On Listening

Just returned from the Scilly Isles, where the puffins go to breed. I was part of an international team tasked with the assignment to establish a super sensitive listening post. The software involved was keyed to pick up linked references involving words such as Al Qaeda, Taliban, Yemen, jihad, Saudi Arabia -- well, you get the point. What was unusual was the algorithm being used in the linkage, an advanced thing indeed, and as the saying goes, if I told you its nature, I would have to kill you. Moreover, the geography was such that the Scillies were perfect for the areas concerned.

Yet all this high tech stuff can, at times, be superseded by the common rough and tumble of daily existence. A case in point.

A few weeks ago, I was in the study re-reading in Martin Heidegger's Being and Time, when a shriek erupted from the den. I rushed over, and found my gardener, Consuela, regarding the television set with a look of pure fury. It was from this incident that a rather important result emerged affecting national security. Only this time for real, not the Bush-Cheney use of the term for purposes that can only be called self-serving.

Consuela had been watching something called Canadian Idol. Given Canada's hockey-mad ethos, I thought this would be a program featuring Wayne Gretzky, or Bobby Orr, or perhaps even Don Cherry. But no. Apparently it is an 'adult' (the term is used with misgiving) version of the children's Tiny Talent show popular years ago.

What had irritated Consuela was a performance that used a song by her favourite pop artist, Avril Lavigne, the pride of Napanee. Also, the fact that Consuela was seven months pregnant, and tended to be irritated about just about anything, didn't help.

By this time her husband Ahmed, my driver and handyman, had joined us, along with Irving, my butler and minder. Consuela had taped the offending piece, and we all watched an absolutely terrible version of La Lavigne's Complicated.

"Wait," said Ahmed. "Play that again." Consuela did so, and Ahmed stared closely at the screen. "I thought so. I know this person. It's Khuram Sher, and he's lying. He wasn't born in Pakistan, and I doubt he's ever been there. I wonder what's going on?"

Long story short, Ahmed peeled the onion a bit, and soon had some pertinent information. This I passed on to CODE Barry of CSIS, who then got in touch with the R.C.M.P. Irving also had contacted a colleague in Mossad, and I, of course, kept Tilly Hatt of the CIA in the loop. And as you now know, three arrests were made in Ontario, and a rather vicious little plot nipped in the bud. So while high tech has its uses, normal alertness and careful listening for the unusual still can play a significant role.

Of course, that's not all that can result from careful listening. I recall a certain fund-raising dinner in Washington to which I had been glad to make a contribution and attend. It was hosted by President Bush (the sane one, not George W.) and was in support of National Public Radio. I was seated between the Kissinger brothers, Henry and Walter. When Henry got up to greet Someone Of Importance I turned to Walter and said, "I note that you have almost no accent, while your brother...."

"Oh," said Walter, "that's easily explained. I listen."

Discuss among yourselves.