Free speech free-for-all

There's a blog I read sometimes, Kathy Sierra's Creating Passionate Users. Recently, though, I've been bogged down with other obligations, and haven't been keeping up with any of the blog-reading I normally do. So when Digital Medievalist pointed me at this post, I was completely gobsmacked.

And not in a good way.

I don't read a lot of IT blogs -- the geek culture is way over my head, and I don't move in those circles, for the most part. One of the very nice things about Kathy Sierra's blog is that it's cheerful, optimistic, and the language is accessible. So it was both horrible and confusing to see her so distressed, and perplexing in the extreme to try to comprehend what sort of raving lunatic would post death threats and graphic and disturbing images about Ms. Sierra in the comment-threads on another blog site (since removed by the owners.)

Last week, Ms. Sierra wrote: "As I type this, I am supposed to be in San Diego, delivering a workshop at the ETech conference. But I'm not. I'm at home, with the doors locked, terrified. For the last four weeks, I've been getting death threat comments on this blog. But that's not what pushed me over the edge. What finally did it was some disturbing threats of violence and sex posted on two other blogs... blogs authored and/or owned by a group that includes prominent bloggers."

The story has continued, and there's apparently been some resolution between the involved parties. Here are the links:

Frank Paynter's response

Chris Locke's original response

Ms. Sierra posted this morning:

"But these stories should not be about me... I am simply one of a gazillion examples about what's happening today both on and offline. Nor is it a simple Nice Vs. Bully story, and I thought having us come to an understanding would encourage others to stop fighting on either of our behalves and try to listen first, and then talk, and maybe something good and useful really will come of this.

"Although I've learned a lot in the last few days, I still do not know who made the unclebobism photo post, or why, or whether that person is a real threat. That part of the story has continued to devolve in even scarier ways.

"So, this is the last post I'll make for some time, and I've closed comments because I cannot keep up with the hateful ones (including those that post my home address and social security number, etc.)"

Since the whole thing blew up last week, there have been a variety of responses on blogs everywhere, ranging from a complete lack of anything resembling sympathy and understanding as to why it's frightening and horrible for anyone to see comments like: "fuck off you boring slut... i hope someone slits your throat and cums down your gob" to Tim O'Reilly's call for a blogger code of ethics.


What I want to talk about are these key bits from the Kathy Sierra/Chris Locke joint statement
posted yesterday.

Quote:

KS: We've become so desensitized to vile comments on the net that many people can't comprehend why I would feel threatened. But if we dismiss every cruel, vile, sexually threatening comment as simply the work of an anonymous troll, we will no longer be able to recognize a real threat. Are we willing to stake our mother/sister/daughter's life on a sexually and physically threatening photo or comment, simply because it appeared on the internet and therefore must be harmless? That said, Chris and I are in complete agreement that it would be tragic if this incident were used as a weapon by those who would limit free and open exchange. My desire is for much more open debate on this issue, not legislated limits. ____________ CL: There is much more to say about this experience that can't be unpacked in such a brief statement. There is time yet for more balanced articles to be written, less heated conversations to take place. Misogyny is real -- and vile. Violence against women is wrong. It must not be tolerated. This issue should be explored and discussed, not swept under the rug, not rationalized away. At the same time, we need to look closely and carefully at the implications for free speech. The First Amendment allows and protects language that many find noxious. But there are forces in the world at present -- not least in the US -- that would leap at any opportunity to limit speech or even abolish certain forms of it. Crucial as is the current debate about hate speech directed at women, it would be tragic if this incident were used as a weapon by those who would limit free and open exchange.

Tim O'Reilly points out:

There's an attitude among many bloggers that deleting inflammatory comments is censorship. I think that needs to change. I'm not suggesting that every blog will want to delete such comments, but I am suggesting that blogs that do want to keep the level of dialog at a higher level not be censured for doing so.

There are many real-world analogies. Shock radio hosts encourage abusive callers; a mainstream talk radio show like NPR's Talk of the Nation wouldn't hesitate to cut someone off who started spewing hatred and abuse. Frat parties might encourage drunken lewdness, but a party at a tech conference would not. Setting standards for acceptable behavior in a forum you control is conducive to free speech, not damaging to it.

We do all have our trolls. (I'd wave at mine, here, but I don't think they actually read anything I write.)

And there's something that happens to some people, sometimes, when they feel fairly anonymous and angry at the same time -- and they go right off into the stratosphere, foaming at the mouth. Blogs have been home to a number of such skirmishes. Hell, I've had numerous shots taken at me, from other blogs--nothing approaching death threats and photo-shopped pictures with nooses--but certainly the occasional incoherent rant with sort of vague "or else" kinds of threats. (Not going to link. Entertaining as it might be, they don't actually deserve the traffic and can't get it on their own.)

So. How do we find the balance? I think good people have to speak up, when things go to hell in a comment string. I think we have to self-police. I think, when someone says something that's clearly horrible and inflammatory, we stuff 'em in a box. Embarrass them. Shame them into either adhering to community standards, or exile them by deletion and/or blocking.

This means that our individual communities need to have standards, though -- so the resulting gestalt of the blogosphere in general will gradually begin to reflect that more individualized culture of responsibility. It seems rather overwhelming, if you look at any statistics at all about how fast new blogs are popping up, let alone podcasts and vlogs.

Which means that we must take responsibility for our own words wherever we are on the web. And stop excusing those who don't. And when someone does something actually egregious and illegal, we cannot dismiss it with, "Well, it's the internet. People talk trash. It doesn't mean anything."

Because words do have meaning.

Sunday Links Roundup

No special reason. And no plans to make it a weekly thing, even.

Here's some of the stuff I looked at this week, in no particular order:

Homer and the Origin of the Greek Alphabet - essay

Questionable Content - web comic I'm completely addicted to for no reason I can explain or identify

Nietzsche, Plato and Aristotle on Mimesis - essay

The Captured German Records Collection - WWII German records

The Religious Movements Page - alphabetical listing with a brief history and summary of religious movements from Adidam to Zoroastrianism

Hailes Castle - Medieval Scottish ruin

Strange Horizons - SF ezine, I rather liked "We Will Not Go To Memphis, Then" which has a strong American poetry flavor, but handles subject matter reminiscent of King's The Stand

A Dictionary of Middle English Cooking Terms - Just what it sounds like. With recipes!


Cheers!

Spring!

So, I almost put the windows back in . . . But this really should be winter's last gasp. I brought 'em with me just in case.

Rainy February Night

I just had the oddest conversation with the graveyard guy at the 7-11 where I usually stop when I'm out wandering around in the wee hours.

I've been stopping in there pretty regularly in the middle of the night for at least a couple of years. The graveyard guy is teaching himself better English by reading old magazine articles. (I dunno where he's from. Somewhere away where people are browner and speak a language that leaves itself marked in English with a musical, lilting accent.) Because it's the middle of the night, there's time to talk about the things he's been reading. Over the last several months, he's taken to underlining words to ask me about, and dog-earing the stories that confuse him or leave him with questions. If I haven't been in for a couple of nights running, he's usually got quite a stack of articles marked up, and a middle-of-the-night 7-11 run can take a good hour or so.

Tonight, he wanted to puzzle through some of the words in an old Newsweek article about Astronaut Lisa Nowak's 900 mile trek--and double check that he had the details and sequence of events straight in his head. But mostly, he wanted to know if I thought it was true. There were a great many more pictures in the print version of the story, including pictures of Nowak and her husband and children. He pointed at the picture of the two little kids, incredulous, and asked if I believed the story.

I wasn't sure, at first, quite what he was asking. In fact, he simply wanted to know if this brilliant and talented woman had indeed thrown away her entire life and career and family for a guy who didn't want her. The diaper thing, the disguise, the pepper-spray in the parking garage--none of that really concerned him, other than as part of the narrative chain of events. He saw straight through the bizarre details to the very human tragedy underneath.

The 7-11 guy is already reading better than a great many American-born English speakers I know. And frankly, he's reading better than many would-be writers I know, too.

Revisiting II

I'm still rediscovering poetry--verses I read years ago, but they ring all the more true for having gained some age and knowledge and experience.

This Emily Dickinson poem is read quite a lot. I think I actually encountered it as a child. Some of you will know it, I'm certain:

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

--Emily Dickinson

Dickinson's direct and straightforward style couches powerful human emotion in simple terms that might tempt readers to underestimate her. One online biography points out:

"At times characterised as a semi-invalid, a hermit, a heartbroken introvert, or a neurotic agoraphobic, her poetry is sometimes brooding and sometimes joyous and celebratory. Her sophistication and profound intellect has been lauded by laymen and scholars alike and influenced many other authors and poets into the 21st Century. There has been much speculation and controversy over details of Dickinson’s life including her sexual orientation, romantic attachments, her later reclusive years, and the editing and publication of various volumes of her poems."

Emily's personal history mostly lays completely outside my consideration of the poem, honestly. If we just look at the text without speculating about who she might have written about or for, there are a couple of things I really, really like about this poem.

I love her appreciation for simple things--always have. This is a woman who finds beauty in the everyday, and that's just a lovely way to move through the world. This doesn't have the sort of galloping rhythm that some of her more-parodied stuff does, which is good. It's still structurally very tight, and there's that carefully and strongly-evoked sensation of time and seasons passing while she waits.

There's a sort of logic or reason puzzle built in, as well: if . . . then, if . . . then, if . . . then, if . . . then, if . . . then,

(wait for it)

But . . .

And the progression of seasons, years, even centuries is rational and orderly--and that portrayal of reason, logic, and order defied serves to contrast the emotional poignancy of waiting. She brings us back to that poignancy by the simple means of taking us from a hypothetical season, year, century to the intensely personal with, "If certain, when this life was out"--not just any life. This life. And with that, the more detached and almost amused tone changes to the much more personal and passionate.

But even so, with any poem I'm acutely conscious of the negative space; that is the things unsaid but invoked by the actual text are terribly important, too. So when we think about something like uncertainty and waiting, it really only makes sense in the context of certainty and that sensation of "at last!" and those elements, too, are strongly present in this piece.

So I very much read this as, yes, about uncertainty and waiting--but also very much about the beauty of knowing and the joy of anticipated arrival.

Snow...

I keep meaning to put all the windows back in...but now it's nearly Spring, right?

I'd planned to write a long letter tonight...

But here I am blogging, instead. Funny how the time gets away. It's already nearly morning again.

I've already written rather a lot tonight; I'm finding that the more words I'm putting down regularly, the more readily they come. At this point I can feel the words all crowding and pushing and wanting to rush out onto my screen, and I'm actually having to hold them back, a bit. Don't ask...just be grateful. Heh. A little less sleep and I'd be spilling words all over with little or no editorial control.

I'm not one for resolutions. Reflection, though...yes. This last year brought more change to my life, thinking, and writing than I could have believed possible. Good changes. I keep pausing to see if I should feel frightened or overwhelmed, and I just don't.

I've always been a fairly sunshiny person, and long subscribed to the belief that cynicism is bad mental hygiene. This the first New Year in a very long time, though, that I find myself looking forward to eagerly.

Welcome to 2007. It's going to be so damn much fun.

Revisiting

I'd forgotten all about this. And the first time I read it, I really didn't appreciate it. I wasn't entirely a grown-up then, though--so I can cut myself some slack for missing it.

What texts do you revisit? What have you read, that years later comes up in the stray flotsam of your memory that you have to turn to again and reconsider from the perspective of greater age and better experience?



THE GOOD-MORROW
by John Donne

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we loved ? were we not wean'd till then ?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly ?
Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers' den ?
'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear ;
For love all love of other sights controls,
And makes one little room an everywhere.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone ;
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;
Let us possess one world ; each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest ;
Where can we find two better hemispheres
Without sharp north, without declining west ?
Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;
If our two loves be one, or thou and I
Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.


You can find more John Donne, here.

Solstice Approaches

Solstice.

However you spend the approaching longest night, may it find you safe, warm, happy, and surrounded by those you love best.

And as the days begin to lengthen again, may this New Year bring increase to your every blessing many times over.

To My Mad Comment Thread Vandal

Look, friend, you can keep vandalizing my comments threads if you'd like--I'm old and curmudgeonly, and I don't sleep much anyway. I could enable comment moderation, but I don't choose to do so. It's easy enough to just delete that stuff.

Or we could have a conversation, instead. That's quite a grudge you're carrying.

Meanwhile, since you seem to like jokes, here's one for you:

Two hydrogen atoms are sitting and drinking together one afternoon. The first one says to the other, "I think I've lost an electron."
The other says, "Are you sure?"
The first says, "Yep, I'm positive..."

Take a second and click -

Via Elizabeth Bear's LJ:

" Bristol-Myers Sqibb is running a click-to-donate promotion to fund AIDS research. One dollar per click-through, to a total of $100,000."

It's an annoying flash site. But they'll kick in another buck for research if you can bring yourself to wait while it loads. They're over the halfway mark, right now.

Scheduled Maintenance on Absolute Write

Just in case you stop in here, looking for news:

The AW Water Cooler will be closed Sunday, November 26th, from about 6 am (PST) until we can get the databases transferred to the new server, currently running in an undisclosed co-lo facility. This exciting transfer necessitates a few hours of down time for the site.

Cross your fingers for us, and we should be up and better-powered hopefully by Sunday afternoon--but I'm telling everyone Monday, just in case of unforeseen complications.

Thanks!

I've been tagged

From the last comment thread:

Zonk said...

...you've been Tagged, :-]

You have to share 5 little-known facts about yourself, and Tag 5 other Bloggers to do the same. Blame Dawno, she started it, lol.

http://zonkzone.blogspot.com/

Ummm...okay. Here goes:

1 - I listen to opera. Not exclusively, but quite a lot.

2 - I'm a most excellent cook.

3 - I'm horribly nearsighted.

4 - I have absolutely no sense of direction. Seriously. I couldn't navigate my way out of a wet paper sack.

5 - I trained horses for a living for a number of years.

Tagging Wisdom Weasel, Pete Tzinski, Jason Evans, Secret Government Eggo Project, and Unique at Blowing Smoke. You'll note a couple of these blogs haven't been updated in a woefully long time. I dunno as a meme tagging will be sufficient to wake them up again.

Googling

I love that google has become a verb.

I'll be googling far into the night, searching for folklore and myth concerned with people who have mismatched eyes.

It's a long story. Actually, it really will be a long story, but it's not quite clarified itself in my hindbrain, yet.

Any thoughts, knowledge, niggling feelings?

Jeep Update

The jeep is running. Got the starter off with a cutting torch. They have aluminum housing, you know.

I've learned a valuable lesson about the proper tool for the job.

Heh.

Please Vote

And if you're still not sure which way you're leaning in those close races in your district, here are some links about why you might seriously consider voting straight Democrat, this year. I've always voted for the person I thought would do the best job...this is the first time I'll vote a straight ticket, without so much as a second thought.

Here's part of why.

Making Light

Washington Post
--WaPo follow up article

New York Times

Daily Kos

American Chronicle

The Jeep Saga continues...

Day 2:
I picked up the starter from the parts store. Hurried past the dead Jeep, eyes averted. Went inside to write, instead of fighting with rounded-off bolt holding starter to Jeep.

Day 3:
Pretended Jeep was fine. Worked on ms. Thinking I'm onto something--writing as avoidance activity...

The trick is to be avoiding something so assiduously that even writing is preferable.

Day 4 and 5:
Investigated more ways to remove bolt, once bolt head is useless. Hung out at autoparts store, picking over twitchy CarQuest guy's brains. Bought more tricksy bolt-extraction tools. Wrote some more.

Day 6:
Called Pater and whined.
Got one bolt out. One down, one to go. Victory!
Now it's only a matter of time.



I hate this. I hate working on cars. I loathe being cold and greasy.

Author Scoop

So a friend of mine has undertaken an ambitious project. Haskins is a hell of a writer, a talented poet, and an all-around good guy. I wish him most excellent luck with Author Scoop.

And how can you not love a site that opens with collected reviews of King's latest?

Don't be a stranger, William.

A Peek Into the Writer Mind...

My good-natured housemate has bemusedly observed on more than one occasion that it sometimes seems to take an awfully long time for me to accomplish what seems like a fairly straightforward task. I've been thinking about that, and realized I know precisely why. It's really easier to illustrate, than to explain, though. So, if you'll bear with me?

So the starter goes on my beloved twelve-year-old jeep, this week. I ascertain that it's the starter through tricksy diagnostics: It won't start, so I replace the several-months-expired battery, and that doesn't fix it; so then I consult Google, then spend some time lurking on the Jeep-Fixing Fora--yes, they really are plural--which leads me to believe the starter is the real problem. I'm here to tell you, though, those people badly need good tech-writers.

*note to self: must remember to put fresh candles on the Google altar.

Day 1--Since I consider myself a handy, mechanically-inclined sort of a woman, I decide to fix it myself. Also, the webpage I found most closely describing the symptoms said it's surprisingly easy to replace your own starter.

It seems like a good way to get some hands-on experience at something I'm only passingly familiar with--and that always engages my curiosity. I start wondering, at this point, about the etymology of the word "torque." Pretty sure it's Latin. Sounds Latin.

So I gather a mostly-complete socket set from the top of the dryer, the windowsill, my nightstand, the junk-drawer in the kitchen, and the tool chest in the garage, and go out to the driveway.

I pop the hood and spend some time staring at the engine. It occurs to me that this would be a much easier job if all those bits and pieces were clearly labeled. I start mentally composing a friendly and hopefully funny letter suggesting as much to the Jeep People. Back inside to google images for "jeep starters" and I run across an interesting essay about why I need to replace the solenoid, if I'm replacing a starter. More googling. The solenoid on a '95 Jeep Wrangler is apparently attached to the starter itself, so I'm golden. Print the clearest pic. Back outside.

Staring at the engine, identification picture in hand, I have a slowly dawning suspicion that the starter isn't going to be found from topside. Go inside to write draft of less friendly, less funny letter to Jeep People.

Nothing to be done for it. Back out to the driveway and wriggle under the jeep, behind the passenger side tire, to peer up into shadowy interior of engine compartment. Locate what was probably once the starter. At least, the shape is vaguely similar to that in the picture I'm clutching. Consult directions, and realize I was supposed to disconnect the negative terminal of the new battery. Wriggle back out. Spend some moments picking gravel from waistband. Disconnect battery, and spend self-congratulatory moment feeling totally chuffed that I didn't accidentally zap myself. Or run over myself. Or whatever Bad Things happen if one doesn't remember to disconnect the battery.

Crawl back under the Jeep. Stare into engine mass from bottomside, once again. Have brief daydream about being Scotty, aboard the enterprise. Say lots of stuff in terrible accent. "She's givin' us all she's got, Captain!" "I dinna think you should bang on 'er like that, Captain..." (I get to be Captain Kirk, too, now.)

I do manage to disconnect the battery from the starter and solenoid, though. Accomplishment!

Then things begin to deteriorate. The bolts actually holding the starter to the rest of the engine stuff have funny-looking heads. After some experimentation, I discover that a 3/8 hex-head socket will fit over the bolt heads, without obvious slippage. However, when I apply pressure (with a length of pipe slipped over the wrench handle for increased leverage, because those puppies ain't movin') the socket slips, I badly skin most of the knuckles on my right hand, and the bolt itself still hasn't budged. Now I begin mentally composing a caustic letter to the author of the webpage that claims this is "surprisingly easy."

I spend a long moment, then, thinking about Laura Mixon's lecture concerning "unconscious incompetence" and suppress premonitory chill.

No worries. I've got the battery disconnected from the thing, so I can just pick up the actual squiggly-looking socket I need, when I go purchase the new starter. Confident in my eventual triumph, I picture the engine smartly spinning and roaring to life. And off I go to CarQuest.

(Turns out the funny looking bolt heads take a Torx-head socket. I found out from the nice CarQuest guy who looked like he was trying very hard either not to sneeze or not to laugh.) They have to order the starter, but I'm okay with that, actually. I can wait til tomorrow for the inevitable flush of success and accomplishment. I believe in delayed gratification. Besides, I don't have the old starter off, yet, even.

The CarQuest guy tells me to bring the old starter back to them, and they'll refund my "core charge." I raise an eyebrow, because I know what the old starter looks like, and I'm suspicious that the core is actually showing, but agree. 60 bucks is 60 bucks, and who needs a big, filthy paperweight?

The twitchy CarQuest guy can't tell me the etymology of "torque," however. I promise to share it, tomorrow, after I've had a chance to look it up. He seems strangely disinterested.

Home I go, new sockets in hand, and crawl back under the engine. It occurs to me that I've gotten used to gravel down the back of my shirt and pants, which starts me thinking about human adaptivity, which gives me a proto-story idea. I consider stopping to jot notes, but decide to let it percolate a bit more.

So the Torx socket doesn't really want to fit on the bolt head I rounded off. A few sharp raps with a hammer, though, and it pops right on. It can only be a matter of minutes, I figure.

Twenty minutes of swearing and reinjuring my already insulted knuckles, and the bolt head resembles fossilized chewing gum. At this point, I quietly acknowledge to myself that a sane person would seek a Qualified Mechanic Guy. I, however, resolve to stick it out by reminding myself of the eventual sense of accomplishment, and the satisfaction of useful skills gained. Clearly, a bit more research is required, though.

Also, I'm still wondering about the etymology of "torque."

Back inside the house to google torque, because I can't stand not knowing.

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1) - Cite This Source

torque  /tɔrk/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[tawrk] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation, noun, verb, torqued, torqu‧ing.

–noun

1.	Mechanics. something that produces or tends to produce torsion or rotation; the moment of a force or system of forces tending to cause rotation.

2.	Machinery. the measured ability of a rotating element, as of a gear or shaft, to overcome turning resistance.

3.	Optics. the rotational effect on plane-polarized light passing through certain liquids or crystals.

4.	Also, torc. a collar, necklace, or similar ornament consisting of a twisted narrow band, usually of precious metal, worn esp. by the ancient Gauls and Britons.

–verb (used with object)

5.	Machinery. to apply torque to (a nut, bolt, etc.).

6.	to cause to rotate or twist.

–verb (used without object)

7.	to rotate or twist.

---

[Origin: 1825–35; L. torquēre to twist; (def. 4) F. torque L. torques torques (torc perh. <>

Yep. Latin. I'm pleased.

Also, it turns out there's another tool you can use, just to remove big friggin' bolts without viable heads.

I'll let you know how it all turns out.

Pass it along.

From Making Light. Feel free to pass it along, with attribution and a linkback to the original souce.

Thanks.
__________________________________________

ATTENTION US MILITARY PERSONNEL
Posted by Jim Macdonald at 12:05 AM * 10-2-06

You are not required to obey an unlawful order.

You are required to disobey an unlawful order.

You swore an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.

The Constitution states (Article VI):

This Constitution, and the Laws of the United States which shall be made in Pursuance thereof; and all Treaties made, or which shall be made, under the Authority of the United States, shall be the supreme Law of the Land; and the Judges in every State shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the Contrary notwithstanding.

Here is article 3, the common article, to the Geneva Conventions, a duly ratified treaty made under the authority of the United States:

Article 3

In the case of armed conflict not of an international character occurring in the territory of one of the High Contracting Parties, each party to the conflict shall be bound to apply, as a minimum, the following provisions:

1. Persons taking no active part in the hostilities, including members of armed forces who have laid down their arms and those placed hors de combat by sickness, wounds, detention, or any other cause, shall in all circumstances be treated humanely, without any adverse distinction founded on race, colour, religion or faith, sex, birth or wealth, or any other similar criteria.

To this end the following acts are and shall remain prohibited at any time and in any place whatsoever with respect to the above-mentioned persons:

(a) Violence to life and person, in particular murder of all kinds, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture;

(b) Taking of hostages;

(c) Outrages upon personal dignity, in particular, humiliating and degrading treatment;

(d) The passing of sentences and the carrying out of executions without previous judgment pronounced by a regularly constituted court affording all the judicial guarantees which are recognized as indispensable by civilized peoples.

2. The wounded and sick shall be collected and cared for.

An impartial humanitarian body, such as the International Committee of the Red Cross, may offer its services to the Parties to the conflict.

The Parties to the conflict should further endeavour to bring into force, by means of special agreements, all or part of the other provisions of the present Convention.

The application of the preceding provisions shall not affect the legal status of the Parties to the conflict.

Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions is straightforward and clear. Under Article VI of the Constitution, it forms part of the supreme law of the land.

You personally will be held responsible for all of your actions, in all countries, at all times and places, for the rest of your life. “I was only following orders” is not a defense.

What all this is leading to:

If you are ordered to violate Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions, it is your duty to disobey that order. No “clarification,” whether passed by Congress or signed by the president, relieves you of that duty.

If you are ordered to violate Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions, this is what to do:

1. Request that your superior put the order in writing.

2. If your superior puts the order in writing, inform your superior that you intend to disobey that order.

3. Request trial by courtmartial.

You will almost certainly face disciplinary action, harassment of various kinds, loss of pay, loss of liberty, discomfort and indignity. America relies on you and your courage to face those challenges.

We, the people, need you to support and defend the Constitution. I am certain that your honor and patriotism are equal to the task.

This post may be quoted in full. A linkback would be appreciated.

________________________________________________