Category Archives: History

History, Security

Turkish and Israeli leaders clash

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Without getting into the murky waters of the detailed issues at hand, I find it interesting that the Turkish PM storms off in Gaza row:

Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan has stormed off the stage at the World Economic Forum in Davos after an argument with Israel’s president.

Mr Erdogan clashed with Shimon Peres in a discussion on the recent fighting in the Gaza Strip, telling him: “You are killing people.”

How can Erdogan assert such a passionate role given the recent history of Turkish relations with the PKK?

Iraq’s foreign minister has warned of serious consequences if Turkey launches a ground assault against Kurdish rebels based in northern Iraq.

Hoshyar Zebari told the BBC that the current crisis was “dead serious” and accused Turkey of not seeking a peaceful solution.

He said Turkey had shown no interest in Iraqi proposals to calm the situation.

Turkey has 100,000 troops near the border and is threatening to attack the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in Iraq.

More recently, after the US negotiated the withdrawal of Turkish forces from northern Iraq, Turkey bombed the Kurds:

Turkish air strikes in northern Iraq this week left more than 150 Kurdish rebels dead, the Turkish army says. […] Turkey has staged several cross-border raids into northern Iraq over the past few months in pursuit of the rebels.

Will Turkey use the Gaza conflict to come to terms with its own issues? Will they back down on the PKK and seek EU membership under conditions of human rights for Kurds that were formerly rejected?

History, Poetry, Security

Praise song for the day

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Inauguration poem for President Barack Obama, by Elizabeth Alexander

Praise song for the day.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light.

History, Poetry, Sailing, Security

Shit as Naval Humor

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I’m not talking about your belly button. The Navy CyberSpace Blog provides an anecdote about an anecdote that tries to make light of the word SHIT:

I said, “yes Sir, back in the days of wooden ships occasionally the cargo would be pressed cow manure stacked on pallets and placed in the hold. During the deployment the bilge would start to gain water and the hold would become very humid. The manure would start to decay and produce methane gas. When the Sailor would enter the space with a lantern the hold would explode. Once they realized the reason for these mysterious occurrences of fire they started to place banners on the sides of the pallets, (I demonstrated it graphically on the dry erase board) “Store High In Transit”. That Sir is the origin of the word, so feel free to express the word sh*t anytime you feel appropriate.” Everyone laughed and we got back to work.

The strange part of the story is how “The Admiral during one of his many questions said the word “Sh*t” which was followed by dead silence”. Dead silence? Why so uptight?

Anyway, this story illustrates humor as a key to authorization. The Admiral was allowed to use this word only after a humorous story has been provided.