"You want it to be one way. But it's the other way."
Let’s see: There’s a guy named Charles McQueary (Dr. Charles E. McQueary to you, thanks very much) who is undersecretary for science and technology at the Department of Homeland Security. So, given 5 or 10 minutes with those facts and a computer keyboard, how wrong could you get that if someone asked you to type his name and affiliation? Whatever your answer is, someone just topped you.
“Homeless Defense Undersecretary.” It’s about time.
Excellent story this week in The Legal Times (subscription required) about newly declassified memos by military lawyers on the subject of stretching the legal definition of torture to allow more pressure to be put on our Global War on Terrorism prisoners. Civilian lawyers in the Justice Department (including a faculty member at my current workplace, Boalt Hall) advised our commander-in-chief he was standing on firm legal ground in allowing the military to take the gloves off.
How did the civilians’ counterparts in the armed forces — the judge advocates general — feel about expanding the definition of torture to allow more rough stuff and, presumably, get more actionable intelligence (Interrogator: “How does that feel?” Prisoner: “Aiyee! That really hurts!” Interrogator: “Captain, he says it hurts.”)?
In a word, they were against. According to The Legal Times story:
“… The military lawyers predicted that adopting more aggressive interrogation techniques to fight the war on terror would undermine America’s relationships with allies, hurt the reputation of the military, and possibly put U.S. troops in harm’s way. …
“… ‘Will the American people find we have missed the forest for the trees by condoning practices that, while technically legal, are inconsistent with our most fundamental values? How would such perceptions affect our ability to prosecute the Global War on Terrorism?’ wrote Rear Adm. Michael Lohr, then-judge advocate general of the Navy.
“The new documents reveal deep disagreement between top uniformed lawyers in the Air Force, Army, Navy, and Marine Corps and the administration’s civilian attorneys at the Pentagon and the Justice Department. The JAGs’ memos blast legal positions taken by the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel and point to a secret memo from OLC lawyers that appears to have given the green light for U.S. troops to use interrogation
tactics in violation of military law.”
Word, first of all that 14 Marines were killed by a bomb in a place called Haditha. Six more were killed there the day before yesterday. So far, 22 U.S. soldiers have died in Iraq in the first three days of August.
Then there’s this: Steven Vincent, a freelance writer and blogger who had an op-ed piece in this past Sunday’s New York Times describing Basra’s police force and its growing allegiance to religious parties rather than the national government (or citizens), has been killed. He and his interpreter were kidnapped and shot, and the thinking is that he was assassinated because of his recent reporting. I haven’t read a lot of his stuff — his blog, occasionally, but not his Iraq book, “In the Red Zone” — but he struck me as a meticulously honest observer who was trying to look at the war in terms of the people we say we’re trying to help. Someone capable of seeing what is at stake for ordinary citizens in this struggle and the big gap between our declared ideals and goals and our execution. For instance, one of his last posts, “The Naive American.”
[Later: The New York Times did a nice short profile on Vincent. Among other things, turns out he was a Bay Area kid who went to Cal.]
Kate made an odd find at the neighborhood video store while returning a couple of my late DVDs. “This Old Cub,” a documentary on Ron Santo, the great third baseman, by his son Jeff. The movie’s got an amateurish feel to it, and at the end it comes off as a plea for Santo to be elected to the Hall of Fame. In fact, the movie builds up to the moment when Santo believes he’s about to be elected by a panel of old-timers only to be disappointed.
I haven’t thought about Santo in a long time. He was a great favorite of mine when I was a teen-ager. Playing softball, I used to try to manicure the batter’s box the way he did (I could do a passable impression, since it didn’t involve any athletic ability) and swing like he did (passable again) and hit like he did (a passable fantasy as long as the pitch was only going 3 miles an hour). I took it for granted he was one of the best players at his position when he played, and the numbers show he was. But he was marked as one of the guys on a team that came close but just never quite made it. I still remember the last time I saw him play. He had wound up on the White Sox after he was done with the Cubs and been stuck at second base. When he came up, the Comiskey Park fans — his home crowd — booed him; they recognized a lifetime Cub when they saw one, Sox uniform or no Sox uniform. His last time up, he lined a single to center. Maybe his only hit of the game, and just a shadow of what he’d been. But he’d done that much, anyway, to show he still had a little something left. I stood up and cheered.
Later, the Cubs hired him as a radio color guy. I’ve never been impressed by his work. Too much of a hometown clown on the air (or maybe I’ve just been won over for life by the A’s chief radio man, Bill King; but that’s another story). One of my brothers talked about seeing him outside Wrigley Field once, giving a cop a hard time as he was trying to drive through traffic, saying something like, “Do you know who I am?” He sounded like a jerk.
But the movie, mawkish as it is, changed my mind, or at least will make me think about him differently. The real subject is how he had to cope with Type I diabetes throughout his career, and more recently, how the disease caused him to have both legs amputated. He comes off as a guy with a lot of guts and determination to take on what many people — can’t tell about myself — might not be able to face. Someone else copyrighted the line, but: Check it out.
August 1st. Almost done. Day in review:
The 214th day of the year. Roughly. So: 141 to go. This year.
Up early. Morning routine. Purposeful avoidance. Pull out the sports page, a quick look at what I’ve already heard, seen, thought about. Then check the weather page, reduced to empty columns of highs and lows, a map sketching a something that might stir: an afternoon thunderstorm somewhere. Baseball and meteorology checked off the list. Glance at the rest — the bomb anniversary coming up. More to take in later.
Then eventually to work. Words — the life of the law school. A walk for lunch in mid-afternoon. Coffee and something to eat I don’t need. Back at my desk and more words. The office empties, I get on to the story of Emmett Till — another anniversary.
Then eventually back home. Walking. Clear, still warm enough I don’t need a jacket, in bright sunlight all the way to the last corner turning and up the street.
Back again tomorrow.