Friendship Park just got friendlier

Well, not exactly.

The Border Patrol has built a "public access area" allowing entrance to a portion of the no man's land that runs against the border fence at Friendship Park, the bi-national hang out spot that stands against the border in Border Field State Park. 

But activists are lamenting the fact that the new public zone blocks off human access to people on the other side of the fence. Visitors need a government-issued I.D. to enter (effectively keeping out undocumented immigrants), limits occupancy to 25, and bars "physical contact with individuals in Mexico." 

"Friendship Park is a place characterized at its root by human contact, human touch," John Fanestil, a member of a local coalition called the Friends of Friendship Park (of which my mom is a member), told me over e-mail. "Friends don't greet friends from a distance of six feet across two fences." 

In years past, people in the United States used to meet people in Mexico at the park to hang out, talk, and even hand tacos between the fence. But in January, the Department of Homeland Security blocked off public access to the fence, creating the 150-foot wide no man's land as part of an effort to construct 700 miles of triple-tiered barriers stretching the length of the U.S.-Mexico border. 

The Friends of Friendship Park have been lobbying for months to restore public access to the border fence, meeting with the Border Patrol and the Department of Homeland Security. All the while, they've sought to remain connected to their friends across the border in creative ways--for instance, via long-distance conversations in sign language. [I gave a Border Patrol agent some questions about the new site, but he hasn't returned my calls.]

With the new zone, the Friends will no doubt find new ways to keep in contact with their pals across the border. 

On Monday, the Friends are going to hold a candlelight vigil at noon to mark the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. 

Directions: Take Hwy 5 South, exit Dairy Mart Rd, turn right (west) and follow the winding road to the entrance of Border Field State Park. You will be allowed to drive in to reach Friendship Park. 

Signals

I just got back from (Le) Poisson Rouge, where I witnessed a breathtaking performance of Steve Reich's Pulitzer Prize-winning piece "Double Sextet" by the hip contemporary classical group Signal. Mesmerizing percussive instruments and herky-jerky piano merged with the dissonant, razor sharp phrasing of violins and woodwinds. The ensemble (heads bobbing and bodies moving, the falcon-like conductor Brad Lubman swishing and cutting with his arms) was propulsive yet subdued, piercing but sublime.

After the show, Reich himself appeared in his trademark baseball cap, making his way through the applauding crowd and going on stage to give hugs and kisses. Considering the mood of the scene, I couldn't help but feel a little regretful that I didn't pull out my phone to snap a picture, even though it would have turned out hopelessly blurry and underexposed. Oh, to simply have the Capped One in a frame!

Now, I'm thinking of this haunting indelible image: life streaming from the eyes of the young Iranian woman Neda Agha-Soltan. Whether or not all of the facts have been independently confirmed, the candid video of Neda's death is fast becoming the definitive emblem of Iranians' call for democratic change. As I follow the hopeful protests and tragic violence taking place in Iran, the image has begun to serve as something of a personal spirit: a reminder that pops up up in unexpected places of the incomprehensibly ugly forces that seek to destroy beautiful common struggles.

"They need to take responsibility for their country..."

From the Iraqi perspective, here is the view of Barack Obama's first Presidential visit to their country: a man flown in secretly, delivered to Camp Victory “to say thank you to the troops,” and gone in five hours.

I cringed as I read President Obama's rehashed talking points on his Iraq policy, a "responsible" prolonged withdrawal—specifically, I cringed at his patronizing Theys.

"They need to take responsibility for their country and for their sovereignty," he told U.S. troops in a short speech at a Saddam-era palace in the Green Zone, a section of Baghdad that the U.S. Army captured exactly six years ago. "They have got to make political accommodations. They're going to have to decide that they want to resolve their differences through constitutional means and legal means. They are going to have to focus on providing government services that encourage confidence among their citizens. . . . We can't do it for them."

I have never experienced the humiliation of occupation, but I can say now that I have experienced the humiliation of occupying. Many times before, I have said that the government and people of the United States have a responsibility to improve Iraqis' lives through nonviolent methods. Troop count alone—whether it goes up or down—will never define our progress and our righteousness. And here is President Obama, the new partner, the emblem of a new era, laboring the point of “responsibility" while neglecting the very people for whom we were supposed to have fought this war.

The responsibility to hand over responsibility? Bandied about and buzzing, the word "responsibility" is beginning to remind me of those doomsaying two words of May 2003—words so haunting that you needn't be reminded of them, and so historic that they have their own Wikipedia entry.

Image from The New York Times' Baghdad Bureau blog.

Never forget?

We will never forget Vietnam. We will never forget the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. On October 7 next year, Page One of The New York Times (if there still is a Page One) may even memorialize the launch of Operation Enduring Freedom and the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan. But today, March 20, 2009, there is no space reserved on the front page for the Iraq War, now beginning its sixth year.

Just as Afghanistan's was the less-important war last year, Iraq's is a low priority this year. As Afghanistan and Pakistan have exploded into the public consciousness, violence in Iraq "has flattened at the lowest level since the war began six years ago." Iraq's provincial elections "took place in a remarkably peaceful climate" (although, at least five candidates were assassinated). The status-of-forces agreement signed by the U.S. and Iraqi governments in late 2008 "will reduce boots on the ground and U.S. influence on Iraqi matters." President Obama has vowed to end combat operations by August 2010. Last month, Obama told the world: "Iraq's future is now its own responsibility."

A year ago today, I wrote on this blog: "The question of American responsibility remains fixed in reality; it always will. Let's proceed with that question on our minds." Even I, in a sense, have moved on: to music, to the war in northern Uganda, to the crisis in Zimbabwe. Like so many others, the recession haunts me like a poltergeist. But I still believe that even after all of our troops leave Iraqi soil two years from now (if all goes according to plan), we as Americans must still consider our responsibility to Iraq. We can work to find secure living situations for the millions of Iraqi refugees; or donate to progressive cultural institutions in the country, like the Iraqi National Library and Archive. We can just read a few great books to learn more about the nation that our nation has invaded and occupied, and to understand the war's historical implications.

I understand that this will be a struggle. This past year has brought so much hope, but there have also been so many dark days. Many of us will forever reserve this day for memories and tears, for the contemplation and recognition of innumerable sacrifices and scars. But for many Americans, recent memory has cast a pall over those of the past.

"IRAQ WAR ENDS"

So reports Page One of the curious "New York, Saturday, July 4, 2009" edition of "The New York Times" I obtained tonight.

The lead article, by Jude Shinbin, reports: "WASHINGTON - Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom were brought to an unceremonious close today with a quiet announcement by the Department of Defense that troops would be home within weeks."

It continues: President George W. Bush, "noted that the Iraq War had resulted in the burning of many bridges. 'Yet our history with allies runs deep,' he said, 'and we all know that friends forgive friends for anything. Or nearly.' A spokesperson for the French Ministry of Defense confirmed that France would assist the U.S. withdrawal. 'The U.S. helped the Soviet Union defeat Hitler. We do recognize that.'"

Also in this issue, columnist "Thomas J. Friedman" announces his resignation: "I have no business holding a pen, at least with intent to write. ... to have been so completely wrong about so huge a disaster as what we have done to Iraq - and ourselves - is outrageous enough to prove that people like me have no business posing as wise men, and, more importantly, that The New York Times has no business continuing to provide me with a national platform."

Keep your eyes out for a copy of the "Times" that might be floating around the streets near you...

Update, 11/12, 1:07 pm:

The real Times notes that the infamous Yes Men have taken credit for the fake newspapers. In a statement issued today, they wrote: "In an elaborate operation six months in the planning, 1.2 million papers were printed at six different presses and driven to prearranged pickup locations, where thousands of volunteers stood ready to pass them out on the street."

Change has come

CNN's video of President-elect Obama is streaming into my ears. When I first heard, I was in shock with such happiness! So many times on this blog, I've bemoaned so many of the tragedies America has wrought, I've cried for the fog of propaganda to fade away. Life has become unreal and horrific. Now, I cry for this. I feel reality again. I am inspired. I gush tears of joy.

Ballot be casted!

Yesterday was a nonpolitical day - I usually listen to WNYC and beloved Brian Lehrer, BBC World and Democracy Now!, but I just couldn't take it, it almost hurt. Only one thing matters at this point: the vote. Instead of saturating myself with news on news coming from DR Congo and Somalia, and the massive mash of election and economy coverage, I bathed in the hours and hours of music I've acquired lately from various sources. The crunked FruityLoops dubstep of Benga, the dark crooner Mahmoud Ahmed and his funky horn band, the hypnotic Gang Gang Dance, Zé Di's explosive samba, the wailing sarod of Asad Qizilbash, the gentle, lush, slightly dissonant indie pop of Broadcast. In the afternoon, I bought compact, rather insufficient computer speakers and plugged them in when I got home. Can you believe that, in a full year without having stereo speakers, I only went out to buy some yesterday - and they were mere computer speakers? Oh, what you have missed for so long, with only the tinny amplification of a Macbook! To full blast the new speakers went, creating a rhythmic, melodic and harmonic massage.

Well, a few minutes ago I walked a couple blocks to the local elementary school and voted for Barack Obama and Joe Biden. Now it's just a matter of waiting out the day - all of us, Brian Lehrer, the NY Times election team, the Arts and Letters editors, the Iraqi journalists on Inside Iraq, contributors to Cokemachineglow and Resident Advisor, the young people in black winter coats and black eyeshadow waiting in line behind me, my coworkers, all of us have to endure the excitement, anticipation, anxiety and tension of this day. Hearing the results that will come in late tonight, literally seeing and hearing them, knowing that they are truth, might feel like drowning. Or, it could be like breathing air again.

In the den of Republicanistan, Palin rules

Last night, I joined a team of bleeding-heart liberals to cross into "Republicanistan" and crash a watching party for the New York Young Republican Club at the Houndstooth Pub in Midtown. I had pretty low expectations for the Vice-Presidential debate after reading Jack Shafer's primer and I expected to lose composure at some point and blow our cover. In the end, the experience was not nearly as infuriating as it was surreal and depressing.

The debate began shortly after our team downed some Jagger shots and briefly chatted up the well-dressed, 30-something technocrats sipping cocktails in the bar's dimly lit basement space. Watching the debate on FOX News, I whooped and hollered on cue for the first half, simultaneously trying to keep up the act and focus on the actual words of the candidates. I got the impression, though, that us city-dwellers weren't the intended audience. With Palin's cornpone talk and Biden's invitations to visit his working class home town, they clearly were trying to court the small-town "Main Streeters" of America's battleground states.

Both of them put up a pretty good fight, but I don't think either of them came out particularly victorious. But Palin's getting a lot of credit for not doing anything extremely stupid. As the NY Times notes, “She succeeded by not failing in any obvious way.” For me, Palin proved to have the most memorable comments.

Early on, with total lack of irony, she parroted Barack Obama's platform of change: "I do respect [Biden's] years in the U.S. Senate, but I think that Americans are craving something new and different and that new energy and that new commitment that’s going to come with reform,” she said. “I think that’s why we need to send the maverick from the Senate and put him in the White House, and I’m happy to join him there.”

Later, she repeated McCain's economic policy: a key to economic stability is cutting excessive government spending. Clearly, the Republican ticket wants it both ways, since they simultaneously plan to continue the War in Iraq, which is estimated to cost $2 billion a week.

She proceeded to lambaste Barack Obama for not supporting the so-called surge that, she said, "has proven to work." McCain did the same thing in last Friday's Presidential debate. The weird thing is that, in fact, the surge has proven not to work. Let's not forget that America started the surge in 2007 to make "breathing space" to build a viable Iraqi government. When he unveiled the plan, President Bush said that, "over time, we can expect to see Iraqi troops chasing down murderers, fewer brazen acts of terror, and growing trust and cooperation from Baghdad's residents. When this happens, daily life will improve, Iraqis will gain confidence in their leaders, and the government will have the breathing space it needs to make progress in other critical areas."

But has the Iraqi government made any progress? No. Iraq's parliament is just as fractious, corrupt and unreliable as it was over a year ago. Recently, an Iraqi journalist for McClatchy newspapers named Laith wrote that, over a year into the surge, most Iraqis still have no faith in their government: "All the Iraqis realized that our political parties don't care about us and that money and power are their only concern. We just wait for the last day of the age of this failure government and parliament. Until that day; those people means nothing to us but a thorn in the heart of Iraq that casues pain and bleeding."

Experts credit the "Sons of Iraq," who turned against Al Qaida in Iraq and joined forces with the US military, for bringing down the violence. They also note that Muqtada al-Sadr brought down the violence when he enacted the Mahdi Army cease-fire. But according to this transcript, Palin never even mentioned the words "Anbar" or "Mahdi" (although she did say the word "maverick" 15 times) during the debate. At any rate, there are signs that the peace is about to crumble again into sectarian conflict and political infighting. [Lunch break is almost over: I'll have to post a blizzard of hyperlinks later.]

My carefree whooping came to a halt when Palin declared, "Now, Barack Obama had said that all we're doing in Afghanistan is air-raiding villages and killing civilians. And such a reckless, reckless comment and untrue comment, again, hurts our cause. That's not what we're doing there. We're fighting terrorists, and we're securing democracy, and we're building schools for children there so that there is opportunity in that country, also. There will be a big difference there, and we will win in -- in Afghanistan, also." I could no longer cheer for such inaccurate and preposterous acts of rhetorical gymnastics.

This marked a turning point in the debate, after which everything got progressively more disturbing. At one point, Palin made a crack about Biden's late wife, once a schoolteacher. "You mentioned education and I'm glad you did," she told Biden. "I know education you are passionate about with your wife being a teacher for 30 years, and god bless her. Her reward is in heaven, right?" To that, the Young Republicans cheered.

I dwell on Sarah Palin here because she is a dangerous campaign tool who has trivialized the election. Lately, I've wondered if there is a medieval demon-impostor I can compare her to. Over e-mail today, I brought the question to my mom, an expert on Rennaissance literature. She had a fascinating and insightful response:

I’m more familiar with early modern imagery . . . But in both periods, you have two strands: either religious imagery of anti-Christ figures/ female monsters or secular imagery of folksy, secular Robin Hood heroes. Most of the folksy lore pits “haughty and wealthy elites” against “the folk,” “the many-headed monster” of the peasantry. Robin Hood lore is rich in the early modern period, but what you see is either 1) that the aristocrats were right all along to fear the vulgar, rough peasants who would wheedle their way into high places of authority or 2) that the rough peasant is a hero, by overthrowing an always corrupt or inept aristocracy.

The female monster tradition is probably the tradition that best characterizes the current situation, but it is viciously misogynistic. It draws upon the “lipstick on a pig” metaphor—you may see a beautiful appearance, and you may be captivated and charmed, but this woman is really the whore of Babylon, and will lead you to Hell. Or worse, she is a pig.

The problem --for thoughtful people-- with this literary tradition is that there’s no position to occupy to critique the folksy hero—except to take the side of the haughty elites. You are either folksy, vulgar and peasant OR you are an aristocrat who holds yourself high above the lowly, little people. There’s no way to critique the false posturing of the peasants who would rise to power without validating the aristocrats.

Basically, Sarah Palin is drawing upon this whole tradition—and the polarization works in her favor— as have the Republicans and the red state/blue state distinction for the past 8 years. This distinction serves a figure like Sarah Palin very well—because it distracts both red state and blue state believers from the contradictions within these categories. Red Staters will not critique Sarah Palin, because she “stands for” their resentment of the elite, Washington insiders, and everything you want to associate with them. Whether she is qualified for the position is irrelevant—her genuine, authenticity as a folksy outsider is all the qualification she needs.

Check out these lyrics by Lynyrd Skynyrd, “Red, White and Blue” from their Vicious Cycle CD, produced in –you guessed it—the big year for political music, 2003. And a performance-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26vYdayusrU Here’s the Sarah Palin anthem if there ever was one.

But where would Lynyrd Skynyd be without plastic LA friends and music producers?????? Indeed, this positioning is pretty dishonest.

Love,

Mom

"Red White And Blue"

We don't have no plastic L.A. Frynds,
ain't on the edge of no popular trend.
Ain't never seen the inside of that magazine GQ.
We don't care if you 're a lawyer, or a texas oil man,
or some waitress busting ass in some liquor stand.
If you got Soul
We hang out with people just like you

My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say we've always been, Red, White, and Blue

Ride our own bikes To Sturgis
we pay our own dues,
smoking camels, drinking domestic BREWS
You want to know where I have been
just look at my hands
Yeah, I've driven by the White House,
Spent some time in jail.
Momma cried but she still wouldn't pay my bail.
I ain't been no angel,
But even God, he understands.

My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been, Red, White, and Blue

Yeah that's right!

My Daddy worked hard, and so have I,
paid our taxes and gave our lives
to serve this great country
so what are they complaining about

Yeah we love our families, we love our kids
you know it is love that makes us all so rich
That's where were at,
If they don't like it they can justget the HELL out!

Yeah!

My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been,
Red, White, and Blue

oh..oh..Red, White, and Blue....
Red, White, and Blue
oh..oh....Red, White, and Blue

Palin portrait courtesy the Alaskan government.

The McCain strategy - Americans are stupid

First, McCain says he's got to postpone today's long-awaited debate and suspend his campaign, so he can fly over to Washington to help save America's economy with a clear and bipartisan mind. But while he sits through a fruitless White House meeting with President Bush, Congressional leaders and Obama, his campaign ads still go on the air. Now, citing "significant progress" in negotiations for the complicated $700 billion bailout proposal that went nowhere yesterday, his campaign is up and running and the debate is going to happen.

All of this for political gain!

"The difference between Barack Obama and John McCain was apparent during the White House meeting yesterday where Barack Obama's priority was political posturing in his opening monologue defending the package as it stands," a press release announcing the resumption of the McCain campaign reads. "John McCain listened to all sides so he could help focus the debate on finding a bipartisan resolution that is in the interest of taxpayers and homeowners."

Here's a strategy: Switch off the presidential race's omnipresent politicking, like a light, so you can put off an important debate and simultaneously demonstrate that you have a "bipartisan" outlook that solves problems. And then pray that voters still on the fence won't notice that you played politics by trying to erase them, and then failed to win the support of your own party to ram a complicated bill through Congress that will have massive effects on these same voters.

McCain must think that most Americans are pretty fucking stupid, huh?

Post-Surge Iraq - America's "House of Cards"

Last night, NY Times reporter Dexter Filkins read from his new book, The Forever War, and led a Q&A session that proved rather inconclusive. In his white dress shirt and blue blazer, he looked nothing like the haggard man pictured in his recent NY Times Magazine article "My Long War," but he had the classic nonchalant air and beaten-up face of a war journalist, and his diction was loaded with military lingo. He smiled and chuckled a lot. "I'm totally nervous," he said, about doing the night's event. "I'd rather be shot at with a 50 caliber machine gun."

Filkins is the "death wish" type of journalist who races through battle zones unfazed and wins the good graces of Marines and media critics alike for his down 'n' dirty reporting. His book looks O.K. – it’s a collection of stark and/or action-packed personal accounts of Afghanistan in the late ’90s, the Sept. 11th attacks, and the early years of the American invasion and occupation of Iraq. I've only gotten through the first couple chapters (busy with other books), but already a vehicle, several buildings and a head have exploded into oblivion; a hand has gotten chopped off during a public execution at a soccer stadium; and the tragic fate of some child soldiers who worked for the Northern Alliance has been poetically alluded to. I can tell already that this isn't going to be another Taliban, Assassins' Gate, Night Draws Near, or No True Glory. Filkins doesn't have the sharpest intellect, but he can make sense of chaos and horror with a nearly photographic sense, and that's where his book is strong. "It's just stuff that I saw," he explained. "It's representative of my experience."

He just got back from Iraq last Friday. During the Q&A, he said that Iraq is really peaceful now. "The gains are real," he said. But he referred to the country aptly as a "kaleidoscope," and said that it's a "fool's game" to predict what might happen there in the future.

He shied away from opining on the situation, but he suggested that all of this success would amount to little if we withdrew from Iraq in a year. The most elucidating point came when an Iraqi man Filkins apparently knew pressed him on the rivalry between the "Sons of Iraq" - the Sunni fighters and tribal leaders allied against Al Qaida in Iraq, who are famous for bringing down the violence - and the Shi'i-led government. If Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki continues to marginalize the Sunnis (Maliki recently said that he plans to incorporate only 20% of them into the Iraqi Army), won't Iraq eventually devolve into sectarian conflict again?

Filkins had an ominous retort. With the "Anbar Awakening," the United States built an immense "house of cards," he said. “And, you know, a house of cards is better than no house at all.”

“Is it gonna last? Who knows?” he added. “Stay tuned.”

Fun with the news!

Check out this quote, taken from an article published in yesterday’s New York Times. I took out some key terms to make it a mad-lib. Have at it!

“Does the (1.)_______ government really wish to operate in the modern world as an outsider, alienating free countries and trying to rally the world’s dictatorships?” (2.)_____ asked.

1. industrialized nation
2. top government official of rival industrialized nation

Here’s mine:

“Does the American government really wish to operate in the modern world as an outsider, alienating free countries and trying to rally the world’s dictatorships?” Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin asked.

Tibet after the Olympics - "We're still going to fight"

Keeping the pressure on China on the last days of the Olympic games, a throng of demonstrators converged on Times Square today to raise awareness about China's occupation of Tibet.

The event, organized by five community and advocacy groups, began at the Chinese consulate on 12th Avenue by the Hudson River. The protesters then marched to Times Square and formed a human chain that started at the corner of Broadway and 42nd St.

"We just wanted to send a message out to the world that, although the Olympics may be ending this week, the Tibetan struggle is not ending," said Tengin Carlo, 28, a member of the Tibetan Women's Association, a local community group that helped organize the march. "We're still going to fight for the people of Tibet."

Sean Su, one of the day's speakers, a Taiwanese member of the Formosan Association for Public Affairs, estimated that over 3,000 people turned out for the day's events. Police officers in Times Square declined to offer an estimate. The number of protesters at the bustling street corner, who sat inside a rectangular metal barricade that stretched for two blocks, appeared to be in the hundreds.

Most of the demonstrators wore black t-shirts that read, "CHINA STOP THE TIBET GENOCIDE." Demonstrators said that China has been committing "cultural genocide," dominating the land of Tibet, brutalizing its people, and destroying its culture and traditions.

Lobsang Chundoy, 53, a Tibetan chemist who lives in Seattle, Washington, said that his home country has felt alien during visits over the past two decades.

"It's like being in someone else's country," he said. "If you go anywhere, you see Chinese."

For her part, Carlo, the member of the Tibetan Women's Association, who was born in Nepal, has never visited her parents' home country. She said that many people of Tibetan descent and of her age were born elsewhere, because their parents had escaped after the Chinese occupied Tibet in 1951.

Carlo said that obtaining a visa to Tibet is difficult, especially since the Chinese government will regularly "check on" members of Tibetan organizations outside China.

Tibet has experienced an intense crackdown during the Olympics, organizers said, estimating that over 140 Tibetans have been killed, and 500 injured, since the beginning of the games.

The Chinese government has also detained meddling visitors from abroad. Last Tuesday, five American members of Students for a Free Tibet, an international advocacy group that helped organize today's human chain, were arrested in Beijing for displaying a banner next to the Beijing National Stadium that read "free Tibet." That same day, Beijing police arrested James Powderly, a New York City-based graffiti artist, for projecting the message "Free Tibet" on buildings using a specially-designed green laser.

In Times Square, the only disruption or counter-demonstration was a burly, blustering Caucasian man carrying a stack of China Daily newspapers, who intermittently showed up to bark at the crowd, accusing "Taiwan" of being a "tool of the CIA."

At one point, he yelled, "CIA tools! CIA tools, that's all you are!"

When the speeches came to an end, the activists sang the Tibetan national anthem for seven dramatic minutes. All the while, kitty-corner to them, the latest Olympic scores flashed across the Dow Jones ticker.

Once the Olympics come to an end, according to Nick Dulotta, 20, a member of Students for a Free Tibet, community and advocacy groups in New York plan to escalate pro-Tibet activities. He added that the most important day will be March 10, 2009, the fiftieth anniversary of the Tibetan uprising, when a mass anti-occupation revolt spread across the region.

"I think that we'll see even more dedication, more increased action, more support from around the world," he said. "Now is the time."

Photography by Ryan Hale

At long last...

...our Veep-hopeful is revealed! Senator Joe Biden. Right now I'm watching Barack Obama and Biden's heartful speeches in Springfield, Illinois, on Al Jazeera online TV. The two of them are bro-ing down, big time. And there's been at least one vague reference to Langston Hughes. The crowd roars!

What I don't like about Joe Biden is his "soft-partition" idea for Iraq. Helene Cooper of the New York Times describes it as such: "There would be a loose Kurdistan, a loose Shiastan and a loose Sunnistan, all under a big, if weak, Iraq umbrella."

Ergo, it's a fool's plan.

66 Months for Hamdan

It took an hour and a half to decide the fate of Salim Hamdan, Osama Bin Laden's former driver: 66 months imprisonment. He's served most of his sentence already, so he'll only actually be behind bars for five months. Nevertheless, the United States can detain him until the endless "war on terror" comes to an end.

"I would like to apologise one more time to all the members and I would like to thank you for what you have done for me," Hamdan reportedly told the jurors when he heard the verdict.

He was convicted of providing material support to terrorism, but not for committing conspiracy to murder Americans. The verdict is a limited victory for the Bush Administration - a tacit validation of the perfidious legal framework it set up after September 11, according to Jane Mayer's great new book The Dark Side: the Inside Story of How the War on Terror Turned Into a War on American Ideals, to do what it pleases to anybody who might be considered a terrorist.

This is the first war crimes trial held by the United States since World War II and America has done something unprecedented: it put the war criminal's chaperone on trial.

Like many points during the previous eight years of my life, this is a preposterous and nearly surreal event. Why, I wonder, didn't America first try Khalid Shaikh Mohammed, the mastermind of the attacks of September 11, 2001, the most definitive moment of my generation? We certainly have enough evidence of his crimes, obtained through torture, along with a laundry list of confessions.

There's a relatively simple answer. All of this - Guantanamo Bay, the "enhanced interrogation" of "illegal enemy combatants," trials held partially in secret, which accept evidence obtained through hearsay and coercion - is so ad hoc that it needs a trial run. So, to get things started, the tribunal takes on Bin Laden's taxi-man, a family man and day laborer to the defense, an "Al Qaeda warrior" who served "as the last line of defense for Al Qaeda’s senior leadership” to the prosecution.

This is yet another definitive moment in American history. The sentencing is like a coronation for Hamdan's martyrdom.

In 2006, the Supreme Court ruled in the Hamdan v. Rumsfeld case that America could not deny Guantanamo detainees, who have been detained for years without being charged with a crime, the age-old write of habeas corpus. Bush's Military Commissions Act of 2006, stupidly ratified by Congress, threw that reasoned conclusion into the garbage. And now, taxi-man Hamdan is finally going to jail - setting off a protest by Amnesty International that seems to win the empathy of Hamdan's own judge. "I hope the day comes when you return to your wife and your daughters and your country," Navy Capt Keith Allred, the tribunal's judge, told Hamdan.

Meanwhile, in Gutananamo, Khalid Shaikh Muhammad awaits trial. In Afghanistan, the Taliban is stronger than it's been in years. And somewhere out there, Osama Bin Laden is still in hiding. White House staffers aren't dancing in the streets just yet, but a recent statement announced that, "We're pleased that Salim Hamdan received a fair trial."

Let me translate the double-speak: "fair" means "curbed" and "trial" means nothing.

Photo: Salim Hamdan, originally posted on the CNN.com.

In with the Out Crowd

A jazz musician with a well-honed punk sensibility, Marc Ribot has been a mainstay of New York City’s downtown music scene for more than twenty years. He is not an easy musician to pin down—in defining his work, one would need to employ a stack of hyphens or get rid of categories altogether...continued in this month's issue of the Brooklyn Rail.

The Bwola Dance

Gulu, Uganda. The Saturday before last:

An Irish woman is sitting near Hannah and I at Kope Cafe. She gets up to do something that wazungu often do in Gulu Town: complain.

"I ordered my food over an hour ago," she barks at the man behind the counter. "Is it coming or not?" He assures her that it is and, a couple minutes later, out it comes.

A few minutes pass and the unmistakable rumble of a parade rounds the corner. Hannah and I, along with everybody else in the restaurant except for the Irish woman, gather outside.

A banner proclaims: "Manchester United Fans."

A rag-tag marching band slams out a boom-chuck beat and fills the air with triumphant brass.

Following them, a man in a red Manchseter United jersey, the uniform of the British football team, yells into a microphone, riding atop a white pickup truck weighed down with giant speakers and fans waving Manchester flags. One of them holds up a poster of the great footballer Nani.

All around the truck, men in red jerseys chant and dance, going forth with their knees bent low.

The parade passes. Hannah, myself and everybody else return to the interior of quiet Kope Cafe. The Irish woman is enjoying her smoothie, no doubt, but she has a sour expression. I read The Saturday Monitor. Hannah reads The Independent. Two hours pass and we are served: an omelette for Hannah, pancakes for me. We eat, pay, exit and then proceed down Gulu's main drag.

Gulu is abuzz today. The parade is up ahead. The weighed-down white pickup blasts the indestructible beat of Acholiland: a driving kick, a shaker going double-time, jaunty tom-toms.

Hannah decides to fetch her camera in our hotel room. I am equipped with notebook and pen. Thematically, but not on purpose, I'm wearing bright red Ray-Ban knock-offs. We chase the parade.

We merge with the crowd as we enter a wide, dusty field. Hannah branches off to ride on the hood of a car. I'm just behind the weighed-down pickup. The fan on board looks around at the crowd and yells, over and over, "Mansester fan! Mansester fan!"

Men in red jerseys are everywhere. Some of them walk up and ask me if I'm a fan. No, I say, I'm a journalist. Accordingly, I try to make sense of what's happening. Did Manchester win a game today? Yesterday? Will they play tomorrow? Has the season opened or closed? They give vague and unclear answers. Later, Stella, a student at Makerere University, explains that Manchester won the season and brought their shining cup to Kampala for a stupendous celebration. That was last May, she adds.

So, then, it's just a celebration.

Sammy, a gaunt, red-jerseyed fan with a huge smile, shakes my hand. He tells me that the parade has just visited Gulu Hospital. Now, a contingent of fans will present boxes of laundry soap to the inmates at Gulu Government Prison.

"You should be friendship to everybody," he tells me.

It's right over that way, he says, gesturing off to the left. Henry Kaija, a prison officer, a rather young and gentle-looking man with a generous expression and a "Rooney 10" jersey, red of course, bids me to come along. Already Hannah, taking photos a few yards away, has been invited by some other fans. We look at each other and agree to go to prison with them.

The police in Uganda wear khaki fatigues and tote AK-47s. The cover story of The Independent this week is about the Inspector General of Police, Maj. Gen. Kale Kayihura, and how the police force is building its muscle as the strong arm of President Yoweri Museveni and his party, the National Resistance Movement. The police used not to play the army's role - and in fact most police did not support Museveni - but now, apparently, it does.

In early June, the police raided the offices of the Democratic Party. Then, two opposition MPs were thrown in jail after staging public demonstrations. A few days later, Kampala District MP Nabila Sempala was touring her district when police dragged her off to jail, all the while tearing at her skirt. In protest, on the day of presenting the 08/09 National Budget, opposition MPs walked out of parliament.

This is bad, but the Independent investigation team expects much worse by the time of the 2011 parliamentary and Presidential elections.

Taking all of this into account, you might expect the police of Gulu Prison to be fearsome types, all scowls. Not true, with all these Manchester fans filling up the reception room. The khaki-fatigued cops are all smiles and handshakes.

Everyone checks their cell phones and Hannah and I check the camera, my notebook and our bags. The group counts itself out, to 21, and without further ado the big door to the prison courtyard opens. Hundreds of young men's eyes greet us.

The first thing I see is a man with no legs wearing a yellow shirt and matching shorts. (Later, I wonder, how does a man with no legs get thrown into prison?) We walk to a canvas tent in the center of the courtyard. I look around at perhaps 400 men in matching yellow shirts and shorts, sitting on the dirt ground, waiting, staring forward. A man with a sinister gaze licks his lips. Another, his eyes buried beneath a brow so furrowed that it looks frozen in place, glares forward. Some of the inmates look soft. Others are shirtless and menacing.

There are some large, metal, steaming bowls at the other end of the courtyard. There's what looks to be a shower area that has been hit by a rocket. There are about eight wide rooms with nothing in them but inmates. And I gather that this decrepit prison contains nothing other than this incredible amount of people, all crammed together and watched by a handful of Kalashnikov-toting cops, penned in by some crusty walls and a very long length of barbed wire.

The fans offer Hannah a chair at the very center of the tent. I sit to her right. The fans place four heavy boxes of soap at the edge of the tent. The deputy warden calls up a skinny, older man in his yellow uniform to translate what's going on from English to Luo. Then, each of us introduce ourselves. The fans all yell something, wait for the response of the crowd, then give short, bombastic speeches, presumably about football.

Then comes the "royal dance," the bwola dance, to entertain the guests of the prison.

The bwola dance used to be performed only in the courts of Acholi chiefs - during their coronations, during special ceremonies, after their deaths. Now the bwola dance goes on in competitions, festivals, at schools, at prisons. Norman Okot, a music and dance trainer at Health, Education, Literacy and Sports (HEALS), a lifeskills program for children, tells me later that bwola is a very special dance of Acholiland.

A man sits on a drum before the tent of fans. He taps out a beat with wooden sticks onto the two drums in front of him. Twenty men in shorts and t-shirts are lined up in two rows off at the other end of the courtyard. A man stands at the lead. He yells out a nasally call, a long and oblique statement in a form of Luo that, some say, doesn't make sense to many Acholi. The men call out a response, deep and guttural.

In unison they kneel down, elbows elaborately placed to their sides, and then move forward, the shells on their ankles jingling. Their arms arc around and each of them hits a small drum in their hand. All twenty of them pop together.

Standing behind them, a man in a ragged shirt slams on a giant drum. The call is still oblique and nasally, the response deep and guttural. They all creep forward in short and majestic stride. The cycle continues and then, without warning, everything comes together.

Now they are in yaro, the true shape of bwola, a fierce and ornate circle that consumes the man at the drum. The two drummers converge and make a galloping beat. The circle is swift. Lean male bodies gleam with sweat. Vigorous but ornate, synchronized perfectly, their shells jingling at their ankles. The arms of the prisoners arc around in unison and hit twenty small drums. Pop.

Hannah sits at the center of the tent, one leg crossed over the other. She tells me later that the experience felt colonial. The men, she said, seemed to be dancing only for her.

A cloud of dust swivels around the dancers as they reach acura, the climax. The Manchester fans around them join in the dance, angling themselves to widen the circle, kneeling down and trotting forward, clapping their hands in unison. A hefty fellow in a red jersey blows into a flute made of animal horn, an obute, wiggling his fingers. There is a loud, high-pitched, two-tone cry.

The Manchester fans invite me to join, but I turn down the offer. Sammy tells me later that he is disappointed in me. He is a man, he tells me. He dances the bwola because that is what men do.

The galloping of the drums slow and eventually stop. The circle breaks apart. The bwola has come to an end. It is time to leave the laundry soap for the prisoners.

After the inmates give a ceremonial clap as a thank you and goodbye, the fans, Hannah and I exit the courtyard and head back into the free world. The sun is beating down and a crowd awaits us all. Hannah and I, as newly-coronated Manchester fans ("You're a Manchester fan?" countless people ask, to the point that I get sick of explaining myself and just start saying "Yes.") are strongly urged to join the parade in a march towards the hotel at the other end of town. There will be a feast to finish off today's celebration.

Hannah and I are being separated by more and more delighted fans. I wonder about going to the feast - if we will be hit by an inertia of meeting and eating that will spiral off deep into the night, then into next morning, then into God knows when. We break through the crowds and reunite, then slip away and head back to our hotel.

And the parade - banner, marching band, weighed-down pickup truck, indestructible beat of Acholiland, red jerseyed Manchester fans, and all - continues its journey through the day.

I'm done!

T'will a bruise cruise it be!

5/13/08: The Launch This Wednesday

Skipper Rob Buchanan writes:

It looks like it's finally going to happen! Tomorrow morning at around 9:30 the glass guys will remove the 14th street window and we'll perform the delicate "extraction." Then it's a slow roll west to the river, with stops at the First Presbyterian Chuch pre-school (they came to visit the boat shop a few months ago), Lang College on west 11th street, and the Village Community School (they also paid a visit this winter) on West 10th. We should arrive at on the south side of Pier 40 (end of West Houston Street) at about 11:30, and launch promptly thereafter. All are welcome to join in at any stage in the procession!

Storm Queen will henceforth be part of the fleet at the new Village Community Boathouse on Pier 40, along with last year's Lang-built boat, Quixotic, and half a dozen others. VCB offers free community rowing on Tuesdays and Thursdays after work, as well as weekends, from now until late in the fall. For more information please visit the VCB website at:
www.villagecommunityboathouse.org

Thanks to all for your support and interest this year!

5/10/08: Breaking News!

Storm Queen, lord of the fjords and tidal straits, is the name of our Swedish-flag-trim Whitehall gig. Rob offered up Storm Queen in an email, half-jokingly I suppose. Yet in our three-tiered runoff vote last afternoon, the name washed out all the other contestants. Hence, hail Storm Queen, hail!

The launch of our vessel is 9:30 a.m., this coming Wednesday, outside the window of the 65 5th Avenue New School building.

By the way, I voted for the Great Gary in the first runoff, because Pip K. Francis could not make a showing. Neither could Dayyan, who proposed Sialia Sialis. Considering the rain of Friday, the boat's postponed launch date, I think the name befits her.

Last week:

I've been out doing senior-work, but the rest of the class has painted our famous 26-foot, 7-plank, wine-glass transom Whitehall gig. You like?

Here's the latest news about the launch from Rob "Don't Call Me Bob" Buchanan:

We're not wimps, and yes, boats are made to get wet, but based on tomorrow's forecast we've decided to postpone the launch of our stalwart vessel until next week. Friday: Rain. The rain could be heavy at times. Temperature falling to around 49 by 5pm. East wind between 10 and 15 mph, with gusts as high as 25 mph. Chance of precipitation is 100%. New rainfall amounts between one and two inches possible. Here's a look at the finished paint job. We'll make a final decision on the name during class tomorrow; the most popular candidates seem to be Siailia Sialis (that's latin for bluebird), Queequeg, Persephone, Tashtego and Storm Queen.

Don't forget Bruising Me Softly!

Iraq Talk in Congress - "Blah, blah, blah..."

General Petraeus: man of the hour! Photo by Charlie Archambault, from USN&WR.

Today's Congressional testimony delivered by Gen. David Petraeus and Ambassador Ryan Crocker served as a good refresher for the people that didn't pay attention to even a shred of last month's coverage on the Iraq war.

Now it looks official that Muqtada al-Sadr's Mahdi Army (which by all accounts appears far more effective, organized and disciplined than Abdul Aziz al-Hakim's mostly S.I.I.C.-allied Iraqi Army), along with a myriad of other militias, will furthermore be crammed into a nominal catch-phrase: "Special Groups." Needless to say, this is sure to make the endless hunt for "bad guys" all the more confusing.

Update, 4/10, 12:34 p.m. - I should probably consider Prime Minister Nuri Kamal al-Maliki responsible for the Iraq Army, huh? At the moment I couldn't really tell you how S.I.I.C.'s armed wing, the Badr Organization, fits into the whole "special groups" vs. Iraq Army thing - whether they're a "special group" or serial infiltrators (and, judging by the news coverage surrounding the latest bout of fighting in Basra, serial deserters) of the Army. I'm guessing that they're both...

11:29 p.m.

Bush speaks!

And the war's critics put the pressure on him.

"The president has taken us into a failed war, he's taken us deeply into debt and that debt is taking us into recession," said Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House, according to BBC. "We need some answers from the president."

Thoughts On Trying the Torch Take-Down, 81% Dissatisfied, the Pregnant Man, and the "Good Ship" Debate

I just want to weigh in on a few things I've come across over the last couple of days.

1. Mad props go to the Free Tibet protesters who went for the Olympic torch-snatch and also tried to extinguish the torch today as Konnie Huq (surrounded by a coterie of security guards) jogged through London to commemorate the games. And let me remind you - this is jolly old England here. Judging by this, protesters should have something spectacular in store for Mount Everest.

2. I enjoyed the word choice of the latest NY Times/CBS Poll, which concluded that 81% of Americans polled say that "things have pretty seriously gotten off the wrong track" in the U.S. On the other hand, 19% believe that "things in this country are generally going in the right direction." Let me just say that 100% of me is not surprised at the results.

3. On Friday, I had a novel thought: Whatever would happen if a man got pregnant? The only example I had ever seen was that of California Governor Arnold Scwarzenegger, in the 1994 film "Junior." But lo and behold, on the very day I had this thought, the New York Post ran an article about a pregnant man named Thomas Beatie! I knew I could rely on the Post for something.

4. Josh Kurp, Five Best impresario and Copy Chief for New School Free Press (ooh, and contender for next year's Editor-in-Chief), just e-mailed me and some others an mp3 of "Good Ship Venus," a delightful and bawdy sailor's tune. Going by title alone, the song struck me as the precursor to Shirley Temple's "On the Good Ship, Lollipop." Kurp wrote back, "Peter, Peter, Peter, if you knew anything about Shirley Temple, you'd know the 'Good Ship Lollipop' refers to an airplane." True, true! I saw the video! But you see, that only proves my point further - here we see the modern "Good Ship Venus" of the industrial age, naturally sapped of its original aura (i.e. sex on the boat). Thoughts?