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I'm not saying we should attack Myanmar. I'm really not in favor of attacking any countries at all. But I'm trying to figure out how the justifications made for the invasion of Iraq do not also justify -- or, indeed, *demand* -- that we similarly undertake a military effort to overthrow the ruling Myanmar government.

After all, much of the public justification for the Iraq invasion was based on the country being ruled by a tyrannical autocracy that ruthlessly turned on its people. Certainly the same situation is present in Myanmar, and possibly on an even greater scale. The ruling junta's indifference to the health and well-being of its entire population seems to put even Saddam Hussein on his worst day to shame.

Of course, in the case of Iraq it was also argued that America's own interests were at stake. Hussein might have been harboring terrorists, or building a nuclear arsenal. As far as I know, no such similar allegations have been asserted against the Myanmar government. But even if there were it wouldn't affect this analysis, seeing how in the case of Iraq none of those allegations were true. No doubt Saddam Hussein harbored a great deal of antipathy and suspicion towards the United States, but hateful feelings do not an imminent danger make. In terms of posing an *actual threat* to American security he was obviously lacking. On the contrary, his rule in some ways even *assured* the security of the U.S. For example, under his government Al Qaeda, a mutual enemy of both him and the United States, was not free to operate. Whereas after his overthrow Iraq suddenly became the Al Qaeda breeding ground it hadn't been before.

So when we take a look at the arguments underpinning the Iraq invasion and compare them to the ones that would support an invasion of Myanmar, we see there's little difference. In fact we might be left with even *more* justification to invade Myanmar, given the scale of the junta's longstanding track record of humanitarian crimes and scope of imminent harm its current behavior is likely to cause.

Meanwhile, remember also that Myanmar has oil, which has often proven to be an important factor in choosing whom the U.S. should invade. Myanmar's wealth of natural resources has always made it a complicating factor in Southeast Asian geopolitical relations, and it's a wealth it might behoove the U.S. to have some control over. Personally I find this kind of rationale wholly unqualified to justify the violent incursion of a sovereign nation, but the point here is that because the current U.S. government has relied upon such reasons before, it's hard to see why it would not be willing to rely upon them now too.

At the core of the neoconservative thinking behind the Iraq invasion was the idea that pre-emptive self-defense could provide a justification for an otherwise forbidden act, in this case an act of war. Necessity and justification are concepts that do exist in law to exonerate bad acts that are necessary to prevent even worse results that would occur but for the intervention of these other bad acts. It's the idea that shooting a gunman could ever be ok. If it could reasonably be believed that the gunman posed a threat, shooting him first can be justified, whether to protect oneself or to prevent harm to other innocents. Defense of others -- if you reasonably thought the gunman would kill other people -- can provide just as legitimate grounds for shooting him as would have defense of oneself.

But these bad acts must still be reasonably grounded and proportionate to the actual risk threatened, and consequently in the case of Iraq these defenses come up short in justifying the violent action taken by the U.S. However, when we look at Myanmar, where we see that hundreds of thousands are already dead or missing and the survivors are without access to food, shelter, or clean water, and where the ruling junta is going out of its way to prevent them from receiving those necessary items of survival, they may come closer to measuring up. Right now the world can reasonably and unavoidably see the grave and lethal risk to millions the Myanmar government currently poses. If, then, it is ever right to intervene when such a grievous threat is posed by a government to its citizens, surely such a time is now. Especially if it was ever Iraq's time before.

Remember how a few months ago I indicated some Huey Lewis and the News concerts were coming up, and it remained to be seen which ones I'd decide to go to? Well, dromomaniac that I am, I decided to go see the ones in Japan.

HLN were over there this month, touring with Chicago. They did six dates, including three in the Tokyo/Yokohama area this past weekend, which I just got back from seeing.

Hence the light blogging here, because I was actually doing something resembling blogging over on the HLN fan board, filling other fans in on what it was like to be over there and see the shows. Although it's written largely with that audience in mind, it still reads like my normal travelogues. Have a look (There's about four days' worth of significant posts, so keep scrolling among the comments to see it all).

By the way, I don't mean the Disney "Small World" song -- HLN have an entire album called Small World, which includes this title track. A track, it might interest the jazz fans among you to know, that Stan Getz played on. And if neither HLN nor Stan Getz are your cup of tea, how about the Foo Fighters? Huey recently joined them onstage at their show in Osaka...

The Olympic torch is now passing controversially through cities around the world, leading up to this summer's games to be held in Beijing. As China continues its crackdown on dissidents, appalled voices in other countries are calling for their nations to boycott the games with increasing volume.

It's a reasonable position: China sees its hosting of the games as an enormous boon, so why positively reward a country that's acting in negative ways?

But I find myself disagreeing with the calls for a boycott. For one thing, it would unfairly punish the athletes more than anyone else. It doesn't seem particularly constructive to use them as political pawns, particularly when it's things such as games that help unite peoples when there is so much else trying to divide them. Availing yourself of opportunities to better understand people you don't agree with doesn't mean you're sanctioning their position. On the contrary, by better understanding the context from which it emerges you can instead end up in a better position to persuade against it.

And in this particular instance I think it is of critical importance that people in the west come to better understand China. Though it's been opening up tremendously within recent years, what's known about it is still based on anecdote and supposition. The more people who can meet it up close and personal to get a more accurate measure, the better. In fact it's particularly important in terms of figuring out how our own interests suggest we should choose to deal with it going forward. Because when it comes down to it, I think on further inspection we may be surprised to discover what we *thought* we wanted from China may not quite turn out to be what we actually should.

Behold, yet another of my multi-annual posts (although only the first on this blog) praising Paul Thorn to the skies, but who after hearing him could blame me?

Still, I think it's important to tell his story not only because he deserves whatever positive exposure I can give him, but because his stands as an important example of how an up-and-coming artist can forge a successful career without the aid or interference of a major record label.

John McCain may be overstating things a bit when he says that Purim is a Jewish Halloween. True, in terms of its modern celebration it is similarly festive. I remember reading in the All of a Kind Family books about the kids dressing up and knocking on people's doors, chanting, "Today is Purim, tomorrow no more! Now give me a penny and show me the door!" Certainly parallels can be drawn between that and trick-or-treating, but Purim's actual origins, as a chance to fete an (unfortunately all too rare) occasion of triumph over anti-Semitism, should not be overlooked.

Nonetheless, it does provide an excuse to have a good time, which leads me to that writing project I'd earlier alluded to being tied up working on. As a fan of Monty Python and Fry and Laurie I realized recently that it was a bit unfortunate that I'd never really ever pursued trying to write sketch comedy. I can't say I never did, as I did dabble a bit with it in high school, even going so far as filming a production of my "Press the Flesh" Sunday talk show parody for the television production class I was taking. But after high school I never really thought about pursuing it again until my third year of law school, when, given the apparent (and surprising) success of my songwriting I thought maybe I should give it another go.

Unfortunately my semester abroad prevented me from being involved with the annual Legal Follies production, an evening of sketch-driven satire of all things legal that many law schools do annually. But then this spring my local synagogue announced that they would be doing a production of Purim Follies to celebrate the holiday and invited people to write Jewish-themed sketches for it. So I gave it a shot.

Fortunately, as I read it out at a writer's meeting it got some laughs. Unfortunately, none were by the guy producing the show, hence its lack of inclusion at last night's Purim Follies production. I can't imagine ever having another excuse to use it, but instead of wasting a perfectly good -- or at least not a completely terrible -- piece of writing, why not, as per usual, post it on my blog?

I'm feeling a little embarrassed about my last post, seeing how the very thrust of my gist was undermined by a failure to notice a tiny piece of the supporting text, a piece that apparently directly contradicts my position. But more than embarrassed I'm feeling irritated, as I'd actually gone to some lengths to carefully pore over the text before going out on a limb and publishing my thesis. And yet, despite that effort, I was still wrong, tripped up by a few little words whose impact had failed to register in my mind.

It's so easy for a mind with momentum to overlook little words. It's why it's so hard to proofread your own work, to notice what you're actually seeing when you have such strong expectation of what will be there. But when these little words can so significantly affect meaning, failing to catch them can cause problems.

I remember back when I was working in France and needed to find an apartment. Vacancy rates in Paris are very low, and no sooner would the local rags with the classified ads hit the streets when it seemed like all the rentals would be snatched up. I got so discouraged always hearing, "L'appartement est déjà loué (the apartment is already rented)," in response to my inquiries that I called up the next place anticipating a negative answer.

"Is the apartment already rented?" I pessimistically posed my inquiry. "Est-ce que l'appartement est déjà loué?"

"Non," was the response. "The apartment is not already rented. Il n'est pas déjà loué."

But all my brain registered at first was the "est" "déjà" "loué " -- and reflexively hung up.

Sometimes the little words really do matter a lot...

Ralph Nader has once again thrown his hat into the presidential campaign ring and is once again being roundly ridiculed for it.

During the last election I questioned the validity of this excoriation, and I think those comments remain largely pertinent today:

This past spring I watched my friend graduate from San Francisco State. The whole university graduated together, with one large convocation in a stadium. They invited various famous speakers to address the assembled crowd, including the guy who founded eLoan. Somewhere in the middle of his talk he veered off on a tangent. He had been talking about how, even working in business, you could still have a social conscience, and his remarks made reference to the influence of Ralph Nader. But as soon as he mentioned his name, he immediately digressed from his prepared notes. That Nader used to be cool, he said, "but now he's a dick."

It's very sad that Nader's ethos as a crusading cowboy for the common man has become so tarnished to those who would otherwise have welcomed him as an ally. Liberals have been rushing to excoriate him, while Republicans have suddenly signed up to be his best friends, just because of the perceived impact he may have on the ballot this election day.

I tend to think that this criticism is undeserved. Nader has a point: there should be more than two choices for president. Perhaps if there ordinarily were, we wouldn't keep having elections where the choice feels like one between the lesser of two evils. Consolidating political power in two parties is not healthy for governance. Whoever wants to be on the ballot should be able to run, and it's noble for him to want to change the political landscape so that 3rd party and independent candidates will be able to have more viable candidacies.

...

On the other hand, Nader may only have himself to blame for his loss of reputation, even though that loss may be undeserved. He is a man who is both right and wrong at the same time. His insistence on running in this election may have been a bridge too far, one too many battles, which, though worthy on its own, may have undermined the others he also wished to fight. Nader has many people working hard in his non-profits, trying to affect positive policy changes ... These dedicated people keep pressing for important changes that this administration refuses to adopt. They need an alternative one in order to get their job done. Nader knows he isn't going to win this election, but if he even slightly (and however inadvertently) contributes to the re-election of the current administration, it will be extremely counter-productive to his other causes.

In the 20+ years I've been a Huey Lewis and the News fans I've seen countless "puns" involving their name in countless headlines, each written with the same stench of self-flattery for having been so clever in coming up with it.

I would never attempt to be so obvious myself. No, I just mean to fulfill my promise of a Huey Lewis-related post, and now seems a good time to do it since there actually is some news (some of it even relating to the News) to talk about.

Recent events have given me occasion to think about situations where old enemies eventually forgo hostilities and open up to each other.

One of the most touching examples of this came after September 11th, when in tribute to fallen Americans a British band played the "Star Spangled Banner." It wasn't just a nice gesture of support for a friend in its time of crisis. It was a moment of historical irony, seeing how Francis Scott Key had written the words to the "Star Spangled Banner" after a battle of the War of 1812. A war fought against our then enemy, and now friend, Britain.

We are perhaps less chummy with Russia and its communist disciple Vietnam, but now that arms have been laid down we are learning to open up to each other. As a result it's possible, on American TV, to watch an edition "Russia Today." One showing Vietnam celebrating the 35th anniversary of US withdrawal by honoring the 3000 Soviet troops, or "military experts," as they were called, who helped North Vietnamese soldiers defend against air raids. "We valued their equipment, it was better than the Americans'," said one former Vietnamese officer. "That's why we won the war."

Perhaps these aren't quite the friendliest of sentiments, but at least the openness that resulted from the dispensing of our mutual Cold War suspicions can remind us how in all wars there are people on the other side who believe in their cause as much as your side does in your own.

In early 1999 my TV was constantly filled with scenes of Kosovars fleeing to Albania and Macedonia with carts loaded with however many of their possessions they could carry. I don't know how many Americans saw these pictures -- I was living in France at the time, and this humanitarian nightmare seemed to be happening in my backyard.

Then in 2004 I had a chance to visit Kosovo in person. It was a profound experience to be somewhere where history was unfolding before your own eyes. Most of European history hangs in museums, but in Kosovo it was happening in the streets.

I'd forgotten how much fun a bike race can be. I'd seen a few before: a stage of the 1999 Giro d'Italia (Tour of Italy) as it spilled down from the Italian Alps into picturesque Borgo San Dalmazzo, and the mountaintop finish of 2002's Tour de France climb up Provence's looming Mount Ventoux. There's always such a festive energy surrounding them, the kind that a parade normally attracts. A really, really fast parade...

Some races, like the Tour de France, are led by an actual parade, "Le Caravan de Publicité," where costumed models toss sponsors' shwag into the crowd assembled along the race route from trucks-turned-outrageously-sculpted-parade-floats. But all road races are characterized by the cloud of fuss that surrounds the cyclists as they zip along to the finish.

This year's Tour of California bike race was no exception. One hundred twenty-nine (or so) riders sped down Bridgeway in Sausalito today, on their way to Highway 1 and about 95 more miles before later reaching Santa Rosa. Bridgeway being but a stone's throw from where I live, I went out to watch the race sail through. Preceded by motorcycles bearing cameramen, cop cars, and sedans carrying race VIPS, the peloton, with helicopters swirling overhead, tore onto the 101 onramp trailed by more cop cars, team cars with roofs crammed full with spare bikes, and an impatient population of local drivers who'd been kept off the road while the race passed through...

But then, all too quick (except for those inconvenienced local townspeople who are not amused by professional bike racing), it was over. The racers were well on their way through their scenic and self-propelled Tour of California.

And not of Iowa, which has its own scenic and self-propelled cycling tour, the much-less rapid and presumably much less rife with dopage "RAGBRAI," or "Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa." Blawger Rush Nigut finds himself daydreaming about this summer ride in this week's Blawg Review, from which I am linked.

Which may be particularly fitting. Although I've ridden bikes ever since my parents taught me at age six, it was an ex-boyfriend who really turned me onto the sport. We're no longer together, which may be apparent from my "I need a husband" post, a post that's apparently so popular that it's now been linked to Blawg Review twice...

I drafted much of the following last year, but was prompted to finally post the thoughts I had been mulling when I noticed that CBS has just started airing another season of Big Brother. I'm surprised it's still being made; it never seemed to capture the popular imagination in America like, say, Survivor did.

Or like it did in England. In England the Big Brother show, along with its sister show Celebrity Big Brother, are an amazing -- and, to an outsider at least, also fairly frightening -- phenomenon. Not only are there both series of shows themselves, but there are also parallel news and commentary shows that get broadcast along with them. In fact, news from the Big Brother house even makes national news, something I can't imagine the CBS version ever being culturally relevant enough in America to do.

Ironically, however, while this winter sees a new American version, there has been no new full-blown Celebrity Big Brother series in England this year. Not after the fuss over last year's season -- a fuss that says so much about celebrity, racism, and what it really means to live in a surveillance society.

The summer after I graduated college I backpacked around Europe. I went everywhere, from London in the west to St. Petersburg in the east, Narvik in the north to Rome in the south. I mostly eschewed commercial tours, instead taking a very Rick Steves approach in feeling I could get a greater sense of local flavor by traveling "through the back door," or like a native would. But even he has acknowledged that sometimes commercial tours can provide more efficient coverage of an area than independent traveling can. Like in Salzburg, with its "Sound of Music" tour.

The bus was full of people from all over the world. I sat up front with some other Americans. They were a family from Oklahoma: a man and his wife in their 50s or 60s, their 30 year old son, and his very demure southern wife. "Oh I could never do what you're doing!" she drawled in surprise upon finding out I was traveling solo. "Does your mama know?" the elder man inquired, with genuine concern, offering to call her for me when he got back to the states. I politely declined, somewhat surprised that my travel arrangements, seemingly normal to me, should cause such consternation. Even though we were from the same country, it was apparent that there clearly were some differences in our cultural orientation.

Which became even more clear as our conversation continued. "Where are you from?" they asked. "Berkeley," I said.

"Oh!" the elder man exclaimed. "You're one of them liberals!"

I had an unpleasant experience at a restaurant last night. Well, not entirely. Certain parts of the evening were very pleasant indeed: some friends of my mom, whom I'd never met before, were out visiting the area and had invited me to join them for dinner. One had been a fan of Scoma's in San Francisco, so I suggested we try out the one in Sausalito.

Dan Harris at the China Law Blog has a post today wondering whether in some countries, like China or Papua New Guinea, you are treated better if you are a foreigner, citing certain examples that would suggest the answer is yes.

Reading it reminded me of the first time I went to Russia, back when the Russian ruble was still a completely soft, overly-regulated currency few non-Russians would ever want to trade in, which I posted about in the comments:

[The situation described] reminds me of Russia in the early 1990s when there were "hard currency shops." These shops were always brightly-lit and fully stocked with European-imported goods - a far cry from the regular, grim Russian shops whose own stock reflected, in both paucity and quality, the not-yet-loosened Communist economy.

My host family once took me to one of the hard currency shops (in St. Petersberg, at the Hotel Pribaltiskya, I believe), and the only reason they could get in was because they were with me, and I had a US Passport. Otherwise they were banished like all the other dollar-less Russians to the regular grocery store, which in April 1992 I remember was stocked with piles of cucumbers, piles of potatoes, some scary looking meat patties, tins of apricot juice, and that's about it...

Interestingly, though, by that time Pepsi had started being sold in Russia. In the regular grocery store you could spend 12 rubles for a glass bottle with "Pepsi" printed on the label in Cyrillic. At that time 12 rubles = 12 cents (although still a fortune to a local). Whereas the hard currency shops sold European-imported cans of Pepsi for a dollar, which even in 1992 was expensive by anyone's standards. I bought one just for the hell of it anyway, so we could take a "Pepsi Challenge" against the one from the regular store. If memory serves, the Russian one was actually better...

As it turns out a friend of mine is at this very moment traveling in Russia. Guess I should have asked her to report back on how the soda tastes...