Question: Does freedom of expression include a “right” to lie?
Answer: Yes, it does.
In 2007 Congress passed the Stolen Valor Act, making it unlawful to falsely state he has been awarded a military decoration. The law was enacted after decades of phony “war heroes” claim to hold everything up to and including the Medal of Honor. The act prevents falsely claiming verbally or in writing to have received “any of the service medals or badges awarded to members (of the armed forces) the ribbon, button, or rosette of any such badge, decoration, or medal, or any colorable imitation of such item.”
Yet earlier this year a Colorado judge deemed the Stolen Valor Act to be unconstitutional on the basis of “free speech.”
The jurist is District Judge Robert Blackburn, who declared the law “troubling” and somehow contrary to “well established First Amendment doctrine.” You have to go a long way around the block to arrive at the destination the judge desires, because his ruling cites higher court decisions regarding public depiction of pornography and animal cruelty.
Previously the federal government had filed dozens of cases against individuals who misrepresented their military records. The offenders include veterans as well as people who have never served in the armed forces. So how does anyone justify a blatant misrepresentation made public by appearance, speech, or writing?
Presumably the “Go ahead and lie” concept relates to the old (old) stricture against shouting “Fire!” in a crowded theater. Consequently, pettifogging lawyers for the wannabe heroes have adopted a “no harm, no foul” argument, asserting that absent any harm, there should be no offense. By extension, that line of “reasoning” holds that people should be free to lie without accountability.
The “Go ahead and lie” crowd ignores an intrinsic contradiction. The U.S. Government produces and awards military medals to service members deemed worthy of the decorations. (The fact that everything from the Medal of Honor on down has been awarded according to vastly different criteria is a separate issue.) Since We The People create and present military medals, it’s entirely appropriate and logical that We the People can and should state under what conditions those items may be worn or otherwise claimed. Limiting their display or claim to individuals who have actually earned them represents no form of discrimination against imposters, nowaynohow. Anybody with two gray cells to rub together understands that concept.
Military imposters are everywhere. It’s almost epidemic proportions, leading to web sites containing the names of fakers. And thereby lies another inherent contradiction: most phonies want to be known under their own names, otherwise what’s the point? So at least part of the problem is due to naïve/gullible/stupid people who accept fakes at their word rather than spending two minutes on Google. After all, this is The Information Age.
Yet liars and fakers persist. One of the most successful was the publisher of Arizona’s largest newspaper. For years he passed himself off as an Air Force pilot, complete with mess dress uniform and miniature medals. Finally in the 1980s he was exposed by one of his own reporters.
A Californian got away with absurd claims to naval aviation heroism for years before he died. His Powerpoint presentation showed “him” with “his squadron.” The photo was immediately recognizable: it was lifted from a book by a colleague of mine. The “lanky gentleman” of email fame was a total fraud: his name appeared in no documents covering the ships or squadrons he claimed. Yet he deceived school teachers and his local paper, which ignored irrevocable evidence of his lying and refused to correct a fawning obituary.
In Florida during the 1990s an individual passed himself off as “Colonel John C. Meyer,” high-scoring fighter ace and recipient of three Distinguished Service Crosses. A model shop run by babes in the Everglades presented him replicas of “his” airplanes and showed his picture on a web site. The teeny-weeny problem was, four-star General John C. Meyer had died in 1975. When the modelers were confronted with the facts—they didn’t believe me at first.
Other fakes persist despite being easily disproved. I’ve met a Jewish gal who claimed she flew F-4 Phantoms in the Israeli Air Force but didn’t know that delta-winged aircraft bleed energy in turns. I’ve met an overweight (read: semi-obese) “sniper” who claimed he’d been in combat three years previously.
So where do we stand with the Colorado case?
Prosecutors said they would appeal Blackburn’s ruling, and undoubtedly it will take years to shake out, if at all. Defenders of the truth default to the emotional level: permitting imposters to get away with their claims denigrates the service and sacrifice of genuine military personnel. That’s undoubtedly true, but it should not obscure the black-white ethical concerns.
Meanwhile, Blackburn’s “Go ahead and lie” decision represents the continued erosion of traditional/historic values in this nation. Another generation will grow up amid greater confusion about right and wrong, increasingly confused as to when it’s alright to lie and when it’s not. So here’s a quick reference for the ethically challenged:
(1) Lying is wrong.
(2) Liars should be held accountable.
Next subject.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
CALLSIGNS
In military aviation, a callsign is the hook upon which radio communication is suspended. There are all kinds of callsigns: for units, bases, ships, control centers—and Sierra Hotel aviators. The latter draws by far the most attention, as per the 1986 movie Top Gun with “Maverick”, “Goose,” “Viper,” and “Iceman.” The film was a live-action cartoon but it did popularize naval aviation—and the callsign culture.
Recently callsigns made the news when a naval officer objected to the suggestions made by his Norfolk squadronmates. Some highly un-PC monikers were thrown about, questioning the individual’s masculinity. Former Navy Secretary John Lehman, a naval flight officer, seemed skeptical, claiming he had never heard any uncomplimentary callsigns in his forty years of experience.
Ahem.
In truth, “callsign” has become a synonym for “nickname.” The ensign in Norfolk is an administrative officer and therefore not eligible for a genuine callsign, which is intended for in-flight transmissions.
Obviously callsigns didn’t exist before airborne radios. Squadrons and bases had code words-cum-callsigns from the 1930s but the practice of a specific pilot adopting a callsign apparently originated in the Italian Air Force in World War II. A piloto rose to squadron command and thereby adopted his academy nickname: Gato. Seems that as a cadet he had accepted a dare to skin and eat a cat.
In the U.S. Navy individual callsigns apparently emerged circa the early 60s. Veterans (read: survivors) of those days recall that division leaders began using their nicknames to identify their four-plane flights, thus “Punchy” was accompanied by Punchy Two, Three, and Four. However, squadrons retained their formal callsigns, followed by each airplane’s side number. “Old Salt 301” belonged to the skipper of Attack Squadron 163, but each squadron in the air wing had a dedicated “CAG bird” with the wing commander’s name painted thereon. Known as “double nuts”, it would be “Old Salt 300” or, for the lower-numbered squadrons, perhaps Charger 100 and Hunter 200.
Many callsigns are inevitable. All Rhodes are “Dusty,” every Lane is “Shady,” and any Gibson is “Hoot.” The skipper and executive officer are "CO" and "XO" while the ordnance warrant officer always is “Gunner.” But most names are far more esoteric. A quick scan of the The Hook magazine over the years produces some notable monikers: Barf, Cuddles, Dirt, Gonzo, Loaf, Manhole, Rattler, Speedface, and Talent. The reasons behind each make diverting speculation.
Probably the most astute comment ever made on the subject was penned by the late aviation photographer George Hall who said, “If pilots were allowed to pick their own callsigns there would be as many ‘Killers’ at Ramstein as there are McDougals in Edinburgh.”
Truth.
Fact is, many callsigns are the result of a screwup or embarrassment. An aviator called “Hook” likely failed to lower his tailhook prior to a carrier landing attempt. One friend, an Eagle driver, confides that he was dubbed "Skippy"--something to do with a blonde, a jar of peanut butter, and mucho tequila. Other names are so blatant that it’s mildly astonishing that they ever got painted on airplanes. “Master” Bates leaps to mind.
A kickass Cruasader pilot (and future MiG killer) chose a self-deprecating callsign. He said, “The other guys wanted to be Warrior or Gladiator but I could beat them one on one so I wanted to humiliate them with the most disgusting name I could think of. That’s how I became ‘Rat.’”
Some official callsigns just don’t make the cut. Two Navy wing commanders from 1965 were “Earlobe” for CAG-7 and “Smoke Tree” for CAG-16. The recipients declined such mundane monikers: Harry Gerhard opted for “Cobra” while James Bond Stockdale used “Zero Zero Seven.”
In the Air Force, callsigns frequently are rotated among units, either as some wings are disbanded or to confuse potential enemies. For instance, “Killer” has been assigned to units flying A-10s, F-15s, and F-16s at three separate bases. “King” is even more eclectic, being used by USAF and USN fighters, surveillance planes, helos, and transports. “Magic” has been used by allied forces from the Netherlands to Japan.
Then there’s “Tiger.” A-10s, B-1s, C-130s, KC-135s, E-2s, F-15s, F-16s, H-53s, and P-3s. But even that is exceeded by no fewer than 20 “Vipers,” only half of which refer to F-16s. If you’re curious, check this impressive site:
http://www.monitoringtimes.com/MilitaryCallsignList-APR09.pdf
Some unit callsigns are more involved than it may seem. For instance, Air Force transports usually have five-letter callsigns such as “Heavy” or “Amway.”
One of the most enduring callsigns is “Horseback,” the radio handle of Colonel Don Blakeslee commanding the fabled Fourth Fighter Group in England in 1944. Just the ticket for a unit flying Mustangs!
However, other callsigns become politically unacceptable. Consider Navy helicopter squadron HS-2, known throughout the Tonkin Gulf as “Chink.” A friend of mine piloted Chink 69 to a spectacular rescue in Haiphong Harbor in 1967, receiving a well deserved Silver Star in the process. But today that’s verboten—probably considered as offensive as “Gook.” Sometimes we’re permitted to slay the enemy but perish forbid we should ever insult him!
Some other favorites: Bison (325th FW), Bronco (A-10s and F-16s among others); Busy Bee (VA-146), City Desk (VF-154), Feedbag (VF-191), Ghost Rider (VA-164), Rampage (VAQ-138) and Showtime (VF-96).
Readers are invited to submit their favorite callsigns in the comments section. If you have trouble signing on (as many do) just drop me an egram and I’ll insert it later.
“Shooter” sends.
Recently callsigns made the news when a naval officer objected to the suggestions made by his Norfolk squadronmates. Some highly un-PC monikers were thrown about, questioning the individual’s masculinity. Former Navy Secretary John Lehman, a naval flight officer, seemed skeptical, claiming he had never heard any uncomplimentary callsigns in his forty years of experience.
Ahem.
In truth, “callsign” has become a synonym for “nickname.” The ensign in Norfolk is an administrative officer and therefore not eligible for a genuine callsign, which is intended for in-flight transmissions.
Obviously callsigns didn’t exist before airborne radios. Squadrons and bases had code words-cum-callsigns from the 1930s but the practice of a specific pilot adopting a callsign apparently originated in the Italian Air Force in World War II. A piloto rose to squadron command and thereby adopted his academy nickname: Gato. Seems that as a cadet he had accepted a dare to skin and eat a cat.
In the U.S. Navy individual callsigns apparently emerged circa the early 60s. Veterans (read: survivors) of those days recall that division leaders began using their nicknames to identify their four-plane flights, thus “Punchy” was accompanied by Punchy Two, Three, and Four. However, squadrons retained their formal callsigns, followed by each airplane’s side number. “Old Salt 301” belonged to the skipper of Attack Squadron 163, but each squadron in the air wing had a dedicated “CAG bird” with the wing commander’s name painted thereon. Known as “double nuts”, it would be “Old Salt 300” or, for the lower-numbered squadrons, perhaps Charger 100 and Hunter 200.
Many callsigns are inevitable. All Rhodes are “Dusty,” every Lane is “Shady,” and any Gibson is “Hoot.” The skipper and executive officer are "CO" and "XO" while the ordnance warrant officer always is “Gunner.” But most names are far more esoteric. A quick scan of the The Hook magazine over the years produces some notable monikers: Barf, Cuddles, Dirt, Gonzo, Loaf, Manhole, Rattler, Speedface, and Talent. The reasons behind each make diverting speculation.
Probably the most astute comment ever made on the subject was penned by the late aviation photographer George Hall who said, “If pilots were allowed to pick their own callsigns there would be as many ‘Killers’ at Ramstein as there are McDougals in Edinburgh.”
Truth.
Fact is, many callsigns are the result of a screwup or embarrassment. An aviator called “Hook” likely failed to lower his tailhook prior to a carrier landing attempt. One friend, an Eagle driver, confides that he was dubbed "Skippy"--something to do with a blonde, a jar of peanut butter, and mucho tequila. Other names are so blatant that it’s mildly astonishing that they ever got painted on airplanes. “Master” Bates leaps to mind.
A kickass Cruasader pilot (and future MiG killer) chose a self-deprecating callsign. He said, “The other guys wanted to be Warrior or Gladiator but I could beat them one on one so I wanted to humiliate them with the most disgusting name I could think of. That’s how I became ‘Rat.’”
Some official callsigns just don’t make the cut. Two Navy wing commanders from 1965 were “Earlobe” for CAG-7 and “Smoke Tree” for CAG-16. The recipients declined such mundane monikers: Harry Gerhard opted for “Cobra” while James Bond Stockdale used “Zero Zero Seven.”
In the Air Force, callsigns frequently are rotated among units, either as some wings are disbanded or to confuse potential enemies. For instance, “Killer” has been assigned to units flying A-10s, F-15s, and F-16s at three separate bases. “King” is even more eclectic, being used by USAF and USN fighters, surveillance planes, helos, and transports. “Magic” has been used by allied forces from the Netherlands to Japan.
Then there’s “Tiger.” A-10s, B-1s, C-130s, KC-135s, E-2s, F-15s, F-16s, H-53s, and P-3s. But even that is exceeded by no fewer than 20 “Vipers,” only half of which refer to F-16s. If you’re curious, check this impressive site:
http://www.monitoringtimes.com/MilitaryCallsignList-APR09.pdf
Some unit callsigns are more involved than it may seem. For instance, Air Force transports usually have five-letter callsigns such as “Heavy” or “Amway.”
One of the most enduring callsigns is “Horseback,” the radio handle of Colonel Don Blakeslee commanding the fabled Fourth Fighter Group in England in 1944. Just the ticket for a unit flying Mustangs!
However, other callsigns become politically unacceptable. Consider Navy helicopter squadron HS-2, known throughout the Tonkin Gulf as “Chink.” A friend of mine piloted Chink 69 to a spectacular rescue in Haiphong Harbor in 1967, receiving a well deserved Silver Star in the process. But today that’s verboten—probably considered as offensive as “Gook.” Sometimes we’re permitted to slay the enemy but perish forbid we should ever insult him!
Some other favorites: Bison (325th FW), Bronco (A-10s and F-16s among others); Busy Bee (VA-146), City Desk (VF-154), Feedbag (VF-191), Ghost Rider (VA-164), Rampage (VAQ-138) and Showtime (VF-96).
Readers are invited to submit their favorite callsigns in the comments section. If you have trouble signing on (as many do) just drop me an egram and I’ll insert it later.
“Shooter” sends.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
WHAT IS IT WITH THE NAVY?
For many years now, the United States Navy has been an organization in search of a mission. Despite the absence of a blue-water threat in the world, the Navy remains structured to fight a Cold War that ended 20 years ago. Even in its reduced size (about 285 ships and submarines) America’s navy still matches or exceeds the combined strength of the Russian and Chinese fleets. Thus, for the foreseeable future we do not need more of the same.
So what do we need?
Well, since Vietnam (37 years ago), nearly all the Navy’s fighting has been done by aviators and SEALs. With rare exceptions they operate well above the high tide mark—frequently hundreds of miles above it. So If we’re going to add anything to the fleet, it should probably be minesweepers, because poorly-funded navies do well with those low-cost “weapons that wait.” In order to meet that threat—and the potential for hostile submarines—we can do with fewer superfluous gadgets like ballistic missile subs and stealth airplanes.
Speaking of which...
Naval aviation has nailed the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter to the institutional mast, staking carrier air’s future on an extremely expensive, overly sophisticated machine that refuses to meet design criteria or budget limits.
There’s also problems with ships and manning. Through most of the 1990s, about 3.5 percent of ships failed inspection. From 2005 onward, the figure approached 14 percent. Consequently, fewer of our current vessels are available to deploy, which reduces prospects for building toward the Navy’s goal of 312 or so. The problem has persisted for years, apparently with little prospect of improvement. In other words, the cause is systemic.
Then there’s women in submarines. Die-hard seamen are vehemently opposed to putting females aboard subs, a topic floated (excuse the phrase) during the 1990s tenure of Frank Kelso as CNO. A “bubblehead” himself, he was all in favor of putting women in combat aircraft but was far less enthused about having them in his part of the navy—the noncombatant part. The last time American submariners torpedoed an enemy ship was 1945, so perhaps the women in subs thing is overblown. As long as subs remain passive vessels (deterrence and surveillance) any untoward “gender-related” events presumably will be minimized.
There are also serious problems with the Navy's culture, not least of which is the annual Midway Night. Each June the service commemorates the 1942 battle that ended Japan’s strategic offensive in WW II. And each year the chief of naval operations makes a suitable oration—or not. In 2009 the CNO delivered a speech about the battle without once mentioning Japan. Honest. This year he did marginally better, uttering The J Word once while citing Midway and a dozen other Pacific battles.
Political correctness is alive and well in Uncle Sam’s Navy.
Then there’s the Marine Corps, which sailors call Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children, among less printable endearments. Currently a move is underway in Congress to rename the naval bureaucracy the Department of the Navy and Marine Corps. Even some former Marines (reputedly there are no ex-Marines) are unenthused about the idea. As a retired leatherneck general once said, “Of course the Marines are party of the Navy—the best part!”
Hower, many Marines (read: every single one I know of) were outraged when the politicians decided to name a ship after former/ex marine and pork-producing congressman for life John Murtha, who declared Marines in Iraq guilty of murder before the facts were in. But hey, such is politics. That kind of stink can stick to any surface, including Marine Green. A correspondent wrote, “As a Former Naval Person, naming anything above a self-propelled garbage scow for the late Rep. Murtha is an abomination.”
More consequential is the Marines’ obsolete fixation on making opposed amphibious landings—something neither they nor apparently anyone else has done since the middle of the last century. Here’s what detectives call a Clue:
Are you old enough to remember Inchon and Wonsan in 1950? Me neither. But when you have a bunch of expensive widgets that you haven’t used in 60 years, you probably don’t need new ones, let alone the old widgets on hand. Yet the Marines and their lobbyists keep pushing for a new generation of amphibious assault craft.
Finally, there’s the ridiculous trend toward admiral inflation.
The May issue of Naval Institute Proceedings contains the annual roster of Navy flag officers, with some 330 listed in more than 16 pages. That represents a 53% increase over the 2006 figure of 215, or a 13 percent Annual Admiral Inflation Index (AAII) pro-rated over a four-year period! Now, Congress approves flag officer billets based on actual, perceived, or manufactured needs from year to year. Friends remaining on active duty note that increased requirements for joint command billets account for much of the AAII, but cannot possibly explain (let alone justify) one appalling fact: With a nominal 285 ships and submarines, we now have approximately 1.15 admirals per vessel. Anybody care to guess the response from the shades of Bull Halsey, Ernie King, or Arleigh Burke? It sounds more like a Gilbert and Sullivan opera than a self-respecting military service.
I have a suggestion: Starting with the next fiscal year, each star wearer will receive a form to be filled out and returned to the Superfluous Admiral Reduction Board (SARB). The form will read: "I should be retained on active duty for one more year because..." (Fill in the blank in 25 words or less. Bonus points for brevity.) The SARB shall be composed of three chief petty officers, three junior officers (one each O-2, 3, and 4), and three civilian taxpayers, all chosen at random. Each admiral's answer will be rated pass-fail, with a two-thirds majority necessary for retention. Cost of the process will be more than offset by immediate retirement of the superfluous star wearers--an astonishing example of a program actually turning a profit.
The Navy might even assign one of those extraneous admirals to check this space for additional solutions. Certainly the price is right.
So what do we need?
Well, since Vietnam (37 years ago), nearly all the Navy’s fighting has been done by aviators and SEALs. With rare exceptions they operate well above the high tide mark—frequently hundreds of miles above it. So If we’re going to add anything to the fleet, it should probably be minesweepers, because poorly-funded navies do well with those low-cost “weapons that wait.” In order to meet that threat—and the potential for hostile submarines—we can do with fewer superfluous gadgets like ballistic missile subs and stealth airplanes.
Speaking of which...
Naval aviation has nailed the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter to the institutional mast, staking carrier air’s future on an extremely expensive, overly sophisticated machine that refuses to meet design criteria or budget limits.
There’s also problems with ships and manning. Through most of the 1990s, about 3.5 percent of ships failed inspection. From 2005 onward, the figure approached 14 percent. Consequently, fewer of our current vessels are available to deploy, which reduces prospects for building toward the Navy’s goal of 312 or so. The problem has persisted for years, apparently with little prospect of improvement. In other words, the cause is systemic.
Then there’s women in submarines. Die-hard seamen are vehemently opposed to putting females aboard subs, a topic floated (excuse the phrase) during the 1990s tenure of Frank Kelso as CNO. A “bubblehead” himself, he was all in favor of putting women in combat aircraft but was far less enthused about having them in his part of the navy—the noncombatant part. The last time American submariners torpedoed an enemy ship was 1945, so perhaps the women in subs thing is overblown. As long as subs remain passive vessels (deterrence and surveillance) any untoward “gender-related” events presumably will be minimized.
There are also serious problems with the Navy's culture, not least of which is the annual Midway Night. Each June the service commemorates the 1942 battle that ended Japan’s strategic offensive in WW II. And each year the chief of naval operations makes a suitable oration—or not. In 2009 the CNO delivered a speech about the battle without once mentioning Japan. Honest. This year he did marginally better, uttering The J Word once while citing Midway and a dozen other Pacific battles.
Political correctness is alive and well in Uncle Sam’s Navy.
Then there’s the Marine Corps, which sailors call Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children, among less printable endearments. Currently a move is underway in Congress to rename the naval bureaucracy the Department of the Navy and Marine Corps. Even some former Marines (reputedly there are no ex-Marines) are unenthused about the idea. As a retired leatherneck general once said, “Of course the Marines are party of the Navy—the best part!”
Hower, many Marines (read: every single one I know of) were outraged when the politicians decided to name a ship after former/ex marine and pork-producing congressman for life John Murtha, who declared Marines in Iraq guilty of murder before the facts were in. But hey, such is politics. That kind of stink can stick to any surface, including Marine Green. A correspondent wrote, “As a Former Naval Person, naming anything above a self-propelled garbage scow for the late Rep. Murtha is an abomination.”
More consequential is the Marines’ obsolete fixation on making opposed amphibious landings—something neither they nor apparently anyone else has done since the middle of the last century. Here’s what detectives call a Clue:
Are you old enough to remember Inchon and Wonsan in 1950? Me neither. But when you have a bunch of expensive widgets that you haven’t used in 60 years, you probably don’t need new ones, let alone the old widgets on hand. Yet the Marines and their lobbyists keep pushing for a new generation of amphibious assault craft.
Finally, there’s the ridiculous trend toward admiral inflation.
The May issue of Naval Institute Proceedings contains the annual roster of Navy flag officers, with some 330 listed in more than 16 pages. That represents a 53% increase over the 2006 figure of 215, or a 13 percent Annual Admiral Inflation Index (AAII) pro-rated over a four-year period! Now, Congress approves flag officer billets based on actual, perceived, or manufactured needs from year to year. Friends remaining on active duty note that increased requirements for joint command billets account for much of the AAII, but cannot possibly explain (let alone justify) one appalling fact: With a nominal 285 ships and submarines, we now have approximately 1.15 admirals per vessel. Anybody care to guess the response from the shades of Bull Halsey, Ernie King, or Arleigh Burke? It sounds more like a Gilbert and Sullivan opera than a self-respecting military service.
I have a suggestion: Starting with the next fiscal year, each star wearer will receive a form to be filled out and returned to the Superfluous Admiral Reduction Board (SARB). The form will read: "I should be retained on active duty for one more year because..." (Fill in the blank in 25 words or less. Bonus points for brevity.) The SARB shall be composed of three chief petty officers, three junior officers (one each O-2, 3, and 4), and three civilian taxpayers, all chosen at random. Each admiral's answer will be rated pass-fail, with a two-thirds majority necessary for retention. Cost of the process will be more than offset by immediate retirement of the superfluous star wearers--an astonishing example of a program actually turning a profit.
The Navy might even assign one of those extraneous admirals to check this space for additional solutions. Certainly the price is right.
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