Libertarian_Guard
03-26-2003, 11:42 PM
Bond, Derek Bond
http://www.suntimes.co.za/2003/03/23/magazine/ane01.asp
The mistaken arrest of a pensioner on holiday makes one wonder about the intelligence gathering of the FBI and Interpol, writes a worried Barry Ronge
The sad story of Derek Bond, the unsuspecting pensioner embroiled in an espionage mix-up in Durban that was worthy of Austin Powers at his most idiotic, offered yet more daunting proof that Big Brother is squint and desperately in need of new spectacles.
In case you missed the story, Bond is a British pensioner who was on holiday in South Africa when the FBI swooped. They were convinced that he was a fraudster on their Most Wanted list. Bond, a frail, elderly fellow, was hauled off to jail and languished there in great discomfort and in the company of miscreants for 13 days, until the FBI said: "Oops, sorry, wrong guy."
They said it only because they had accidentally caught up with the right guy, who is called Derek Sykes, in Las Vegas. As Bond tells the story, he was in jail for 10 days before anyone told him what he was supposed to have done and he was not allowed to do anything at all that would help him understand or remedy his situation. It was like a holiday excursion planned by Kafka.
Even when the mistake was uncovered, the South African authorities were not allowed to release him until they had permission from the FBI. That took another one-and-a-half days and was accompanied by the bland acknowledgement from the FBI that "Mr Bond is owed an apology".
I'd say Bond is owed a great deal more than that, starting with an all-expenses-paid holiday anywhere in the world that he chooses to go, although I suspect the US would not rank high on that list.
President Thabo Mbeki also weighed in with soothing words and an invitation to Bond to pop in for a cup of tea the next time he is in South Africa. Somehow, I can't see Bond hurrying back. Thirteen days in a Durban jail is enough to take the gloss off anyone's holiday snaps.
The story made headlines around the world, doing for South Africa's reputation as a tourist destination what Hurricane Andrew did for beach holidays in Miami. As damage control goes, I think offering Bond a cup of tea with the Prez next time he's in town falls short of the mark.
Now I wait with interest to see if Bond is going to teach the FBI a lesson in "punitive damages", a concept the Americans seem to have created, as he sues the pants off all concerned.
But all that aside, two things worried me a great deal. First, the FBI is supposed to be an important part of the information-gathering process in the international war on drugs and crime. If the best they can do is lock up the wrong pensioner in Durban, how safe are the rest of us?
Furthermore, if harassing old men is the best the FBI and Interpol can do, is it any wonder that people are sceptical about the intelligence on which George Bush and Tony Blair are basing their call for war?
But beyond even that, is the lurking but genuine fear that in this computer age no one is safe from anything. In the wake of Bond's story came tales of how disgruntled employees and bosses who are strapped for cash have been selling their computer databases. These have personal information about us, like addresses, telephone numbers, ID and passport numbers and sometimes even our fingerprints. Most of these sales are opportunistic, for the distribution of junk mail, but it is technically possible for someone to buy your entire life based on this information for less than $900.
Once they have all that information, plus an e-mail address, they could use Internet travel services to book flights, hotels and all the other attributes of a luxury holiday and charge them to you, using your passport and ID numbers as verification. It makes me more terrified of Internet shopping than I ever was.
Then there is the story about the men who go through your rubbish bins to find waste paper for resale to paper recycling plants. I've often heard it said that they take all the accounts and discarded bank and credit card statements and sell them off to fraud syndicates.
I've tended to dismiss that as an urban legend, but since Bond's saga, when I see the collectors from the local squatter camp on my pavement every Thursday diligently assembling every scrap of my waste paper, I think twice about what I throw away. I now have little private paper bonfires in my garden and spread the ashes around my rose beds. It's probably too late, but it comforts me.
One does not want to become paranoid but, given the way the world is run at the moment, it is hard not to be. Over the past 70 years, American books, films and TV series have conditioned us to trust in the efficiency, if not, indeed, the omniscience, of the FBI, the CIA and Interpol.
Seeing dear old Derek Bond in that Durban jail at a time when the world is supposed to be on the highest terror alert and the outbreak of war depends on the "proof" offered by intelligence agencies, it makes one wonder if anyone actually knows anything. And if they don't, on whom can we rely for help? God, I suppose, might be called on, but if you were God, look around and ask yourself if you think you want to save a species as stupid as we are. It is entirely possible that, like Dolly the cloned sheep, the human race is just a cosmic cloning experiment that has, alas, gone wrong, and, like Dolly, we are expendable
http://www.suntimes.co.za/2003/03/23/magazine/ane01.asp
The mistaken arrest of a pensioner on holiday makes one wonder about the intelligence gathering of the FBI and Interpol, writes a worried Barry Ronge
The sad story of Derek Bond, the unsuspecting pensioner embroiled in an espionage mix-up in Durban that was worthy of Austin Powers at his most idiotic, offered yet more daunting proof that Big Brother is squint and desperately in need of new spectacles.
In case you missed the story, Bond is a British pensioner who was on holiday in South Africa when the FBI swooped. They were convinced that he was a fraudster on their Most Wanted list. Bond, a frail, elderly fellow, was hauled off to jail and languished there in great discomfort and in the company of miscreants for 13 days, until the FBI said: "Oops, sorry, wrong guy."
They said it only because they had accidentally caught up with the right guy, who is called Derek Sykes, in Las Vegas. As Bond tells the story, he was in jail for 10 days before anyone told him what he was supposed to have done and he was not allowed to do anything at all that would help him understand or remedy his situation. It was like a holiday excursion planned by Kafka.
Even when the mistake was uncovered, the South African authorities were not allowed to release him until they had permission from the FBI. That took another one-and-a-half days and was accompanied by the bland acknowledgement from the FBI that "Mr Bond is owed an apology".
I'd say Bond is owed a great deal more than that, starting with an all-expenses-paid holiday anywhere in the world that he chooses to go, although I suspect the US would not rank high on that list.
President Thabo Mbeki also weighed in with soothing words and an invitation to Bond to pop in for a cup of tea the next time he is in South Africa. Somehow, I can't see Bond hurrying back. Thirteen days in a Durban jail is enough to take the gloss off anyone's holiday snaps.
The story made headlines around the world, doing for South Africa's reputation as a tourist destination what Hurricane Andrew did for beach holidays in Miami. As damage control goes, I think offering Bond a cup of tea with the Prez next time he's in town falls short of the mark.
Now I wait with interest to see if Bond is going to teach the FBI a lesson in "punitive damages", a concept the Americans seem to have created, as he sues the pants off all concerned.
But all that aside, two things worried me a great deal. First, the FBI is supposed to be an important part of the information-gathering process in the international war on drugs and crime. If the best they can do is lock up the wrong pensioner in Durban, how safe are the rest of us?
Furthermore, if harassing old men is the best the FBI and Interpol can do, is it any wonder that people are sceptical about the intelligence on which George Bush and Tony Blair are basing their call for war?
But beyond even that, is the lurking but genuine fear that in this computer age no one is safe from anything. In the wake of Bond's story came tales of how disgruntled employees and bosses who are strapped for cash have been selling their computer databases. These have personal information about us, like addresses, telephone numbers, ID and passport numbers and sometimes even our fingerprints. Most of these sales are opportunistic, for the distribution of junk mail, but it is technically possible for someone to buy your entire life based on this information for less than $900.
Once they have all that information, plus an e-mail address, they could use Internet travel services to book flights, hotels and all the other attributes of a luxury holiday and charge them to you, using your passport and ID numbers as verification. It makes me more terrified of Internet shopping than I ever was.
Then there is the story about the men who go through your rubbish bins to find waste paper for resale to paper recycling plants. I've often heard it said that they take all the accounts and discarded bank and credit card statements and sell them off to fraud syndicates.
I've tended to dismiss that as an urban legend, but since Bond's saga, when I see the collectors from the local squatter camp on my pavement every Thursday diligently assembling every scrap of my waste paper, I think twice about what I throw away. I now have little private paper bonfires in my garden and spread the ashes around my rose beds. It's probably too late, but it comforts me.
One does not want to become paranoid but, given the way the world is run at the moment, it is hard not to be. Over the past 70 years, American books, films and TV series have conditioned us to trust in the efficiency, if not, indeed, the omniscience, of the FBI, the CIA and Interpol.
Seeing dear old Derek Bond in that Durban jail at a time when the world is supposed to be on the highest terror alert and the outbreak of war depends on the "proof" offered by intelligence agencies, it makes one wonder if anyone actually knows anything. And if they don't, on whom can we rely for help? God, I suppose, might be called on, but if you were God, look around and ask yourself if you think you want to save a species as stupid as we are. It is entirely possible that, like Dolly the cloned sheep, the human race is just a cosmic cloning experiment that has, alas, gone wrong, and, like Dolly, we are expendable