CHANCE ENCOUNTERS...WITH RIGHTWING INFORMANTS

(The following account has been fictionalized to protect the identity of the good, the bad, and the very ugly.)

(Second draft)



THE FOREIGN-CONTROLLED CELL OF INFORMANTS OBTAINS MY FINGERPRINTS.

The foreign-controlled cell of right-wing informants is squeezing Arab-American me out of my legal area of practice. For quite a while now, it had conducted its subtle campaign of harassment with such expertise as to leave no traceable evidence. An Arab-American stands no chance against them.

In the latest episode, the foreign-controlled cell of right-wing informants sent me a court psychologist, a former CIA employee. He had the photocopy of a document in his hand. The document was in French. He said that he was aware that I was fluent in French.

“Can you please read it and tell me what it says?”

“Sure.”

I held the document tight, took off my glasses and started reading. The print was small and italic. I held the document tighter to bring it closer to my eyes.

“It’s an insurance document from the twenties, and it’s very long,” I said; and I went on trying to decipher what it was all about. He said that the document belonged to his deceased uncle, a once-deli owner in New York, and that he (the psychologist) was curious to know whether the document was worth any money.

I proposed to him: “I can fax it to a French lawyer who’s a friend and ask him to answer me by email; then I’ll forward his take to you.”

The foreign-sponsored right-wing informant left, promising to get me a copy. He never did. Soon after he left, having not given me the photocopy he had, that a revelation hit me: He got my finger prints! I knew enough about him as a right-wing ethnic to know that he would be a prime candidate for the cell.


WHAT THEY SAID

What’s great about D.C. is that it has former employees and experts from so many agencies. I went to a few of them for an explanation.

Two said that the foreign-controlled informant (the psychologist with the French document) wanted to get my fingerprints for his Israeli handler to complete my file. They both hedged this by saying that there was a possibility that he wanted to know whether in fact I spoke French. But both agreed that the latter explanation was unlikely.

A third said that the handler wanted to know what French connections I had, if any. The problem with this explanation (a problem he conceded) was that the psychologist-informant never came back with a copy of the document for me to fax to my friend the French lawyer. Nor did he give me the photocopy he had, which would’ve made sense had he been after my surmised French connections. (Too late if he brings the copy after the posting of this article.)


THE LADY WITH THE CAT

“That tips the balance in favor of the fingerprints theory; They’re completing your file, always,” commented a lady who is one of the sharpest people I know. This lady zooms in on issues like a hawk. (She had warned me about Faith a long time ago and asked me not to bring him to any event which I knew she would be attending.)

“But this fellow is former CIA. Could he be doing this-–securing my finger prints--for his former employer?” I asked.

“The CIA can get your fingerprints from your passport application. Besides, they have their way of contacting you should they really want to. You’re surrounded by former Arabist CIA’s. It’s the foreign-controlled spy cell. The foreign spy cell has lost Faith; it also has lost the Trojan virus Faith had sent you; now it’s trying to use whatever connections it has with you to continue collecting information on you. I hate to say this: but these right-wing Jewish extremists could hurt you, if only because they may have a nutcase among them.”

“It concerns me, too. Because they do in fact have a nutcase. The more I’ve reflected on this the more I’ve seen that the one man who I suspect is heading this campaign of harassment is mentally quite disturbed. He’s the complainer, the one who has no idea what reciprocity means–a “symptom” to some professionals of a serious mental disturbance. In the early 1980's a Jewish extremist placed a bomb at the Los Angeles office of the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee (ADC) which killed Alex Odeh, ADC’s Regional Representative. They caught the guy.”


“Watch your back.”

I wanted to ignore this last warning.

“What I don’t understand is their pestering behavior. It’s pathological. Their under-siege, ghetto-like incestuous behavior is eminently revolting. Not to mention that they are squeezing me out of my practice, without leaving behind any tangible evidence of harassment. ”

“Not surprising. All this spying means that they are trained by a professional handler, and the first thing he or she had trained them for probably was how not to leave traces.” She wasn’t going to let me put it my bit; not yet. She continued: “These foreign-controlled informants live in and always spin their own consensus. That they’ve accepted to be handled by a foreign intelligence service means that they think there’s a higher purpose to their life–-to make the world safer for Israel.”

“How about sex? Have they given up on that?”

She laughed.

“It’s illogical,” I said. “ Since 1948, life has become way less safe for everyone in that neighborhood because of the Israelis’ refusal to strike a historic agreement with the Palestinians, and to treat them as equals not as slaves. Even the destruction of Lebanon is directly related to that. Do they really think that the Palestinians and other Arabs (the people, not their patsy governments) will ever accept a raw deal, one where they are made to accept the status of slaves? Look,” I continued, “there’s one thing I’m good at in politics and that’s reading the opposition. If you only knew where I believe the Arab opposition is heading, motivated in good part by Israel’s greed. Where it’s heading is not pretty. But you don’t care much about the Middle East. So I’ll save you the trouble.”


“You’re right. I don’t care much about that cesspool. I agree with you about the illogic nature of that foreign-controlled spy cell. But no one’s ever said that a consensus (theirs or any) produces smart results. Besides, they’re making money on war, having become an extension of the U.S. military. So war is advantageous. What else is there in Israel?”

Her cat came up to me and made its way to the area between the couch and my back, distributing his weight mostly on the couch.

“I have little patience for people with no class," I said with disgust in my voice, careful not to make a sudden move. “ I mean most Arab thinkers believe the Palestinians have been emulating the historic Zionist movement lock, stock, and barrel. But the Palestinians have class. They’ve never bothered me. They’ve never spied on me. They’ve never invaded my privacy by sending me a Trojan virus. They’ve never taped telephone conversations and doctored them. Never sought out my fingerprints using treachery. Never used a “friend” as informant against me. Man!”

Carefully, I reached for the tea she had made. I continued: “A number of these guys have security clearances, I suspect. Aren’t they worried that informing for a foreign intelligence service would jeopardize their clearance? Take the former CIA psychologist with the French document. Shouldn’t he be worried that he is jeopardizing the possibility of returning to the agency some day for a cushy job?”

“You’re making a huge assumption–-that our government agencies care. Not to mention the fear they would have to tread on those grounds. An equally huge assumption: You think the right-wing psychologist-informant would want to return to the agency. Think again. Maybe he doesn’t want to return. Maybe he had been fired from the agency. Maybe he was let go because he connected with suspected foreign agents. You’d never know the answer.”

“What should I do?”

“You have to deal with them, we know that. Write up the fullest account you can, and include all the names. Distribute the account to all those you’ve told about this.”

“And socially? I’m stuck with these informants because of work. I’m aware their campaign of harassment is in part meant to drive me out of the practice.”

“Um...Here's what you can do. . .”