The Continuation of a Genocide

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The WSJ with an article out on the continuation of a genocide began twenty years ago:

Sudan’s paramilitary Rapid Support Forces and other allied militias in recent days have attacked and torched villages in war-torn Darfur, according to satellite images and interviews with survivors, stirring fears of more mass killings in the region.

Satellite images analyzed by Yale University’s Humanitarian Research Lab show significant new fire damage in 11 villages west of El Fasher since late March….

Amani Jalia said she discovered the charred bodies of her elderly parents in their home in the village of Sarfaya, about 20 miles west of El Fasher following an attack by RSF fighters and Arab militia on March 29.

“They were setting fires on all houses and firing in all directions,” Amani Jalia, who asked to be identified only by her first and middle names. “They were shouting and calling us slaves.”

Another article described a mother forced to watch murderous fighters set fire to her house while her children were trappd inside, to be burned always.

It is tempting to say that there are no easy answers — and there are not. The West, and America in particular, re-learns the dangers of foreign engagements in situations that don’t directly involve us every decade.

But we can skip to the end to decide on the next action.

History’s Guide tells us the violence will continue until it is out of control. Killings and absolute atrocities will reach a level that we can’t unwatch, that we can’t ignore, even with Ukraine/Russia and Israel/Gaza. The UN will decide to send in armed forces, or threaten an air campaign, something, to force the RSF to cease open atrocities and genocide.

But only after tens of thousands are killed.

It’s a double real-politik. Foreign engagements are tough, unpopular and have unintended consequences.

But if we are likely to engage when the violence is high, the existing sides stronger and more dug in, then the rational thing is to jump in now, when we can prevent more harm, both for the region and for us.

Not Every Breach Is A Critical Breach

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This week it was revealed that Cisco’s Duo had a vendor breached that handled VOIP & SMS for Duo. Duo does MFA, so this is potentially a big deal. I had a vendor send me this language for our own PR:

The severity of this incident cannot be overstated. The compromised information could be exploited by cybercriminals to launch highly targeted attacks against you and your organization.  

It can be overstated.

It’s estimated that the attack affected 1,000 people.

The exposed data is relatively minor1

The data contained in these logs includes an employee’s:

  • Phone number
  • Carrier
  • Location data
  • Date
  • Time
  • Message type

Bleeping Computer

    MSPs and cybersecurity professionals will undoubtedly fatigue the public if we cry wolf every time something happens in the cybersecurity realm.

    1. I’m sure someone will flame me for saying this. Of course any data can be used for phishing or other nefarious purposes. I’m not saying that it can’t be. But it also isn’t a full set of PII and credentials. Notably, names, addresses, employers and related applications are all missing from this list. ↩︎

    2020 Never Ended

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    A surreal street scene with a large, melting clock face hanging from a street lamp post. The clock displays the time as just past 10:10 and the year 2020. The background features foggy city streets with silhouettes of buildings, bare trees, and a snow-covered ground, creating a cold and deserted atmosphere.

    I just finished How to Human by Carlos Whittaker. While, not the point of the book, a thesis within it is that 2020 — and all that 2020 was — made so many of us forget how human.

    We forgot that it is a human instinct to help each other. 

    We forgot to put empathy over politics.

    We forgot how to be generous to everybody, and not just those from our own tribe. 

    It is a very optimistic take on the last few years: the idea that the social and political climate that we live in today — which is more toxic than that any other time in living memory — is an output of the disaster that was 2020.

    Reading this section of the book made me realize that in many ways I feel like 2020 never ended for me.:

    • My primary office is still my bedroom. 
    • The racial discussions that began in 2020 are unresolved and still part of my life.
    • The political environment is crazier, more malicious, more dangerous, and more divisive among friends and close community than it was in 2019 (which is saying something.)
    • The 2020 presidential campaign never actually ended.

    My mind is never too far away from a hair-trigger. I feel like I struggle to ever really embrace the good things coming in the not-near future. I can see good things 4-8 weeks away but anything further out gets demoted by my attention which is more attuned to anything going wrong now, or that might go wrong, or that I just don’t think will go right.

    If a few years ago I had vision to see a mile ahead in life it is now down to a couple hundred yards, past that there is only fog that always looks dark. Not because life is that uncertain, because I am unable emotionally to process what will happen beyond that.

    In my mind, yesterday is always lockdown, George Floyd, January 6th, the Ukraine war, keeping a small business afloat during COVID, getting COVID, up-ending how I do all of life. Today I need to get through today, and I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow because I don’t have any energy left today.*

    Anything good that happened in that time (and there was a lot for me) is somehow moved from the main story line of my life to the appendix as I re-read it in my mind.

    I didn’t even realize how much I thought this way until getting through the first chapter or two of the book. 

    Wow, looking back at what I just wrote, sounds a little like PTSD, eh?

    A few paragraphs ago this post was more of a public-journaling exercise: I did not plan out a conclusion, just a description of my own life and thoughts.

    But if my experience in any way matches yours, then maybe Carlos is right: many of us are still dealing with trauma — not of any one thing but of all the things — that cloud our feelings, our perception and our judgement. 

    I think our deeply inhuman response to everything that happened in 2020 left the deepest mark and, for some, the deepest wounds. The year 2020 jacked up humanity. It threw many of us off course, and the problem is that we can’t seem to rebound… it still feels like most of us got knocked off course and can’t find our way back. I’m still processing. Still working to understand. Maybe you are too? Why? Because 2020 was about so much more than 2020.

    Carlos Whittaker, How to Human

    Maybe in trying to cut through the fog we have forgotten “how to human,” as instead we find ourselves in a low-state of anxiety about everything. 

    Carlos has a prescription for us — if you want it listen to the book, it’s only six hours — but this is my first step. Acknowledging through writing, the effects that 2020 is still having on me. Not just reverberations, a very much right-now-still-in-the-present effects.

    My second step is to end 2020. Maybe not in 2021. Or 2022. Or 2023. More like April of 2024.

    Then I can start a new year.

    *Not like the birds of the air here, it’s just anxiety all around.

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