Back to Blackwater: Consequences of Privatization

Peter Singer has an interesting article in Salon on the tragic and dangerous consequences of our military outsourcing. I posted a couple of months back on the problems with the military contractor, Blackwater. Singer revisits and explains those problems in his essay, which can be found here.

Here are some excerpts that struck me:

• "In 2007, an internal Department of Defense census on the industry found almost 160,000 private contractors were employed in Iraq (roughly equal to the total U.S. troops at the time, even after the troop "surge"). Yet even this figure was a conservative estimate...."

• Singer points out that contractor deaths aren't counted in the military death toll (though many of those contractors are performing duties once the work of official military personnel), thus skewing the reported numbers of actual American lives lost in the war in Iraq and Afghanistan: "If the gradual death toll among American troops threatened to slowly wear down public support, contractor casualties were not counted in official death tolls and had no impact on these ratings. By one count, as of July 2007, more than 1,000 contractors have been killed in Iraq, and another 13,000 wounded. . . .Since the troop "surge" started in January 2007, these numbers have accelerated -- contractors have been killed at a rate of nine per week."

• "According to testimony before the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, the Defense Contract Audit Agency has identified more than a staggering $10 billion in unsupported or questionable costs from battlefield contractors -- and investigators have barely scratched the surface."

• "Halliburton's contract has garnered the firm $20.1 billion in Iraq-related revenue and helped the firm report a $2.7 billion profit last year. To put this into context, the amount paid to Halliburton-KBR is roughly three times what the U.S. government paid to fight the entire 1991 Persian Gulf War.

• "[C]ontractors are one of the most visible and hated aspects of the American presence in Iraq."

  These contractors are not held responsible for criminal acts, hurt the goals of the military, and even detrimentally affect the decisions of our leaders. Will any of these issues be truly addressed in the hearings by the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee?

I'm Disappointed, Too

When accusations of using the race card in the campaign began to be lobbied against the Clintons, I was skeptical, but I listened closely to an exchange on PBS's Lehrer News Hour between Rep. John Lewis of Georgia (who led the 1965 voting rights march in Selma, Alabama) and Rev. Joseph Lowery (co-founder, with Dr. Martin Luther King, of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference) on this topic. Congressman Lewis has openly supported the Clinton campaign, and Rev. Lowery is a supporter of Barack Obama. As each man argued, I thought how this was a defining moment in some ways: two well-known and respected African-American men were openly discussing their differences of opinion, not bound by the politics of race which requires those of the same race to "present a united front." Each put the best spin on his candidate's actions. I came away thinking that the press was perhaps being too hard on the Clintons.

Recent statements of Bill Clinton's, however, have changed my mind. President Clinton has every right to strongly support his wife's campaign, but some of his recent comments have the whiff of the nasty personal attacks associated with the right-wing "noise machine." I was horrified and disgusted with the Republican tactics in many recent political campaigns: the Saxby Chambliss attacks on the patriotism of Max Cleland and the Swift-boating of John Kerry. The Clintons do not do Democrats any favors with Bill Clinton's recent comments comparing Barack Obama's win in South Carolina with Jesse Jackson's presidential campaign in the same state, dismissing Obama's victory as merely the result of the "black candidate" getting the "black vote."

Glenn Glenwald excellently describes the situation and the Clintons' missteps in his blog. I, like many Democratic women my age, want to see a strong woman president, and I think Hillary Clinton is our best hope and could make a good president. However, I believe Barack Obama is a good candidate, too, and my vote could easily go to Barack Obama if the Clintons don't change their campaign tactics. The Republican smearing is going to be bad enough after Democrats nominate a candidate; Democrats should not take a page out of the Republican smear-tactics game book to smear one another.

Other Comments:
From Barbara Ehrenreich's blog
James Fallows' blog

Let the Drug Addicts Die?????

I just read of an amazing drug that, if administered timely and correctly, can prevent drug addicts from overdosing on heroin. The drug is called Narcan, and it comes in the form of an easy-to-use nasal spray. According to a report on National Public Radio, naxolone, or Narcan, "blocks the brain receptors that heroin activates, instantly reversing an overdose." Drug programs include this drug in kits that cost $9.50 and make those kits, as well as education on how to use them, available for drug addicts. Doctors and emergency medical technicians have been using naxolone for years. Now it's available in a kit for the people who are on the scene at the moment of a drug overdose.

However, a Bush administration official, Dr. Bertha Madras, deputy director of the White House Office on National Drug Control Policy, doesn't think that these kits should be available to the public or drug overdose rescue operations. Why? Because, she says, "Narcan kits may actually encourage drug abusers to keep using heroin because they know overdosing isn't as likely."

What's up with people who think like this? These are the same people who think teenagers shouldn't have access to birth control because the teens will be more encouraged to have sex or that girls shouldn't receive the vaccine for human papillomavirus because more girls might then be encouraged to be sexually active with the fear of this disease (and its consequences, such as cervical cancer) removed.

People who engage in risky behavior aren't calculating those risks. They're caught up in the demands of the drug addiction or the forceful tug of their hormones or the siren song of love and desire.

There's a nasty undercurrent of sadism in these puritanical types who obviously think people should not escape punishment for poor decisions. It's really scary, however, when these types of folks are in positions of authority and run our government programs. Who do they think they are? God?

Other posts on this topic:
Kevin Drum, Washington Monthly

Mark Kleiman, at The Reality-Based Commuity

The Art of Craft: Hats, Hats, Hats

Years ago, more than I care to admit, my grandmother Margaret Cole Dugat handed me a crochet needle and yarn and taught me to single-stitch a chain. Once I could single-stitch with fairly regular precision, she taught me how to double-stitch in each of those single-stitches--and thus I learned to crochet. I completed my first crocheted afghan when I was in high school, one with red roses and green leaves on white background squares. This afghan was to become part of my art car years and years later, attached to the back seat of the car and plumped around with Virgin of Guadalupe pillows.

Over the years I met many people who denigrated such craft. Some thought crocheting an activity for old women or intellectually inferior women or women with too much time on their hands. Depending upon the circumstances, I kept my craft a secret.

But now I am an old woman--or at least a woman inching past middle age--and I'm going public with my craft. In memory of my grandmother, who died in 2006, I've picked up the crochet hook once again with a vengeance. First, I crocheted scarfs and hats, following no directions but my own inclinations. I bought wool from a local craft shop and learned to felt the crocheted pieces. Then I created what I call "Christmas gnomes," inspired by--but not much like--some handmade felted gnomes sold in a local store. Here are a few of the hats:

Snow in Metro-Atlanta

The temperature is 27 degrees this afternoon, following yesterday's snow fall. Icy snow still remains on the lawns of the neighborhood though the streets are clear. Yesterday Tom, Mary-Margaret and I walked downtown, taking photos of the snow and of snowmen created by neighborhood children. Grass and other leafy debris added texture to the snow sculptures. We had maybe an inch of snow, with the brown remainders of summer's lawn grass sticking up through the white stuff. With no usable garage here at our new home in Georgia, my art car is exposed to the elements. The Barbies on the roof of the car seemed to be flailing rather desperately in the snow.

Falling into 2008

Two days ago I fell through the ceiling with a black cat under one arm, screaming and shouting "shit, shit, shit!" as my left leg shot through pink insulation and chalky sheetrock.

The Old Year had not ended well nor the New Year begun well.

Just as last year, I celebrated the Christmas season feeling very unwell. Last year, it was ear problems, this year a very nasty cold that led to fever, chills, and weird dreams of Mama cows and baby calves trying to escape a flood in Papa and Grandma Benton's East Gate prairie farmyard . Both the Mama cows and calves sank beneath the muddy waters of that dream, just as I was sinking in a depression of illness.

But perhaps like March, a year that begins ill and blustering will transform to zephyr breezes and happy health.

Two days ago, for the first time in over a week, I felt as if I might actually get well. Then Pluto followed me up into the attic, where I was storing Christmas decorations, and instead of closing the cat in the attic until he was ready to come down of his own accord, I determined to catch him. Fortunately, the hole I knocked in the ceiling is where we might put in an attic fan, and also, fortunately, I suffered only from the first initial fright and later a little tenderness in bruising.

Every New Year brings lessons in life, some of which I have to learn over and over again:

• Allow a cat his way, for he knows it and he's determined to follow it.
• Don't travel at Christmas or Thanksgiving. Enjoy the seasons in one's own small circle, in one's own local community. Traveling is for business, leisure(!) vacations, and emergencies.
• Don't read melancholy biographies of people who suffer from depression and illness when one is depressed and ill.

When Tom and I were looking at used books at The Eagle's Nest in North Decatur just before Christmas, I found a pocket-sized, Oxford University Press World Classics, 1919-reprint of Elizabeth Gaskell's The Life of Charlotte Bronte, for $33, and I asked Tom to purchase it for me as a Christmas present--which he did, glad to have his shopping decisions so easily made. Elizabeth Gaskell is one of my favorite nineteenth-century writers, and I had been wanting to read this biography for quite some time. Also, I had just purchased for a gift for Mary-Margaret a book which contained novels by the three Bronte sisters: Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey.

But a book on the lives of the Brontes--no matter how wonderfully written--does not make for cheerful reading, and while I thoroughly enjoyed the literary merit of the biography and the voyeurism of reading extracts from Charlotte Bronte's letters, the sad details of the lives of these promising young women who died so young deepened the melancholia I was feeling already from my own illness. Unfortunately, fairy tales don't interest me at this age, anyway, so there was no hope for the melancholia until the fever lifted and the cough dissipated. ("Is this how a consumptive feels?" I thought as I hacked and coughed and heaped covers over my shivering body, night after night.)

But now I've arisen from the invalid's bed, I've fallen from the ceiling, and I've captured the black cat who sometimes does indeed come when his name is called. I've spent a few leisurely minutes today reading poems and essays from Mary Oliver's Blue Iris: Poems and Essays and have recorded from an essay my first quotation for the year:

"For flowers, like people and birds, are travelers, and will leave a garden if they can."