» Continued from Part 3

=== Noted
44. The Beauty And Perils Of The Irrational (False Memory Syndrome)
45. Miracles don't happen (Premanand, Indian skeptic)
46. Back to Ruby Ridge: Why Idaho Shouldn't Be Prosecuting FBI Agent Lon Horiuchi

=== Noted

44. The Beauty And Perils Of The Irrational
The Hartford Courant, Dec. 23, 2000 (Opinion)
http://www.ctnow.com/
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Religion is the embrace of the irrational: belief in God, in angels, in the magic of prayers. Burning bushes that talk, and virgin births. There is beauty here, especially at this time of year, when feuding relatives try to forget their battles and the airplanes are clogged by children going home to stockings hung with care. It's easy, in late December, to appreciate the irrational.

Now, then, is a good time to remember its dangers. This year, we have a special reminder. Last week saw the death of Peggy McMartin Buckey, 74. She died in Los Angeles, having regained a little of her anonymity. In the 1980s, she was famous. Along with her mother, Virginia McMartin, her son Ray Buckey and six others, Peggy Buckey had been a defendant in the most notorious child-molestation case in American history. In a series of charges, trials and mistrials, beginning in 1983 and reaching a dénouement with her acquittal in 1990, she had been accused of 115 counts of child molestation, acts of the most twisted kind.

None of it, according to the jury that finally acquitted her, ever happened: none of the acts she and the others were said to have perpetrated at her day-care center.
(...)

The 1980s saw an eruption of these cases, epidemics of accusations, often involving Satanic ritual abuse. In 1988, Margaret Kelly Michaels, an aspiring actress, 26 years old, who had worked briefly in a preschool, was sentenced in New Jersey to 47 years in prison for 115 counts of sexual abuse against 20 children. Among her alleged acts were licking peanut butter off the children's genitals, playing the piano in the nude and making the children eat a cake of her feces. In 1988, Paul Ingram was accused of satanic abuse in Olympia, Wash.; the charges spread, like the flu, until some of the officers investigating him were themselves implicated. Though the charges against Ingram were disproved, eloquently, in a series of New Yorker articles by Lawrence Wright, Ingram remains jailed.

Religion is never lurking far from these fantastic tales. The McMartin case was fueled, in part, by fundamentalist Christians like Donald Wildmon, president of the American Family Association, who in the 1980s stirred up fears that ''each year, 50,000 missing children are victims of pornography,'' kidnapping, rape and abuse. In England's remote Orkney Islands in 1991, nine children were removed from their homes after accusations that Jews and Quakers were practicing Satanic rites.

Ingram actually confessed to acts he had no memory of committing, in part because his religion, a charismatic form of Christianity, taught that Satan periodically erupted into this world and could dispose otherwise good people to cruel acts. His daughters had first recovered memories of abuse in discussions with church counselors.

Wright, whose New Yorker articles were published as the book ''Remembering Satan,'' says that in many cases of false accusations, religion shares much of the blame.
(...)

Dorothy Rabinowitz, a Wall Street Journal reporter who began following the epidemic of false accusations when she wrote about the Michaels case for Harper's magazine, cautions that most people who believe these tales are parents - often urbane and educated - who are not religiously conditioned, just scared by investigators and social workers who come knocking at their doors, asking if their children have been harmed.

Still, Rabinowitz notes that the irrational, if not religion specifically, creates conditions in which insane beliefs take hold in sane people. The talk shows and the media have produced a culture in which nothing sounds shocking anymore, so everything sounds believable.
(...)

Peggy McMartin Buckey was innocent, and though she was lucky enough to avoid prison, her old age was ruined by, in Rabinowitz's words, ''some paroxysm of virtue - an orgy of self-cleansing through which evil of one kind or another is cast out.''

The real evil in this case was not Buckey but an epidemic of irrational fear that, if history is any guide, will come again.
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45. Miracles don't happen
The Independent (England), Dec. 24, 2000
http://beta.yellowbrix.com/
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In a country where superstition is rampant, one man is risking his life to ridicule gurus and spread the gospel of rationalism. Beatrice Newbery meets B Premanand, India's chief fakir-buster

(...)It is the first day of the International Brotherhood of Magicians' Magic Fiesta, held in a dilapidated hall in the small town of Kannur, north Kerala.
(...)

At 71, B Premanand is the oldest member of the group and its youngest at heart. ''I already have nine years of bonus,'' he laughs, ''as the average mortality rate in India is 62.'' This is despite the several attempts that have been made on his life over the years - which say something about the kind of magic that Premanand performs. For while other members of India's International Brotherhood of Magicians are hobbyists, Premanand's mission is more ambitious - to expose any man who pretends his magic tricks are miracles.

To this end he has spent nearly 50 years touring Indian villages, drawing crowds of people by demonstrating how ''miracles'' are performed. ''See these scars,'' he says, pointing at one on his nose, and another on his lip. ''These are from stones, thrown by the followers of one guru whom I exposed as a fraud. He used to walk on water - until I made sure he fell in.''

India is a haven for gurus, yogis and godmen, all making easy money from the most ludicrous claims. ''There are even godmen going about with cups and balls, pretending they are performing miracles,'' Premanand says. His recent opponents include a 600-year-old man, a yogi who had not eaten for 45 years, and a man who claimed that even the flowers bowed down to him. They were all eventually shown to be frauds, although the last should be applauded for his ingenuity - he was spraying the flowers with anaesthetic. In Premanand's view, the godmen share one goal - to make money by false means.
(...)

With such a ready market for ''miracles'', it is not surprising that there are godmen in most Indian villages. ''In Hindu mythology, the gods send avatars to earth,'' Premanand explains. ''People believe that the gods can take a human form any time, so from a young age we are taught to respect and fear the godmen for their supernatural powers. That's why, when a holy man starts cracking coconuts on his head and claims it is supernatural skill, he is believed. Even prime ministers touch the dirty feet of these people.''
(...)

When Premanand tours villages, he has nothing more than a plastic bag full of props and a Jeep bonnet as his stage. But with such a flair for showing off, it's easy to see how his one-man acts draw the crowds. ''I don't expose magic as it is, because it is a wonderful art,'' he says. ''I want Kerala to be a centre for magicians who can compete with the rest of the world.''
(...)

It's been a long day, and most of the magicians flop into their chairs looking exhausted. Premanand, by contrast, embarks upon the story of his life, demonstrating the kind of energy that has propelled him around almost every village in India, and driven him to make 7,000 speeches, write 36 books, travel to 27 countries and train thousands of young magicians. That energy has also enabled him to fulfil joint roles as head of the Indian Rationalists Society, president of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal (CSICP), and editor of the Indian Skeptic. All his efforts have but one goal: to arm the public against fakes and frauds.

''My mission began only when I found that I, myself, had been deceived by godmen,'' he says. ''I was a great believer, you see, and from a young age I really wanted to know God.'' At the age of 18, he left home in search of a guru. ''I went everywhere looking for God, from Hindu temples to Buddhist monasteries. I followed many gurus and practised all the 300 yoga sidas.''

But, somehow, Premanand failed to find convincing spiritual guidance, despite the fact that each of his gurus could perform miracles and was well-known for his holiness.
(...)

Premanand's questions were born of an innocent desire to progress, rather than any suspicion or mistrust, but as his enquiries were continually rebutted, he became increasingly frustrated. Then he joined Swarmi Narai Naryananda's ashram, and his spiritual quest suffered a substantial knock. Premanand went to his guru for some help with meditation. The great man wrote ''Om'' on a piece of paper, then took it into the temple to pray. When he emerged, he lit the paper in front of Premanand's eyes. The fire burned clean around the holy word, and left the rest. ''When you have meditated enough on this word, you too will be able to do this,'' he said. ''I meditated so hard that month,'' says Premanand, ''then I was called again and Naryananda did the same thing. Once again, I was sent away to meditate more.'' The third time, Premanand was impatient enough to peek through the temple door as his guru prayed. ''I was stunned and scared when I saw him putting some chemicals on the paper. I didn't want to believe my eyes, but then I started asking the real questions. That was the beginning of my career as a sceptic.''
(...)

His father had a laboratory in the garden shed which he used for concocting products for his various soap and ink manufacturing businesses. ''One day, I broke my father's thermometer, so I hid it on an aluminium plate under my bed. When my father found out, he ordered me to wash the plate vigorously. But, when I did, a frothy grey substance appeared.'' Later on, Premanand was to find that this is how Sai Baba produces ''vibhuti'', or holy ash, from photographs of himself. The photo-frames are made of aluminium, behind which he hides mercury which reacts with damp to create a perfect ''holy ash'' of aluminium oxide. Later, the laboratory also proved the perfect place for working out how Naryananda performed his paper trick - potassium manganate.

Once Premanand had stumbled on his Naryananda's chemical trickery, he was determined to pursue the issue. First he began cutting out newspaper articles about godmen and their miracles. ''It was my hobby, like stamp collecting,'' he says. Next he began writing to gurus, asking how they performed their miracles, trying to provoke some reaction. When the response was limited, he began travelling to any spot where godmen were said to be performing miracles, and watching their work, writing down their miracles and, beside these, his rational explanations. The first 150 of this list have been published in Premanand's best-known book, Science versus Miracles, but there are another 1,300 miracles awaiting publication. ''I started looking with the eyes of a scientist, a rationalist, rather than a believer. Whenever I saw that people were cheating in the name of God, my interest grew.''

Then T Koovoor, head of the Committee for the Scientific Investigation of Claims of the Paranormal, visited Premanand's home town. ''I bought a ticket months in advance,'' Premanand says, ''and when he finally came, I was so excited. Everything he said made perfect sense.'' At the end of Koovoor's talk, Premanand rushed to the front and gave him his list. He was immediately invited to join the committee.

It was Koovoor who encouraged Premanand to tour the villages.
(...)

It was an auspicious start to a career as India's biggest mischief- maker. Since then, Premanand has toured up to seven villages a day, travelling 20 days every month. And, as his fame has spread, his audiences have swelled to the hundreds, proving him a better crowd- puller than his opponents. In the name of education, Premanand will perform any trick. He has walked on fire, hung weights from his skin, lain on beds of nails, stopped his heartbeat and produced bags of holy ash, Sai Baba-style, from nowhere. Each time he performs a trick, he takes care afterwards to explain how it is done. Over the years, his acts have become increasingly irreverent, ridiculing every trickster by name, from the smallest ''baba'' upwards.

As a result, Premanand's books, village tours and increasingly frequent television appearances have won him enemies as well as admirers.
(...)

These attacks, he believes, have been by followers of godmen, Hindu fundamentalists, or Christians who object to his dismissal of miracles. But Premanand is anything but intimidated. Once, when he needed some information on Sai Baba, he even paid a visit to the great guru's ashram in Andhra Pradesh. ''I shaved my hair off and went as a Muslim,'' he says. ''When I left three days later, I left a note saying `You did not know me. I was Premanand.'''

As president of CSICP, Premanand can now file cases against godmen who he says break the law. ''We have great laws in India,'' he says. ''The Magical Remedies Objectionable Advertisement Act, the Consumer Protection Act and the Monopoly Restriction of Trade Practice Act have all helped us to get godmen behind bars.'' There is only one problem - the authorities charged with enforcing the law are often reluctant to oppose godmen. ''Politicians make use of the power of godmen such as Sai Baba. No police officer or government official can go to him and ask for records. He is exempted by the state government.''

None the less, Premanand's rationalist crusade shows no sign of losing momentum. For 2001, he has two big gurus in his sights. First is Shri Mataji Nirmala Devi, head of Sahaja Yoga, whom Premanand says he hopes to get into court under the Foreign Exchange Regulation Act. And Sai Baba, Premanand's personal bete noir, is next. Once, he managed to get the guru arrested on smuggling charges - only for Sai Baba to be released after one night in gaol following a confidential government order. Now Premanand is returning to the book he has been writing, Muggers in Sai Baba's Bedroom, a 900-page tome which levels some hefty allegations against Sai Baba. ''This is going to be the greatest fight in my life,'' he says. ''It will be sensational.''
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46. Back to Ruby Ridge: Why Idaho Shouldn't Be Prosecuting FBI Agent Lon Horiuchi
FindLaw, Dec. 29, 2000 (Legal Commentary, Barton Aronson)
http://writ.news.findlaw.com/
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Ten days ago, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit heard oral argument, again, in the State of Idaho's misguided attempt to prosecute FBI sharpshooter Lon Horiuchi for manslaughter in the tragic shooting of Vicki Weaver. Horiuchi killed Weaver during the 1992 standoff between federal agents and the Weaver family at Ruby Ridge. Horiuchi has so far successfully argued that he is immune from state prosecution because he was a federal officer acting within the scope of his duties; now the entire Ninth Circuit is revisiting the issue. If allowed to proceed, Idaho v. Horiuchi would be the first state prosecution of a federal agent for an alleged crime committed during a federal law enforcement operation.

Whatever the legal merits of Horiuchi's immunity defense, the decision to prosecute Horiuchi is a mistake. Boundary County District Attorney Denise Woodbury is wrong to try to subject a highly trained and regulated federal officer -- already subject to the criminal laws of the United States -- to the criminal laws of Idaho.

Ruby Ridge and Its (Federal) Aftermath
Any recitation of the ''facts'' of Ruby Ridge could easily start a fight in any bar in Idaho, but a short sketch is necessary.
(...)

The Department of Justice has acknowledged that the rules of engagement for Ruby Ridge were improper. Two Departmental investigations faulted Horiuchi but recommended against prosecuting him. A federal grand jury declined to indict. And this fall, the federal government settled the last of the civil suits brought by the Weavers and Harris. Eight years of investigations, congressional hearings, and private lawsuits should have been enough.

The State of Idaho Gets Involved
But when the federal government decided, for the second time, not to prosecute, D.A. Woodbury brought manslaughter charges. That's manslaughter, not murder: Woodbury does not contend that Horiuchi was trying to kill Vicki Weaver, only that his split-second decision to shoot was grossly negligent.

Claiming that her office lacks the resources to try Horiuchi properly, Woodbury hired as a special prosecutor California plaintiff's lawyer Stephen Yagman, who specializes in police brutality cases. Yagman has little prosecutorial experience.

Unable so far to try their case in court, Woodbury and Yagman have tried it in the press. Between them, they have expressed their personal views on Horiuchi's guilt (flatly forbidden for prosecutors), commented that Horiuchi could be tried for murder, and trumpeted the prosecution as a trial of Janet Reno, Louis Freeh, and the federal government's handling of Ruby Ridge. Their statements have provoked a rare written rebuke from the trial judge, who said they bordered on the unethical.

Why Idaho's Prosecution Is a Mistake
Underlying the prosecution is a dangerous failure to understand the role of federal law enforcement. A web of complex but uniform rules governs the conduct of every federal law enforcement officer.
(...)

Every time a federal agent like Horiuchi acts - levels his rifle, questions a suspect, executes a warrant - he must filter all his skills and training through this web of constraints. For violating any of these rules, the agent can be prosecuted, fired, disciplined, sued, or a combination of all these. Of course, these federal agents work in all fifty states, and frequently work in different states during the same investigation.

Federal agents have to cross state lines to do their jobs, and they should not be subject to new rules whenever they are required to do so. Every state's criminal law is different from every other's; no one could possibly master all the variations. The line between murder and manslaughter, for example, is different everywhere, but the differences count: murder can be a capital offense, while manslaughter may involve only a couple of years in jail. Federal agents should be prosecuted under federal law, which can account for any crimes they may commit in the course of their jobs. Federal law is what they're trained in, what they work with, and what they should be responsible for. The alternative is simply unfair.

The dangers here go well beyond unfairness to individual agents.
(...)

Individual agents are supposed to investigate crime zealously from sea to shining sea. The threat of local prosecution, and the impracticality of trying to avoid it, will inevitably dampen that zeal. The price will be paid by us all.
[...]

Barton Aronson is currently a federal prosecutor in Washington, D.C.; previously, he was an Assistant District Attorney in Massachusetts. Before joining the U.S. Attorney's Office, Mr. Aronson was in private practice in Washington D.C. While in private practice, Mr. Aronson assisted in the representation of a group of former Attorneys General and a former FBI director, who collectively filed an amicus brief urging dismissal of the indictment in Idaho v. Lon Horiuchi on immunity grounds. The opinions expressed in this article are the author's own, and not necessarily those of the Department of Justice, the United States attorney, or the author's former private clients.
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