Wednesday, September 11, 2013

5 ways to fight back against Army whistleblower PVT Manning’s 35-year sentence

herolightprojectionThe outcome of PVT Chelsea (formerly Bradley) Manning’s trial on August 21st, while better than the 60+ years the government’s prosecutors were calling for, is an outrage to the idea of American justice, and should deeply concern democracy advocates everywhere. PVT Manning’s 35-year sentence was condemned by public figures as wide ranging as Cornel West, Ron Paul, and the American Civil Liberties Union’s Speech, Privacy, and Technology Project Director Ben Wizner, who stated,
[A] legal system that doesn’t distinguish between leaks to the press in the public interest and treason against the nation will not only produce unjust results, but will deprive the public of critical information that is necessary for democratic accountability.
The truth is that the fight for PVT Manning’s freedom is far from over. In fact, there are multiple avenues for relief that could result in PVT Manning serving fewer than 10 years behind bars. Strong showings of public support will significantly improve the chances for each of these avenues to succeed. It won’t happen overnight, but with our nation’s democracy on the line, and a major precedent being set for the rights of whistleblowers everywhere, we think that continuing to organize in support of PVT Manning is the least we can do.
With that in mind, here are 5 of the most important ways you can continue to support PVT Manning right now:
1) Sign the petition AND Add your photo in support of PVT Manning’s request for presidential pardon
President Obama has already granted pardons to 39 other prisoners, and a White House spokesperson said he would give consideration to PVT Manning’s request. Showing public support for PVT Manning’s application is the best way to give her a real chance of being released in 3 years, or even sooner. Sign our petition on Whitehouse.gov, and then submit your photo with a personal message at http://pardon.bradleymanning.org
2) Write a letter to Convening Authority Major General Jeffrey S. Buchanan
Maj. Gen. Buchanan has the power to reduce PVT Manning’s sentence for the first 6 months after the trial. Convening Authorities reduce soldiers’ sentences when they believe the court martial failed to deliver justice. We think PVT Manning deserves clemency more than anyone, and we know it’s important to show it!
While our current focus is on the White House petition, that is only the beginning of our effort to demonstrate our support for military whistleblowing to the Commander in Chief. You can write to and call the White House in order to express your views in a more personal manner. You can also help by organizing a letter-writing drive with others in your community!
4) Donate to the appeals process
The legal appeals process is the most important avenue to hold the U.S. military to account for the many ways in which PVT Manning’s due process rights were violated throughout her trial, from the months of unjust and abusive solitary confinement to the utter failure to provide a speedy trial. PVT Manning’s legal defense will target appeals at all of the ways in which PVT Manning’s trial violated her rights under the U.S. Constitution and the UCMJ. Your donation can help support this crucial process.
By contributing, you’ll also be helping to uphold Americans’ right to a speedy trial, to be treated as innocent until proven guilty, and to be made fully aware of the nature of the charges against them without fear those charges may change midway through the trial.

5) Write to tell PVT Manning of your support!

Near the end of her trial, PVT Manning expressed gratitude to the countless numbers of supporters who’ve written her letters in prison. Now that the trial is over, she is looking forward to having the ability to write people back.
You can write to PVT Manning at the address below. While the outside of the envelope must be marked “Bradley Manning,” PVT Manning will be happy to accept letters that refer to her with her chosen name Chelsea on the inside.
PVT Bradley E Manning892891300 N Warehouse RdFt Leavenworth KS 66027-2304USA
ftmcnair1

On The 40th Anniversary Of The Overthrow Of The Allende Government In Chile



 
guardian.co.uk





From The Marxist Archives -In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Founding Of The Leon Trotsky-Led Fourth International

Workers Vanguard No. 946
6 November 2009
TROTSKY
LENIN
From the Archives of Marxism
150th Anniversary of Harpers Ferry Raid
Honor John Brown
On the wet, moonless night of 16 October 1859, John Brown led an armed, multiracial band in a daring raid on Harpers Ferry in what was then Virginia. His objective was to procure arms from the federal arsenal there, free slaves in the nearby area, and, like Spartacus and Toussaint L’Ouverture before him, lead his army into the mountains where they could establish a liberated area and, if need be, wage war against the accursed slave masters. On that night, John Brown struck a blow for black freedom, a blow that reverberates even now for all who struggle for that cause.
On the 150th anniversary of the Harpers Ferry raid, comrades and friends of the Spartacist League went to North Elba, New York, where Brown is buried, to pay tribute to this heroic fighter. Our comrades sang “John Brown’s Body” and the “Internationale,” and laid a wreath at his gravesite, which, in the name of the Spartacist League, declared, “Finish the Civil War! For Black Liberation Through Socialist Revolution!”
Militarily, Brown’s mission was a failure. But politically, Brown’s raid was, as one comrade stated in a speech in North Elba, a “thunderbolt” that was heard around the country, opening the road for the Civil War that smashed slavery. As black scholar W.E.B. DuBois noted, “From the day John Brown was captured to the day he died, and after, it was the South and slavery that was on trial—not John Brown.”
Brown’s heroic raid galvanized both sides for the soon-to-come Second American Revolution, the Civil War of 1861-65. His opponents vilified him as a fanatical, vindictive lunatic. One of the few to rush to Brown’s defense in the immediate aftermath of the raid was the American transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau. In a 30 October 1859 speech, Thoreau praised those in Brown’s small army as men of “principle, of rare courage, and devoted humanity,” who “alone were ready to step between the oppressor and the oppressed.” Speaking of Brown himself, Thoreau declared, “It was his peculiar doctrine that a man has a perfect right to interfere by force with the slaveholder, in order to rescue the slave. I agree with him.”
The Harpers Ferry raid, as much as any single act, helped to precipitate the irrepressible conflict between the industrializing bourgeoisie of the North and the agrarian-based mercantile slavocracy of the South. Karl Marx wrote to his comrade Friedrich Engels in January 1860, “In my view, the most momentous thing happening in the world today is the slave movement—on the one hand, in America, started by the death of Brown, and in Russia, on the other…. Thus, a ‘social’ movement has been started both in the West and in the East.” Frederick Douglass, Brown’s cohort in the radical wing of the abolitionist movement, said after the Civil War:
“If John Brown did not end the war that ended slavery, he did, at least, begin the war that ended slavery. If we look over the dates, places, and men for which this honor is claimed, we shall find that not Carolina, but Virginia, not Fort Sumter, but Harpers Ferry and the arsenal, not Major Anderson, but John Brown began the war that ended American slavery.”
It took the blood and iron of the Civil War, including the crucial role played by 200,000 black soldiers and sailors, to finally destroy American chattel slavery. But with the final undoing of Radical Reconstruction—a turbulent decade of interracial bourgeois democracy in the South, the most egalitarian experiment in U.S. history—the promise of black equality was betrayed by the Northern bourgeoisie. Racial oppression has always been and remains in the very marrow of American capitalism. It will take a third American revolution to burn this cancer out of the body politic and allow for the first time the full integration of black people into an egalitarian socialist America. As we said in Black History and the Class Struggle No. 1 (August 1983):
“We stand in the revolutionary tradition of Frederick Douglass and John Brown. To complete the unfinished democratic tasks of the Civil War, we look to the multi-racial American working class. In this period of imperialist decay, there is no longer a radical or ‘progressive’ wing of the capitalist ruling class; the whole system stands squarely counterposed to black freedom. Forward to the third American Revolution, a proletarian revolution led by a Trotskyist vanguard party with a strong black leadership component. Finish the Civil War—For black liberation in a workers’ America!”
We reprint below an appreciation of John Brown’s life by George Novack, “Homage to John Brown,” that appeared in New International (January 1938), published by the then-revolutionary Trotskyist Socialist Workers Party.

John Brown was a revolutionary terrorist. There was nothing alien or exotic about him; he was a genuine growth of the American soil. The roots of his family tree on both sides reached back among the first English settlers of Connecticut. The generations of Browns were pious Protestant pioneers, tough and upstanding, and singularly consistent in their ideas, characters, and ways of life. John Brown was the third fighter for freedom of that name in his family and was himself the parent of a fourth. His grandfather died in service as a captain in the Revolutionary war. His father was an active abolitionist, a station-master and conductor on the underground railway.
Born in 1800, the pattern of John Brown’s first fifty years reproduced the life of his father. His father has married three times and had sixteen children; John Brown married twice and had twenty children, every living soul among them pledged to hate and fight black bondage. Like his father, John, too, was “very quick on the move,” shifting around ten times in the Northeastern states before his call to Kansas. He was successively—but not very successfully—a shepherd, tanner, farmer, surveyor, cattle-expert, real estate speculator, and wool-merchant. In his restlessness, his constant change of occupation and residence, John Brown was a typical middle-class American citizen of his time.
How did this ordinary farmer and business man, this pious patriarch become transformed into a border chieftain and a revolutionary terrorist? John had inherited his family’s love of liberty and his father’s abolitionism. At an early age he had sworn eternal war against slavery. His barn at Richmond, Pennsylvania, where in 1825 he set up a tannery, the first of his commercial enterprises, was a station on the underground railway. Ten years later he was discussing plans for the establishment of a Negro school. “If once the Christians in the Free States would set to work in earnest in teaching the blacks,” he wrote his brother, “the people of the slaveholding States would find themselves constitutionally driven to set about the work of emancipation immediately.”
As the slave power tightened its grip upon the government, John Brown’s views on emancipation changed radically. “A firm believer in the divine authenticity of the Bible,” he drew his inspiration and guidance from the Old Testament rather than the New. He lost sympathy with the abolitionists of the Garrison school who advocated the Christ-like doctrine of non-resistance to force. He identified himself with the shepherd Gideon who led his band against the Midianites and slew them with his own hand.
A project for carrying the war into the enemy’s camp had long been germinating in John Brown’s mind. By establishing a stronghold in the mountains bordering Southern territory from which his men could raid the plantations, he planned to free the slaves, and run them off to Canada. On a tour to Europe in 1851 he inspected fortifications with an eye to future use; he carefully studied military tactics, especially of guerrilla warfare in mountainous territory. Notebooks on his reading are still extant.
However, his first assaults upon the slave power were to be made, not from the mountains of Maryland and West Virginia, but on the plains of Kansas. In the spring of 1855 his four eldest sons had emigrated to Kansas to settle there and help win the territory for the free-soil party. In May John Brown, Jr., sent the following urgent appeal to his father. “While the interest of despotism has secured to its cause hundreds and thousands of the meanest and most desperate of men, armed to the teeth...thoroughly organized...under pay from Slave-holders,—the friends of freedom are not one fourth of them half armed, and as to Military Organization among them it no where exists in the territory...” with the result “that the people here exhibit the most abject and cowardly spirit.... We propose...that the anti-slavery portion of the inhabitants should immediately, thoroughly arm, and organize themselves in military companies. In order to effect this, some persons must begin and lead in the matter. Here are 5 men of us who are not only anxious to fully prepare, but are thoroughly determined to fight. We can see no other way to meet the case. ‘It is no longer a question of negro slavery, but it is the enslavement of ourselves.’ We want you to get for us these arms. We need them more than we do bread....”
Having already resolved to join his children in Kansas, John Brown needed no second summons. In the next few months he collected considerable supplies of arms and sums of money from various sympathetic sources, including several cases of guns belonging to the state of Ohio, which were “spirited away” for his use. In August he set out for Kansas from Chicago in a one-horse wagon loaded with guns and ammunition.
Upon arriving in Ossawatomie, John Brown became the captain of the local militia company and led it in the bloodless “Wakarusa War.” Then he plunged into the thick of the struggle for the possession of the territory that gave it the name of “Bleeding Kansas.” In retaliation for the sacking of Lawrence by the Border Ruffians, Brown’s men, including four of his sons, slaughtered five pro-slavery sympathizers in a night raid near Pottawatomie Creek. Brown took full responsibility for these killings; he fought according to the scriptural injunction: “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
Reprisals on one side bred reprisals on the other. The settlement at Ossawatomie was pillaged and burned; Brown’s son, Frederick, killed; his forces beaten and scattered. Thereafter John Brown and his band were outlaws, living on the run, giving the slip to government troops, launching sudden raids upon the pro-slavery forces. John Brown became a power in Kansas. His name equaled “an army with banners” in the eyes of the militant Free-Soil colonists; the whisper of his presence sufficed to break up pro-slavery gatherings. He continued his guerrilla warfare throughout 1856 until Kansas was pacified by the Federal troops.
His experiences in Kansas completed the transformation of John Brown into a revolutionist. “John Brown is a natural production, born on the soil of Kansas, out of the germinating heats the great contest on the soil of that territory engendered,” wrote J.S. Pike, the Washington correspondent of the New York Tribune after the Harper’s Ferry raid. “Before the day of Kansas outrages and oppression no such person as Ossawatomie Brown existed. No such person could have existed. He was born of rapine and cruelty and murder.... Kansas deeds, Kansas experiences, Kansas discipline created John Brown as entirely and completely as the French Revolution created Napoleon Bonaparte. He is as much the fruit of Kansas as Washington was the fruit of our own Revolution.”
* * *
Between 1856 and 1858, John Brown shuttled back and forth between Kansas and the East seeking support for the struggle against the Border Ruffians. He received supplies, arms, and moral encouragement from many noted abolitionists, such as Gerrit Smith, the New York philanthropist, and numerous members of the Massachusetts State Kansas Committee, T.W. Higginson, Theodore Parker, etc. But there was no place for John Brown in the condition of armed neutrality that reigned in Kansas after 1856.
No longer needed in Kansas, John Brown reverted to his long cherished scheme of mountain warfare. To prepare for his enterprise he called a convention of his followers and free Negroes at Chatham in Canada and outlined his plans to them. One of the members of the convention reported that, after invoking the example of Spartacus, of Toussaint L’Ouverture, and other historical heroes who had fled with their followers into the mountains and there defied and defeated the expeditions of their adversaries, Brown said that “upon the first intimation of a plan formed for the liberation of the slaves, they would immediately rise all over the Southern States. He supposed they would come into the mountains to join him...and that we should be able to establish ourselves in the fastnesses, and if any hostile action (as would be) were taken against us, either by the militia of the separate states or by the armies of the United States, we purposed to defeat first the militia, and next, if it was possible, the troops of the United States, and then organize the freed blacks under the provisional constitution, which would carve out for the locality of its jurisdiction all that mountainous region in which the blacks were to be established and in which they were to be taught the useful and mechanical arts, and to be instructed in all the business of life.... The Negroes were to constitute the soldiers.”
The revolutionary spirit of the constitution adopted by the convention for this projected Free State can be judged from this preamble: “Whereas, Slavery, throughout its entire existence in the United States is none other than a most barbarous, unprovoked, and unjustifiable War of one portion of its citizens upon another portion; the only conditions of which are perpetual imprisonment, and hopeless servitude or absolute extermination; in utter disregard and violation of the eternal and self-evident truths set forth in our Declaration of Independence: Therefore, we citizens of the United States, and the oppressed people, who, by a recent decision of the Supreme Court are declared to have no rights which the White Man is bound to respect; together with all other people degraded by the laws thereof, do, for the time being, ordain and establish for ourselves the following provisional Constitution and ordinances, the better to protect our persons, property, lives, and liberties; and to govern our actions.” John Brown was elected Commander-in-Chief under this Constitution.
For all its daring, John Brown’s scheme was hopeless from every point of view and predestined to fail. Its principal flaws were pointed out beforehand by Hugh Forbes, one of his critical adherents. In the first place, “no preparatory notice having been given to the slaves...the invitation to rise might, unless they were already in a state of agitation, meet with no response, or a feeble one.” Second, even if successful such a sally “would at most be a mere local explosion...and would assuredly be suppressed.” Finally, John Brown’s dream of a Northern Convention of his New England partisans which would restore tranquility and overthrow the pro-slavery administration was “a settled fallacy. Brown’s New England friends would not have the courage to show themselves so long as the issue was doubtful.” Forbes’ predictions were fulfilled to the letter.
Convinced that “God had created him to be the deliverer of slaves the same as Moses had delivered the children of Israel,” Brown overrode these objections and proceeded to mobilize his forces. Before he could put his plan into operation, however, he was compelled to return to Kansas for the last time, where, under the nom de guerre of Shubel Morgan, he led a raid upon some plantations across the Missouri border, killing a planter and setting eleven slaves at liberty. Both the Governor of Kansas and the President of the United States offered rewards for his arrest. With a price of $3,000 on his head, John Brown fled to Canada with the freedmen.
Early in the summer of 1859 a farm was rented about five miles from Harper’s Ferry. There John Brown collected his men and prepared for his coup. On the night of October 16 they descended upon Harper’s Ferry; took possession of the United States armories; imprisoned a number of the inhabitants; and persuaded a few slaves to join them. By noon militia companies arrived from nearby Charlestown and blocked his only road to escape. The next night a company of United States marines commanded by Col. Robert E. Lee appeared, and, at dawn, when Brown refused to surrender, stormed the engine-house in which Brown, his surviving men, and his prisoners were barricaded. Fighting with matchless coolness and courage over the body of his dying son, he was overpowered and arrested.
Ten men had been killed or mortally wounded, among them two of Brown’s own sons, and eleven captured in the assault.
The reporter of the New York Herald describes the scene during his cross-examination: “In the midst of enemies, whose home he had invaded; wounded, a prisoner, surrounded by a small army of officials, and a more desperate army of angry men; with the gallows staring him full in the face, he lay on the floor, and, in reply to every question, gave answers that betokened the spirit that animated him.” John Brown steadfastly insisted that a single purpose was behind all his actions: to free the Negroes, “the greatest service a man can render to God.” A bystander interrogated: “Do you consider yourself an instrument in the hands of Providence?”—“I do.”—“Upon what principle do you justify your acts?”—“Upon the golden rule. I pity the poor in bondage that have none to help them; that is why I am here; not to gratify my personal animosity, revenge, or vindictive spirit. It is my sympathy with the oppressed and the wronged, that are as good as you and as precious in the sight of God.”
Indicted for “treason to the Commonwealth” and “conspiring with slaves to commit treason and murder,” John Brown was promptly tried by a state court and sentenced to death.
During his stay in prison John Brown rose to the most heroic heights. His dignified bearing, his kindliness won his jailors, his captors, and his judges. His letters from the prison where he awaited execution were imbued with the same resolute determination and calm, conscious acceptance of his sacrifice in the cause of freedom, as the letters of Bartholomeo Vanzetti, his fellow revolutionist. To friends who contemplated his rescue, he answered: “I am worth infinitely more to die than to live.” To another he wrote: “I do not feel conscious of guilt in taking up arms; and had it been in behalf of the rich and powerful, the intelligent, the great—as men count greatness—of those who form enactments to suit themselves and corrupt others, or some of their friends, that I interfered, suffered, sacrificed and fell, it would have been doing very well.... These light afflictions which endure for a moment shall work out for me a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.... God will surely attend to his own cause in the best possible way and time, and he will not forget the work of his own hands.”
On December 2, 1859, a month after his sentence, fifteen hundred soldiers escorted John Brown to the scaffold in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains which had for so many years held out to him the promise of freedom for the slaves. With a single blow of the sheriff’s hatchet, he “hung between heaven and earth,” the first American executed for treason. The silence was shattered by the speech of the commander in charge. “So perish all such enemies of Virginia! All such enemies of the Union. All such foes of the human race!”
* * *
“Let those...who have reproaches to heap upon the authors of the Harper’s Ferry bloody tumult and general Southern fright, go back to the true cause of it all. Let them not blame blind and inevitable instruments in the work, nor falsely malign those who are in nowise implicated, directly or indirectly; but let them patiently investigate the true source whence this demonstration arose, and then bestow their curses and anathemas accordingly. It is childish and absurd for Governor Wise to seize and sit astride the wounded panting body of Old Brown, and think he has got the villain who set this mischief on foot. By no means. The head conspirators against the peace of Virginia are ex-President Franklin Pierce and Senator Douglas. These are the parties he should apprehend, confine, and try for causing this insurrection. Next to them he should seize upon Senators Mason and Hunter of Virginia, as accessories. Let him follow up by apprehending every supporter of the Nebraska Bill, and when he shall have brought them all to condign punishment, he will have discharged his duty, but not till then....
“Old Brown is simply a spark of a great fire kindled by shortsighted mortals.... There is no just responsibility resting anywhere, no just attribution of causes anywhere, for this violent attempt that does not fall directly upon the South itself. It has deliberately challenged and wantonly provoked the elements that have concentred and exploded.” So wrote the same journalist whose characterization of John Brown we have already quoted.
Little needs to be added to this historical judgment made in the midst of the events. The Compromisers who attempted to fasten slavery forever upon the American people against their will, and the representatives of slaveholders who prompted them were, in the last analysis, responsible for the raid upon Harper’s Ferry.
John Brown expected the shock of his assault to electrify the slaves and frighten the slaveholders into freeing their chattels. His experiment in emancipation ended in complete catastrophe. Instead of weakening slavery, his raid temporarily fortified the pro-slavery forces by consolidating their ranks, intensifying their repression, and stiffening their resistance.
John Brown was misled by the apparent effectiveness of his terrorist activities in Kansas. He did not understand that there his raids and reprisals were an integral part of the open struggle of the Free-Soil settlers against the invasion of the slaveholder’s Hessians, and were accessory and subordinate factors in deciding that protracted contest. That violence alone was impotent to determine its outcome was demonstrated by the failure of the Border Ruffians to impose slavery upon the territory.
John Brown’s attempt to impose emancipation upon the South by an exclusive reliance upon terrorist methods met with equal failure. Other ways and means were necessary to release, amplify, and control the revolutionary forces capable of overthrowing the slave power and abolishing slavery.
Yet John Brown’s raid was not wholly reactionary in its effects. His blow against slavery reverberated throughout the land and inspired those who were to follow him. The news of his bold deed rang like a fire-bell in the night, arousing the nation and setting its nerves on edge. Through John Brown the coming civil war entered into the nerves of the people many months before it was exhibited in their ideas and actions.
The South took alarm. The “acts of the assassin” confirmed their fears of slave-insurrection provoked by the Northern abolitionists and Black Republicans. Brown’s personal connections with many prominent abolitionists were undeniable, and their disclaimers of connivance and their disapprobation of his actions did not make them any less guilty in the slaveowner’s eyes, but only more cowardly and hypocritical. The slaveholders were convinced that their enemies were now taking the offensive in a direct armed attack upon their lives, their homes, their property. “The conviction became common in the South,” says Frederic Bancroft, the biographer of Seward, “that John Brown differed from the majority of the Northerners merely in the boldness and desperateness of his methods.”
The majority of official opinion in the North condemned John Brown’s “criminal enterprise” and justified his execution. Big Unionist meetings exploited the incident for the benefit of the Democratic Party. The Richmond Enquirer of October 25, 1859, noted with satisfaction that the conservative pro-slavery press of the North “evinces a determination to make the moral of the Harper’s invasion an effective weapon to rally all men not fanatics against the party whose leaders have been implicated directly with the midnight murder of Virginia citizens and the destruction of government property.” The Republican leaders, a little less directly but no less decisively, hastened to denounce the deed and throw holy water over the execution. Said Lincoln: “We cannot object to the execution,” and Seward echoed, “it was necessary and just.”
But many thousands rallied to John Brown’s side, hailing him as a martyr in the cause of emancipation. The radical abolitionists spoke up most boldly in his behalf and most correctly assayed the significance of his life and death. At John Brown’s funeral service, Wendell Phillips spoke these words: “Marvelous old man!... He has abolished slavery in Virginia.... True, the slave is still there. So, when the tempest uproots a pine on your hills, it looks green for months—a year or two. Still, it is timber, not a tree. John Brown has loosened the roots of the slave system; it only breathes—it does not live—hereafter.” Longfellow wrote in his diary on the day of the hanging: “This will be a great day in our history; the date of a new Revolution—quite as much needed as the old one. Even now as I write, they are leading old John Brown to execution in Virginia for attempting to rescue slaves! This is sowing the wind to reap the whirlwind, which will come soon.”
Finally, Frank P. Stearns, a Boston merchant who had contributed generously to John Brown’s Kansas campaign, declared before the Senatorial Investigating Committee: “I should have disapproved of it [the raid] if I had known of it; but I have since changed my opinion; I believe John Brown to be the representative man of the century, as Washington was of the last—the Harper’s Ferry affair, and the capacity shown by the Italians for self-government, the great events of this age. One will free Europe and the other America.”
On his way to the scaffold John Brown handed this last testament to a friend. “I John Brown am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land: will never be purged away; but with blood. I had as I now think: vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed: it might be done.” His prophetic previsions were soon to be realized.
A year and a half after his execution, John Brown’s revolutionary spirit was resurrected in the Massachusetts volunteers, who marched through the streets of Boston, singing the battle hymn that four of them had just improvised: “John Brown’s body.” Their movements were open and legal; John Brown’s actions had been hidden and treasonable. Yet the marching men proudly acknowledged their communion with him, as they left for Virginia.
There the recent defenders of the Union had become disrupters of the Union; the punishers of treason themselves traitors; the hangmen of rebels themselves in open rebellion. John Brown’s captor, Robert E. Lee, had already joined the Confederate army he was to command. Ex-Governor Wise, who had authorized Brown’s hanging, was conspiring, like him, to seize Harper’s Ferry arsenal, and, as a crowning irony, exhorted his neighbors at Richmond to emulate John Brown. “Take a lesson from John Brown, manufacture your blades from old iron, even though it be the ties of your cart-wheels.”
Thus the opposing forces in the historical process, that John Brown called God, each in their own way, paid homage to the father of the Second American Revolution.
 

Songs To While The Time By- The Roots Is The Toots-"I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground” by Bascom Lamar Lunsford
 
 
Over the past several years I have been running an occasional series in this space of songs, mainly political protest songs, you know The Internationale, Union Maid, Which Side Are  You, Viva La Quince Brigada, Univeral Soldier, and the such entitled Songs To While The Class Struggle By. This series which could include some protest songs as well is centered on roots music as it has come down the ages and formed the core of the American songbook. You will find the odd, the eccentric, the forebears of later musical trends, and the just plain amusing here. Listen up-Peter Paul Markin       
 
 

 

63 “I Wish I Was A Mole In The Ground” by Bascom Lamar Lunsford

9
April 22, 2012 by gadaya


Another classic Anthology song, in probably its best interpretation. Bascom Lamar Lunsford recorded the song many times during his career and it was a widespread tune in the south, sharing its simple melody with many other songs (New River Train, More pretty girls than one, Lay down my old guitar…) It was sung by many during the folk revival and is still popular today. Many sing it with the 5-string banjo played in the clawhammer style (Lunsford picked it in a index -lead picking style) and the pace varies from one version to another.
LYRICS:
I wish I was a mole in the ground.
Yes, I wish I was a mole in the ground.
‘F I’se a mole in the ground, I’d root that mountain down,
And I wish I was a mole in the ground.
 
Oh, Kimpy wants a nine-dollar shawl.
Yes, Kimpy wants a nine-dollar shawl.
When I come o’er the hill with a forty-dollar bill,
‘Tis, “Baby, where you been so long?”
I been in the Bend so long.
Yes, I been in the Bend so long.
I been in the Bend with the rough and rowdy men.
‘Tis, “Baby, where you been so long?”
 
I don’t like a railroad man.
No, I don’t like a railroad man.
‘Cause a railroad man, they’ll kill you when he can,
And drink up your blood like wine.
 

Oh, I wish I was a lizard in the spring.
Yes, I wish I was a lizard in the spring.
‘F I’se a lizard in the spring, I’d hear my darlin’ sing,
An’ I wish I was a lizard in the spring.
Come, Kimpy, let your hair roll down.
Kimpy let your hair roll down.
Let your hair roll down and your bangs curl around.
Oh, Kimpy, let your hair roll down.
 
I wish I was a mole in the ground.
Yes, I wish I was a mole in the ground.
‘F I’se a mole in the ground, I’d root that mountain down,
An’I wish I was a mole in the ground.


Some of the best reading I’ve found on the Anthology is in Robert Cantwell’s book/essay about the Folk Revival ”When Were Good ». In his chapter on Harry Smith’s Anthology, here are some pages devoted to Lunsford’s “Mole in the Ground “:

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

***FromThe Archives -Notes Of A Street Corner Agitator- In Six-Part Harmony


Markin comment:
I have spent the better portion of my life fighting for one progressive cause or another, sometimes one issue, sometimes several issues in tandem. Mainly those fights have been with small crowds about, but not always. The always part is that throughout it all I have been ready, mostly ready anyway, to get up on the street corner soapbox, literally or figuratively as the case called for, and shout out, shout out until I was hoarse at times, the glad tidings of the new more equitable society a-bornin’. The following sketches are representative of those efforts although, except for the last sketch, they are not the actual words used but reflect the moments with a certain literary and political license.
*******
At the Parkman Bandstand on the Tremont Street side of the Boston Common or anyplace in between that location and the Park Street subway station on any one of several early weekday evenings in the summer of 1961. In those days time and space was reserved for anyone to speak from the ever present soapbox (literally a sturdy wooden box that one stood on to be hear above the crowd although the box used may, or may not, have started out life as a container for soap) about any subject that came to mind. Said speeches were, as now, directed to a small lingering audience and a larger indifference (or, occasionally hostile) audience glancing by as they quickly headed home, or went about their shopping business.

As we hone in on the scene the previous speaker, an elderly lady, small, very dignified, very well dressed, and very morally correct, had just finished up her remark sweetly railing against the proliferation of nuclear weapons in the name of her grandchildren’s future. The next speaker, a ragamuffin of a boy of fifteen, me, Peter Paul Markin, red-faced, Irish red-faced from over- exposure at the Adamsville Beach gotten a few days before, was ready to speak. His hands were sweaty, his bedraggled odd-ball Bargain Center purple shirt was wet with the summer humidity moisture that usually kept him indoors on such days, his pants, his de rigueur black chinos without cuffs were clinging to his off-shaped body as he leaped forward to the unknown on his maiden public speech on any subject. He starts a little timidly, weakly, and lowly and is asked to speak up by the few people who have stopped by that moment to listen up to what a mere boy had to say about anything:

“There is an evil in America, a terrible wrong going on right this minute down South, down in places like Alabama and Mississippi and we have to do something about it right now. Most of you have read the news, the news that kids, kids, just like me, except they are black are going up against the police so they do not have to be treated as second-class citizens, or really just to get out of slavery days. And older people too, people who work like slaves on the farms for no money, who can’t vote, can’t pay the money to vote, and can’t get out from under the racists who control their lives. They are fighting too, fighting as best they can under the great leadership of Doctor Martin Luther King who seems to know what he is doing. [From a passer-by: “Nigger-lover, go back to Africa with them, for chrissakes”]. No, no that man has it all wrong we were all born here and this is where the fight is. But you can see what we are up against and not just down South but here on the Common and over in my own hometown, North Adamsville.

Let me continue, although I am a little rattled by what that guy said. See he doesn’t know we are really fighting for him too. What I was trying to say was that we can do something here, here right now. You might have heard last winter that a bunch of college students down in North Carolina, a bunch of black kids and a few white ones too, tried to go eat lunch at Woolworth’s, a place just like the one over on Washington Street. A place where you probably have gone to eat just like me and had one of their great grilled cheese sandwiches, or something. Shouldn’t people be able to do that without being bothered? I want you to help us out by standing with us and do not eat at Woolworths’s okay. [Another voice, this time from the edge of the audience- “Commie, go back to Russia and take your kind with you.”] No, I ain’t no commie, no way, but you don’t have to be a commie to see that it just isn’t right that people can’t eat where they want, or go to school where want or vote just like us.

Let me finish up though so the next speaker can get his turn. What we really need to do is write to our beloved president, our own beloved Irish Jack Kennedy, who last fall when he was running for President I roamed the streets of North Adamsville for putting his literature in doorways and stuff, and tell him to sent his Justice Department people, his brother Bobby, down to Mississippi right now and straighten things out. Straighten things out so that Negros can have the same kind of dreams as he talked about in his inauguration speech in January. Will you do that? Thanks. [Sight applause and a few yeses] “

As I turned to get off the platform to give time to the next speaker from the back of the audience I heard a distinct voice, distinct black southern voice say in a low tone, “Praise be, brother, praise be.”
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I have put on my “soapbox” street corner agitation in many corners of this country since that first day going over the summer heated North Adamsville Bridge to Boston and my first Common speech in the summer of 1961. Just now on this May Day 1971 I am standing this Monday morning, wearily standing after very little sleep this past weekend, near the Washington Monument Mall haranguing a crowd of anti-Vietnam War protestors to keep pushing on although we have suffered a grievous defeat this day, a day when we had proclaimed with much bravado that if the government (the Nixon government just then) did not close down the war then we would close down the government. All we have received for our efforts is tears, tear-gas, and massive arrests after being picked off like fleas by the massive police and military presence and not even a close approximation of shutting down this evil government. But tomorrow, literally tomorrow, is another day, and the anti-warriors need some assurance that their efforts will be more fruitful the next day, and the next day, and next until we meet our goal. End that damn war, and end it fast.

I, Peter Paul Markin, this day only a few months out of an army stockade for my military service anti-war work, am again “courting” arrest on the streets of Washington. It is hot in Washington this day, made hotter by the constant running to avoid the cop traps that seem to be everywhere but I made it to the Mall which is something of a “safe haven” from the madness of the tear-gassed streets and baton-wielding cops. Appearance and attire: youth nation de rigueur army jacket (no, not the GI issue one that I was discharged from the service with but a “real” World War II Army-Navy Store purchase, two dollar purchase), bell-bottomed jeans, army boots (boots that I did leave said service with), a flannel shirt against cold nights, and a trusty green knapsack (not Army issue) with all my
possessions. Hair getting longer uncut from Army times and the wisp of a beard growing to manly length, slowly. My mother’s comment: “You dressed better, much better when you were in high school.” Ya Ma, but now it is cool to be unkempt-don’t you get it. But enough let’s listen to this harangue of the maybe hundred plus crowd seeking verbal shelter from the storm:

“Although I was in the military I do not know much about military strategy and tactics since I spent most of my time fighting against the war-machine including time in the stockade. [Audience; light applause] I do know this though we have suffered a defeat, a military-like defeat today in trying to shut down this evil government, this evil Nixon government which has no legitimacy, none at all and wouldn’t even be here if Bobby Kennedy was alive [Audience: a couple of deep boos] Don’t worry out there I am not going to go on about that. We have more pressing business. We still have to shut this evil government down. We have to stand with the heroic struggles of the Vietnamese people who are today, and every day, facing much more than tear-gas, much more than unlawful assembly arrest, facing everything that the American military monster can throw against them, and maybe more that we don’t even know about. Like that Agent-Orange stuff that we keep hearing about that is destroying everything in sight for years in a country that depends on agriculture. [Audience: Right on, brother].

When we take that kind of beating then we will be able to complain, complain a little, but not until then. [Right on!]. Now I know a lot of people have been talking about leaving D.C. because of what happened today but we said yesterday, a lot of us said we were in this for the long haul, right? [Yes, brother from a few voices] Hey I am afraid too. I don’t want to go back to jail, hell no, but if that is my fate then so be it. Like Che said we have to fight here “in the belly of the beast,” and we have to fight proudly since the fate of the earth depends on it. [“Viva, Che!” from several voices]. Now maybe not everybody can be a street fighter, I know that, but stay and support our efforts okay. Steve Sloan will now come up and tell us about tomorrow’s actions. Down with American imperialism! Down with the American war-machine! Long live the people’s struggles!”
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A warm California October 1981 day, a warm San Francisco day, not always the same thing despite the travel brochures, as I walk up to the small, jerry-rigged “podium” in a corner of City Hall Plaza to make my one hundred and first, or so it seems speech against the unfolding Reagan “doctrine” in Central America, primarily to blast the Soviet-aided Sandinista government to smithereens (and, incidentally the same to the pesky Salvadoran rebels). Overtly, or covertly, blast to smithereens it does not seem to matter to this rabidly anti-communist cabal who have nightmare visions of Cuba 1959 redux.
I am showing just the slightest sights of age, or rather of losing a certain youthful innocence about our capacity, our left-wing capacity, to build a more equitable society in my lifetime and so my demeanor is a little less the “shout to the rafters” jubilee certainty of ten years ago or so. Showing the age part does enter a little though but the few flecks of grey showing up unwanted in my beard, and in my now shortened hair, shortened against the work-a-day world, the nine-to-five grind that requires certain personal compromises. I still retain, fiercely retain, my working-class casual garb; denim jacket, black chino pants worn since de rigueur high school days, busted-blue work shirt (to show I am one with the companeros perhaps), and stolid black shoes better for walking these protest miles these days than the old Chuck Taylor's of old. Let’s listen up as the last speaker, a very eloquent young women speaking on behalf of the emerging sanctuary movement, a movement responding to the very real fears of some illegal political immigrants from all over Central and South America to be deported back to the “black hole” that awaits them if they have to go back, walks back to her chair:

“Hola, Que Tal, Hermanos and Hermanas, Hello, What’s Up, Brothers and Sisters, there is a madness in the land, in this Norte American land and it has a name. Ronald Reagan. And it has an address. Washington, D.C. And the madness? These cowboys, and you who lived here in California in the 1960s under the cowboy-in-chief know this better than I do, are hell-bent on turning back the clock on any social progress here, or anywhere. And just this minute that anywhere is Central America where we have just gained a victory, a tenuous victory against reaction in Nicaragua, and we are fighting like hell to get one in El Salvador. Long live the Sandinista struggle! Long live the FMLN! [Cheers and chanting of those two slogans]

But as long as American imperialism exists, as long as the greatest military machine in history exists, those steps forward are always in danger. And that is why the help that the Soviet Union is providing, and in my opinion not providing enough of, is important. I have my differences with the Soviets, no question, but on this one they are right, right as rain. [A couple of boos and a “Down with Soviet imperialism” are heard.] To keep the American monster from bringing back the banana republic days, the Somoza dictatorship days.

And that is why we need to keep clear who are friends are here in this proxy war, this proxy Cold War just like in Angola a while back. That is why we must call for stepped up Soviet aid and that is why we here in the “belly of the beast,” as Che used to say, need to take concrete steps to help by providing funds for the Sandinista cause. Their struggle is our struggle. If they lose, we lose. It is that simple. Long live the national liberation struggles. Fight for a Workers Republic in Nicaragua!”
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A christ cold day in January, an early January christ cold Park Street subway station on Boston Common 1991 day, the sun going down over the John Hancock building making it even more christ cold as we make a last ditch effort to stop the impending American imperial army (and so-called coalition forces but you know who is running the show) invasion of Iraq over “poor little Kuwait,” jesus. The few hundred people present are forming a circle, a circle of life according to those who insist on such antics, which I assume was meant to ward off the evil spirits and bring peace. Me, I prefer, greatly prefer some labor action, some longshoremen refusing to ship military goods but that is music for the future, maybe. What is not music for the future, and really music from the past, a certain then growing pains past, is that circles, squares, hexagons or whatever geometric shape you are now touting are now replacing the urgency of hard anti-imperialist actions against the American war machine. It is as if this “peace” movement has regressed to those 1961 days when I stood on this very ground and held hands with my line neighbor and spoke of “soft” peace in the world. But that was just youthful ignorance on my part. This christ cold night studied ignorance rules.

Those flecks of grey in beard and hair of ten years ago have marched on, marched on in triumph, although the garments are no longer aged (except of course those chinos, oops, Dockers now, a little larger, a little more room) as I take my turn “in the circle” to have my say after the last dozen speakers have cried to the heavens for peace, like that mantra would solve everything. Listen up to this crowd-pleaser:

“Nobody here should have anything but contempt for Saddam Hussein and what he has done in Kuwait. Let me make that clear, especially clear, since old Saddam used to be American imperialism’s “boy” back in the day when we all loved him, well almost all, okay. Now he is the devil incarnate since his has turned rogue and fouled up the American government’s cozy deals in the oil-rich Middle East.

But this impending war is not about Saddam or what he did or didn’t do to upset the apple cart in the “new world order” that Bush want to put in place. This is about the exercise of American military power, the vaunted war death machine and about American hubris. Now most of the previous speakers, in fact maybe all of them, have chimed in on the need for peace. And, of course, we all want peace, even George H.W. Bush, except his is the peace of the graveyard for the Iraqi people. So here in an America, here in what the great Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara called the “belly of the beast” have a special obligation to oppose the actions of this government. We are duty-bound to defend Iraq against American attack, no question. No question at all. Otherwise we cannot build an anti-war, anti-imperialist movement worthy of the name. The struggle starts here against this government. Down with American imperialism! Defend Iraq Against American Attack!” [Silence, utter silence]
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A late September 2001 Boston day, a day before the leaves begin to turn, before the whitened winter sets in but some time after the hellish 9/11 has fully taken its tool on whatever is left of American democracy. A small clot of anti-imperialist fighters is meeting this day in the courtyard quadrangle at Northeastern University to ward off the impending invasion of Afghanistan in the aftermath of 9/11 and the search for scapegoats, Taliban/Al Qaeda scapegoats. Meeting at the traditional site of protest in Boston, the Common, is out of the question just now with the fury over the World Trade Center still not abated, no even close. Even this spot, this campus location, is shaky, very shaky, as all thoughts of anti-war, anti-imperialism by students and others have gone out the door. Revenge, revenge is the order of the day for all but this clot, this very small clot of activists standing with me.

Although, perhaps, on this occasion it does not matter, in the interest of literary completeness, the writer’s hair and beard are now completely grey and his garb not significantly different from that of ten years ago. What is different, significantly different from ten years ago is that, for one of the few times in his political career, he is afraid, afraid that he will be pummeled for what he has to say in this deeply hostile post 9/11 environment. That every “commie,” “go back to Russia,” get a job,” “Traitor,” remark of the past pales in the anger he can sense and not just from the usual yahoo sources but from “soccer moms” and others who think about politics about once every ten years. Cup your ear and listen up, listen up hard, because he has a catch in his voice this day:

“No one, not one self-respecting human on this planet can do anything but condemn, condemn in no uncertain terms, the criminal acts that took place in New York at the World Trade Center. That should be clear to all the few who hear me today. But there are larger questions posed, posed long ago by the American imperial state when their government decided, decided consciously to rip up and rule this planet for the few. None here, who were old enough, did anything but condemn the American invasion of Iraq in 1991, and the continuing imperialist-driven economic and military sanctions against that state.

Now we are here confronting another American imperial adventure, the revenge invasion of Afghanistan for the acts of the Taliban and Al Qaeda. Organizations that we have no truck with, no truck at all. Over the years I have, and others whom I have worked with have, very easily condemned every act of American imperialist from Vietnam to Serbia, and done so forthrightly. On Afghanistan, and the military invasion this time, we have lost some of those former supporters. Revenge for innocent victims, even by an imperial monster, is hard to resist. But it must be said now if it to be said at all. Down with American imperialism! Hands Off Afghanistan!

To finish up. I have, over the years fought for many unpopular causes, from black civil rights down South facing off against hardened racists, to being called a “communist dupe (and worst)” for the whole range of anti-imperialist actions from Vietnam to Serbia. And I have done so, mainly, out on the streets of this country. Today though I am afraid, afraid for the first time in my long political career, to be out on these protest streets. Not of the hardened racists, not of the know-nothing red-baiters, but of ordinary citizens, friends, neighbors, and in some cases long-time political associates who look at me with hatred or distain. For the first time I thought about taking a political dive on this question of the American invasion of Afghanistan. No, no can do. Down with American imperialism, wherever it rears its ugly head. [Slight applause.]
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A fairly warm, fairly warm for mid-December 2011 Boston day turning into night at 4:00 PM standing once again somewhere between the Boston City Hall (now replete with huge circus tent for the latest carnival attraction, Peter Pan) and the John F. Kennedy Federal Building, named ironically, ironically for probably the first big time political figure that I could get my head around back in the day. Today, like many days past since youth I am standing here in opposition to some vile act that so-called “friends of the people” Democrats have done. Here the recent police occupation of the Occupy Boston space at Dewey Square in the name of, in the name of what, order I guess, their order. But I am also here to pass the torch, the torch of a revitalized labor movement that is beginning to stir with this day’s actions out in the West Coast of activists trying to shut down the ports. That is the glad tiding I bring today.

Of course the world has moved on since 2001. Now the populace, in a general and vague way, has repudiated the war in Afghanistan, although no the revenge motive that drove that original support. Economic strife rules the land and a new generation, or the best parts of it, are beginning to stake their claims in the political struggle through the
Occupy movement. A movement that exploded onto the political scene with the advent of Occupy Wall Street in mid-September.

Of course also, as I never tire of saying of late, each new generation must find its own forms of struggle, its own forms of organization, and its own voice. This Occupy movement, unlike other earlier ones, does not depend on trusty bullhorns to get the message out but the “people’s mic” and the very present “mic check” when one wants to speak to the general audience. This form centers on a loud voice and refrain from the crowd to get the speaker’s message to the outer fringes of the audience. Today I prefer the proffered “old-fashioned” bullhorn but after some fumbling I can see the benefits of the “new way” a little better for future reference. Here goes. Oh, just for the record the hair and beard are whiter, much whiter now. And the garb is replete with a pair of New Balance running shoes for easier walking since my knee operation. Farewell, Chuck Taylor’s, sandals and soft shoes. But listen up:

“I will read from prepared notes. Let me explain why. In the old days, my old street corner agitator days, I could whip up a speech off the top of my head. But of late, before the fresh breeze of the Occupy movement blew across the Boston waterfront, I was more used to sitting at tables in small, over-heated rooms. Or participating in small marches, rallies, and vigils where such oratorical skills were not in much demand. But let me get to my main point.

Sisters and brothers, brothers and sisters, no question, no question at all that the recent police occupation at Dewey Square was a big defeat, a big if temporary defeat, for our struggle for freedom of expression and assembly in the public square. In response, over the past few days not a few younger or newer activists, not used to the ebb and flow of the political struggle, the class struggle, have been disheartened and expressed a sense of defeat.

Today though I bring you glad tidings. The sleeping giant of the labor movement has begun to stir. The long night of despair and disorientation is beginning to lift. At the beginning of this year when the struggle of the public workers unions in Wisconsin heated up I, among others, proposed a general strike and solidarity rallies in order to beat back the anti-labor attacks. We were written off as mad men and women, old-time leftists gone off their rockers. General strike, shut down, no, that was okay for those Greek workers who seemed to strike every other day, or those French workers who struck every day. In America, never. And then came the mass actions in Wisconsin, the shut down of the Port Of Oakland on November 2nd, and today’s actions. Now we can quibble over whether such events are real general strikes or not but now the language of general strike and shutdown is firmly etched on labor’s political agenda.

The old Polish socialist scholar, Isaac Deutscher, once remarked back in the 1960s heyday of the anti-Vietnam War movement that he would give up all the endless marches, rallies and vigils for one dock strike against the war. He was right. We have to hit the war-mongers, the capitalists where it hurts-their profits and power. And today’s West Coast actions are proof of that proposition. If the age of the Occupy encampment has passed so too has the age of endless marches, rallies and vigils. They certainly have their place but now we must take the offensive. Now every action must be thought out to measure the effect on breaking the power of the one percent.

I had, several weeks ago, proposed to various people that we shut down the Port of Boston today in solidarity with the West Coast. That proposal was premature considering the situation in the Boston movement. But someday, someday soon, we too will be marching to shut down the port. To shut down GE in Lynn. To shut down the Bank of America. To shut down this government. And maybe not to just shut them down for a day either. I will leave you with this thought. We created the wealth-let’s take it back. Working people and their allies must rule!”