Chill of Surveillance, the "Freedom" of Silence

It was only a matter of time before Stanislaus Obul would gain access to the internet. Stanislaus, one of my students from Peace Corps days in Kenya, lives in Sudan.

We are both old men now, ”wazee,” in Swahili. In Africa, we are granted the respect that comes with age. We speak our minds; people listen. They think we are wise; we know better, but speak we do.

Back in the mid-Sixties at our school in western Kenya, we both stood out.

Stanislaus, like me, was a foreigner, and was tall, perhaps 6’3.” (In the wisdom of my youth, I taught him how to play basketball.) His Dinka tribe is in the non-Arab south of Sudan, a vast country ruled by Arabs.

I stood out because I was the only American on the remote little campus run by an order of Dutch Catholic teaching brothers. Soon, other Americans would join me in my tour at Rapogi Secondary School, but for a few months, early in my three-year tour, I was as much of an oddity as the tall Dinka youth.

After graduating from Rapogi, Stanislaus returned to Sudan, a country wracked by civil war, brutal banditry and terror. We had corresponded over the years. At one point I had sent money so his wife could buy a sewing machine, but the money never found its way through the Sudanese postal system to her.

In recent years, as the Darfur conflict in western Sudan worsened, I became worried about Stanislaus’ welfare. I had written him three years ago and had heard nothing, until last Saturday

There in my e-mail in-box was a message from Stanislaus. It bore a two-letter note line greeting: “hi.”

In the letter he wrote: “We are still far away from each other, but now with this modern communication, you shall know about where I am.”

Indeed. But what is it now safe to tell each other? Could we share our thoughts?

As I wrote him back, expressing my relief and my on-going concern for his safety, I also wanted to tell him about my concern for my own country and about my opposition to the Iraq war and the Bush/Cheney administration.

And that’s when a chill swept through me.

Here I was an American e-mailing a Sudanese. Wasn’t this is exactly the kind of communication that the American government was “monitoring”? No warrant necessary.

Who else would be reading what I had to say? How might they interpret my anti-government remarks? How might my e-mail affect Stanislaus, who has relatives living here in the United States? How might they be affected?

I have recently been appalled by Kafka-esque deportation of musicologist Nalini Ghuman by our government. If the government could do that to her, what might they do to Stanislaus’ relatives who have found refuge here?

And so I did not share my views about the Bush administration and its Oil War in Iraq. I did not tell him of being part of our anti-war vigil here in Hillsdale, off my placard reading “On to Plan B: IMPEACH!”

In essence, the surveillance of messages between this country and abroad was stifling my speech.

In a small way, the repressive Bush administration’s “War on Terror” had found its way into the sanctity of my cluttered study. It had frozen my fingers on the keyboard.

Even as I write this a twinge of fear has returned because this Red Electric post, as a public form of expression, is also a communication to those abroad who choose to read it. I gave Stanislaus the URL for the Red Electric so he could read my thinking and get a sense of my life and interests.

Might the words “Sudan” and “terrorism” in this sentence and elsewhere in this post trigger some U.S. government surveillance computer? Will these words cause some secretive repercussion on Stanislaus, his family and me?

Do those repercussions stop with us, or does do the government’s surveillance computers record the names of Americans who freely choose to read these words. Are you being watched?

America likes to think of itself as “The Land of the Free.” How free can we be when our secretive, increasingly authoritarian government spies on what we write and what we read?

Will we soon arrive at the day when we are “free” only to be silent, only to be ignorant?

Leibman's complaint...and mine

In a letter to the editor in this month’s Southwest Community Connection, Eric Leibman makes note of our Friday evening peace vigils and then writes, “As a Hillsdale resident, I want to point out that there are definitely people, myself included, who do not agree with the protests.”

I assume that his problem isn’t with protesting per se but with our reasons for protesting as the rest of the long letter is devoted to why he believes American forces must stay in Iraq.

He asks how we protesters plan to avoid the catastrophe that he believes will ensue if American forces withdraw.

He clearly believes the nations of the Middle East are incapable of solving their own problems without an American occupation. And of course there’s the question of maintaining Exxon/Mobil’s (he says “America’s) access to all that oil.

I don’t want to get into the logic or illogic of his arguments, the deceptions of the Bush Administration and the fact that Bush and Cheney are joined at the hip with the corrupt, despotic Saudis and rapacious, collusive Big Oil.

No, I was hoping that Leibman would focus in criticism on the protests themselves. Are they a bad idea? Are they misleading?

I believe they are a good idea, but the are clearly misleading if people seeing us conclude that people like Leibman don’t exist.

I invite Leibman and others of a like mind to come down with their own placards and put their slogans up against ours.

Mine says, “Wage Peace.” Theirs might say, “Wage War.”

Mine says, “Say ‘No!’ to War” Theirs might say, “Say ‘No!’ to Peace” or “Say ‘Yes!’ to War.”

Whatever they say, I’d stand side by side with fellow neighbor Leibman and his colleagues.

As I’ve noted, most commuters signal their approval of our anti-war view, but a few flip us off.
So Leibman might be heartened by support in the stream of homeward-bound traffic.

I hope that we all would find support for just being there and reminding people that this nation is in crisis, however you define it.

I’d like to see that corner become a kind of Speakers' Corner, like that in London’s Hyde Park, where all comers are welcomed. As much as we disagree, we share a belief in free and open public debate.

I’m glad Leibman wrote his letter to The Connection, now I wish he’d stand up for his views next to us at the corner of Sunset and Capitol.

It would do us all good.

Self-censorship, freedom of speech and the internet

A friend has told me that he would comment on recent Red Electric postings, but he is hesitant because what he has to say would become part of his Google-able "public record" and one day might be used against him.

In particular, my friend, who is an atheist, took exception to the recent post regarding the "Ten Media Commandments."

I find his concern troubling. Certainly we need to be circumspect about what we say on the internet, but not to the point that we suppress what we legitimately want to say in the course of civil discourse.

To me "freedom of speech" is worthless unless we can use it. Moreover, those who would judge us and reject us because they silently disagree with what we have written, are part of the problem. We who speak out with open minds and invite discussion are part of the solution.

We should be free to be wrong—or right.

Of course, freedom of speech is also the freedom NOT to speak, but our reason for remaining silent shouldn't be fear.

The intriguing idea called the "spiral of silence" posits that unless we articulate and repeat an idea, it will die. In the same way, the suppression of speech through fear of reprisal is nothing less than the killing of ideas.

Just because an idea is "bad" or wrong or even hateful shouldn't mean that it is suppressed. Rejected after debate, yes, but not killed.

Rereading this, it strikes me that my friend's concern, though overtly about freedom of speech, may in fact be as much about freedom of religion—or to be more exact, freedom of non-religious belief, or atheism.

Significantly, the First Amendment protects both and, as we see in his case, they are inextricably bound.