I was born in 1957 at the hospital at the United States Naval Academy; it no longer exists. I was born there because my Dad, a pilot and intelligence officer (USNA ‘50) was teaching there. My Dad, besides being a loving father and the most honest person I’ve ever known, was brilliant. He had been admitted to Princeton at the age of 15, but gave up Princeton to go to the Naval Academy because he wanted to serve his country. Like me, he was no athlete (those skills belong to my Mom and my brother). He was also, like me, a night owl -- we shared so many late nights together, watching TV or movies, talking, while everyone else was asleep. Neither of these traits is particularly useful at the Academy, where one has to be up at the crack of dawn and physical fitness is mandatory.
One of the black and white snapshots of my Dad from the Academy (taken by one of his classmates) shows him drinking coffee in Bancroft Hall -- the photographer was kind enough to give me a print of it at the service for the fallen at his 50th reunion. My Dad died, very suddenly, from an aneurysm, six months before his reunion. My Mom and I went in his stead. So many people at that reunion called me aside to tell me that my Dad had saved their bacon academically, that he had spent hours helping them with engineering and math and science . . . That, without him, they never would have graduated. Some of these men were people I had never met.
Many of my Dad’s students later served in Vietnam. Some of them were shot down and tortured. I do not know whether John McCain was in any of his classes -- although he could have been. I do know that my Dad admired John McCain for his service and I also know that the last check he ever wrote was one supporting John McCain’s quest for the Presidency in 2000. I’m not sure he would be so sanguine about Senator McCain's quest for the Presidency now.
One of the things my Dad instilled in me and in my brother was honesty -- you either told the truth, or you did not. There wasn’t any middle ground with him. And one of the things he loved so much (however naively) about the country he served so proudly was its commitment to truth. He believed (again, however naively) that the United States of America stood for truth. He also believed, so passionately, that he served a country that took the higher ground -- a country that would not stoop to evil means, no matter what.
Earlier today, SallyCat had an excellent diary that compared our current treatment of "enemy combatants" with those who suffered the horrors of the Witch Trials in Salem. The comparison was so sad. And so apt.
Last week, the current nominee for Attorney General of the United States -- the highest law enforcement position in our country -- claimed that he "didn’t know" what was involved with waterboarding, and said that "if" such techniques were torture, they would be unconstitutional.
THIS is what we have come to? THIS is the country my Dad (and both my grandfathers) served so proudly to protect? I don’t think so.
Is it too much to ask that those who are charged with protecting and defending the Constitution of this country -- and its heritage and its place in the world -- understand and uphold and defend our basic principles?
I weep for the country in which I grew up; and I am glad that my dear Dad, who I loved (and love) so much, and who believed in it so very much, didn’t live to see the shambles to which this Administration has reduced it.
Is it too much to ask that the United States of America say NO to torture?