A friend of mine was driving through a small county in rural Geogria (USA) recently when he was pulled over and given a ticket.  He had been speeding, but the ticket was written for more than 10 mph over the limit, and my friend was certain he was only going about 5 mph over.   Because of this, the size of his fine was much higher than it should have been, not to mention the points he would lose on his license and the insurance increase he would have to face. 

So my friend returned a few weeks later to challenge the ticket in court.  When he walked into the courtroom, however, he saw the cop who had given him the ticket standing by the bench, smiling and cracking jokes with the judge.  It was obvious that they were friends and possibly even related to one another.  My friend instantly knew that he was in trouble, and sure enough, the judge ruled in favor of the cop.

The Palestinians are like my friend, suffering a punishment that is too harsh for the crime.  Israel is like the cop, turning to a trusted and powerful friend for validation of his actions.  And the United States is like the judge, sitting in a position of supposed impartiality, but also not hiding his bias toward one side of the dispute. 

How else do we explain the January 9 House resolution recognizing Israel’s right to defend itself against attacks from Gaza, reaffirming the United States’ strong support for Israel, and supporting the Israeli-Palestinian peace process?  The resolution contains no remotely equivalent statement of support for Palestine.  That’s no way to promote a fair and even-handed peace process.  It only shows that the US and Israel are not much different than that cop and judge who railroaded my friend down in Georgia.

For what it’s worth, five representatives voted against the resolution: Dennis Kucinich (OH), Gwen Moore (WI), Ron Paul (TX), Maxine Waters (CA), and Rick Rahall (WV).

Rafi Eitan: Israeli Dr. Strangelove

Sometimes, you don’t know whether the Israeli cabinet is a governing body or a 3-ring circus.  The latest circus act set up its tent at Der Spiegel, where minister Rafi Eitan, a veteran of many a Mossad special ops project, intimated that Israel might kidnap Iran’s president and send him to the International Court:

Eitan: It could very well be that a leader such as Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad suddenly finds himself before the International Criminal Court in The Hague.

SPIEGEL: Do you mean that seriously?

Eitan: Absolutely. Those who spread poison and want to eradicate another people has to expect such consequences.

Do I take any of this seriously?  Not really.  That’s why I called it a circus.  But the fact that an Israeli minister is willing to allow such accusations to escape his unbuttoned mouth indicates the level to which political discourse has sunk.

Even if Israel could kidnap him–which is a highly dubious proposition–what charge would Israel claim before an international tribunal?  That Ahmadinejad said nasty things against Israel?  Crimes usually require action.  So what crimes has he committed?  And even if there were proof that he personally had committed any does anyone in their right mind think that Israeli generals and political leaders haven’t been equally culpable in ordering military attacks that caused terrific mayhem on innocent civilians?  Where do such charges get Israel?  They only focus the spotlight ever more brightly on its own misdeeds.

So if Eitan wants to “go there” he’s got my blessing.  I’ve always said I’m in favor of Nasrallah going to the Hague as long as Olmert and Halutz accompany him for the mayhem all three caused in Lebanon.

Chances are this is just political posturing on Eitan’s part as he knows national elections are right around the corner and his Pensioners Party has lost almost all its popularity.  A spicy statement like this may be just what the political spin doctor ordered in terms of drumming up interest in a failed political program.

It’s just a shame that Israeli politicians are so selfish about their political power that they are willing to abuse their own nation’s international good name to score a few points.

Iran has rightly complained to the UN about Eitan’s goofball statement.  Israel’s response was outlandish:

Israel’s new U.N. ambassador, Gabriela Shalev, called Iran’s complaint “absurd”:

Iran’s president repeatedly denies the Holocaust and calls — again and again — for the destruction of the state of Israel…. [Ahmadinejad leads a country] that develops nuclear capabilities endangering the entire world…. As such, Iran is under United Nations sanctions for its non-compliance with the international community…. Furthermore, Iran openly and actively supports and arms terrorist organizations.

What claim above–even if they were all accurate, which is debatable–is actionable under international law? It’s simply ludicrous. The truth of the matter is you can’t have government ministers going around the world shooting their mouths off about kidnapping the presidents of other countries. If this was an everyday occurrence then pretty soon you’d have the prime minister of Israel kidnapped too (or at least an attempt to kidnap him would be made). Does Israel really want to go there? Does it want its former IDF generals subject to kidnapping under similar circumstances? Because you see that two can play this game.

Just to fill in the background here, Rafi Eitan is the spook who brought the world not only Adolph Eichmann’s capture, but Jonathan Pollard.  Yes, he “ran” Pollard and we have Eitan to thank for that tawdry affair.  You’ll notice that Eitan won’t be appearing at any fundraisers in the U.S.  If he did he’d likely end up in the federal clink, and rightfully so.  So this is the sterling character Israel is allowing to dictate its “diplomatic” approach to Iran.

A Bushism from Salon.com, spoken after W.’s tour of the genocide memorial in Kigali, Rwanda, Feb 19, 2008 –

“A clear lesson that I learned in the museum was that outside forces that tend to divide people up inside their country are unbelievably counterproductive.”

It is often referred to as Africa’s “forgotten war.” Over three and half million Congolese have died in the past decade, the largest loss of civilian life since WWII.

Since 1998, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) has been mired in sporadic civil and regional war. The conflict has seen seven neighboring countries involved in cross-border fighting, exacerbating internal political divisions and long-standing tribal wars.

The DRC’s natural wealth — of diamonds, gold, and more — combined with its human poverty has perpetuated the violence; assisted by the far-reaching influences of foreign money, multinational corporations, and the global proliferation of small arms.

But since 2003 the DRC has experienced a fragile peace, even witnessing a historic round of national elections. Now aid agencies warn that the country is once again on the brink of civil war, thanks to a violent renegade general who claims he is the true protector of peace.

As part of its focus on genocide and international conflict, the Seminal examines the history of war in the DRC, the current threat of violence, and the challenges now facing its first democratically elected president, Joseph Kabila.

Of all man’s actions, little is as unsettling as genocide. All but the most concerted cynics are left in disbelief, and are forced to face inevitable questions: Why did this happen? How can so many men and women be complicit in so horrible an act?

I’ve heard many rush to the same conclusion — that it’s in our genes.

The methodical cruelty of an individual serial killer can be attributed to a demented mind, a screw come loose. This is an easy explanation for a society to accept. Movies, television, literature and, most importantly, the news, all confirm the fact: there are sick people who do sick things.

When whole segments of society engage in mass murder, however, we extend that explanation, indicting human nature in the process. Genocide, it is argued, is but the realization of a call for death and destruction of the other. It’s said that the call comes from some dark corner of our genetic makeup.

In his book The Third Chimpanzee, author Jared Diamond treats the genocidal act as an inheritance from our primate ancestors, writing

of all our human hallmarks - art, spoken language, drugs, and the others - the one that has been derived most straightforwardly from animal precursors is genocide. Common chimps already carried out planned killings, extermination of neighboring bands, wars of territorial conquest, and abduction of young, nubile females. If chimps were given spears and some instruction in their use, their killings would undoubtedly begin to approach ours in efficiency.

Planned killings, extermination of neighboring bands, wars of territorial conquest: human history’s got plenty of them. But that doesn’t prove the point, and, though I believe Diamond is a very intelligent man, hastily attributing these acts to human nature is short-sighted, lazy, and, ultimately, irresponsible.

I grew up admiring Bill Clinton, the everyman from Hope, Arkansas, the charismatic politician endowed with a unique and alluring blend of intelligence, empathy, and a penchant for public speaking. In my pre-collegiate naiveté, I thought of him as one of the 20th century’s best presidents and routinely compared his presidency to those of FDR, Eisenhower, JFK, and Reagan. My adoration of Clinton even motivated me to stand before my grade school student body as an advocate of his presidency in 1992 and 1996, armed each time with a single-page essay outlining his superior qualifications relative to those of Bush 41, Ross Perot and Bob Dole.

I entered college in the fall of 2002 steadfastly supporting our nation’s 42nd president. However, as my appetite for American domestic and international politics grew, I encountered books, articles, documentaries and radio programs that slowly but steadily exposed many of the Clinton Administration’s less palatable decisions. One-by-one, I began to hear nails hammered into the coffin in which I laid to rest my once undying admiration for Clinton. Universal health care…WHACK! Welfare reform…WHACK! Defense of Marriage Act…WHACK! Ruth Bader Ginsburg…WHACK! Triangulation…WHACK! Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell…WHACK!! WHACK!! But it was not until I read Samantha Power’s A Problem From Hell that I heard what would constitute the coffin’s final three nails: Bosnia, Rwanda and Kosovo.

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK!!!

It’s quite difficult to label a presidency a success when three genocides take place on its watch. I recognize the fact that genocide also took place during the presidencies of Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt, Richard Nixon and George H.W. Bush, and that the first two are often regarded as above average presidencies; nonetheless, none of these administrations witnessed more than one genocide during its tenure. Taking this into account, what impact should Bosnia, Rwanda and Kosovo have on Bill Clinton’s presidential legacy?

On October 10th of this year, the House Foreign Relations Committee voted 27 to 21 to condemn the mass killings of Armenians in Turkey during World War I, officially deeming it a “genocide”. This act was criticized by the White House, stating that it would strain the tensions with the Turkish government. President Bush didn’t deny that there were mass killings during 1915, but was hesitant on calling the act a genocide:

“This resolution is not the right response to these historic mass killings, and its passage would do great harm to our relations with a key ally in NATO and in the global war on terror.”

Why would calling the extermination of Armenians a genocide be such a problem? What is the distinction between calling something “mass killings” and not a “genocide”? Is this just a question of vocabulary? If it is, before we can talk about genocide, we need to define it.

The Rwandan Genocide of 1994 occurred mostly within the span of two months, spurred on by careful preparation and mass media exhortations to murder. A tardy and ineffective international response caused thousands to die.

Every time a genocide occurs, the world says, “Never again.” And yet, they happen again. And again. And again.

Why do these things continue to happen? Very few people say outside forces should not respond to genocide at all. Genocide is defined as crime against humanity. Its definition asserts that all people have inherent rights that don’t derive their existence from the state in a grand social contract, but rather derive their existence from the very essence of being human.

If you accept that broad frame, then an act of genocide attacks all our humanity and must be met with an appropriate response. Indeed, the United Nations’ Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, passed in the aftermath of the Holocaust, defines genocide as a crime against humanity and mandates “appropriate” actions to combat any genocide. Yet, even though genocides have been declared and the genocide convention invoked, the supposedly overwhelming international response has failed to materialize, most notably in Darfur. So, why is effective intervention to prevent genocide so hard to put into practice?

The American public, reeling from our debacle in Iraq, is becoming more and more receptive to language of isolationism. This partly explains the appeal of Ron Paul, who invokes the idea of “national sovereignty” to urge us to withdraw not only from Iraq, but also the United Nations, NAFTA, and the WTO, arguing “we must withdraw from any organizations and trade deals that infringe upon the freedom and independence of the United States of America.”

The idea of national sovereignty also figures prominently in discussions of immigration. At the Republican debate last Wednesday, Fred Thompson drew big applause when he said that “a nation that cannot and will not defend its own borders will not forever remain a sovereign nation.”

I believe that the United States should not have invaded Iraq, partly because I believe that by doing so we wrongfully violated Iraq’s national sovereignty. And I believe that we should leave Iraq. I also believe Americans, and the American government, should think critically about the international organizations and agreements we enter into. But I do not believe that the principle of national sovereignty knows no limits.

This piece could equally have been titled “National Sovereignty in the Age of Iraq, Darfur, and Guantanamo.” Those three names alone evoke the many facets - and limitations - of national sovereignty as a concept in the post-World War II era. They also evoke the contradictory, even schizophrenic, nature of American foreign policy under Bush.

With Iraq, we illegally invaded a sovereign nation that constituted no threat to our country.

With Sudan, our President called the situation in Darfur a genocide when the UN, shamefully, refused to do so - but then America simply stood by while killings and dislocation continued.

With Guantanamo, we spit in the world’s face by asserting that our national sovereignty gave us the right to violate the Geneva Conventions, detain foreign citizens without due process of law, and torture prisoners.

The belief that universal human rights exist, and that those rights come not from your national government but from your status as a human being, defines the post-World War II, no, the post-Nuremberg world. Following the horrors of Nazi concentration camps, the human community decided that no regime, no nation, could justify its violations of universal rights with reference to national sovereignty.

The chaos and tragedy America has caused in Iraq should not inspire us to withdraw into our shell. Because the reality is, we should not have invaded Iraq - but we should have led an international drive to create an international military force to stop the genocide in Darfur.

Coming in December, The Seminal will take on issues of international relations. How do we define genocide? How do we prevent it from happening? Why, after saying “never again” so many times, do genocides still occur?

We’ll look at these questions and more, starting Monday.