Will America harbor Carriles?

At least he’s not harbored in a harbor, if you know what I mean.

I was just reading about runaway inflation in Zimbabwe, where bread costs about 30% more than last week — $66,000 Zimbabwean per loaf (that’s 66 US cents, if you can believe it). I was trying to get a better sense of the situation when I happened to read an op-ed piece in The Herald:

The case of Luis Posada Carriles has become an international embarrassment for the Bush administration. Ever since Posada illegally entered the US using a false passport and showed up in Miami in March 2005 expecting to be granted political asylum for his early career as a CIA anti-Castro agent, his presence in the United States has created a major quandary for the White House.

I do not remember hearing much about the Carriles case, you? And yet the Herald makes it seem like Bush himself is worried.

Here’s a little more background from the Washington Post:

Trained by the CIA in the use of explosives as part of the ill-fated Bay of Pigs invasion, Posada has been linked through the years with the bombing of a Cuban civilian airliner that killed 73 people; bombings in Cuban tourist hotels that killed an Italian tourist and injured 11 other people; and a 2000 plot to assassinate Castro in Panama.

Does that make him a terrorist? To be frank, and according to the CIA definition, yes.

Just to confuse things a little there appears to be plenty of documentation linking Carriles to the CIA, so I would expect some might try and suggest he is a patriot for blowing up civilian aircraft…although President Bush himself declared “Any nation that harbors terrorists are as responsible as the terrorists themselves.”

José Pertierra, a lawyer representing the government of Venezuela in the extradition case of Carriles, had this perspective on the situation:

There are enough laws in the United States to keep this terrorist in jail. What is lacking is the political will to do so. From the beginning of this drama, George W. Bush has wanted to shelter, rather than prosecute, the terrorist. Somewhere in a drawer in the Department of State are the pleadings filed by Venezuela, asking for his preventive detention as well as his extradition. The Bush Administration thus far ignores them and instead mocks U.S. law, as well as three separate extradition treaties signed, ratified and conveniently used by the government of the United States in other cases in its war on terror.

Hmmm. It is not as though relations between Chavez and Bush are warm right now, and an ex-CIA operative must have some importance/relevance to Bush Senior (not to mention Cheney and Rumsfeld), but what is Bush Junior’s position on this guy? With articles like this one from the Foreign Policy in Focus, it will be interesting to see whether the mainstream press picks up on the debate:

Posada has confided to journalists and others that for four decades he had worked on and off with the CIA to assassinate Cuban President Fidel Castro. In 1976, Posada teamed up with Orlando Bosch, another obsessed Castro-hater, and hired two Venezuelan killers to detonate a bomb on board a commercial Cubana flight over Barbados. Seventy-three passengers and crew members died. This was a blatant terrorist act. The hired weasels ratted on Posada to the police, landing him in a Venezuelan prison.

After a decade of inconclusive judicial proceedings, Posada’s Miami buddies bribed the prison officials and Posada “escaped” to Central America, where he worked for Lt. Col. Oliver North in supplying the Contras in their CIA-backed attempt to overthrow the Nicaraguan government.

In 1990 in Guatemala, an unknown gunman shot Posada in the face. He recovered, but didn’t regain full use of his voice. Even that didn’t stop him. In 1997, he recruited a Salvadoran to bomb hotels in Cuba. One bomb killed an Italian tourist. Cuban cops grabbed the Salvadoran, who named Posada as his employer.

Posada even boasted about his violence against Cuban tourism to two New York Times reporters in July 1998. How did he feel about killing the innocent civilian, they asked? “I sleep like a baby,” he replied.

*Sigh* I think I was hoping to live life without ever hearing the name “Oliver North” again, especially in relation to a current US President’s foreign policy in Latin America. I see an historic theme emerging here, however, and a recent briefing by Wayne Smith, Senior Fellow at the Center for International Policy indicates that the US not only allowed Carriles into the country, but enabled him to do so:

Posada Carriles is in the United States thanks to the intervention of Congresswoman Ileana Ros-Lehtinen and Congressmen Lincoln and Mario Diaz-Balart, all of whom petitioned the then-president of Panama, Mireya Moscoso, to pardon him and three other Cuban exile terrorists—which she did, as one of her last acts before leaving office.

So the US government supposedly helped get Carriles out of jail in Panama, and then “discovered” him trying to enter the US, and now refuses to extradite him to Venezuela? January 24th, 2006 was the deadline for his release, but I do not see any news at all in February on the subject. I assume he is still in US custody, but who is reporting on this issue now and what is the Bush Administration position? Will Carriles be tried for his crimes, let alone extradited?

Glad

by the Swingin’ Utters

    Some sing their songs
    they’re flying on uppers
    So sweet and smug
    that I lose my supper

    Some mumble psalms
    of solace and virtue
    Hang by their palms
    Choke on the cud they chew

    I’m glad we met
    So sad you left
    Sometimes the sweetest things turn sour

    Love songs are cheap
    and only get cheaper
    They prey on the meek
    Who only get meeker

    Cliches sung by stars
    Look so good on paper
    Each bar fed to you
    A communion wafer

    I’m glad we met
    So sad you left
    Sometimes the sweetest things turn sour

    Don’t even think of being average
    You’re so much more to me than adequate
    I’m hanging on to every word you speak
    I’ll burn the torch until you come to me

    I’m glad we met
    So sad you left
    Sometimes the sweetest things turn sour

    The time we spent
    Was heaven sent
    Opened my eyes and stole my hours

An ID plan with teeth

The Guardian reports that some clever dentists have modified RFID tags and are planning to implant them in people’s teeth:

“When you put all identification data in one place in the body there can be no mistakes. You have an immediate identification,” said Dr Thevissen. Teeth are particularly hardy and can survive for hundreds of thousands of years. Many extinct primates, for example, are known only from tooth fossils. “We want to store it in the tooth because it’s the strongest and longest lived body part.”

Plus it helps dentists diversify their offerings. They’re not just cleaning, fixing, and enhancing your smile any more…they are helping law enforcement track the whereabouts of primates.

I have a better idea, though. If the plan is just to provide uniqueness to the teeth, why not use complex or even decorative etching in the enamel instead of implanting radio tags? I think etching is far more likely to be both robust as well as secure. Computers can even easily scan and store data based on the etchings. The one downside compared to RFID is that you couldn’t stand over a pile of rubble and instantly inventory the victims; you would still have to exhume them first. But I’m not sure dentists really care about that aspect of disaster recovery.

House Made of Dawn

I decided to pick up a copy of N. Scott Momaday‘s classic prose in House Made of Dawn. I wonder why it is so rare to see any of the Indian story-telling or prose mentioned on sites of American poetry? His opening paragraph seems amazing to me, all by itself:

The river lies in a vally of hills and fields. The north end of the valley is narrow, and the river runs down from the mountains through a canyon. The sun strikes the canyon floor only a few hours each day, and in winter the snow remains for a long time in the crevices of the walls. There is a town in the valley, and there are ruins of other towns in the canyon. In three directions from the town there are cultivated fields. Most of them lie to the west, across the river, on the slope of the plain. Now and then in winter, great angles of geese fly through the valley, and then the sky and the geese are the same color and the air is hard and damp and smoke rises from the houses of the town. The seasons lie hard upon the land. In the summer the valley is hot, and birds come to the tamarak on the river. The feathers of blue and yellow birds are prized by the townsmen.

And of course the song:

Tsegihi.
House made of dawn,
House made of evening light,
House made of dark cloud,
House made of male rain,
House made of dark mist,
House made of female rain,
House made of pollen,
House made of grasshoppers,
Dark cloud is at the door.
The trail out of it is dark cloud.
The zigzag lightning stands high upon it.
Male deity!
Your offering I make.
I have prepared smoke for you.
Restore my feet for me,
Restore my legs for me,
Restore my body for me,
Restore my mind for meÂ…