YES, WE HAVE NO WAR CRIMES

It's no fun to start the day with computer troubles, which I've had all morning. Now that Tech Support has solved my problem, I'm hoping it can rescue a troubled world's war-crime panel called the International Humanitarian Fact-Finding Commission. Its problems are much greater than mine, according to a front-page story in today's Wall Street Journal.

"More than a quarter-century ago, in 1977, countries that had signed the Geneva Conventions decided to create the world's first permanent commission to investigate war crimes," Jess Bravin reports. "The commission is still waiting for its first case." Sir Kenneth Keith, a New Zealand appeals court judge who is the current president of the commission, "has been forced to a reluctant conclusion. The governments that voted to establish his group are just 'not very keen' on its actual work."

Read the complete story and weep (subscription required); or if you have a taste for gallows humor, laugh yourself silly. The commission operates on a $110,000 annual budget (give or take $2) and has "no permanent staff, facilities or equipment" to investigate the boundless atrocities of a world seemingly in a state of permanent war.

Hans Blix, the U.N. weapons inspector, tells the Journal: "My heart is full of sympathy for Ken Keith." As well it should be. The U.N. will not cooperate with the commission, and Blix, who attended the conference that created it, says he'd forgot it still existed.

Saddest of all, "a 1998 training exercise for the commissioners, sponsored by the Swedish government at a military base near Stockholm ... was the closest they have gotten to a war zone." They investigated "mock atrocities by Swedish separatists. The scenario imagined rebels establishing the breakaway republic of Greater Dalecarlia, prompting a Swedish reaction."

Apparently "Swedish forces bombed civilians" and the would-be Greater Dalecarlians "tortured farmers and schoolchildren." But that was because it was a mock exercise. I hesitate to think of what the Swedish welfare state's atrocious reaction might have been in reality. My guess is saunas without massages.

October 23, 2003 1:30 AM |

Categories:

Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
HERMAN WOUK'S LATEST 
It's hard to say which comes off worse in Herman Wouk's latest novel, his first in a decade: the U.S. Congress or the American press. "A Hole in Texas" offers the choice between two emblematic stereotypes: a red-faced opportunist who heads the House Armed Services Committee and a mustachioed investigative reporter for the Washington Post.
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