The Sky is Falling

I guess this one will have to be filed under the heading of “things that bother me, but don’t seem to bother anyone else.”

Unless you’ve been held hostage until quite recently, then you know that Kaddafi was shot and killed shortly after he was captured. This little diatribe is not about whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. There are forums for such discussions, and the matter will be settled based on its merits.

In this case, that which bothers me, is how the US government, boldly and quickly protested what they called his extrajudicial killing. By extrajudicial, they mean that there was no trial, no judge, no jury, no chance to confront his accusers and no due process. The intention of the US government is clear. It wants to suggest that extrajudicial killing are not part of a democratic process and the new leadership in Libya needs to get its democratic act together.

I also want to point out that I agree that the killing of Kaddafi was extrajudicial, and as I mentioned above, its merits will be debated and settled elsewhere. Instead, what I find truly, and deeply troubling is that the US government had the nerve to wag its collective finger and denounce the extrajudicial killing as undemocratic. In other words, it was the sheer audacity of the US government’s hypocrisy that bothers me the most.

The last numbers I saw regarding people killed in the ‘drone wars’ were through 2010. At that time 1863 people had been killed in US drone attacks, in Pakistan alone. Of the 1863 people killed, it would appear that about 70% were militants (although I must confess, I don’t know the administrations criteria for what constitutes and militant). If 70% were intended targets, then it means that about 1300 people, give or take, had an extrajudicial end of life experience. The other 500 or so people just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So we really can’t use the word extrajudicial killing in those cases. The closest thing that comes to mind is accidently murdered.

This is what I find so revealing and appalling. Extrajudicial drone killing is an almost everyday event and the associated collateral damage doesn’t even cause a moment’s pause. No one seems to lose a minute’s sleep worrying about the lack of a trial, lack of a judge, lack of a jury, lack of a chance to confront accusers and lack of due process. In each case the US government, says “trust us” and insists that due process is not needed in these drone killings.

On the other hand, when the Libyan people say “trust us” Kaddafi was a dictator for forty-three years and has, the relatively undisputed, blood of hundreds or perhaps thousands of people on his hands, the US government responds by standing up and immediately calling for an investigation into his brutal extrajudicial killing. In terms of confidence, I am far more certain that Kaddafi was guilty of those things of which he was accused, than I am about any of the militants being guilty of their alleged crimes.

While beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, judicial is in the eye of the drone. America is now a glass house, and those that view justice as little more than a white flash on a computer monitor should probably keep their mouths shut, lest someone remind them of the definition of extrajudicial killing.

Live long and well.

I found god today.

She was in the Florence metro station selling copies of Nový Prostor, which loosely translates to ‘New Space,’ a local magazine sold by the poor to help raise money for the poor and homeless, conditions, with which, she clearly had intimate knowledge. I had seen her many times over the years, but for some reason, it wasn’t until today that I recognized her as god. She was always smiling and she always had warm, bright eyes. Friendly eyes, the kind you trust even if you don’t know why. I had seen her so many times over the years that I had given her a nickname – I called her Leaf. I had given her the nickname of Leaf because of the way she moved from person to person as she tried to make a sale.

God, or Leaf, was not homeless, although I suspect, she had been homeless off-and-on many times throughout her life. While not homeless at the moment, she was probably pretty close and most likely lived in a shelter for the very poor. Leaf was about 40, or so she appeared. Leaving near the edge can easily disguise your age.

Leaf had a gentle manner and a friendly, becoming smile. She would hold four or five magazines in front of her so that the magazine cover and name was clearly visible for everyone to see. I had a feeling that if she sold all her copies it constituted a very good day indeed and probably didn’t happen too often.

She would gracefully turn and present the cover to each person as they passed. She greeted each person with those bright eyes and her warm sincere smile, while saying the name of the magazine, intoned in such a way as to ask “Would you like to buy a copy?” In each case she was immediately greeted by quickly diverted eyes, eyes that had suddenly found something more interesting to look at on the cold granite floor. Her gentle nature seemed concerned that they would feel bad for rejecting her offer, so in the blink of an eye she would quickly spin to face the next person. To the left, to the right, to those approaching from behind or from the side, she would spin this way and that – all done with no more effort than a leaf fluttering to the ground on a cold autumn day – hence her nickname.

The metro station was particularly cold that day. Several nights of subfreezing temperatures had sucked all the heat from the walls and from the granite on the floor; on that day the sunless cavern felt more like a tomb than the intersection of two major metro lines. As usual, people shuffled through the station with lifeless enthusiasm; on this day the station was a tomb, a tomb for the living.

Normally I didn’t see Leaf until she spun out of nowhere and appeared right in front of me – of course by now she knew that I didn’t speak Czech, so she never expected me to buy a copy of her magazine, and therefore, never said the name the magazine to me anymore. However, her smile was no less sincere, her eyes no less bright, despite knowing there was little chance I would buy a copy of her magazine. I always appreciated that her smile and friendliness remained, and I always said “no thanks” in my best, albeit imperfect Czech. As far as I could tell, I was one of only a few, who ever said anything to her at all.

On this particular day I spotted Leaf from a distance, I don’t know why I was looking up and so far ahead, but she was easy to see as she spun this way and that and effortlessly floated from person to person. She was dressed for the tomb, which meant she seemed to be wearing every stitch of clothing she owned to stay warm. She was also wearing a bit of make-up, which was something I hadn’t seen before. Make-up was a luxury she wasn’t accustomed to and she didn’t have the carefully honed application skills of the Prada babes that whizzed past her chatting on their new mobile phones or listening to their iPods. She looked a bit like a little girl who had gotten into her mother’s make-up, but no matter how badly applied, it made her feel special, and for Leaf, special was an all too rare feeling.

But it was seeing her at a distance that made me realized she was god. If you were too close to Leaf you couldn’t see what happened each time someone quickly looked at the floor or ignored her by looking the other way and pretending she didn’t exist. The light, that warm, bright light in her eyes, would go out. The smile stayed, but as she turned to greet the next rejection, for a brief instant, the light in those gentle eyes would go out. As I walked towards her it was like looking at a strobe light. If a strobe light flashes enough times you can see the world that lies around you, or as in this case, repeated flashes of darkness reveal the world that lies within.

What I saw in the darkness of her eyes I cannot say – not because I don’t know, but because I don’t know how.

It’s good to be god.

What a difference a day can make. The same little church is now decorated in a fresh, albeit, thin layer of snow.

In his Christmas day speech the pope urged world peace. I wonder why no one else ever thought to do that, seems pretty straight forward.

Today in god’s world:
…about 40 people were killed as they queued for food in Pakistan,
…an undetermined number of dead in Nigeria as Christians and Muslims fight over local resources,
…35 people died as a bus tumbled down a ravine in Columbia,
…at least 7 dead in unspecified Iraq violence.

On a lighter note, a 5.1 earthquake rattled Porto Rico — it was a miracle that no one was killed.

Live long and well.

It was a perfect Christmas Eve. Patches of gray snow and ice scattered along the streets and sidewalks. Overcast, with fog and light rain. The little church stood on the corner as a weathered reminder of god’s folly and the foolishness of those who believe. Today the pope made an address on BBC radio. In his address he assured us that god keeps his word and prayers are answered; although, he couldn’t help but add a subtle little twist. He noted that the way in which god answers our prayers may surprise us. It seemed a little like going to a restaurant and being told that not only is the service slow, they might also spit on your food. I don’t want a deity that surprises me, if I want surprises I’ll buy a Jack-in-the-Box!

Live long and well.