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Editorials | August 2007
Even if Calls Not Tapped, Our Fear Is Diane Carman - Denver Post go to original
Edith Williams is certain that her phone is being tapped, and nobody can convince her otherwise.
I wouldn't dare try.
Still, it makes no sense that the government is interested in the 80-year- old woman's conversations about the weather, her health and, of course, politics with her sister in Wiesbaden, Germany.
Then again, a lot of things don't make sense.
"This has been going on since 2005," said Williams, a retired insurance agent who moved to Denver from Germany in 1951. "It's a constant drag on my nerves."
Williams has noticed a peculiar clicking or an echo on the phone whenever she talks to her sister, an economist.
She's called her long-distance provider, which said there were no technical problems. Her brother-in-law, a retired police chief, checked the phone on their end and found nothing.
But every time she hears the sounds, she feels a rush of anxiety. "All of a sudden, I get afraid," she said.
Williams worries that she's being surveilled because she has e-mailed President Bush.
She began writing to him before the war began, she said.
"My e-mails were always respectful, but they also pointed out the history of trouble in Mesopotamia and that it didn't make any sense to attack the people there. I begged him to wait for the U.N."
Williams has vivid memories of the bombings in World War II-era Germany. "Some of my e-mails recalled the horrors of a child going outside after the bombings and seeing body parts in the street."
Her other memories from the war are of the suspicion that was fostered by the Nazis so that the fears of the German people could be exploited.
"I know the distrust and the loss of personal freedom that breeds," she said. "Once neighbors start watching neighbors, looking at them differently, it's a horrible thing."
Williams said she has contacted U.S. Sens. Wayne Allard and Ken Salazar about the noises on her phone. They responded with letters that said the warrantless surveillance was a national security matter over which they had no control.
"I also had conversations with people in Salazar's office, and they didn't pay any attention to me. It was like: 'Here's a little old lady. Let's pat her on the head. She's crazy,"' she said.
"And, by the way, Salazar voted for the bill."
Williams is furious with the Democratic Congress for voting to authorize the Bush administration's wiretapping of the international phone calls and e-mails of Americans.
"Sometimes when I blow off steam to a friend or a neighbor, they'll say, 'Well, if it prevents another 9/11 repeat, why not?' "
"I just lose it," she said. "I admit I've never been the most patient person, and that hasn't improved with age."
On Wednesday, she called U.S. Rep. Ed Perlmutter, who listened to her story about the noises on the phone and commiserated with her about the Protect America Act of 2007 - which he didn't support.
"I was venting to him about that, and he said, 'Edith, you're preaching to the choir,"' she said.
I asked her why we should believe her when she says she's not a terrorist who needs watching.
"My life is an open book," she said. A citizen with a grown daughter and four grandchildren, she worked until she was 70 and now lives a quiet life with her elderly dog. Chances are good that if people are listening to the conversations with her sister, the juiciest information they'll get is a sauerbraten recipe or two.
"It's a waste of time," she said.
Still, that doesn't make it right because she is "still afraid."
And that may be the real impact of the Orwellian Protect America Act of 2007.
After all, it doesn't matter whether the government actually is eavesdropping on Williams' phone calls - or yours or mine. Just knowing that some government goon can listen for any reason - or no reason at all - can make a person think twice about expressing dissent.
Williams has seen that before and knows how insidiously it happens. "Little by little, you lose your individual freedoms and you don't even notice it."
Then, she said, you wake up one morning, and all that's left is the fear.
Diane Carman's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Reach her at 303-954-1489 or dcarman@denverpost.com. |
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