It's a start

Students in Tehran staged a protest against Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as the Iranian president presented a speech criticizing Western-style democracy.

This isn't the first time:

The president faced a similar outburst during a speech last December when students at Amir Kabir Technical University called him a dictator and burned his picture.

These are good signs.

Since it relates somewhat and I watched the movie last weekend, here's a clip:

Gays in Iran

From the Washington Post today. Copied here in full:

I'm one of those people Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad says don't exist. I'm a 25-year-old Iranian, and I'm gay.

I live in Tehran with my parents and younger brother and am studying to be a computer software engineer. I've known that I was different from my brother and other boys for as long as I can remember.

I was born in 1982, two years after the start of the Iran-Iraq War, and when I was growing up, most boys loved to play with toy guns, pretending to be soldiers in the war. I liked painting, and playing with dolls. My brother preferred to play with the other boys, so most of the time I was lonely.

I was 16 when I first realized that I was sexually attracted to some of the boys in my high school classes. I had no idea what I could do with that feeling. All I knew about homosexuals were the jokes and negative stories that people told about them. I thought a homosexual was someone who sexually abused children -- until I saw the word "homosexual" for the first time in an English encyclopedia, and found a definition of myself.

After that, I started searching the Internet for information about homosexuality. Eventually I came across two Iranian Web sites where I could communicate with other gays. I was 17. At first, I didn't want to give anyone my e-mail address because I was afraid that I could be abused or that my parents might find out, or that people on the site could be government spies. But I finally decided to exchange e-mails with one person, and after some correspondence, we spoke on the phone. I'll never forget the first time I heard the voice of another gay man. We arranged to meet at the home of a friend of his, and the three of us talked for hours. I felt so comfortable with them. The next day I learned that the friend was interested in me. His name was Omid, and we became boyfriends.

I also became interested in the gay social movement that started in 2000. Around that time, Iranian society became more open under President Mohammad Khatami's reformist government. The Internet became common, and everybody started talking about issues they couldn't even have thought about before.

Until then, the gay world had been underground and secret. Under the Islamic Republic, gays could face the death penalty; they could also lose their jobs and family support. Meetings and parties took place only in the most trusted private homes. Heterosexuals were almost never seen at these gatherings. Even fellow gays were only slowly accepted. It could take years for a homosexual to become known and trusted. Most older gays were married and even had children, and their family and friends had no idea of their sexuality.

There was a handful of gathering places for outcast homosexuals in Tehran, people who couldn't hide their sexuality and had lost their jobs, or people whose families had disowned them, and who had turned to selling sex for money. Those places were always being attacked by the paramilitaries.

My generation was the first to start the coming-out process. I decided to come out when I was 20. I thought that if I just talked to my parents about it, they would accept my reasoning. I was totally wrong. Their reaction was horrible. They started to restrict me -- I couldn't use the phone or invite any of my friends over, and they cut back on financial support. Part of their reaction was religious; part was their concern that I couldn't survive as a homosexual in Iran. They were also ashamed to tell the rest of our family and wanted to see me married to a woman.

We argued constantly; they insisted that I wasn't gay, that I only thought I was. It took me years to calm them down, but over time, they lost any hope of changing me, and they started to change themselves. Now they accept that I'm gay, but they're not happy about it.

Meanwhile, the gay community has worked to educate people via Web sites and dialogue with our friends and families. But we've found that the most effective way of changing people's minds is coming out. When people see us as reasonable humans, their negative views of homosexuality are shattered. I can honestly say there's been a change in the way Iranians view us now. Gay life in Iran isn't as underground as it used to be. We have gay parties with heterosexual guests -- and even our parents! We have places where we can congregate -- in coffee shops, special park areas and even certain offices. Many more homosexuals are willing to come out these days. Activists estimate that .5 percent of the Iranian population is homosexual, bisexual or transsexual.

But we weren't surprised by Ahmadinejad's comments about gays at Columbia University. What else could he say? We stone homosexuals in Iran because that's what God wants? It was a joke, but he gave the only answer he could.

I wish our president could learn to respect gays instead of denying us. But I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, my only response to his remarks is this: Whatever he says, Ahmadinejad can't change the fact that we exist.

Amir is an activist in Tehran whose name is being withheld for his safety.

Burma

Like Andrew Sullivan I have decided to longer recognize the name change of Burma brought about by it's violent and authoritarian dictators.

Things are getting tragic over there:

Shots were fired to clear crowds defying a brutal crackdown in Myanmar Friday as authorities reportedly cut Internet connections and graphic new video footage showed troops using deadly force.

***

A day earlier, troops with automatic rifles fired into crowds of anti-government demonstrators, reportedly killing at least nine people in the bloodiest day in more than a month of protests demanding an end to military rule.

By shutting down the Internet, the dictators are trying to prevent images of the bloody struggle from escaping the country.

Tough as it is over there, let me make clear that I am not advocating a Wilsonian Crusade to free the Burmese people. Nonetheless, things like this are both hard to watch and perversely encouraging. The reasons it is hard to watch are obvious, but I am glad to see a people standing up to its oppressive government. I wish the people success.

Myanmar & China

The military dictators of Myanmar imposed a strict curfew after Buddhist monks staged pro-democracy protests. I hope the monks defy the curfew and restrictions on assembly, because that would put the government in an awkward position:

If monks who are leading the protests are mistreated, that could outrage the predominantly Buddhist country, where clerics are revered. But if the junta backs down, it risks appearing weak and emboldening protesters, which could escalate the tension.

Although, that is not to say that the monks have the upper hand. Generally speaking, pacifists don't fare to well in armed confrontations and the Burmese government has dealt with this before:

When faced with a similar crisis in 1988, the [Burmese] government harshly put down a student-led democracy uprising. Security forces fired into crowds of peaceful demonstrators and killed thousands, traumatizing the nation.

If the people of Myanmar are lucky, this little skirmish my lead to the beginnings of freedom.

What is interesting about this story has been China's reaction to the protests:

China has quietly shifted gears, the diplomats said, jettisoning its noninterventionist line for behind-the-scenes diplomacy. A senior Chinese official asked junta envoys this month to reconcile with opposition democratic forces. And China arranged a low-key meeting in Beijing between Myanmar and State Department envoys to discuss the release of the leading opposition figure.

The government that committed the Tiananmen Square atrocity is now quietly telling the Burmese government to cool its jets. Why? After all, almost two decades after their own massacre of pro-democracy protesters China is still an oppressive authoritarian state. The cynic in me wonders if China just wants to look good for next summer.

Regardless, the Burmese monks are in my thoughts and prayers and I hope they have even mild success.

Conflicted

I have stated before that I am behind the War on Terror (though I still think it's a stupid and misleading name). Like any American I am angered by plots against my country, countrymen and allies. But I think we gays have an extra stake in the game. I truly believe there is no more dangerous religious movement to homosexuals than that of radical, intolerant, fundamentalist Islam. Christianists may not want us to have families or jobs, but their policies pale in comparison to the hostility of fundamentalist Islam towards gays.

Nonetheless, I still get bothered by the encroachment on civil liberties in the name of security. I'd like to expand on the old saying about liberty and security. What liberty (excluding religious or existential "liberation") is there in death, or fear of death. But then what good is life without liberty? It's not either/or, its a balancing act (law professors LOVE balancing things). The problem is I keep going back and forth on how to balance them.

I'm pretty well comfortable with allowing my government to protect me from foreign threats, but when does protection become oppressive? Honestly I'm not all that concerned about feds listening in on international calls, but I am troubled by increasing executive power--especially in the name of something so ill-defined as a War on Terror (It might as well be called a War on Sadness, or a War on Aerial Strikes). But if these measures help save the lives of Americans, could they be worth it? How do we keep security from infringing liberty without making ourselves vulnerable? I don't have answers here, only questions (how annoying, right?). Your thoughts?

War and individual rights

(Programming note: one of my primary universalized health care sparring partners emailed me to say he will be unavailable for a bit; we shall resume that debate once he returns)

One of the reasons I describe myself as a "small-L libertarian" and am still a member of the GOP (I know, but really, I DON'T think it will change if we abandon it to the fundies) is foreign policy. I don't blog about it much here, but I am pretty Hawkish. I am not out-of-hand opposed to preemptive war (I only wish we had gone after Iran instead of Iraq--just one letter's difference!), and certainly support a defensive one. I am, however, uncomfortable with Wilsonian crusades aimed only at "spreading democracy;" I would like to see a more direct national security interest behind my wars. Now this is not a post about Iraq, but rather whether these principles mesh with my claims of supporting liberty.

Randy Barnett recently published an Op-ed in the WSJ (my favorite NY newspaper!--hat tip to a reader who wishes to retain anonymity) arguing that while many libertarians opposed the war in Iraq a position favoring individual rights is not necessarily incongruent with support (at least at the outset) of the war with Iraq:

Other libertarians, however, supported the war in Iraq because they viewed it as part of a larger war of self-defense against Islamic jihadists who were organizationally independent of any government. They viewed radical Islamic fundamentalism as resulting in part from the corrupt dictatorial regimes that inhabit the Middle East, which have effectively repressed indigenous democratic reformers. Although opposed to nation building generally, these libertarians believed that a strategy of fomenting democratic regimes in the Middle East, as was done in Germany and Japan after World War II, might well be the best way to take the fight to the enemy rather than solely trying to ward off the next attack.

However, in short order Glenn Healy posted on Cato-at-Liberty (the Cato blog) has some respectful though critical words in response to Professor Barnett. Among them:

Is libertarianism really a political philosophy that tells you what to think about mandatory recycling and restrictions on the interstate shipment of wine, but has virtually nothing of interest to say about when it might be morally permissible to use daisy cutters and thermobaric bombs?

And while Healy goes to say that "libertarianism and Wilsonianism don't mix;" I'm not sure that Barnett would disagree. Indeed I agree very much with that sentiment. So how do I reconcile my hawkishness with my limited government rhetoric? Let me try.

I have a deep distrust of government; therefore, I prefer less of it in my life. That's where many of my libertarian policy positions on domestic issues originate. That said, I trust foreign governments even less than my own. My own government, at least in some small way, is marginally answerable to me. The Japanese Parliament, for instance, is not answerable to me at all. I suppose that means that with regards to international relations I am something of a realist. Given half the chance I think any state wouldn't think twice about oppressing me if it meant more security, economic or military power for them.

So I happen to think in order to preserve my right to order my daily affairs as I see fit, I need someone to protect my rights of life, liberty and property. So I am no anarchist; i am fine with a police force and court system that punishes people who infringe the rights of others (or perhaps help balance conflicting rights). I think that also includes a government that protects me from other governments that would infringe those rights. So we are still on track when it comes to defensive wars: someone attacks, they have violated the rights of life, liberty or property of citizens, so it appropriate for a government to respond.

What about preemption? Is it appropriate for us to neutralize a danger with military force before it infringes our rights? That's a tougher question. If I answer yes, how do I distinguish between a government preempting an international threat with one that say imprisons people because they look like they might commit a crime? If I answer no, then I say that I require my government to wait for death of its citizens before it protects the rest? I want to answer yes, so here is my attempt at rationalization (this is well open for discussion, I hope people will participate and even call me out if I am inconsistent!).

First, we do punish people before they commit crimes: we call them attempt crimes. Nonetheless, that is not a satisfying answer even to me. Another option is to take the morally dubious position that a government only owes any protection to its citizens. That takes my premise (a government will care about the rights of at most its own citizens) and normalizes it (a government shouldn't care about the rights of those who are not its citizens). Really it boils down to "Who cares about 'em if they ain't 'MERICAN?" I don't like that much either, and I do not people to think that I am going to that practically sociopathic extreme.

Here's what I am working with now: if the realist paradigm accurately describes the international arena, then each actor in that arena is going to try to acquire more security and power, and unlike economic arrangements those are rather zero-sum. If I am relatively more secure then someone is relatively less secure. And part of securing my rights is ensuring that my government is able to continue doing so, which means it needs to be as secure as possible from international threats and part of that is neutralizing threats before they do damage. Does that work? Really, right now I am just thinking out loud (is there an analogous expression applied to writing?), and I'd appreciate your comments.

UPDATE: Barnett responds to critics here. It must be emphasized that neither he nor I am justifying the Iraq war (I feel the time to do so credibly has slipped away forever), but that he and I are talking about libertarianism and war, using Iraq as a context for showing that libertarians can disagree about war without being intellectually dishonest. However, because none of the points to which Professor Barnett responded came up here, I am only linking it for journalistic purposes.