Nearly ten years after the name Osama Bin Laden was transmitted through the global media, and his photo stretched wide over television screens and labeled the face of extreme Islamic terrorism, his international exploits have finally come to an end. Thanks to almost a decade of intelligence operations, research, and detective work on the part of the American intelligence community, he has been tracked to Pakistan, where it is said he was likely in hiding for more than five years. Thanks to a crack Navy SEAL team, he has been located and killed. Thanks to President Obama, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, and a dozen military and intelligence personnel looking on, directing the team's every move, Osama Bin Laden's fate was sealed, pun very much intended. And, thanks to the brilliant strategic minds of the decision-making intelligence officials, there is no way of ever actually proving to the general public that anything involving Bin Laden or a SEAL team ever in reality took place. Let me say that once more, there is NO way of EVER actually proving to the general public that ANYTHING involving Bin Laden or a SEAL team EVER in reality took place. Now, in order to prevent discredit to whatever I may call my current reputation, I will state that this post is not in any way an attempt to perpetuate what most people would label a 'conspiracy theory'. The purpose of this post is not to divine what the government may or may not have done, but rather to point out the frustrating fact that the amount of information given to the American people is sufficient only to render divination the sole viable option to discover the truth of what they have been told.
But, you say, it was reported on the news. Both CNN and FOX carried the same story without a single discrepancy in the details of their accounts. Osama Bin Laden was tracked down, and killed, what possible evidence does anyone have to the contrary? I would pose the question in reverse, what possible evidence does anyone have that what was reported happened at all? Unfortunately the answer to both of these colossally important questions is: none. To make more sense of this seemingly insensible idea, let us imagine for the moment that this Bin Laden incident is the subject of a courtroom trial. We, the general public are represented by the jury, while the United States government, along with the mainstream media are represented by the prosecution, since they have indicated that the events of May the second occurred just as they reported them. The defense in this case must of necessity be non-existent, since to date there has not been a single individual who has openly questioned, or has been allowed to openly question the validity of the information regarding the strike on Bin Laden. We as the jury will examine the claims made by the prosecution and determine the quality of the evidence presented in their favor. It will be readily accepted that our object is not to determine whether or not the events of May the second in fact took place, but more importantly to our interests, whether the evidence presented to the general population is such that it removes all reasonable doubt.
First, let us consider the initial claim as it came in. CNN reported that Osama Bin Laden had been located and killed in the city of Abbottabad, Pakistan. They reported that it was done under a Navy SEALs operation and that they had confirmed through DNA tests that it was in fact Bin Laden. There were also reports of 'death photos' that were in possession of the United States, and word was pending on whether or not those would be released. My first reaction to the 'death photos' issue was indifference, since I assumed that the US was in custody of the body, the death having been from a gunshot wound, rather than some sort of explosive, or other method that would ruin identifying evidence. There would be no reason to see photos if they had the body. The only problem was, they no longer had the body. The very next thing I heard reported was that Osama Bin Laden had been buried at sea. Two very strange things occurred to me as I heard that piece of information. First, the rapid pace of it all. Not ten hours after the killshot, before US forces even transported the body into international waters, it was dumped overboard. Second, the reason the government gave for treating the body this way was that it had to do with some sort of 'Islamic tradition.'
Beginning with the issue of timing, questioning forensics labs all over the world, you would find that they all give the same time estimate regarding identification through DNA testing. Subject to the quality of the DNA, it can take anywhere from one week to six for initial results, even longer for confirmation. For our purposes let us assume that the US forces had on their aircraft carrier, from whence the body was disposed of, a team of forensic specialists with their own makeshift lab to perform the necessary DNA tests that were reported to have taken place. Let us also assume that because the death was from a gunshot, that the quality of the DNA used to identify Osama Bin Laden was optimal. Assuming all of that, the minimum time estimate for the top forensic labs in the world is five to ten days, and all that before the results can be confirmed. Even with the best forensic specialists in the world, how could these tests be done AND CONFIRMED in ten hours?
Now let us consider the reason given for burial at sea. There is an inherent problem with the United States behaving in any way that adheres to Islamic tradition; much more when the actions are for the man most wanted by the US government, the man who allegedly orchestrated the most deadly terrorist attacks to ever occur on US soil. It is beyond difficult to imagine the intelligence officials deciding in their minds that the best way to handle the remains of their number one terrorist should be with the utmost respect to his religion. They certainly did not have a problem hanging Saddam Hussein. It is even more difficult to imagine this decision being made by anyone who had family members or friends who died in the North or South towers, or Building seven of the World Trade Center on 9/11. To sum up this point, we will return to our courtroom analogy. Aside from the near absurd nature of the actions taken by the US in dealing with Osama Bin Laden's body, what evidence has been presented to the general public to give any certainty at all to what reportedly took place. Allow me to state here that neither the death photos, nor the results from the DNA identification tests were in fact released or made public by the government. The reason being of course, national security. I will revisit this point later. What evidence does the prosecution have that proves or even lends credibility to their case? So far, we have neither a body, photos, nor any certified DNA test results. All we have is the word of the government, and the media to whom it reports.
It became clear to me very quickly after hearing that the US military had buried Osama Bin Laden at sea, just how important those death photos now were. If released, they could be at least examined and verified by professionals who are not in the employ of the US government, thereby lessening the impact the lack of evidence produced by Bin Laden's body would have on the story's credibility. A few short days later, word came from the Obama administration that the photos would not be released. This came as far less a surprise to me than did the news about the burial. The point that gave me trouble was what brings me to the second issue surrounding the events of May the second, the reasons. Officials in the military stated that the death photos would not be released, and further SHOULD not be released at any time in the future, as it could lead to escalated hatred toward America and its citizens, threatening national security. It seems strange that the US government would consider the release of the death photos as more inflammatory to terrorists than the act of killing their leader. In our courtroom case, the government's reasoning would equate to the prosecution making their claim without providing any evidence whatsoever to the jury for consideration. When questioned about their lack of evidence, they explain that showing the jury proof of their actions would be too dangerous to the jury members themselves, and that keeping such proof concealed supercedes in importance the necessity to determine the truth of the very events in question.
Just two weeks after the Bin Laden incident, the Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates was quoted by CNN as saying that the American people should stop talking about the events of May second, including the SEAL team, the operation, and the photos altogether, that this too was endangering national security. Again, in court, this would be the same as the prosecution, after producing no evidence to substantiate their claim, refusing to answer their lack of evidence, and further petitioning the court to no longer discuss the issue and move on to other business.
The question now is, why does any of this even matter? So what if the government has given the people nothing but their word to go by? So what if there have been no witnesses, no testimonies other than those of the officials, which are vague at best? So what if we don't know why nothing has changed in Iraq or Afghanistan as a result of Bin Laden's death? The illustration of the courtroom is cute and entertaining, but I only use it to highlight the fact that the actions taken by the government and media in reporting this event which is monumental in recent history are of such a ridiculous nature that they would not be tolerated in a court of law.
I am not so concerned with the question of what really happened on May the second, but instead how we as a people have been trained by those who are in the seats of power to accept without question, heavy, world-altering claims without any evidence to substantiate them.
I'm not saying that US forces never found and killed Osama Bin Laden, nor am I saying that the United States government is working to cover anything up. I am only saying that based on the bits and pieces of information that have been presented to the American people, and furthermore how readily the American people have accepted those broken facts as truth, can you see just how easily it could be?
Friday, May 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Mission: Inexplicable
Four years ago today, I returned home from serving my full-time mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in Orlando Florida; the most magical mission on Earth. I suppose to those who have not served a mission, no words can adequately express my feelings regarding mine, however, I feel that sharing a few thoughts about my experiences both on my mission and since I've been home may help to highlight one or two important issues that we all face at some point in our lives. Or perhaps the fact that I have never really written about my mission since I returned will serve me more than any other, to characterize and sort out for myself what the experience really meant. Either way, I expect that both reader and author will grow a little, in clarity and understanding.
In many ways, missions share common ground with what might be labeled the 'workplace'. Perhaps that is because certain organizations use the same sort of structure in their workforce, causing some people to confuse missionaries with FBI agents or police detectives. Assigned partners, dress and grooming standards, even standard-issue day-planners. With so many external similarities, one would not be surprised to find some internal similarities as well. Relationships between missionaries can function in the same way they do in the workplace. Unfortunately, this can prove to be a negative force on a young and impressionable missionary with preconceived notions.
Growing up in Calgary, I always thought that missionaries were the best people on the planet. The only thing keeping them from being translated into angels and flying straight up to heaven was that they had a job to do here among us. Teach people the gospel. I figured that was what they did all day everyday. No other option for spending time entered my mind for these people. Not only did they DO missionary work all the time, they must have THOUGHT about it all the time too. For me, this was what a missionary was. Needless to say, when it was getting close to being my turn to go on my own mission, my excitement knew no limits. I thought I was going on the adventure of a lifetime, that I would have the chance to become someone I had always wanted to be. To do the work of the Lord with others just like me. And to watch the hand of the Lord work the many miracles that I had always heard mission stories filled with. It took about four days for me to realize that there is a side of the mission that is in itself very different than what I had expected, and it shook me harder than an earthquake.
Not all missionaries are good missionaries.
The notion that some missionaries are careless, lazy, disobedient, and even unworthy, which thing I never had supposed, was the strongest force against me on my mission. It started out in the Missionary Training Center, where for the short space of three weeks, I was appointed District Leader over two districts, the District Leader of the other having already chosen to go home. I was a little overwhelmed at first, wondering what a District Leader's responsibilities in the MTC were, but decided to take it on, and do my best, since this was the only time in my life that it would ever happen. That is, I think, how I would best describe my feeling toward my whole mission at the time: This is only going to happen once, so make it great! However, a position of seeming responsibility like that of a District Leader does not mean much to a group, when said position is only to remain in effect for three weeks. When I began experimenting with being a leader, at first by making suggestions to the district about how we should be making use of our self-directed block of time, or Missionary-Directed Time, I quickly found that such leadership was neither asked for, nor particularly wanted, and that attempting to be a leader had significant negative consequences.
Nothing had changed eighteen months through my mission, when I was a Zone Leader in the Cocoa Zone during the summer of 2006. There was still resentment of leadership among the missionaries, even some of the District Leaders, but I had not changed either. I found that as a leader, I had a monumental choice to make, which would have far-reaching implications for the rest of my mission. I could either seek the approval of my fellow missionaries, which meant slacking on the rules, and trying to be like them, or I could seek the approval of the Mission President, and I suppose one could extend that to the approval of the Lord, since He called the President in the first place. This would mean not only obeying the rules, but working actively to help the other missionaries obey the rules. I can safely say that it was my upbringing that made the decision for me. I had always been taught to be on the right side, and to have the right people on your side. It made sense to me that the other missionaries, though they might be on my side, could never help me with the work the way the Lord could. And I was there to work. It was my choice, my money, my time. I chose to seek the approval of the President. Immediately, I saw the zone divide, along party lines as it were. My fellow missionaries had also made their own decisions. It was about fifty-fifty. Half of the zone hated me, the other half liked me. The half that hated me, when I tried to be their leader, would tell me things like "I'm not a numbers missionary", or "I just do my work, leave me alone about it", or my personal favorite, "You're just aspiring". I had never had a word which meant so many good things to me before my mission, be used against me to describe something that I was doing apparently wrong. The cognitive dissonance was infuriating.
The feelings of the MTC came rushing back to me. How dare they, I thought, accuse me of wrongdoing, when all I AM doing is trying to help them make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?! I never got used to people intentionally not liking me. In trying to reason it out, I figured, everyone aspires to something. I'm just aspiring to be a good missionary. But no one believes that, when you are on a mission. There is always talk of position, status, titles, etc. The worst was the title and position of Assistant to the President. Funny, because you would think that is what all the missionaries are, but this was different. No sound-thinking missionary would dare want to be an Assistant, because of the immediate isolation from the rest of the group. That is basically what any position of leadership in the mission feels like. You become isolated by your title from the other missionaries, and if you are not viewed as one of them, then you certainly are not treated as one of them. Many leaders in the mission did not want to be called as leaders, and therefore tried with all their energy to remain part of the group. They achieved what they aspired to: sameness. Unity with the group at the expense of personal standards. I feel achieved what I aspired to: doing what I was told, and trying to help others do the same.
The pain of being rejected by the group that was supposed to be my family for two years never went away, but I had made my decision, and was not about to turn back. I gave up caring about what the group thought, and soon found that there were indeed missionaries like me out there. This was the greatest help to me. I could tell within seconds of meeting a missionary in my zone which half he was part of. The ones who liked me did not care that I was the zone leader any more than the ones who hated me, they just wanted to hear what I had to tell them. They responded quickly to any call, and with enthusiasm. They reported to me before I had to call them and ask them to. They looked for solutions to problems, and answers to questions. The fact that I was their zone leader had no effect on them, nor did it need to. In their minds, I was just like them, only with more work to do, and part of that work was to help them. I was not a bad guy, who was always chasing them about numbers, I was their best friend, because I had answers, and suggestions, and experience that could really improve their work.
No missionary is perfect, both sides of the aisle made mistakes. The difference between the two kinds of missionary was that the one made the mistake because he did not care and was not trying, whereas the other made the mistake because he did care and was trying. It was much easier to work with that kind of missionary, and although it was never my place to forgive, it was so much easier to forgive them when they did make mistakes. This taught me about how it must be with our Heavenly Father. He knows perfectly well that we will all make mistakes. That is why He provided for the Savior to perform the Atonement, and then goes on to COMMAND us to repent. It must be so easy for Him to forgive us when we are sincerely trying to do what is right, and come to Him for help.
After my time in the Cocoa zone, I was transferred to the Stuart zone, which ended up being my favorite zone and my favorite transfer of my entire mission. The zone was full of the kind of missionaries that wanted to work. We became a family instantly, and saw miracle after miracle after miracle, which is what I believe every missionary wants to see happen on their mission. I think the Lord placed me in that situation so that I could see how missionary work could be done, and so that I could then take what I had learned to my next area, which was, I think the worst area of my mission, and also happened to be my last. It was not the worst area because of the members, or anything like that. It was that I went from a zone of complete unity, where every interaction between the missionaries felt familial, to one where over half of the missionaries, I believe, wanted to have me shot. After everything I had seen and experienced, you would think that I would have been able to handle that, but I am ashamed to say that it took me down. I was discouraged, and for the first time in my mission, I wanted to come home. I slowed down, and did not try as hard. I lost the fire. It was like finding out what I had in the first four days at the MTC all over again, and it was just too much for me. I did find happiness in the few friends I had in the zone, and in the work I was doing with the Spanish-speaking people in that area, but I was exhausted.
I look back on my mission and the decision I made to stay on the side of the Mission President and the Lord, and I see now that it has defined my leadership roles ever since. I have no regrets regarding that decision, nor any other that was made based upon it. I do not envision myself ever choosing otherwise for the rest of my life. That determination in itself is one of the greatest rewards I have received from serving my mission.
It is unfortunate that not all missionaries who are called choose to be their best. It is sad to see a missionary choose to go home before his time is finished. It is painful to be despised for doing what you have always been taught was right and by those who have been taught the same. But the stability, security, and dedication that come from the voluntary and willful choice to continue despite the fact is worth all the negativity associated with the process of discovering it. For this and many other reasons, my mission was the most important thing I have ever done. It has already completely influenced the course of my life for the better.
In many ways, missions share common ground with what might be labeled the 'workplace'. Perhaps that is because certain organizations use the same sort of structure in their workforce, causing some people to confuse missionaries with FBI agents or police detectives. Assigned partners, dress and grooming standards, even standard-issue day-planners. With so many external similarities, one would not be surprised to find some internal similarities as well. Relationships between missionaries can function in the same way they do in the workplace. Unfortunately, this can prove to be a negative force on a young and impressionable missionary with preconceived notions.
Growing up in Calgary, I always thought that missionaries were the best people on the planet. The only thing keeping them from being translated into angels and flying straight up to heaven was that they had a job to do here among us. Teach people the gospel. I figured that was what they did all day everyday. No other option for spending time entered my mind for these people. Not only did they DO missionary work all the time, they must have THOUGHT about it all the time too. For me, this was what a missionary was. Needless to say, when it was getting close to being my turn to go on my own mission, my excitement knew no limits. I thought I was going on the adventure of a lifetime, that I would have the chance to become someone I had always wanted to be. To do the work of the Lord with others just like me. And to watch the hand of the Lord work the many miracles that I had always heard mission stories filled with. It took about four days for me to realize that there is a side of the mission that is in itself very different than what I had expected, and it shook me harder than an earthquake.
Not all missionaries are good missionaries.
The notion that some missionaries are careless, lazy, disobedient, and even unworthy, which thing I never had supposed, was the strongest force against me on my mission. It started out in the Missionary Training Center, where for the short space of three weeks, I was appointed District Leader over two districts, the District Leader of the other having already chosen to go home. I was a little overwhelmed at first, wondering what a District Leader's responsibilities in the MTC were, but decided to take it on, and do my best, since this was the only time in my life that it would ever happen. That is, I think, how I would best describe my feeling toward my whole mission at the time: This is only going to happen once, so make it great! However, a position of seeming responsibility like that of a District Leader does not mean much to a group, when said position is only to remain in effect for three weeks. When I began experimenting with being a leader, at first by making suggestions to the district about how we should be making use of our self-directed block of time, or Missionary-Directed Time, I quickly found that such leadership was neither asked for, nor particularly wanted, and that attempting to be a leader had significant negative consequences.
Nothing had changed eighteen months through my mission, when I was a Zone Leader in the Cocoa Zone during the summer of 2006. There was still resentment of leadership among the missionaries, even some of the District Leaders, but I had not changed either. I found that as a leader, I had a monumental choice to make, which would have far-reaching implications for the rest of my mission. I could either seek the approval of my fellow missionaries, which meant slacking on the rules, and trying to be like them, or I could seek the approval of the Mission President, and I suppose one could extend that to the approval of the Lord, since He called the President in the first place. This would mean not only obeying the rules, but working actively to help the other missionaries obey the rules. I can safely say that it was my upbringing that made the decision for me. I had always been taught to be on the right side, and to have the right people on your side. It made sense to me that the other missionaries, though they might be on my side, could never help me with the work the way the Lord could. And I was there to work. It was my choice, my money, my time. I chose to seek the approval of the President. Immediately, I saw the zone divide, along party lines as it were. My fellow missionaries had also made their own decisions. It was about fifty-fifty. Half of the zone hated me, the other half liked me. The half that hated me, when I tried to be their leader, would tell me things like "I'm not a numbers missionary", or "I just do my work, leave me alone about it", or my personal favorite, "You're just aspiring". I had never had a word which meant so many good things to me before my mission, be used against me to describe something that I was doing apparently wrong. The cognitive dissonance was infuriating.
The feelings of the MTC came rushing back to me. How dare they, I thought, accuse me of wrongdoing, when all I AM doing is trying to help them make the most of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?! I never got used to people intentionally not liking me. In trying to reason it out, I figured, everyone aspires to something. I'm just aspiring to be a good missionary. But no one believes that, when you are on a mission. There is always talk of position, status, titles, etc. The worst was the title and position of Assistant to the President. Funny, because you would think that is what all the missionaries are, but this was different. No sound-thinking missionary would dare want to be an Assistant, because of the immediate isolation from the rest of the group. That is basically what any position of leadership in the mission feels like. You become isolated by your title from the other missionaries, and if you are not viewed as one of them, then you certainly are not treated as one of them. Many leaders in the mission did not want to be called as leaders, and therefore tried with all their energy to remain part of the group. They achieved what they aspired to: sameness. Unity with the group at the expense of personal standards. I feel achieved what I aspired to: doing what I was told, and trying to help others do the same.
The pain of being rejected by the group that was supposed to be my family for two years never went away, but I had made my decision, and was not about to turn back. I gave up caring about what the group thought, and soon found that there were indeed missionaries like me out there. This was the greatest help to me. I could tell within seconds of meeting a missionary in my zone which half he was part of. The ones who liked me did not care that I was the zone leader any more than the ones who hated me, they just wanted to hear what I had to tell them. They responded quickly to any call, and with enthusiasm. They reported to me before I had to call them and ask them to. They looked for solutions to problems, and answers to questions. The fact that I was their zone leader had no effect on them, nor did it need to. In their minds, I was just like them, only with more work to do, and part of that work was to help them. I was not a bad guy, who was always chasing them about numbers, I was their best friend, because I had answers, and suggestions, and experience that could really improve their work.
No missionary is perfect, both sides of the aisle made mistakes. The difference between the two kinds of missionary was that the one made the mistake because he did not care and was not trying, whereas the other made the mistake because he did care and was trying. It was much easier to work with that kind of missionary, and although it was never my place to forgive, it was so much easier to forgive them when they did make mistakes. This taught me about how it must be with our Heavenly Father. He knows perfectly well that we will all make mistakes. That is why He provided for the Savior to perform the Atonement, and then goes on to COMMAND us to repent. It must be so easy for Him to forgive us when we are sincerely trying to do what is right, and come to Him for help.
After my time in the Cocoa zone, I was transferred to the Stuart zone, which ended up being my favorite zone and my favorite transfer of my entire mission. The zone was full of the kind of missionaries that wanted to work. We became a family instantly, and saw miracle after miracle after miracle, which is what I believe every missionary wants to see happen on their mission. I think the Lord placed me in that situation so that I could see how missionary work could be done, and so that I could then take what I had learned to my next area, which was, I think the worst area of my mission, and also happened to be my last. It was not the worst area because of the members, or anything like that. It was that I went from a zone of complete unity, where every interaction between the missionaries felt familial, to one where over half of the missionaries, I believe, wanted to have me shot. After everything I had seen and experienced, you would think that I would have been able to handle that, but I am ashamed to say that it took me down. I was discouraged, and for the first time in my mission, I wanted to come home. I slowed down, and did not try as hard. I lost the fire. It was like finding out what I had in the first four days at the MTC all over again, and it was just too much for me. I did find happiness in the few friends I had in the zone, and in the work I was doing with the Spanish-speaking people in that area, but I was exhausted.
I look back on my mission and the decision I made to stay on the side of the Mission President and the Lord, and I see now that it has defined my leadership roles ever since. I have no regrets regarding that decision, nor any other that was made based upon it. I do not envision myself ever choosing otherwise for the rest of my life. That determination in itself is one of the greatest rewards I have received from serving my mission.
It is unfortunate that not all missionaries who are called choose to be their best. It is sad to see a missionary choose to go home before his time is finished. It is painful to be despised for doing what you have always been taught was right and by those who have been taught the same. But the stability, security, and dedication that come from the voluntary and willful choice to continue despite the fact is worth all the negativity associated with the process of discovering it. For this and many other reasons, my mission was the most important thing I have ever done. It has already completely influenced the course of my life for the better.
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