “plumbers” (who later carried out the Watergate burglary, but whose nickname came from their earlier attempts to fix Ellsberg’s “leaks”) ended up inadvertently freeing Ellsberg. As in a Shakespearean tragedy, Nixon’s wild overreaching against Ellsberg sowed the seeds of Nixon’s own downfall, through the mechanism of those very same plumbers:
In one of Nixon’s actions against Ellsberg, G. Gordon Liddy and E. Howard Hunt broke into Ellsberg’s psychiatrist’s office in September 1971, hoping to find information they could use to discredit him. The revelation of the break-in became part of the Watergate scandal. ..Because of the gross governmental misconduct, all charges against Ellsberg were eventually dropped.
Earlier, the administration had sued the Times to try to stop publication of the Pentagon Papers on the grounds that such publication would threaten national security. The case went to the Supreme Court; here’s an excerpt from a review of a book written about it, “The Day the Pressed Stopped,” by David Rudenstine:
Despite Americans’ constitutional right to a free press, certain government information–particularly that concerning military affairs–has been placed beyond the realm of public access. A U.S. Supreme Court decision in 1971, however (brought about when the Nixon administration sued the New York Times) knocked a howitzer-sized hole in that theory when the case allowed the New York Times and the Washington Post to print excerpts from the Pentagon Papers, a 7,000- page document regarding U.S. involvement in Vietnam.
I haven’t read Rudenstine’s book–although I’ve added it to my ever-growing, always-daunting, reading list–but the above quote describes what a watershed event the publication of the Papers was. Before then, newspapers would have been reluctant to print such things–whether out of loyalty to the government or out of fear of repercussions, or both. After the 1971 case, the gloves were off.
(For anyone interested in reading some original sources around that groundbreaking Supreme Court ruling–I confess that I’ve not yet done so, myself–this site looks to be an excellent place to start. And, by the way, on the question of whether the publication of the Pentagon Papers actually did pose any true threat to national security, the Rudenstine book supports the controversial contention that they did).
Fast forward to now. National security officers presently are encouraged to spill information with which they disagree–and are provided with support groups, networking, and free legal advice–organized by none other than Daniel Ellsberg himself.
It’s now almost assumed that the proper course of action for such whistleblowers is his final course of action: going to the press, rather than launching an internal investigation or going to Congress with the information. As I wrote previously, it appears that national security whistleblowers are being encouraged to act as virtual moles within their own organizations, remaining in their jobs in order to gain more of the sensitive material and to reveal it as they see fit, according to the dictates of their individual consciences, and often for political reasons. And the idea that there will be any serious legal consequences for the whistleblowers has been weakened; Ellsberg expected to be charged with treason (and was), but many whistleblowers today seem to consider such possibilities to be idle threats.
I believe that, as in so many things, the pendulum has swung too far in one direction. We would not want go back to the era when something of the scope of a My Lai could be successfully covered up. The exposure of My Lai was a shock, but one of the benefits is that My Lai has been studied in depth and used as teaching tool by the military, which has instituted reforms that make such an event far less likely to ever happen today.
But it hardly seems necessary–or productive–to allow national security employees to leak like sieves to the press, much of the time about matters that are not clearly illegal, and motivated sometimes by pure partisanship. And it hardly seems good to allow the press to be the final arbiter of whether their own disclosures will damage national security or not.
The next post in the series will deal with suggestions as to how the pendulum might swing back to a more evenhanded position, one that balances the public’s need to know with the need to protect national security. One thing’s for sure: it won’t be easy.
Chayefsky: ahead of his times?
The Anchoress recently watched a video of the 1976 film “Network,” written by Paddy Chayefsky. She found the movie’s satire to be strangely prescient, featuring TV networks that would do nearly anything to make a buck, including suck up to terrorists.
I saw the film when it first came out, but I can’t say I remember too much about it except the always-arresting Peter Finch , and Faye Dunaway’s nervous edginess. Maybe I’ll have to rent it again to refresh my memory.
I had developed a mild crush on Peter Finch in his younger incarnation in “The Nun’s Story,” which turns out to have been his favorite movie of the ones he made prior to 1968. And, by the way, doesn’t Finch look just the tiniest bit as though he might have been the somewhat glum father of the smilier Tony Blair? (don’t want to start a rumor, but…):
After reading the Anchoress’s post, I got curious about Chayefsky, and looked him up. There wasn’t a whole lot of information, but I found this in Wikipedia, indicating that Chayefsky may have not only been prescient, but that he also didn’t shy away from speaking up and speaking out himself:
[Chayefsky] is known for his comments during the 1978 Oscar telecast after Vanessa Redgrave, when she went to accept her award for Best Supporting Actress in Julia, made a controversial speech denouncing extreme elements of Zionism. He made a comment during the program immediately after hers in which he stated that he was upset by her using the event to make an irrelevant political viewpoint during a film award program. He said, “I would like to suggest to Miss Redgrave that her winning an Academy Award is not a pivotal moment in history, does not require a proclamation and a simple ‘Thank you’ would have sufficed.”
Question authority: Part II (My Lai and the press)
I continue to be impressed by how many current trends in public life appear to have their roots in events of the 60s. Beginning at that time, there seems to have been a growing conviction that internal investigations are futile and can only end in coverups and failure, and that going to the press with the story is the only way to redress institutional or governmental wrongdoing.
One of the seminal events that led to this perception was the horrific and shocking My Lai massacre, and the subsequent initial investigation/coverup. I believe that some of the current tendency to go directly to the press without even attempting redress a problem through the usual channels–the checks and balances established by the Constitution (Congressional oversight, for example) or internal investigations by the military, the CIA, or the body in question–can be traced to the trauma of this event.
The massacre at My Lai was a turning point in America’s perception of itself. It represented a loss of innocence about the military, who until then had been thought incapable of the kind of atrocity that occurred there. It also made Americans more cynical towards the military command and its ability to investigate its own wrongdoings. And lastly, the press was seen in the role of heroes bent on publicizing the truth.
The facts of My Lai were sensational, and they make shocking reading today, even in our far more jaded age. I’ve written about My Lai before, here. It was an event of great complexity, and I highly recommend this must-read teaching case study on the subject, which comes as close to explaining what happened there–and why it happened–as I think anything ever could.
There is no question that My Lai was an atrocity, and the shock of learning that the American military could be guilty of such a thing was a great factor in turning people against the Vietnam War. Another terrible aspect of My Lai that led to great distrust was that the original field investigation of the events conducted by the Army was unquestionably a coverup (read the case study for the details, as well as a discussion of how the normal and recommended Army procedure for dealing with events involving possible atrocities was not followed in the case of the initial My Lai investigation).
Present at My Lai on that dreadful day were those who witnessed the massacre but did not participate. There were also some who tried to stop it from happening to the point of threatening to shoot their fellow soldiers if they did not cease the indiscriminate killing.
But such a thing couldn’t be covered up for long; too many people knew about it, and the facts were so shocking that they motivated those in the know to eventually speak out.
How did the truth finally come to light? Many of you are no doubt familiar with the fact that reporter Seymour Hersh is credited with publicizing the story, and that he received a Pulitzer Prize for his work. But it was actually a less well-known man named Ron Ridenhour who was responsible for bringing the My Lai massacre to the attention of the authorities–after the initial coverup, but before the press ever got hold of it.
Ridenhour had served in Vietnam but was not a member of the company responsible for the My Lai killings, nor was he a witness to them. Here is how Ridenhour’s knowledge and disclosure occurred (keep in mind that the My Lai massacre itself had taken place in March of 1968):
Ridenhour learned of the events at My Lai from members of Charlie Company who had been there. Before speaking with Hersh, he had appealed to Congress, the White House, and the Pentagon to investigate the matter. The military investigation resulted in Calley’s being charged with murder in September 1969 — a full two months before the Hersh story hit the streets.
Over a year after My Lai occurred and the original investigation/coverup was closed, Ridenhour composed this letter about My Lai and sent it off to the White House, the Defense Department, the State Department, and various members of Congress. It is credited with motivating the Pentagon to begin a new official investigation of My Lai about a month after the letter’s receipt.
It is significant to me that Ridenhour did not initially go to the press (nowadays, I’m almost sure that would be where he’d go first). In his letter, he gives his reason for approaching the matter the way he did initially [emphasis mine]:
Exactly what did, in fact, occur in the village of “Pinkville” [My Lai] in March, 1968 I do not know for certain, but I am convinced that it was something very black indeed. I remain irrevocably persuaded that if you and I do truly believe in the principles, of justice and the equality of every man, however humble, before the law, that form the very backbone that this country is founded on, then we must press forward a widespread and public investigation of this matter with all our combined efforts. I think that it was Winston Churchill who once said “A country without a conscience is a country without a soul, and a country without a soul is a country that cannot survive.” I feel that I must take some positive action on this matter. I hope that you will launch an investigation immediately and keep me informed of your progress. If you cannot, then I don’t know what other course of action to take.
I have considered sending this to newspapers, magazines and broadcasting companies, but I somehow feel that investigation and action by the Congress of the United States is the appropriate procedure, and as a conscientious citizen I have no desire to further besmirch the image of the American serviceman in the eyes of the world. I feel that this action, while probably it would promote attention, would not bring about the constructive actions that the direct actions of the Congress of the United States would.
So, at first, Ridenhour was very sensitive to the damage that going immediately to the press could cause to the nation and to the military. Instead, he went to the proper investigative authorities charged with oversight, rather than seeking to sensationalize the issue by widespread press coverage.
But later on he apparently changed his mind, and did go to the press. Why?
From a reading of this article about Ridenhour by leftist journalist Alexander Cockburn, which appeared in the Nation in 1988, I’ve pieced together the following story:
Ridenhour had been initially shocked and traumatized by hearing about the My Lai massacre. and felt he needed to do something about it because of the early coverup. He went through a period in which he agonized over whom to tell, which he resolved by writing the letter previously quoted and sending it to the proper authorities.
This is how Ridenhour (who later became an investigative reporter, by the way) described what happened after he wrote the letter and sent copies off:
“I was in Arizona, waiting to go to school and working in a popsicle factory,” Ridenhour said. “They came and interviewed me, and then some of the people I mentioned in the letter-maybe five other soldiers-gave them more names. It sort of bumped and grinded along from late April to September, when they charged Calley.
So far so good. But the news of Calley’s arrest only agitated Ridenhour:
I was convinced there was a cover-up going on, that these guys were not sincere in pursuing the business. They stopped accepting my calls. Then they called me and said they had arrested Calley. I waited to see what would happen, and then, when no one else was arrested, I knew what they were going to do. They were going to flush Calley, claim that this was the act of a wild man and then let it go. That’s when I started trying to get in touch with the press.”
It’s clear that Ridenhour had been outraged at the initial coverup, and feared another. It’s also clear that, by this time, he had a definite agenda: he had decided that the problem was not Calley, but rather a systemic military policy set by the higher-ups, and he was determined that his version of who bore the true responsibility for the massacre was going to be the one heard.
Then Hersh came on the scene:
[Ridenhour] talked to a man from The Arizona Republic. Nothing got published. The Army had put out a brief statement-two paragraphs long-saying that it had charged a lieutenant, Calley, with the murder of an unknown number of civilians. The Associated Press carried the story, but no one picked it up. As Ridenhour tells it, a general who had worked on the Calley investigation became indiscreet at a cocktail party in Washington, let drop details of My Lai and the Calley arrest to a relative of Seymour Hersh, who duly passed on the news. Hersh found the brief item mentioning Calley’s arrest and interviewed Calley, who was being held at Fort Benning, Georgia. (Hersh says he had already been working on the story after a tip-off from a public service lawyer.)
Hersh’s first story prompted The Arizona Republic to print its article, which Hersh, in turn, saw. He flew out to talk to Ridenhour, who gave him the names and addresses of the people who had been at My Lai. Hersh asked Ridenhour to hold the story from anyone else for three days and went about his business. “I was glad to give him the three days,” Ridenhour said. “He was the first person to respond. He went off and started finding those other kids, and they told him those horrible stories.”
The rest, of course, is history.
No more Mr. Nice Guy: Ahmadinejab and the UN
I would say that Iran’s President Ahmadinejad (and is anyone else besides me incongruously reminded of food–trout almandine, for example–by his name?) is dropping any show of being amenable to pressure from international bodies such as the UN–if he’d ever given any sign of such tractability in the first place.
What I don’t understand is those who believe he cares about such things as the UN. But perhaps because they care so much, they have a difficult time giving up the hope that he does. No doubt such true believers will say this current pronouncement is just strategic bluster, and that he doesn’t really mean it. Or, alternatively, that he is stating the truth when he says he’s just interested in atomic energy for electrical power and such.
So, now we hear this from our dear friend Ahmadinejad, on the UN and its effort to slap Iran’s wrist for its nuclear program:
Iran won’t give a damn” about any U.N. resolutions concerning its nuclear program, its president said Friday, hours before an expected finding that Tehran has failed to meet a Security Council deadline to suspend uranium enrichment.
The anticipated finding by U.N. nuclear chief Mohamed ElBaradei will set the stage for a confrontation at the Security Council.
If Iran does not comply, the council is likely to consider punitive measures against the Islamic republic. While Russia and China have been reluctant to endorse sanctions, the council’s three other veto-wielding members say a strong response is in order.
And what sort of “confrontation” is it that the UN contemplates? Unclear, if NATO is any indication:
However, NATO foreign ministers meeting in Sofia, Bulgaria, did not offer any specific threat of sanctions against Iran, in part to avoid a rift with Russia and China.
“On Iran, there was unanimity,” Spanish Foreign Minister Miguel Angel Moratinos told reporters. “Although the clear message to the Iranian authorities is one of firmness, we have to continue with the diplomatic path.”
If that’s “firmness,” I’d hate to see flabbiness.
From Secretary Rice:
Rice said it was time for the Security Council to act if the world body wished to remain credible.
“The Security Council is the primary and most important institution for the maintenance of peace and stability and security and it cannot have its word and its will simply ignored by a member state,” Rice said….
U.S. Ambassador John Bolton already has said he plans to introduce a resolution requiring Tehran to comply with the council’s demand to stop its enrichment program. The resolution would not call for sanctions now, but it would be introduced under Chapter 7 of the U.N. Charter, which allows for sanctions and is militarily enforceable.
Ah, that’s the game Saddam played, as I recall. The one we decided to end by the Iraq War.
And then there’s this:
Iran’s U.N. ambassador, Javad Zarif, said Tehran will refuse to comply with such a resolution because its activities are legal and peaceful. Enrichment can be used to generate fuel or make the fissile core of nuclear weapons.
“If the Security Council decides to take decisions that are not within its competence, then Iran does not feel obliged to obey,” he said Thursday in New York.
I’m afraid that most decisions undertaken by the UN are not within its competence. On that, if nothing else, Javad Zarif and I seem to be in agreement.
[CORRECTION: I noticed I spelled Ahmadinejad’s name incorrectly in the title of the post. Freudian slip, no doubt.]
The “United 93” premiere: not too soon for some
Some say it’s too soon for a movie about Flight 93. I don’t understand that argument; how can nearly five years from the event be too soon? After all, this is not an in-depth exploration of the event’s historical ramifications. It’s a movie depicting the event itself, in real time.
It seems to me that those who say we’re not ready yet are really saying they don’t want to face the truth–not then, not now, not ever.
Some people who had to face the truth were present at the movie’s NY premiere. They were ninety family members of those who died on Flight 93.
It sounds as though viewing the movie was a deeply emotional experience, both for those family members, and for many others in the audience:
The sobbing at the back of the auditorium was not the sentimental sniffling you normally hear at the cinema. It was the full-throated grief more typically heard in a hospital or a funeral home.
On Tuesday night anguished families wailed as they watched the last moments of their loved ones’ lives unfold on screen at the world premiere of United 93…
“It’s horrific to see my brother, Edward, on the screen, knowing what is going to happen,” Gordon Felt said. “It’s shattering, but it needs to be. This is a violent story.”
Despite the ornate surroundings of the Ziegfeld Theatre in Manhattan, the event was almost certainly the most sombre film premiere in the history of New York. The audience gave the victims’ families a standing ovation before the screening but were overwhelmed towards the end by the open weeping of the relatives and left the auditorium in stunned silence.
The article mentions that the film was made with the cooperation of the victims’ families, in addition to the surprising–at least to me–fact that some air controllers and Federal Aviation Authority officials played themselves in it. I wonder if that was therapeutic for them, or difficult. Or both.
The movie’s British writer/director Paul Greengrass gives some perspective that sounds more realistic than the usual facile Hollywood cliches:
The writer-director, whose features include Bloody Sunday, said that he was chastened by his experience of working in Northern Ireland.
“Northern Ireland is one of the few examples of where political violence has been negotiated away, thanks to the political engagement of all the parties in a peace agreement,” he said. “My time making films there has shown me it takes a long time.”
Greengrass seems like an interesting figure, with a background primarily in documentary filmmaking. Here are a few quotes from an interview with him:
I think in the end that movies are the principal means of mass-communication. They’re the principal way that we tell stories about the way we’re living to each other. We tell stories to entertain ourselves, and to divert ourselves, and we tell stories that are wonderful pieces of escapism, to give us a nice time on a rainy day. There are all sorts of reasons why we like to tell stories to tell each other. But one of the things we do is tell stories about the way the world is. I believe in a movie industry that operates across the board ”“ it makes all sorts of different types of films. Including films about the big stuff facing us. Hollywood has always done that, throughout it’s history. It’s always done that, as well as all the other things. And it will have to grapple with 9/11 because it’s the single most important event that’s occurred in our lifetime…
…you had forty people ”“ or slightly less, as some had been killed ”“ essentially you had a small number of people on an airplane who were the first people to inhabit the post-9/11 world. For all the rest of us, whether we were in civilian air traffic control, Presidential bunkers, or just ordinary folks like us watching on TV, we knew something terrible was happening, but we didn’t really know what. We maybe knew it was terrorism, but we didn’t know what. But for those people on the airplane they knew exactly what it was, they could see what was facing them, and here’s the thing ”“ they faced a terrible, terrible dilemma. The dilemma was: what do we do? Do we sit here and hope for the best? Or do we strike back at them before they do what we think they might be about to do? In the course of action of whatever those two choices we make, what are the chances of a good outcome from either of those two choices?
That dilemma is the post-9/11 dilemma. It’s the dilemma we have all faced since then. The things we face in our world ”“ whether it’s Afghanistan or Iraq or Abu Ghraib, issues of world peace, issues of national security, it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter where you are on the political spectrum and how you view those issues. I would submit that all of us, whatever our persuasions are, all of us understand that that is the dilemma. What do we do? How do we deal with this thing?
To answer your question, we know from the fragments that we can we know from the airplane ”“ the phone calls, the cockpit voice recorders, the evidence we can deduce from the other planes ”“ we know they weighed, they debated the issue. They voted on it. In the end they acted, and there were consequences. I think that if you build this film up on a strong foundation of fact, that by the time you get to the last minutes of that airplane journey you’ll be inhabiting a debate that, whilst we cannot know exactly what it was, we know broadly how it goes ”“ because it’s our debate now.
And what of Greengrass’s politics? One might think he’s a neocon. But if one thought that, one would be wrong.
He doesn’t discuss his political opinions in any recent interviews I’ve read of his that promote “United 93.” But, from this article written in 2004, it’s clear that he’s against the Iraq War; he calls it “the most calamitous decision of our generation.”
Interesting, interesting, interesting. Greengrass doesn’t seem to have let his politics interfere with his desire to make this movie. He really does appear to be interested in just presenting the facts, and letting the viewer decide. And that seems both refreshing and unusual to me.
Slight delay
Apologies. I got delayed by some personal matters both yesterday and today (some of them pleasant, fortunately), as well as by the fact that I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew with my plans for later parts of “Question authority.”
So, Part II should be coming along tomorrow, not today. And it may not deal with every issue I thought it would. But it’s on the way.
Question authority: Part I
[This is the first installment of a two-, three-, or possibly even four-part series. I plan to publish the posts in the series on consecutive days.]
The story of the CIA detention centers leak raises issues far bigger than the personal fate of the leaker, or even whether the particular information divulged in this case might have damaged national security.
What could be more important? The old, old question of individual conscience and responsibility.
For a person joining a group that requires confidentiality and/or obedience to a certain set of rules, when is it all right to disobey the rules and/or to break confidentiality? In fact, when does it become a duty to disobey or to break confidentiality? And, if so, how best to go about doing so? And what should the personal consequences be to the person who disobeys?
It’s the same issue raised during the Nuremberg trials, when defendants used the “we were just obeying orders” line as an excuse for egregious crimes against humanity. It’s a question that comes up in the life of nearly every military person, whose duty to obey goes hand in hand with a concomitant duty to disobey what is a clearly illegal order, if such an order should ever be given.
It’s an issue faced by psychotherapists and all others who are privy to confidential information and are duty-bound to protect it for certain obligatory exceptions. For example, ever since the landmark Tarasoff case was decided in 1976, therapists have struggled with the so-called “duty to warn,” which requires them to breach confidentiality whenever they receive credible information that their client is planning to harm another person.
CIA officers and others whose jobs involve national security are in a position of strict confidentiality, and the secrets they are sworn to keep ordinarily involve much higher stakes than therapists ever encounter. In fact, you might say that secrecy is the essence of the work of the CIA; it is impossible to imagine a functional intelligence agency without it.
The question of when and how the individual decides to breach confidentiality and rules is a basic one. If it happens too easily and often, the all-important functioning of institutions such as the military and the CIA is lost, and these vital institutions dissolve into impotent anarchy. If it never happens at all, the unchecked power of such institutions can foster terrible abuses.
Harvard Law professor Martha Minow deals with some of the issues involved in the case of the military in her recent article entitled “Living Up to Rules: When Should Soldiers (and Others?) Disobey Orders?” I confess that I’ve only read the beginning of the article so far (it’s very lengthy), but this quote seemed especially apropos:
Here is the central difficulty: Telling soldiers that they face punishment, unless they disobey illegal orders means telling them to think for themselves, and question authority. Taken to an extreme, directives to “think for yourself” and “question authority” would disturb the command structure and practice of drilled obedience in the military. As one military expert has explained, during military operations decisions, actions and instructions often have to be instantaneous and do not allow time for discussion or attention by committees. It is vital to the cohesion and control of a military fore in dangerous and intolerable circumstances that commanders should be able to give orders and expect their subordinates to carry them out.
All of us are often in a position where we are expected to obey laws, directives from a boss, assignments from teachers or clients, dress codes or the traffic directive of police officers … Even for civilians, individual thought and resistance jeopardizes the order sought by official rules and the rule of law itself.
Obedience seems to have become a bad word, post-baby boomer generation and post-WWII. And rightly so, at least to a certain extent; we’ve seen where absolute and rote obedience can lead. So those “Question Authority” bumper stickers are no joke.
But the kneejerk questioning of authority and the reflexive suspicion of all institutions of government (a suspicion which often amounts to certifiable paranoia; witness the number of emails I receive purporting to explain how Bush was responsible for 9/11), as well as the elevation of individual partisan personal opinion in those making the decision to breach national security, are crippling our ability to effectively fight those who would destroy us.
[Planned subsequent posts in the series (hope I actually get around to all of this!) will deal with issues raised by My Lai, the Ellsberg/Pentagon Papers case, and suggestions for dealing with national security leaks.
Tune in tomorrow for Part II…]
Spamming 101
Note to spammers–
Never a good way to begin an email:
Before I introduce myself, I wish to inform you that this letter is not a hoax mail and I urge you to treat it serious.
American Idol: the day after
Some of you may recall that I sorta, kinda, like, follow “American Idol.” Yes, it’s the populist in me.
I’m actually somewhat more interested in the soap opera aspect of the show (correction: the “human interest” aspect of it) than the music. Oh, whatever; it’s fun.
This week–and the week before–I missed it; had other fish to fry. That shows you that my commitment is somewhat less than rigorous. But no matter; the blogosphere came to the rescue and pointed me in the direction of videos of the performances of my two favorites this year: Chris and Elliot. Ann Althouse has her usual no-punches-pulled roundup, and The Anchoress has obliged with comments of her own and links to the videos. Enjoy, if you care to see what all (or at least some of) the “American Idol” fuss is about.
And Dean Esmay comes aboard to prove that the appeal of Chris and Elliot is not just limited to the distaff side; he agrees, they were awfully good.
And to those who complain that it’s more a popularity contest than a music contest I say, “Du-uh!”
Some comments on comments
Lately I’ve noticed a certain degeneration of the comments section here, and I’d like to comment on it.
Lots of bloggers don’t have comments sections, and I can understand why. But I’m not that kind of blogger; it was always my intent to have a lively comments section, and I’ve been gratified that that’s exactly what has happened.
But lively is one thing, free-for-all is another. As blogs grow, there’s a natural law of comment entropy (I just made that up) that seems to take over. The quality tends to go down as the quantity goes up, and the bickering, name-calling, and off-topic meandering increases.
I don’t really mind the meandering, and a good argument is always fine, but petty bickering, name-calling, obscenities, and of course good old-fashioned trolling aren’t things I really enjoy having in the comments section.
I can change policy and make comments more restrictive in various ways; it’s not all that hard to do. But I’d really rather not. So I’m asking people to please clean up their acts. I don’t know whether that will work–for some, it may only act as a spur–but I thought I’d try that approach first. I’m a polite person, and I expect the same from others.
So, these are my requests (they actually seem to boil down to two, for now):
(1) No obscenities, especially name-calling obscenities.
(2) Do not respond to trolls, obscenities, and/or obvious provocateurs.
Tony Blair: the defining moment that was 9/11
Maybe this isn’t exactly and precisely an example of a changed mind. But it’s an excellent description of that moment of insight and clarity that comes with a watershed event whose significance can’t be denied (for some, at least).
Tony Blair describes (via Austin Bay) what happened to him on 9/11, and it’s remarkably similar to what happened to me, and to so many of us:
…9/11 for me was, ‘Right, now I get it. I absolutely get it.’ This has been building for a long time. It is like looking at a picture and knowing it was important to understand it, but not quite being able to make out all its contours. And suddenly a light was switched on and you saw the whole picture. It was a defining moment.
He continues, about Britain:
We stood shoulder to shoulder with America because my belief then, and my belief now, is that America was attacked not because it was America – but because it was the repository of the values of the Western world, and it was the main power embodying them. It was an attack on all of us. And I don’t mean that in a sentimental way.