Ni: Joi Barrios
Member, (Congress of Teachers for Nationalism and Democracy (CONTEND) and, the Alliance of Concerned Teachers (ACT)
Gaano kadali ang pagpaslang?
Sansaglit, at may nakitil nang buhay.
May punglo na humahagibis
At may pag-asa na napapatid.
Gaano katagal
Ang ating paglalamay?
Hintayin bang ang luha ay maglawa
At ang telang itim na yumayakap
Sa bawat bangkay ay maging dagat?
Luhang alat, dagat alat.
Paanong malulunok itong dahas?
Sinong hindi malulunod sa hinagpis?
Bawat dibdib ay sumisikip.
Sa bawat pagluluksa,
Habol ang hininga
Nagtatalo ang pangamba at galit
Sa bawat panganib na hinaharap.
Isa-isa tayo na kanilang nilalagas,
At ating tinatanong:
Sinong nag-uutos, sinong nagbabayad
Sa bawat pusong dinudurog,
At utak na pinapasabog?
Hindi tayo, kundi sila ang alipin ng pangamba, kaya't namumuksa.
Ating tandaan, laging tandaan,
Matwid ang pinaglalaban.
Sa bawat pagkapit-bisig, sa bawat welga at pag-aalsa,
Ang binabawi natin ay dangal,
Ang inaangkin ay karapatan.
Patag ang lupa kung saan tayo nakatindig.
Ang bayan na pinapaslang, ano't di sisigaw ng himagsik?
Ika-18 ng Marso 2005
This poem, read at a gathering of civil libertarians at the Asian Center on March 19, 2005, responds to the slaying of Victor Conception of the Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas, Tarlac City Councilor and Bayan Muna member Abelardo Ladera, Mer Dizon of Anakpawis party list, and Rev. William Tadena, a supporter of Hacienda Luisita strikers.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Friday, March 18, 2005
IMPOSE STRICTER REGULATION ON PESTICIDE USE, GOV’T TOLD
MEDIA RELEASE
IBON Foundation, Inc.
3/F SCC Bldg 4427 Interior Old Sta Mesa, Manila, Philippines
Tel. +632 713-2729, +632 713-2737 E-mail: media@ibon.org
References: Rosario Bella Guzman (Executive Director)
Antonio Tujan (Research Director)
March 17, 2005
In the face of the DOH findings that a harmful pesticide was the cause of death of 27 children in Mabini, Bohol, research group IBON Foundation calls on government to implement stricter regulation rules on pesticide use.
According to investigations, 1-2-3 insecticide, which has an expired registration with the Fertilizers and Pesticide Authority, is very toxic that just 4 grams of it can kill a 70-kilogram adult.
The 1-2-3 insecticide is not the first chemical to be questioned. Paraquat, a chemical used for the production of rice, sugarcane, bananas and other crops, was discovered to be acutely toxic and can cause reproductive problems to women sprayers exposed to it.
No one will argue-- not even the transnational corporations (TNCs) that manufacture and import pesticides-- about the actual and potential health effects of pesticides to people. Pesticides are poisons and undue exposure to them can cause serious and even fatal health problems.
Filipino farmers, who have been made dependent on chemical inputs with the promise of increased productivity, generally lack protective gear and are continuously exposed to various health hazards of pesticides.
Although extremely harmful, TNCs continue to export their pesticides because these are still marketable and profitable, especially in poor farming countries like the Philippines.
Government should therefore implement stricter regulation policies on pesticide use and impose a strict ban on obsolete, expired, and banned pesticides. IBON also calls on government to immediatey implement safety regulation rules that go beyond market considerations.
More importantly, government should encourage farmers to reduce the use of pesticides and look for more sustainable and healthy farming methods. (end)
IBON Foundation, Inc.
3/F SCC Bldg 4427 Interior Old Sta Mesa, Manila, Philippines
Tel. +632 713-2729, +632 713-2737 E-mail: media@ibon.org
References: Rosario Bella Guzman (Executive Director)
Antonio Tujan (Research Director)
March 17, 2005
In the face of the DOH findings that a harmful pesticide was the cause of death of 27 children in Mabini, Bohol, research group IBON Foundation calls on government to implement stricter regulation rules on pesticide use.
According to investigations, 1-2-3 insecticide, which has an expired registration with the Fertilizers and Pesticide Authority, is very toxic that just 4 grams of it can kill a 70-kilogram adult.
The 1-2-3 insecticide is not the first chemical to be questioned. Paraquat, a chemical used for the production of rice, sugarcane, bananas and other crops, was discovered to be acutely toxic and can cause reproductive problems to women sprayers exposed to it.
No one will argue-- not even the transnational corporations (TNCs) that manufacture and import pesticides-- about the actual and potential health effects of pesticides to people. Pesticides are poisons and undue exposure to them can cause serious and even fatal health problems.
Filipino farmers, who have been made dependent on chemical inputs with the promise of increased productivity, generally lack protective gear and are continuously exposed to various health hazards of pesticides.
Although extremely harmful, TNCs continue to export their pesticides because these are still marketable and profitable, especially in poor farming countries like the Philippines.
Government should therefore implement stricter regulation policies on pesticide use and impose a strict ban on obsolete, expired, and banned pesticides. IBON also calls on government to immediatey implement safety regulation rules that go beyond market considerations.
More importantly, government should encourage farmers to reduce the use of pesticides and look for more sustainable and healthy farming methods. (end)
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Life of the Homeless
At Sitio Top Hill, Cebu City, there is always someone in each house who stays awake at night, boiling water for coffee. Ever since the attempted eviction of its urban poor residents several months ago, they have learned to be alert and keep their guard – to protect themselves and their homes.
BY JANE CATHERINE CHUA ROJO
Contributed to Bulatlat
Vol. V, No. 3, February 20-26, 2005
The place is called Sitio Top Hill – a highland locality just behind a not-so-popular golf course at Lahug, a village in Cebu City. One can reach the place on a habal-habal, a motorcycle that can accommodate at least four passengers, or a 10-minute hike from the corner where the jeepney trip ends. The path is winding, lined at both sides with small houses made of light materials.
Mornings in Top Hill are quite peaceful. Most of the houses are closed and the pathways are for most part devoid of passersby. Only once in a while do harried fathers appear, making haste to get to their working places.
The clock registers 6 a.m. in the house of Manang Pilar. Her husband Manong Lando, though still sleepy, forces himself to wake up. He washes his face and hurries to the house of Titing, the owner of the passenger jeepney he drives. He drives it for 15 to 16 hours every day, returning home at midnight with money that would last till the next day and his body tired and aching.
Next to Manang Pilar’s house is Isabelita’s. She is a 27-year-old mother of two little girls. Her husband is already out for work and she was cooking noodles for breakfast. After her little girls ate and went to school, Isabelita is left to wash the dishes, clean the house and roll the mat where the family sleeps. It’s already 8 o’clock when Isabelita goes outside with the basin filled with dirty laundry tucked beside her. She is about to start her washing when Manang Pilar approaches her.
“Mare, don’t you have clothes to wash?” Isabelita asked.
“There’s a lot in there but I won’t wash them yet. My illness has struck again.”
“So, have you taken your medicine already?”
“Not yet. There’s no money to buy one. It’s only now that your pare was able to drive again after his license was confiscated.”
“That’s right. That’s why he was here during the demolition. But you know, it was in fact good for you. Me? I nearly lost my mind. My partner leaves early on Fridays and Mondays. I could not leave Charisse because she was crying really hard. I could only watch while our house was being demolished. They turned it upside down. The roof became the floor. Too bad!”
“They were pests! Even though you kept asking them not to destroy the house because the owners were not there, they just kept on destroying, destroying, destroying… It was so frustrating because they were not listening.
“So that’s why you’re sick again?!”
“Exactly. And during the barricade, we keep on pushing ourselves forward. We didn’t care if we about the knives they had with them. We were not afraid. What matters to us was our anger towards them.”
“I was not able to join because the kids were all crying… they were all running. I picked them up one by one and brought them there because they might fall into the holes.”
“We were so pitiful. We had no money that time and yet that thing happened. We had to eat for three days at Mare Isis’ house… breakfast, lunch, dinner.”
“We did not eat, too. How could we cook rice when we didn’t even have any dwelling? We just rolled out some mats where we could rest.”
The usual gossip about the episodes of Lovers in Paris and Hiram (Borrowed), two very popular soap operas, has been replaced with talk about the real life drama in their community wherein all of them were actors.
Although the demolition took place months ago, it continues to be the topic of conversations in Sitio Top Hill.
Manang Pilar and Isabelita are still chatting when they hear a group of kids shouting, as if a mantra, the phrase, “Pulis… mang-demolis”
“They’re taunting the police again. Back then, kids were afraid of the police. Not anymore.”
“It’s their fault. Instead of ensuring peace, they would rather help those who demolished our homes. We were the ones who were abused but we’re the ones who were arrested.”
It’s already noon and so the women go to their respective homes to prepare lunch. Meanwhile, just below the plaza, stands the house of Manang Arlinda. The house has unpainted walls made of plywood and bamboo floors. It’s a small house, with no rooms nor furniture, just a few framed photographs hanging on the wall.
Outside that lonely-looking house, the air is filled with lively conversations. People young and old, sit under the shade while enjoying each other’s company. Students from the University of the Philippines (UP) are also present. It’s a part of their Basic Masses Integration (BMI), learning first hand the conditions of the masses by living with them for a brief period. All of them eat lunch together. The small house is filled with people squatting forming a circle. Nonoy, youth leader of the sitio, cooks the food. The students contribute money to buy rice, sardines, buwad (fried fish) and Odong, a cheap noodle brand.
Table talk naturally centers on the possibility of another demolition that week.
“Their plan is to organize four groups for the attack. That would really be tough because the barricade would be divided.”
“But there’s plenty of us. Everybody must help.”
“We would call a meeting so that we could plan very well.”
“We just have to make everybody understand that we really need to win because we don’t have any other home. We must think of our children.”
“Besides, most of us have our sources of income in the area.”
The conversations go on for few more minutes until the students finally decide to leave. Some of the residents stay to chat some more while some go back to their houses. Since the demolition, most of the people prefer to just stay in their homes. “Sige gyud kada adlaw mi magbantay… dili na lang gyud mag lakaw-lakaw kay mao may atake nila kanang mingaw bitaw na way tawo,” (We stay on guard every day… we seldom go out because they often attack when the place is empty) Manang Marissa explains.
In the afternoon, Manong Arman, the Sitio leader, calls for a meeting. By way of introduction, he talks of the time when Mr. Villalon, the original owner of the land they live in, was still alive.
“Villalon had visited us and had never asked us to leave. He would even say that when he sells this land, he would want us to be the buyer. When he died, we approached his secretary and she told us ‘Villalon had not sold any land. If ever this land would be offered for sale, you will be the priority because you are the ones who live in the place.’ The one claiming now to have bought the land is bogus because the titles that he is holding were all just Xerox copies and his map is just handwritten and is not even clear.”
All the residents share the same belief with their leader. They deem that Salud Young, the claimant, is not a legitimate owner. With that conviction, they are determined to fight for their houses. “Mag-andam gyud mi taman-taman. Bisag armado pa sila… dili gyud mi mahadlok.” (We would prepare really hard. Even if they’re armed, we will not be scared.) May-may declared.
In the evening, while most are asleep, there is always someone in each house who stays awake, boiling water for coffee. As Gina said, “Halos dili mi mangatulog dinhi. Kada gabii gabilar, nagabantay gyud.” (We hardly sleep. Every night, we stay awake… we always keep on guard.)
Thus, at 12 midnight, the silence that covers Sitio Top Hill like a thick blanket is ripped softly by a noise that is heard in almost every house – the sound of metal spoon against porcelain cup as it stirs the black aromatic liquid. Indeed, somebody must stay on guard. Bulatlat
© 2004 Bulatlat ■ Alipato Publications
BY JANE CATHERINE CHUA ROJO
Contributed to Bulatlat
Vol. V, No. 3, February 20-26, 2005
The place is called Sitio Top Hill – a highland locality just behind a not-so-popular golf course at Lahug, a village in Cebu City. One can reach the place on a habal-habal, a motorcycle that can accommodate at least four passengers, or a 10-minute hike from the corner where the jeepney trip ends. The path is winding, lined at both sides with small houses made of light materials.
Mornings in Top Hill are quite peaceful. Most of the houses are closed and the pathways are for most part devoid of passersby. Only once in a while do harried fathers appear, making haste to get to their working places.
The clock registers 6 a.m. in the house of Manang Pilar. Her husband Manong Lando, though still sleepy, forces himself to wake up. He washes his face and hurries to the house of Titing, the owner of the passenger jeepney he drives. He drives it for 15 to 16 hours every day, returning home at midnight with money that would last till the next day and his body tired and aching.
Next to Manang Pilar’s house is Isabelita’s. She is a 27-year-old mother of two little girls. Her husband is already out for work and she was cooking noodles for breakfast. After her little girls ate and went to school, Isabelita is left to wash the dishes, clean the house and roll the mat where the family sleeps. It’s already 8 o’clock when Isabelita goes outside with the basin filled with dirty laundry tucked beside her. She is about to start her washing when Manang Pilar approaches her.
“Mare, don’t you have clothes to wash?” Isabelita asked.
“There’s a lot in there but I won’t wash them yet. My illness has struck again.”
“So, have you taken your medicine already?”
“Not yet. There’s no money to buy one. It’s only now that your pare was able to drive again after his license was confiscated.”
“That’s right. That’s why he was here during the demolition. But you know, it was in fact good for you. Me? I nearly lost my mind. My partner leaves early on Fridays and Mondays. I could not leave Charisse because she was crying really hard. I could only watch while our house was being demolished. They turned it upside down. The roof became the floor. Too bad!”
“They were pests! Even though you kept asking them not to destroy the house because the owners were not there, they just kept on destroying, destroying, destroying… It was so frustrating because they were not listening.
“So that’s why you’re sick again?!”
“Exactly. And during the barricade, we keep on pushing ourselves forward. We didn’t care if we about the knives they had with them. We were not afraid. What matters to us was our anger towards them.”
“I was not able to join because the kids were all crying… they were all running. I picked them up one by one and brought them there because they might fall into the holes.”
“We were so pitiful. We had no money that time and yet that thing happened. We had to eat for three days at Mare Isis’ house… breakfast, lunch, dinner.”
“We did not eat, too. How could we cook rice when we didn’t even have any dwelling? We just rolled out some mats where we could rest.”
The usual gossip about the episodes of Lovers in Paris and Hiram (Borrowed), two very popular soap operas, has been replaced with talk about the real life drama in their community wherein all of them were actors.
Although the demolition took place months ago, it continues to be the topic of conversations in Sitio Top Hill.
Manang Pilar and Isabelita are still chatting when they hear a group of kids shouting, as if a mantra, the phrase, “Pulis… mang-demolis”
“They’re taunting the police again. Back then, kids were afraid of the police. Not anymore.”
“It’s their fault. Instead of ensuring peace, they would rather help those who demolished our homes. We were the ones who were abused but we’re the ones who were arrested.”
It’s already noon and so the women go to their respective homes to prepare lunch. Meanwhile, just below the plaza, stands the house of Manang Arlinda. The house has unpainted walls made of plywood and bamboo floors. It’s a small house, with no rooms nor furniture, just a few framed photographs hanging on the wall.
Outside that lonely-looking house, the air is filled with lively conversations. People young and old, sit under the shade while enjoying each other’s company. Students from the University of the Philippines (UP) are also present. It’s a part of their Basic Masses Integration (BMI), learning first hand the conditions of the masses by living with them for a brief period. All of them eat lunch together. The small house is filled with people squatting forming a circle. Nonoy, youth leader of the sitio, cooks the food. The students contribute money to buy rice, sardines, buwad (fried fish) and Odong, a cheap noodle brand.
Table talk naturally centers on the possibility of another demolition that week.
“Their plan is to organize four groups for the attack. That would really be tough because the barricade would be divided.”
“But there’s plenty of us. Everybody must help.”
“We would call a meeting so that we could plan very well.”
“We just have to make everybody understand that we really need to win because we don’t have any other home. We must think of our children.”
“Besides, most of us have our sources of income in the area.”
The conversations go on for few more minutes until the students finally decide to leave. Some of the residents stay to chat some more while some go back to their houses. Since the demolition, most of the people prefer to just stay in their homes. “Sige gyud kada adlaw mi magbantay… dili na lang gyud mag lakaw-lakaw kay mao may atake nila kanang mingaw bitaw na way tawo,” (We stay on guard every day… we seldom go out because they often attack when the place is empty) Manang Marissa explains.
In the afternoon, Manong Arman, the Sitio leader, calls for a meeting. By way of introduction, he talks of the time when Mr. Villalon, the original owner of the land they live in, was still alive.
“Villalon had visited us and had never asked us to leave. He would even say that when he sells this land, he would want us to be the buyer. When he died, we approached his secretary and she told us ‘Villalon had not sold any land. If ever this land would be offered for sale, you will be the priority because you are the ones who live in the place.’ The one claiming now to have bought the land is bogus because the titles that he is holding were all just Xerox copies and his map is just handwritten and is not even clear.”
All the residents share the same belief with their leader. They deem that Salud Young, the claimant, is not a legitimate owner. With that conviction, they are determined to fight for their houses. “Mag-andam gyud mi taman-taman. Bisag armado pa sila… dili gyud mi mahadlok.” (We would prepare really hard. Even if they’re armed, we will not be scared.) May-may declared.
In the evening, while most are asleep, there is always someone in each house who stays awake, boiling water for coffee. As Gina said, “Halos dili mi mangatulog dinhi. Kada gabii gabilar, nagabantay gyud.” (We hardly sleep. Every night, we stay awake… we always keep on guard.)
Thus, at 12 midnight, the silence that covers Sitio Top Hill like a thick blanket is ripped softly by a noise that is heard in almost every house – the sound of metal spoon against porcelain cup as it stirs the black aromatic liquid. Indeed, somebody must stay on guard. Bulatlat
© 2004 Bulatlat ■ Alipato Publications
Monday, December 06, 2004
The Good Germans
by: John S. Hatch
12/06/04 "ICH" -- It is a commonplace that at the end of WWII scarcely a Nazi or Nazi sympathizer could be found, or even anyone with an inkling that a Holocaust had been taking place. Even as rocks flew through Jewish shop windows and homes were burned, the Good Germans didn't know. Even when Jews began disappearing in huge numbers from right under their noses, the Good Germans weren't aware. Later on, even amongst Holocaust deniers I used to wonder if there were a mitigating percentage, however small, who as otherwise decent human beings simply could not accept the horror that human nature can be so vile. To admit the truth would be to recognize that life was essentially meaningless and insane, with suicide as the only logical course, a choice which the all-powerful instinct for self-preservation attempted to prevent. Thus self-deception for self-preservation; an unhappy compromise. It was the Nazi-exploited Nietzsche who pointed out (in the late 1800's remember) that one must first know the truth in order to bury it. Everybody knew, in one way or another. Violence, after all, is what One-Thousand Year Reichs do, and they must start very early.
America, America, Uber Alles
While there is much justified consternation surrounding the truly astonishing election of George W. Bush-first he steals power, then it's handed back to him tied with a fancy yellow ribbon-the fact is that for the longest time American foreign policy (and often domestic as well) has been so savage as to shock the world. Yet the average American seems to care as little as the average German did about the Third's Reich's crimes against humanity or the Holocaust. Didn't know, didn't care or-liked it very much. 'We' are empire! Therefore 'we' are a priori justified in anything we do. Rules only apply to lesser nations, lesser beings.
Just to go back a short way, while George crusades to 'free' his beloved Iraqis' (almost universally referred to as 'ragheads' and 'sandniggers' (!) , bastards and faggots by his like-thinking men and women in the field), LBJ was a crook with indirect ties to the Mafia, and likely foreknowledge of the Kennedy assassination. (And we can't forget his vice-crook 'Nolo Contendere' Spiro Agnew, can we?) Nixon's boys had their inherited gooks and commies to torture and murder and bomb and napalm, and he had even more direct ties to the Mafia from almost the beginning of his criminal career. (And Rumsfeld and Powell were honing their skills for later- Rumsfeld in Defense, Powell as chief spinner for My Lai). Both Nixon and Bush lied about their respective wars, using the most unscrupulous but effective assistants (Murray Chotiner, Karl Rove) in order to get elected, and then surrounded themselves with ambitious thugs and criminals, all rising like pus out of a pimple (Kissinger, Mitchell, Erlichman, Haldeman, Liddy, Hunt et al), or far-right religious zealots (Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft et al, including the multi-untalented David Frum, sophomoric enough to brag about the pathetic comic-book phrase 'Axis of Evil'). Then came Ford, who will always be remembered for pardoning Nixon's crimes, many of which weren't then known to the public, and as a participant in the official Kennedy assassination cover-up known as the Warren Commission.
Meanwhile the CIA continued to mingle, meddle, and assassinate willy-nilly wherever they felt like it. Jimmy Carter may have been a gentler soul, but he welcomed the despised Shah of Iran, installed by the US after deposing the elected government of Mohammed Mossadeq for deciding to take control of Iran's own oil resources. The nerve of that uppity Mohammed! (Yet the neo-con tut-tutters keep saying that oil was not a factor in Iraq's invasion-they forgot all about Iran, but would like to visit again, and soon.) The corporate press blubbered on and on when Reagan mercifully died, with scant mention of his murderous if shaky hand, guided by the likes of the truly bizarre Ollie North, John Poindexter, and the depraved (but very ambitious) John Negroponte, newly appointed ambassador to Iraq (honestly, it would require an outsourced factory of Shakespearian elves working overtime to do adjectival justice to some of these malicious miscreants).
How much American psychic energy was required to 'forget' Reagan's 'freedom fighters' of Nicaragua ('the equivalent of our Founding Fathers', he was already demented enough to pronounce)? They used tactics learned at the famous US Army 'School of Americas' at Ft. Benning, Georgia, also known as 'School of the Assassins', whose distinguished graduates include Manuel Noriega and Omar Torrijos, formerly of Panama, and Roberto Violo of Argentina. The freedom fighters raped nuns and peasant women and used all sorts of lethal terror methods in the countryside to dislodge the elected government. Preferred targets were teachers and medical staff, but they bagged an Archbishop as well. A favorite horror method involved the stuffing of a grenade into the bleeding, broken-toothed mouth of an innocent man woman, and yes, even child (of course child, when you think about it) and then detonation in front of what might be left of the as-good-as-dead family. Well it seemed to work in the long run. Ronnie must have been proud. And looking at The Gipper's shiny coffin and poor Nancy's touching grief, how hard was it to forget Reagan's prior treasonous secret interference in foreign policy affairs in order to have the American hostages in Iran freed later rather than sooner, with arms as a reward, more cash to the freedom fighters for grenades, and coke to California as a byproduct? He forgot all about it, right away. Ollie too. I wonder if any one of those dignitaries was trying to forget Ronnie's pal 'Blowtorch Bob' (D'Aubisson) of El Salvador, and how he came to acquire his colorful sobriquet? Or even remember?
On and on. Bush I's puerile denial that he wasn't in Reagan and Ollie's loopy 'loop' regarding Iran-Contra, his message to Saddam through Ambassador April Glaspie (July 25, 1990) that America was neutral regarding Iraqi plans vis a vis Kuwait, then presto! Ill-equipped, ill-trained and terrified Iraqi soldiers were being buried alive in the desert, surrender not even an option. Later, elsewhere, weaponless soldiers were picked off one by one by stationary, low flying helicopters while their brave pilots whooped and hollered, intoxicated by the sheer joy of delivering no-risk murder.
Then there was the notorious 'Highway of Death', a 60 mile stretch between Mutlaa, Kuwait and Basra where non-combatant soldiers, fleeing back to Iraq on orders and civilian men, women and children were mowed down by bombs (including napalm and/or phosphorus) and bullets from planes and helicopters until not a single human being remained alive. Not even a dog. Such was the enthusiasm for the sport that extra air traffic controllers had to be brought in so that as many pilots as possible could participate without fear of bumping into each other. Estimated casualties (just dead, no wounded) were in the tens of thousands. Tens of thousands.
Then there came the insane sanctions, which did absolutely nothing to slow the building of palaces for Saddam and his revolting sons (did we forget that America had earlier assisted Saddam in its war against Iran, even providing certain chemicals which were to become famous?) Extending through the Clinton years these otherwise ineffectual measures are conservatively credited with killing one million ordinary Iraqis through malnutrition and lack of basic medicines.
Perhaps one of the most heartbreaking, irrevocably America-defining utterances regarding Iraq and America's arrogance and ignorance and self-induced amnesia was not by some slippery, war-mongering Republican from Kentucky, but from educated, refined ex-Clinton Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, who when asked if the cruel and futile sanctions had been worth the deaths of 500,000 innocent Iraqi children, looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then answered in the affirmative. It is truly to weep. Adieu America! The requiem is for you too.
Armageddon the Blues
With his second, and perhaps final term (don't forget, many Americans wanted to amend the Constitution to allow dear old Ronnie a third term) George W. Bush will feel emboldened to spend his famous political 'capital' in a world growing increasingly wary, fearful, and fed up with America's growing rogue status, lack of trustworthiness, and willingness to embrace violence.
That Bush would ever even consider appointing as Attorney General Alberto Gonzales is a signal that the former's one-finger victory salute was not a joke, as tasteless as it was. To appoint as top law enforcement officer a man who considers the Geneva Conventions 'quaint' and obsolete and the strictures against torture inapplicable, the World Court without jurisdiction is unprecedented in any civilized nation anywhere. Add to that even more draconian elements to the execrably designated 'Patriot Act', and I am genuinely surprised that given the American proclivity for chattering incessantly about love of country and constitution, and bravery and freedom ('Give me freedom, or give me fries!' Freedom fries!) that the streets haven't been deluged with incandescently angry (real) patriots demanding their country back. No not demanding, taking.
Perhaps America was always just empty talk, a superpower as vacuous as some of your 'superstars', as George II, lead by the nose by crazy Likudites, crazy Christians, and just plain power-mad crazies, leads the world to the brink of Armageddon. But there is no Jesus waiting (and, thank goodness, certainly not the creepy Christ of the cretinous far Christian right), no Anti-Christ (not even the U.N.), only prolonged hell on earth for many, hamburgers and SUV's and beer for the few. And of course, Wal-Mart for everyone. George II insists we have to be for or against. Well, I'm proud to come out against. I know America is a ruthless and formidable foe, but remember, there are billions of us around the world We are angry and sickened, and perhaps have finally had enough.
Violence is not necessary (if only America would learn that) - imagine what a worldwide boycott of every single thing American would do to your economy, in fairly short order. The dollar would further erode, stock market indicies would plunge, more countries would switch to the Euro as reserve currency, foreign owned treasury bonds would be called in in the billions, the American financial system would risk collapse. Imagine that your political elite and their oozing advisors not daring to leave the country for fear of arrest for war crimes and crimes against humanity. It happened to Chile's Pinochet in great Britain, and Kissinger escaped detainment in France only by a whisker (or was it a prayer?). That America no longer recognizes Geneva Conventions and International Rules of Conduct doesn't mean that more civilized nations no longer do.
For starters, a few days ago President Bush came to my country, Canada. Were there to exist true justice, he would have been arrested the moment he stepped off Air Force One in Ottawa, and would be held on suspicion of having committed a breath-taking array of war crimes and crimes against humanity. Of course that didn't happen. Yet. But we can take some consolation in the fact that, despite being invited to address a joint session of Parliament and Senate as protocol dictates, his handlers politely declined, fearful of what his reception might be.
Now, a group of Vancouver Lawyers (L.A.W.-Lawyers Against War) has filed papers with the U.N. charging Mr. Bush with war crimes. As Mr. Bush is not Canadian, our Attorney General has eight days in which to approve the filing or reject it. It will of course be rejected. For now.
John Hatch is a writer, novelist, and film-maker living in British Columbia, Canada. His novel The Wolfe Chronicles was published in 2001. He is also a contributor to bcpolitics.ca He can be reached at johnhatch@canada.com
© John S. Hatch
12/06/04 "ICH" -- It is a commonplace that at the end of WWII scarcely a Nazi or Nazi sympathizer could be found, or even anyone with an inkling that a Holocaust had been taking place. Even as rocks flew through Jewish shop windows and homes were burned, the Good Germans didn't know. Even when Jews began disappearing in huge numbers from right under their noses, the Good Germans weren't aware. Later on, even amongst Holocaust deniers I used to wonder if there were a mitigating percentage, however small, who as otherwise decent human beings simply could not accept the horror that human nature can be so vile. To admit the truth would be to recognize that life was essentially meaningless and insane, with suicide as the only logical course, a choice which the all-powerful instinct for self-preservation attempted to prevent. Thus self-deception for self-preservation; an unhappy compromise. It was the Nazi-exploited Nietzsche who pointed out (in the late 1800's remember) that one must first know the truth in order to bury it. Everybody knew, in one way or another. Violence, after all, is what One-Thousand Year Reichs do, and they must start very early.
America, America, Uber Alles
While there is much justified consternation surrounding the truly astonishing election of George W. Bush-first he steals power, then it's handed back to him tied with a fancy yellow ribbon-the fact is that for the longest time American foreign policy (and often domestic as well) has been so savage as to shock the world. Yet the average American seems to care as little as the average German did about the Third's Reich's crimes against humanity or the Holocaust. Didn't know, didn't care or-liked it very much. 'We' are empire! Therefore 'we' are a priori justified in anything we do. Rules only apply to lesser nations, lesser beings.
Just to go back a short way, while George crusades to 'free' his beloved Iraqis' (almost universally referred to as 'ragheads' and 'sandniggers' (!) , bastards and faggots by his like-thinking men and women in the field), LBJ was a crook with indirect ties to the Mafia, and likely foreknowledge of the Kennedy assassination. (And we can't forget his vice-crook 'Nolo Contendere' Spiro Agnew, can we?) Nixon's boys had their inherited gooks and commies to torture and murder and bomb and napalm, and he had even more direct ties to the Mafia from almost the beginning of his criminal career. (And Rumsfeld and Powell were honing their skills for later- Rumsfeld in Defense, Powell as chief spinner for My Lai). Both Nixon and Bush lied about their respective wars, using the most unscrupulous but effective assistants (Murray Chotiner, Karl Rove) in order to get elected, and then surrounded themselves with ambitious thugs and criminals, all rising like pus out of a pimple (Kissinger, Mitchell, Erlichman, Haldeman, Liddy, Hunt et al), or far-right religious zealots (Cheney, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft et al, including the multi-untalented David Frum, sophomoric enough to brag about the pathetic comic-book phrase 'Axis of Evil'). Then came Ford, who will always be remembered for pardoning Nixon's crimes, many of which weren't then known to the public, and as a participant in the official Kennedy assassination cover-up known as the Warren Commission.
Meanwhile the CIA continued to mingle, meddle, and assassinate willy-nilly wherever they felt like it. Jimmy Carter may have been a gentler soul, but he welcomed the despised Shah of Iran, installed by the US after deposing the elected government of Mohammed Mossadeq for deciding to take control of Iran's own oil resources. The nerve of that uppity Mohammed! (Yet the neo-con tut-tutters keep saying that oil was not a factor in Iraq's invasion-they forgot all about Iran, but would like to visit again, and soon.) The corporate press blubbered on and on when Reagan mercifully died, with scant mention of his murderous if shaky hand, guided by the likes of the truly bizarre Ollie North, John Poindexter, and the depraved (but very ambitious) John Negroponte, newly appointed ambassador to Iraq (honestly, it would require an outsourced factory of Shakespearian elves working overtime to do adjectival justice to some of these malicious miscreants).
How much American psychic energy was required to 'forget' Reagan's 'freedom fighters' of Nicaragua ('the equivalent of our Founding Fathers', he was already demented enough to pronounce)? They used tactics learned at the famous US Army 'School of Americas' at Ft. Benning, Georgia, also known as 'School of the Assassins', whose distinguished graduates include Manuel Noriega and Omar Torrijos, formerly of Panama, and Roberto Violo of Argentina. The freedom fighters raped nuns and peasant women and used all sorts of lethal terror methods in the countryside to dislodge the elected government. Preferred targets were teachers and medical staff, but they bagged an Archbishop as well. A favorite horror method involved the stuffing of a grenade into the bleeding, broken-toothed mouth of an innocent man woman, and yes, even child (of course child, when you think about it) and then detonation in front of what might be left of the as-good-as-dead family. Well it seemed to work in the long run. Ronnie must have been proud. And looking at The Gipper's shiny coffin and poor Nancy's touching grief, how hard was it to forget Reagan's prior treasonous secret interference in foreign policy affairs in order to have the American hostages in Iran freed later rather than sooner, with arms as a reward, more cash to the freedom fighters for grenades, and coke to California as a byproduct? He forgot all about it, right away. Ollie too. I wonder if any one of those dignitaries was trying to forget Ronnie's pal 'Blowtorch Bob' (D'Aubisson) of El Salvador, and how he came to acquire his colorful sobriquet? Or even remember?
On and on. Bush I's puerile denial that he wasn't in Reagan and Ollie's loopy 'loop' regarding Iran-Contra, his message to Saddam through Ambassador April Glaspie (July 25, 1990) that America was neutral regarding Iraqi plans vis a vis Kuwait, then presto! Ill-equipped, ill-trained and terrified Iraqi soldiers were being buried alive in the desert, surrender not even an option. Later, elsewhere, weaponless soldiers were picked off one by one by stationary, low flying helicopters while their brave pilots whooped and hollered, intoxicated by the sheer joy of delivering no-risk murder.
Then there was the notorious 'Highway of Death', a 60 mile stretch between Mutlaa, Kuwait and Basra where non-combatant soldiers, fleeing back to Iraq on orders and civilian men, women and children were mowed down by bombs (including napalm and/or phosphorus) and bullets from planes and helicopters until not a single human being remained alive. Not even a dog. Such was the enthusiasm for the sport that extra air traffic controllers had to be brought in so that as many pilots as possible could participate without fear of bumping into each other. Estimated casualties (just dead, no wounded) were in the tens of thousands. Tens of thousands.
Then there came the insane sanctions, which did absolutely nothing to slow the building of palaces for Saddam and his revolting sons (did we forget that America had earlier assisted Saddam in its war against Iran, even providing certain chemicals which were to become famous?) Extending through the Clinton years these otherwise ineffectual measures are conservatively credited with killing one million ordinary Iraqis through malnutrition and lack of basic medicines.
Perhaps one of the most heartbreaking, irrevocably America-defining utterances regarding Iraq and America's arrogance and ignorance and self-induced amnesia was not by some slippery, war-mongering Republican from Kentucky, but from educated, refined ex-Clinton Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, who when asked if the cruel and futile sanctions had been worth the deaths of 500,000 innocent Iraqi children, looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then answered in the affirmative. It is truly to weep. Adieu America! The requiem is for you too.
Armageddon the Blues
With his second, and perhaps final term (don't forget, many Americans wanted to amend the Constitution to allow dear old Ronnie a third term) George W. Bush will feel emboldened to spend his famous political 'capital' in a world growing increasingly wary, fearful, and fed up with America's growing rogue status, lack of trustworthiness, and willingness to embrace violence.
That Bush would ever even consider appointing as Attorney General Alberto Gonzales is a signal that the former's one-finger victory salute was not a joke, as tasteless as it was. To appoint as top law enforcement officer a man who considers the Geneva Conventions 'quaint' and obsolete and the strictures against torture inapplicable, the World Court without jurisdiction is unprecedented in any civilized nation anywhere. Add to that even more draconian elements to the execrably designated 'Patriot Act', and I am genuinely surprised that given the American proclivity for chattering incessantly about love of country and constitution, and bravery and freedom ('Give me freedom, or give me fries!' Freedom fries!) that the streets haven't been deluged with incandescently angry (real) patriots demanding their country back. No not demanding, taking.
Perhaps America was always just empty talk, a superpower as vacuous as some of your 'superstars', as George II, lead by the nose by crazy Likudites, crazy Christians, and just plain power-mad crazies, leads the world to the brink of Armageddon. But there is no Jesus waiting (and, thank goodness, certainly not the creepy Christ of the cretinous far Christian right), no Anti-Christ (not even the U.N.), only prolonged hell on earth for many, hamburgers and SUV's and beer for the few. And of course, Wal-Mart for everyone. George II insists we have to be for or against. Well, I'm proud to come out against. I know America is a ruthless and formidable foe, but remember, there are billions of us around the world We are angry and sickened, and perhaps have finally had enough.
Violence is not necessary (if only America would learn that) - imagine what a worldwide boycott of every single thing American would do to your economy, in fairly short order. The dollar would further erode, stock market indicies would plunge, more countries would switch to the Euro as reserve currency, foreign owned treasury bonds would be called in in the billions, the American financial system would risk collapse. Imagine that your political elite and their oozing advisors not daring to leave the country for fear of arrest for war crimes and crimes against humanity. It happened to Chile's Pinochet in great Britain, and Kissinger escaped detainment in France only by a whisker (or was it a prayer?). That America no longer recognizes Geneva Conventions and International Rules of Conduct doesn't mean that more civilized nations no longer do.
For starters, a few days ago President Bush came to my country, Canada. Were there to exist true justice, he would have been arrested the moment he stepped off Air Force One in Ottawa, and would be held on suspicion of having committed a breath-taking array of war crimes and crimes against humanity. Of course that didn't happen. Yet. But we can take some consolation in the fact that, despite being invited to address a joint session of Parliament and Senate as protocol dictates, his handlers politely declined, fearful of what his reception might be.
Now, a group of Vancouver Lawyers (L.A.W.-Lawyers Against War) has filed papers with the U.N. charging Mr. Bush with war crimes. As Mr. Bush is not Canadian, our Attorney General has eight days in which to approve the filing or reject it. It will of course be rejected. For now.
John Hatch is a writer, novelist, and film-maker living in British Columbia, Canada. His novel The Wolfe Chronicles was published in 2001. He is also a contributor to bcpolitics.ca He can be reached at johnhatch@canada.com
© John S. Hatch
Sakripisyo (Sa Bayan Ko)
ni: Tata Raul G. Funilas
Disyembre 3, 2004
Ilog ng Dupinga, Gabaldon, Nueva Ecija
Isang bangungot ang nililok
Ng mga tunggak at balakyot,
Sa lalawigang Quezon, Nueva Ecija
At ang probinsiyang Aurora;
Sa bansa kong sinisinta—
Ang Pilipinas na abang-aba.
Mga bayang Heneral Nakar, Real, Infanta,
Bulubunduking Gabaldong may ilog Dupinga
At kubling paraisong nangangasul na Dingalan.
Walang sawang pinagsamantalahan
Ang gubatang walang kamalay-malay
Ng tusong-ganid na magtutroso sa kabundukan.
Isang delubyo ang pinaalingawngaw
Ng langit. Ang sigwadang alimpuyo’y sumalimbay
Ang laksang pinaslang na talaksang kahoy
Na mahibik ang hikbi ng pagngunguyngoy,
Sa ilambo ng hangi’t ula’y gumulong-gulong;
Nanalasa’t kumitil ang rumaragasang daloy.
Nagsakripisyo ang Lumikha umungol ang taghoy,
Pumatak ang luha sa bultong-anak na nakikanlong;
Upang ibantad sa lahat ang walang pangil na batas
Ng sinalaula at binalahurang nakakalbong gubat.
Ang sigaw ng lahat: Parusahan ang kapural na palangas
Sa Malayong Silangang dinidiyos ay pilak.
© 2004 Bulatlat ■ Alipato Publications
Disyembre 3, 2004
Ilog ng Dupinga, Gabaldon, Nueva Ecija
Isang bangungot ang nililok
Ng mga tunggak at balakyot,
Sa lalawigang Quezon, Nueva Ecija
At ang probinsiyang Aurora;
Sa bansa kong sinisinta—
Ang Pilipinas na abang-aba.
Mga bayang Heneral Nakar, Real, Infanta,
Bulubunduking Gabaldong may ilog Dupinga
At kubling paraisong nangangasul na Dingalan.
Walang sawang pinagsamantalahan
Ang gubatang walang kamalay-malay
Ng tusong-ganid na magtutroso sa kabundukan.
Isang delubyo ang pinaalingawngaw
Ng langit. Ang sigwadang alimpuyo’y sumalimbay
Ang laksang pinaslang na talaksang kahoy
Na mahibik ang hikbi ng pagngunguyngoy,
Sa ilambo ng hangi’t ula’y gumulong-gulong;
Nanalasa’t kumitil ang rumaragasang daloy.
Nagsakripisyo ang Lumikha umungol ang taghoy,
Pumatak ang luha sa bultong-anak na nakikanlong;
Upang ibantad sa lahat ang walang pangil na batas
Ng sinalaula at binalahurang nakakalbong gubat.
Ang sigaw ng lahat: Parusahan ang kapural na palangas
Sa Malayong Silangang dinidiyos ay pilak.
© 2004 Bulatlat ■ Alipato Publications
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