Protest Bradley’s 1,000th day in prison!

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On February 23, 2013, the Bradley Manning Support Network is asking supporters to take action internationally in protest of Bradley’s 1,000 day imprisoned without trial. Enough is enough. Bradley has been denied his right to a speedy trial. Please register events here, and contact emma@bradleymanning.org for help organizing in your area.

Soldiers have the right to a speedy trial under the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the Constitution. Judge Lind will rule on whether to dismiss charges against Bradley after he has been imprisoned 1,000 days without trial.

For following his conscience and standing up for Americans’ right to know what our government is doing with our tax dollars, young whistle-blower Bradley Manning has spent three birthdays in prison. His excellent legal defense continues to fight hard against a government prosecution that hinders access to important evidence at every turn.
In addition to aggressively persecuting Bradley with the Espionage Act and an egregious “aiding the enemy” charge, the military subjected him to unlawful pretrial punishment and hasdenied him his Constitutionally mandated right to a speedy trial. Bradley’s pretrial treatment has been wholly un-American. It’s up to us as fellow citizens to see that our Constitutional rights are upheld and to ensure that the military isn’t given a free pass for their mistreatment of Bradley.
Join us on Saturday, February 23, in protesting Bradley’s 1,000th day in prison. We welcome protests at military recruiting centers and other locations of high visibility, as well as teach-ins at community centers in preparation for larger protests during the court martial.
Find events in your area, and/or register your own!
Reach out to Campaign Organizer Emma Cape for handouts, posters, tips on working with the media, and other event support. Please e-mail emma@bradleymanning.org if you want to organize an event. We will help!

***On The 100thAnniversary Of The Publication OfMarcel Proust’s “In Search Of Lost Time”- In Search Of Lost Time- For Diana N., Class Of 1964

Peter Paul Markin comment:

Marcel Proust, from many accounts, was not above making some kind of sketch out of some happenstance event, occurrence, or just something that he picked up and interested him. In that same sense sketch from a while back the following flows forth…

Peter Paul Markin, Class Of 1964 (2010), comment:

....with apologies to the great early 20th century modernist French writer Marcel Proust whose most famous (and massive) work I am stealing the title from in my headline. Apparently I will steal any literary tidbit, from any source and from any time, just to round out an entry in this space. I had also better explain, before some besotted, hare-brained, pencil at the ever ready, school of novel deconstruction devotee, probably tragically childhood’d, post-modern literary-type jumps on me I know, and I know damn well, that an alternative translation for the title of Proust's six volume work is Remembrances Of Things Past. But isn't this In Search Of Lost Time a better title for the needs of this space? In any case I promise not to go on and on about French pastry at teatime (which, by the way, brother Proust did do, for about sixty pages in the volume Swann’s Way, so there is the trade-off. Okay?).

*********

As I, clumsily, pick up, or try to pick up some precious dirt to rub between my fingers from the oval in front of the old high school, on this bedraggled, prickly frigid, knife-like wind-gusting in my face, not fit for man nor beast, kind of a winter’s day as the shortly-setting sun begins its descent into night, I really do wonder what demons, what cast-out-of-the-inner-sanctums-of-hell demons, have driven me here, here to this worn-out patch of an oval, after so many years of statutory neglect. Moreover, picking up dirt from an oval that I have not walked on, much less picked up gravel from, in over forty-five years, although I have logged many a mile around a larger version (I believe) of this oval either practicing during track or cross country season, or, and this may jog reader memory, running the 600 yard dash as part of the old time President’s National Physical Fitness Test. Yes, I thought mention of that event might bring ring a bell, a bell of anguish for some, as they puffed and chortled their way to the finish line in their tennis shoes, or whatever knee-busting sneakers we wore in those days, in order to be cool. Hey, just like today.

In any case, here I stand, and now you know, or have a pretty good idea where I am. What you do not know, at least do not know yet, is that I am not here, rubbing some funky old town dirt through my fingers on a cold winter’s day just for the joy of it. For raider red oneness, either. Or some such old man’s quirks. Rather, I am here, and you can start calling 911 right now if you like, to evoke, evoke mind you so there is no fooling around about it, the spirit, the long past spirit of days gone by at the high school. The spirit of the time of my time. Probably not since old Tommy Wollaston went looking for a suitable site for his maypole debaucheries, and stumbled on Merrymount has this town seen such a land grab, in a manner of speaking. See, what I am thinking is that some dirt-rubbing, a little kabala-like, or druid-like, or keltic-like, or Navajo-like, or something-like, dirt-rubbing will give me a jump start on this “voyage”.

I will confess to this much , as this seemingly is a confessional age, or, maybe just as a vestige of that hard-crusted, family history-rooted, novena-saying, stations of the cross walking, ceremonial high mass incense-driven, mortal sin-fearing, you’ll get your reward in the next life so don’t expect it here, buster, fatalistic Catholic upbringing long abandoned but etched in, no, embedded in, some far recesses of memory that my returning to North Adamsville High School did not just occur by happenstance. A couple of years before my mother, Doris Margaret Markin (nee Bradley) NA HS Class of 1943, passed away.

For a good part of her life my mother lived in locations a mere stone's throw from the school. You could, for example, see the back of the school from my grandparents' house on Young Street. As part of the grieving process, I suppose, I felt a need to come back to North Adamsville. To my, and her, roots. In part, at least, for the feel of roots, but also to figure out, or try to figure out for the 584th time, what went wrong in our old, broken down, couldn't catch a break, working poor, North Adamsville -historied, family. As part of that attempted figuring out, as I walked up Hancock Street from Walnut Street (the old, woe begotten, seen better days, ram-shackled homestead now standing guard above part of the Newport Avenue by-pass) and swung down East Main I passed by, intentionally passed by, the old high school. And here I stand, oval-stuck, dirty-handed, bundled up not to well against the day’s winds, or against the fickle, shifting winds of time either, to tell my tale.

Now I will also confess, but without the long strung-out stuff that I threw in above about my Catholic upbringing, that in figuring out why ill winds blew across my family’s fate I was unsuccessful. Why, after all, should the 584th time bring some sense of enlightenment, or of inner peace, when the other five hundred, more or less, did not do so. What this sojourn did do, however, was rekindle, and rekindle strongly, memories of sitting, without number, on the steps of the high school in the old days, in the high school days, and thinking about the future, if there was going to be a future.

I tried to write this story, or a part of it, a couple of years ago so a little background is in order so the thing makes some sense to others. That now seemingly benighted entry, originally simply titled A Walk Down “Dream” Street started life by merely asking an equally simple question posed to fellow classmates in the North Adamsville High School Class of 1964 about whether their high school dreams had come true or not, as least for those who had thought about the issue, on the class website. I had “discovered” the site that year after having been pushed and pulled in ways that drove me back to memories, hard, hard-bitten, hard-aching, hard-longing, mist of time, dream memories, of North schoolboy days and of the need to search for my old high school friend and running mate (literally, in track and cross country, as well as “running”around town doing boy high school things, doing the best we could, or trying to), Bill Riley. I posed the question this way there:

“Today I am interested in the relationship between our youthful dreams and what actually happened in our lives; our dreams of glory out in the big old world that we did not make, and were not asked about making; of success whether of the pot of gold or less tangible, but just as valuable, goods, or better, ideas; of things or conditions, of himalayas, conquered, physically or mentally; of discoveries made, of self or the whole wide world, great or small. Or, perhaps, of just getting by, just putting one foot in the front of the other two days in a row, of keeping one’s head above water under the impact of young life’s woes, of not sinking down further into the human sink; of smaller, pinched, very pinched, existential dreams but dreams nevertheless. I hope, I fervently hope, that they were the former."

Naturally, the question was posed in its particular form, or so it seemed natural at the time for me to pose it that way, because those old, “real”, august, imposing, institutionally imposing, grey granite-quarried (from the Granite City, natch) main entrance steps (in those days serious steps, two steps at a time steps, especially if you missed first bell, flanked by globular orbs and, like some medieval church, gargoyle-like columns up to the second floor, hence “real”) is a place where Bill and I spent a lot of our time, talking of this and that.

Especially in summer night time: hot, sultry, sweaty, steam-drained, no money in pockets, no car to explore the great American teenage night; the be-bop, doo-wop, do doo do doo ,ding dong daddy, real gone daddy, rockin’ daddy, max daddy, let it be me, the night time is the right time, car window-fogged, honk if you love jesus (or whatever activity produced those incessant honks in ignition-turned-off cars), love-tinged, or at least sex-tinged, endless sea, Adamsville Beach night. Do I need to draw you the big picture, I think not. Or for the faint-hearted, or the merely good, denizens of that great American teenage night a Howard Johnson’s ice cream (make mine cherry vanilla, double scoop, no jimmies, please) or a trip to American Graffiti-like fast food drive-in, hamburger, hold the onions (just in case tonight is the night), fries and a frappe (I refuse to describe that taste treat at this far remove, look it up on Wikipedia, or one of those info-sites) Southern Artery night.

Lost, all irretrievably lost, and no thousand, thousand (thanks, Sam Coleridge), no, no million later, greater experiences can ever replace that. And, add in, non-dated-up, and no possibility of sweet-smelling, soft, bare shoulder-showing summer sun-dressed (or wintry, bundled up, soft-furred, cashmere-bloused, I would not have been choosy), big-haired (hey, do you expect me to remember the name of the hair styles, too?), ruby red-lipped (see, I got the color right), dated-up in sight. So you can see what that “running around town, doing the best we could” of ours mainly consisted.

Mostly, we spoke of dreams of the future: small, soft, fluttery, airless, flightless, high school kid-sized, working class-sized, North Adamsville -sized, non-world–beater-sized, no weight dreams really, no, that’s not right, they were weighty enough but only until 18 years old , or maybe 21, weighty. A future driven though, and driven hard, by the need to get out from under, to get away from, to put many miles between us and it, crazy family life (the details of which need not detain us here at all, as I now know, and I have some stories to prove it, that condition was epidemic in the old town then, and probably still is). And also of getting out of one-horse, teen life-stealing, soul-cramping, dream-stealing (small or large take your pick on dream size), even breathe-stealing, North Adamsville. Of getting out into the far reaches, as far as desire and dough would carry, of the great wild, wanderlust, cosmic, American day and night hitch-hike if you have too, shoe leather-beating walking if you must, road (or European road, or wherever, Christ, even Revere in a crunch, but mainly putting some miles between).

We spoke, as well, of other dreams then. I do not remember some of the more personal aspects of the content of Bill's dreams. If you want the “skinny” on Bill’s dreams he’s around, ask him. However, a lot of what Bill and I talked about at the time was how we were going to do in the upcoming cross country and track seasons, girls, the desperate need to get away from the family trap, girls, no money in pockets for girls, cars, no money for cars, girls. (Remember those were the days when future expectations, and anguishes, were expressed in days and months, not years.) Of course we dreamed of being world-class runners, as every runner does. Bill went on to have an outstanding high school career. I, on the other hand, was, giving myself much the best of it, a below average runner. So much for some dreams.

And, maybe, on my part, I also expressed some sketchily-drawn utopian social dreams, some fellaheen justice dreams. Oh, you don’t know that word, "fellaheen", perhaps. To have oneness justice for the "wanters" of the world; for the “no got”, not the other kind, the greed-driven kind, want; fear-driven, fear to go left or right or to put two feet in front of you want; for the misjudgment-making from having too little of this world's goods want; for all the cramp-spaced in this great big planet want; for the too many people to a room, one disheveled sink, one stinking toilet want: for the bleary-eyed pee-smelled, dawn bus station paper bag holding all your possessions want; for the two and three decker house no space, asphalted, no green between want; for the reduced to looking through rubbish barrels, or worst, want; for the K-Mart, Wal-mart, Adamsville Square Bargain-Center basement outfitted out of fashion, no fashionsista, no way, want,; for the got to have some Woolworth’s five and dime trinket to make a small brightness want; for the lottery, keno, bingo, bango, mega-bongo waiting for the ship to come in pay-out want; for the whiskey soaked, wine-dabbled, or name your poison, want; for the buddy, can you spare a dime want; for the cop hey you, keeping moving you can’t stay here, want; for the cigarette butt strewn pick-up streets want; for fixing, or fixings, to die want; and, for just plain, ordinary, everyday, non-descript want, the want from whence I, and, maybe, you came.

This is the sing-song of the fellaheen, the life-cycle of the fellaheen, the red masque dance of the fellaheen; the dance of the working, or not so working, poor, the day time dance. The dance that I will dance, at least it looks that way, until I draw my last breathe. For the night time, the "takers", stealth thief, jack-roller, pimp daddy, sweet-dark covering abandoned back alley streets, watch out behind you (and in front too), sweated, be-fogged, lumpen fellaheen night, the no justice wanted or given night, you will have to look to the French writers Genet, Celine, or one of those rough boys, the takers have no need of my breathe, or my tears. I have had my say now, and it was worth standing, as the night devours the sun, at this damn wintry oval to say it, alright.

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman- Joseph Mankiewicz’s “Somewhere In The Night”- A Film Review

DVD Review

Somewhere In The Night, starring John Hodiak, directed by Joseph Mankiewicz, 20^thCentury Fox

…, he, let’s just call him he for now, was just another G.I., another guy doing his bit for the war effort on some nasty Pacific atoll, or some coral-scratched beach-head trying to do the right thing. Then it all came part, came apart in some desolate fox hole, when that son of Nippon, unnamed, unknown, unhated except he was one of Tojo’s boys, tossed that grenade and he, in a split second, a split second of fear, bravado or hubris, take your pick, decided that his number was up and pulled his big black- haired, brown- eyed frame over the damn thing. And then came the surgery, and more surgery, and, and, the problem of no name, no name in a name-full world. Amnesia, damn. So he bought into the name they gave him, George Young, the name they scratched together for him and he went out into the harsh California day, not a care in the world, and maybe some luck would fall his way when he stitched together his mislaid past.

In the end he should have gone maybe to North Dakota or someplace, some place where guys weren’t looking to knock him off, he didn’t have to dodge a stray bullet or six, and didn’t have to deal with every crack pot in the California night from low-rent floozies looking for the main chance to broken down carny con artists with hard boy companions not afraid to pull some rough stuff, trying to put the big step-off frame on him. But that was after, and that North Dakota, or some place, before would have meant that he missed meeting Christie, Christie the nice frame , flame- burning torch singer at the Kit Kat Club, the only one who had faith in him, was in his corner when even he had doubts. Yah, Christie.

Naturally if guys are looking for you, tough guys, whether you remember your past or not, they sure as hell do, when, what else, dough is involved. Big dough, big 1940s dough, maybe not much now, maybe just walking around money, a couple of million bucks ferried out of Germany as the rats started seeing the writing on the wall and wanted to insure a bright new life in America, or some place not bomb-out Berlin. But when that kind of money is involved lots of hands are going to be looking for their share, or the whole pot, and guys are going to end up dead. Watch out George, watch out.

As guys start taking a run at our boy George, and as guys who could help him figure out who he was, what he did, starting falling through the cracks, and he started to understand why people were clamming up on him, except darling thrust-throated Christie, he began to see where his past life might have been ill-spent. That the George Young thing was just a hoax he had perpetrated on the world and that he was Mister Larry Cravat, either a patsy or a stone-killer. But no guy who is crazy for torch singers can really be all bad, all balled up as he may have been. So some stone-cold killer is out there with his number on his mind, and his mind on the dough. Larry get the hell out of there for Chrissake.

…and hence this film

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman- With Roger McGuinn's "Ballad Of Easy Rider" In Mind

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman- With Roger McGuinn's "Ballad Of Easy Rider" In Mind

...he, Peter Fonda he, Dennis Hooper, Captain America he, Bill The Kid he, Hunter Thompson he, hell, Sonny Barger or one of one hundred grunge, nasty mother keep your daughters indoors under lock and key Hell's Angels brethren he (as if that would help, help once she, the daughter, saw that shiny silver sleek Indian , Harley, Vincent, name it, whatever and did some fancy footwork midnight creep out that unlocked suburban death house ranchero house back door ), just wanted to drive down that late night Pacific coast highway (naturally, where else to have the wind at your back and the hard-hearted ocean at your right. Somehow Maine icy stretch Ellsworth Point did not make its case ), drive, motorcycle drive just in case you thought this was some sedan buggy family, dad and mom, three kids and Rover, car saga, maybe with his sweet mama behind holding on to her easy rider in back, and riding against the pounding surf heading south heading Seals Rock, Pacifica, Monterrey, Big Sur, Xanadu, Point Magoo, Malibu, Carlsbad, Diego, south right to the mex border, riding down to the see, sea. Riding down to the washed sea.

Easy, just an easy rider and his sweet, sweet mama, her hair, her flaming red hair, or whatever color it was that week, blowing against the weathers, against the thrust of that big old engine, all tight tee- shirt, tight jeans, tight. Maybe a quick stop off at Railroad Jim’s (and if he wasn’t in then Saigon Pappy’s, Billy Blast or Sunshine Sue’s) to cope some dope (weed, reefer, a little cousin cocaine to ease that ‘Nam pain, the one Charley kissed his way one night when he decided to prove, prove for the nth time that he, Charley, was king of the night) to handle those sharp curves around Big Sur, and get her in the mood (she, ever since that midnight creep out Ma’s back door had craved her cousin, craved it to get her into the mood, and just to be his outlaw girl).

Yah, it was supposed to be easy, all shoreline washed clean, stop for some vista here, some dope there and then down to cheap Mexico, cheap dope, and a haul back norte and easy street, easy street, laying around with sweet mama, real name, Susan White, road moniker, Little Peach (an inside joke) until Red Riley needed another run, another run against the washed sea night. Then it turned into one thing after another. He took a turn around Pacific way too fast, went way over the edge with his right hand throttle (Little Peach so excited by this her first outlaw run she slipped her hands low, too low while he was making that maneuver, thinking, maybe, they were in bed) and skidded hair- pin twirl skidded off the on-coming road. Little Peach was hurt a little but the bike was dented enough to require some work at Loopy Lester’s (Red Riley had guys up, bike magic guys, up and down the coast) back in Daly City. So delay.

Then, a couple of days delay, they ran into rain down around Big Sur, pouring rain and Little Peach moaned about it and they had to shack up in a motel for a couple of days, days looking at that fierce ocean. More delay. Then he made his first (and last) serious mistake, short on funds he decided (not decided, he was hard-wired to make that decision, hard –wired by his whole sorry, beautiful life, his father then mother left him Oakland dump, his whore first wife while he was in ‘Nam, his very real ‘Nam pain, and, a little his dope habit. Little Peach, and the ocean, when it co-operated, his only rays) to rob a liquor store in Paseo Robles. Trouble was the liquor store owner must have thought he was Charley, shot at him, nicking him, he grabbed the owner’s gun in a tussle and bang, bang. Grabbed the dough and the extra and ammo and roared off , Little Peach trembling, into the Pacific highway night.

Serious mistake, for sure, they caught up to him just outside Carlsbad, South Carlsbad down near the airport road, near the camp sites, where he was resting up a little (bleeding a little too). He had left Little Peach (and most of the dough) back in Laguna to keep her out of it. So alone, not wanting to face some big step, not another downer in his sorry, beautiful life, the heathered, rock strewn, shoreline just below, he took out that damn gun, loaded the last of the ammo, doubled around to face the blockading police cars and throttled –up his bike. Varoom, varoom…

Ballad Of Easy Rider Lyrics

by Roger McGuinn

The river flows
It flows to the sea
Wherever that river goes
That's where I want to be
Flow river flow
Let your waters wash down
Take me from this road
To some other town

All he wanted
Was to be free
And that's the way
It turned out to be
Flow river flow
Let your waters wash down
Take me from this road
To some other town

Flow river flow
Past the shaded tree
Go river, go
Go to the sea
Flow to the sea

The river flows
It flows to the sea
Wherever that river goes
That's where I want to be
Flow river flow
Let your waters wash down
Take me from this road
To some other town

Out In The 1950s Crime Noir Night- With Stanley Kubrick’s “The Killing” In Mind

Out In The 1950s Crime Noir Night- With Stanley Kubrick’s “The Killing” In Mind

DVD Review

The Killing, starring Sterling Hayden, Coleen Grey, directed by Stanley Kubrick, United Artists, 1956

As I have mentioned to start other reviews in this crime noir genre sure I am an aficionado, especially those 1940s detective epics like the film adaptations of Dashiell Hammet’s Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon and Raymond Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe in The Big Sleep. Nothing like that gritty black and white film, ominous musical background and shadowy moments to stir the imagination. Others in the genre like Gilda, The Lady From Shang-hai, and Out Of The Past rate a nod because in addition to those attributes mentioned above they have classic femme fatales to add a little off-hand spice to the plot line, and, oh yah, they look nice too. Beyond those classics this period (say, roughly from the mid-1940s to mid-1950s produced many black and white film noir set pieces, some good some not so good. For plot line, and plot interest, the film under review, The Killing, is under that latter category.

Okay, okay we know crimes, crimes, large and small do not pay. We got our noses rubbed in that hard fact every where we turned, every almost untoward breathe we took, from almost infancy by parents, churches, and schools. Okay we get it, kind of. Kind of if you were a corner boy, a corner boy in good standing, holding up the brick wall in front of Doc's Drugstore on any given Friday or Saturday night, looking, well looking to break out of the dead-end neighborhood, make a name for yourself and weren't choosy about how you gained that name. Yah, kind of. But in this little grade B crime film noir from the hills of Hollywood we are going to get our noses rubbed in it just one more time, although the way that the plot line sets up at the beginning looks like a sure thing that this time the thing will succeed. Finding some errant corner boys who never grew up, who never made it past Doc's, who were not choosy about their name, are going to win the brass ring, are going to walk with the king, are going to prove the coppers are so much mush and cause us, for a minute, to have second thoughts about our current career paths. At least it had me rooting for the “bad” guys for a minute. And every kid from every misbegotten housing project, from every no dough neighborhood has secretly (or not so secretly) had to have been rooting for the caper to be pulled off too.

See here is the lay of land on the caper. Johnny (if it is not Joe in these crime noirs it's Johnny but we will let that lie, okay), fresh from stir (prison) Johnny (played by Sterling Hayden) wants to go straight, well, wants to live on easy street is more like it. And live on that easy street with neighborhood childhood sweetheart Coleen Grey. And, of course, Johnny had a little time to thing about it up in stir (prison, for those who forgot). So, naturally with that easy street goal in mind (and all that time on his hands) he planned to rob the local race track on the day of the big race for a cool couple of million. Now that might seem like pocket change today but back in those days, that was dough. Hey, I’ll take a cut of that today, no problem.

But also see such a caper requires all kind of help, inside and outside, to pull it off and that is where, even if you are hoping against hope that Johnny scores big, you can see that things might get a little dicey. The cast of characters, black and white-etched film characters, is like a rogue’s gallery of every soft “hard” guy character actor that populated the be-bop 1950s television and movie screen (and at least one from the 1940s, Elisha Cook, Jr. as the insider ticket cashier, going back to Hammett’s Maltese Falcon film days, starring Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade). But we will let that go for now, as well. What is important once the motley crew is gathered is that the thing works like clockwork. And, from Johnny’s end, it does. The idea (a little loony in retrospect, if you thought about it) was to create a diversion to get into the track cash room where all the dough is (Johnny got that part right anyway), said diversion being the shooting of a famous race horse during the race to create the momentary confusion necessary so smart guy Johnny can get in and get all the dough. And, guess what it actually gets pulled off, and fairly easily.

But weren’t you paying attention- crime does not pay, get it. So, just as easily as the caper gets pulled off it starts to unravel. And all, or almost all, because of a two-timing dame. Figures right, figure right in a crime noir anyway. And the dame is no femme fatale like Gilda, no way, but some bar stool blonde wife that insider ticket cashier(Cook)is crazy about and blabbed the whole scene to. And said bar stool blonde tells the guy she is two-timing with and there you have it. See boyfriend is going to knock off the heist (a theme that has been done before, by the way, plenty, too plenty of times) and Ms. Two-timer and he are going to live on easy street. All this does is set up the inevitable all points police manhunt as Johnny (who still has the dough) and his honey try for easy street via the local airport. No dice, not even after such a fool-proof plan. Yah, now that I think about it though I wish Johnny had pulled it off.

Note: I mentioned above that Coleen Grey had a small role here as Johnny’s old neighborhood honey (and future easy street resident). I have now seen her in several of these film noir things starting with Kiss of Death. What I notice is that she is almost always type-cast as the angelic (yes, angelic) working class stick-with-her-guy-through-thick-and-thin-even-if he-is-a-wrong-gee gal, eternally waiting, it seems, for her guy to get out of stir (you know now what that is, right?). Ms. Grey didn’t your mother ever give to the word about wrong guys, wrong corner boy guys. Ya, I know, when you got it bad you’ve got it bad, wrong gee or not.

Longshore Struggle Brews On Both Coasts

---

Mark VorpahlJanuary 15, 20130

It’s a familiar pattern: those on top of the economic ladder enjoy massive profits while expecting workers to sacrifice even more for the “greater good.”
This storyline weaves itself into every justification for anti-worker policies. From Washington’s potential Grand Bargain that would cut trillions from needed social programs, to the workplaces with their stagnating wages and declining benefits, those on top plead poverty to workers while stuffing their pockets beyond belief.
The argument is also currently being repeated by the giant multinational corporations that control the nation’s shipping ports.
Fortunately, the longshore workers are organized into powerful unions that have the ability to fight back against big business greed – something that was recently demonstrated at the port strikes in Los Angles and Long Beach, and which is now underway in the union negotiations happening at ports along the East Coast and at the ports in the Northwest.

Victory in Southern California

An impressive victory was achieved in Los Angeles last month as a result of an eight-day strike by the 800 members of the Office Clerical Unit of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union (ILWU) Local 63.
For two years the workers had been without a contract as a result of stalling by the Harbor Employer Association. The main issue on the table was job security: the employers were hiring more nonunion superintendents through attrition, outsourcing work to nonunion contractors elsewhere in the U.S. and overseas, and finding ways to get fewer employees to perform more work. The members of ILWU Local 63 wanted to put a halt to this not only to preserve their own jobs, but to have these jobs available for future generations.
After two years at the bargaining table, it became clear that the Harbor Employer Association was unwilling to move on the union’s issues. The membership was left with no choice but to strike. And it was Longshore solidarity that won the day.
Ten thousand dockworkers refused to cross Local 63′s picket line, leaving 10 of the 14 ports at Los Angeles and Long Beach at a standstill and $760 million a day of merchandise untouched.
The strike made the impact it needed to; suddenly, the Harbor Employer Association discovered that they were able to make more movement on the union’s demands in a few days than they had for the previous two years.
After eight days on strike, a tentative agreement was reached and later ratified by membership vote. The Harbor Employer Association’s attempts to outsource, at the cost of future working class jobs, hit an unmovable obstacle, resulting in a victory that demonstrates how taking collective action to shut down production can win.

Developments on the East Coast

On the East Coast, a different Longshore union is facing its own difficulties. The International Longshoremen’s Association (ILA) represents 15,000 union dockworkers at 14 ports from Maine to Texas. These ports handle 40 percent of all U.S. container cargo. The ILA is in negotiations with the United States Maritime Alliance Ltd. (USMX), an alliance of container carriers, direct employers, and port associates.
It has been 35 years since the ILA went out on strike. And at the end of December, it looked likely that this stretch was up. Dec. 29 was the final day of extended contract negotiations and the membership was ready to grab their picket signs.
The main point of contention was container royalties, a decades-old fee of $4.85 per ton of container cargo paid to the ILA membership. This is a significant amount of income that the workers take in. USMX insisted on reinstating a cap on this fee that the ILA had successfully fought to remove in the last two-year contract.
In an e-mail an ILA spokesman said the following:

“We let USMX defer $42 million of container royalty money to help pay for the $1.00 an hour increase that was due longshore workers — we, in essence, paid for our own raise —and now USMX wants the CAP back on. They got the benefit and now they want us to go backwards.”

On Dec. 28, ILA President Harold J. Daggett sent out a public announcement stating:

“I am pleased to announce that the ILA made major gains on the Container Royalty issue that will protect our ILA members. Consequently, we agreed to extend the ILA Master Contract by 30 days, beyond the December 29th deadline (because of the year-end holidays, the deadline of the new extension will be February 6, 2013).”

What these major gains are remains unclear, and George Cohen, director of the Federal Mediation and Conciliation Service is demanding that all parties keep their lips tight for now. Consequently, there is no telling how the next few weeks of negotiations will go.
The ILA membership does not have any reason to stand down from strike preparations. The moment for decision will come when the membership has a tentative agreement in their hands and has a chance to read the fine print, collectively discuss it and vote.
The only certainty is that they are more likely to get a good contract and avoid a strike if they are prepared to go on a strike that will choke USMX’s profit flow off.

 

 

Longshore Struggle Brews On Both Coasts: Trouble in the Northwest

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Mark VorpahlJanuary 16, 20130

This is Part 2 of a two-part story on current longshore struggles in the U.S. Read Part 1 of the story here.
In the Northwest, at the terminals on the Columbia River, Puget Sound, and Portland, Oregon, the membership of the International Longshore and Warehouse Union (ILWU) are on the defensive against the Northwest Grain Handlers Association (NWGHA). The conflict involves nearly 3,000 workers at terminals that handle a quarter of the nation’s grain exports.
The NWGHA is demanding a long list of concessions that are in violation of the Pacific Maritime Association’s agreement, which is supposed to cover West Coast Longshore workers. These include extending shifts to 12 hours without overtime pay and hiring fewer union members to unload ships.
Perhaps worse, over the course of the five-year contract, employers will be free to hire scabs and toss the contract if there are three job actions or if fines of $1,500 per hour are not paid within 15 days for a work stoppage. It was such collective direct action by Longshore workers that created the union. The NWGHA wants no more of it.
How can the NWGHA get away with such proposals? Unfortunately, precedent was recently established for these concessions at the port in Longview, Washington.
This had been the site of a long, bitter fight with the grain exporting multinationals grouped within the Export Grain Terminal (EGT) who claimed they were under no obligation to run the new terminal with ILWU members. For decades the ILWU has worked the West Coast docks. The EGT was attempting to break the ILWU’s strength.

The NWGHA is demanding a long list of concessions that are in violation of the Pacific Maritime Association’s agreement, which is supposed to cover West Coast Longshore workers.

ILWU Local 21 put up an inspiring militant fight that attracted wide support from the Longview community and other unions and activist groups up and down the coast, including large numbers from the Occupy movement. Busloads of supporters were ready to demonstrate their solidarity and confront a Coast Guard escorted scab ship.
However, the ILWU leadership felt forced to distance themselves from these efforts out of fear of anti-labor laws that could come down heavily on the union in the event of such a confrontation. They were under tremendous pressure to come to a tentative agreement before the possibility of such an event, while the EGT was determined to strike a blow against the union.
Eventually, union recognition at the Longview port was won before the scab ship arrived. However, the contract broke from the Pacific Maritime Association agreement and some members have characterized it as the worst ever. Now the grain companies are trying to enforce the Longview concessions at other ports as well.

Unfair Stand Off

In the current battle a strike and an employer lock-out have been averted for now. Unfortunately, the Longshore workers are on the job under the NWGHA’s “last, best, and final offer” that 94 percent of the union’s membership voted down.
The employers have not responded to the ILWU’s offers to continue to negotiate. At this point, the union leadership’s strategy hinges on getting a favorable ruling from the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB). They will file unfair labor practice charges accusing the terminal owners of bargaining in bad faith and forcing new terms on them before contract talks reached an impasse.
There are great dangers with relying on this approach. Even with the most well prepared case, trying to resolve such Labor conflicts through the NLRB is always a crapshoot. For instance, the ILWU has recently been stung by a number of NLRB decisions that went against them. In addition, the wheels at the NLRB turn notoriously slowly, which is both difficult to bear and dangerous for workers forced to labor under a sub-standard contract.
Labor law and its government bureaucracy were set up to contain workers’ struggles ultimately for the benefit of big business owners. While it is necessary for unionists to utilize it since this legal code does provide some limits on corporate abuse, they cannot depend on it. When this setup prevents workers from fighting to win, it is necessary to defy it however possible.
For instance, the NWGHA is currently paying for scabs to stand by and be prepared to take over operations permanently in the event of a strike. Under U.S. labor law this is legal. However, if mass pickets are organized to prevent the scabs from crossing the picket lines and getting to the work sites, the legal right of the employers to use scabs is moot. The courts will always try to limit the number of pickets with injunctions so that scabs can easily enter the work place.
But, such court injunctions are not worth the paper they are printed on if there is enough worker/community support to turn out and build picket lines that can’t be crossed.
At the same time, it has been announced that there is a split in the NWGHA. Temco, a joint venture between agribusiness giants Cargill Inc. and CHS Inc., is continuing to employ Tacoma Longshore workers on terms of their last contract rather impose the voted down concessionary “last, best, and final offer.” Separate negotiations appear ready to get under way. If it were not for the ILWU’s ability to shut down the ports and the wide respect they have among working people in the Northwest, this would not have happened.

Challenging Anti-Worker Laws

An impending threat to a favorable resolution for the Longshore workers is the possibility of President Obama imposing a back-to-work order under the old contract in the case of a work stoppage. Such a measure would undercut the bargaining leverage of the union since the company’s profits would continue to roll in, if the workers chose to obey it.
President Bush issued such an order in 2002 when the Pacific Maritime Association (PMA) locked out ILWU Local 10 in San Francisco in a move that was intended to provoke federal interference. By bringing the membership back to work under these conditions, the PMA was free to use any anti-labor law in the books in an attempt to intimidate the union.
Such federal interference in labor disputes is allowed under the 1948 Taft-Harley Act, coined the “Slave Labor Act” by unionists at the time. This act outlawed many of the tactics the Congress of Industrial Organizations (a federation of industrial unions distinct from craft unions) successfully employed in the 1930s, such as solidarity or political strikes, secondary boycotts (industrial action by a union against a company on the grounds that it does business with another company engaged in a labor dispute), mass picketing and so on.
It also allowed states to pass “right to work laws” that outlawed closed union shops where all workers must join the union in order to maintain employment.
Taft-Hartley is only one of the most pernicious laws in a legal web meant to cripple workers’ collective efforts to improve their lives so that corporations can suck more profits out of them. The strike victory of the ILWU in LA and Long Beach managed to avoid these traps and shut down the docks. The ILA on the East Coast is negotiating with the threat of Taft-Hartley dangling over their heads. The Northwest ILWU Locals are being hit repeatedly with anti-labor laws that are tightly binding their ability to fight for a fair deal.
These laws must be defied when they prevent Labor from winning. However, the ability to do so cannot be done consistently by the ILA and the ILWU alone. These unions will have to reach out to other unions as well as to the community for support, explaining that the fate of their struggle will impact all working people. When a union negotiates a bad contract, other employers point to it as a way to convince their own workers to expect less. Conversely, when workers negotiate a good contract, other workers are inspired by their success and try to emulate it.
By reaching out to all working people, the Longshore unions can begin to create a movement that, if sufficiently massive, will have the power to defy court injunctions without suffering any penalties. Power will be in their hands.
Mark Vorpahl is a union steward, social justice activist and writer for Workers Action as well as Occupy.com. He can be reached at Portland@workerscompass.org.

Cover photo of a picket line during a longshoremen’s strike in the Northwest from Occupy.com.

Why We Defend the ILWU and All Workers
by Internationalist Group Email: internationalistgroup (nospam) msn.com (verified) Phone: 212-460-0983 Address: Box 3321 Church Street Station, New York, NY 10008 USA	05 Jan 2013
In recent weeks, a showdown has loomed on U.S. docks between the shipping bosses and port workers that has rattled the capitalist ruling class. On the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts, the International Longshoreman's Association prepared to strike container shipping while the employers threatened to lock out 14,500 ILA members. On the West Coast, the grain shippers been demanding a giveback contract from the International Longshore and Warehouse Union (ILWU), which would effectively bypass the union hiring hall, slash workers' vital safety protections and gut union power. Yet in the midst of the Northwest grain battle, an Occupy activist Peter Little publishes an article vociferously arguing against the call to defend the ILWU. While posing as ultra-left, this policy if actually carried out would aid the employers who are hell-bent on destroying ILWU union power on the waterfront. And blaming sellouts on the nature of unions lets the bureaucrats off the hook. We in the Internationalist Group say: all those who stand with the exploited and oppressed must come to the defense of the ILWU in this fight. And that defense includes forthrightly opposing the capitulations and betrayals by the labor bureaucracy which sells out vital union gains in the vain hope of an impossible "cooperation" with capital, endangering the workers organizations they preside over.
Read the whole article at the Internationalist Group website: http://www.internationalist.org/whywedefendilwu1301.html .
See also: http://www.internationalist.org/ http://www.internationalist.org/whywedefendilwu1301.html

Permanent Afghanistan Occupation Planned
by Stephen Lendman Email: lendmanstephen (nospam) sbcglobal.net (verified)	13 Jan 2013
anti-war
Permanent Afghanistan Occupation Planned by Stephen Lendman America came to stay. Accelerated withdrawal claims reflect subterfuge. Washington officials and media scoundrels don't explain. Misinformation and illusion substitute for reality. Reuters headlined "Obama, Karzai accelerate end of US combat role in Afghanistan." "Obama's determin(ed) to wind down a long, unpopular war." The New York Times headlined 'Obama Accelerates Transition of Security to Afghans." Obama is "eager to turn a page after more than a decade of war." "(B)eginning this spring American forces (will) play only a supporting role in Afghanistan." The Washington Post headlined "Obama announces reduced US role in Afghanistan starting this spring." Plans are "for a small troop presence in the country after the American mission formally ends there in 2014." On January 11, Obama and Karzai's joint press conference was more surreal than honest. Duplicitous doublespeak substituted for truth. "(T)ransition is well underway," said Obama. Plans are for Afghan forces to replace Americans. By yearend 2014, they'll "have full responsibility for their security, and this war will come to a responsible end." At the same time, US forces will "continue to fight alongside (Afghans) when necessary." Obama didn't say what troop strength will remain. Drone wars continue daily. US Special Forces and CIA elements came to stay. Search and destroy missions are prioritized. By spring 2013, "our troops will have a different mission - training, advising, assisting Afghan forces. It will be a historic moment and another step toward full Afghan sovereignty." "Afghanistan (has) a long-term partner in the United States of America." It's Washington's longest war. Iraq and Afghanistan are its most costly ones. Iraq boils out of sight and mind. Afghanistan rages. Experts agree. The war was lost years ago. It continues. Why US officials don't explain. A previous article discussed Lt. Colonel Daniel Davis. He assessed conditions accurately. His 84-page unclassified report called them disastrous. "How many more men must die in support of a mission that is not succeeding," he asked? His report's opening comments said: "Senior ranking U.S. military leaders have so distorted the truth when communicating with the US Congress and American people in regards to conditions on the ground in Afghanistan that the truth has become unrecognizable." "This deception has damaged America’s credibility among both our allies and enemies, severely limiting our ability to reach a political solution to the war in Afghanistan." His classified report was more explicit. "If the public had access to these classified reports," he explained, "they would see the dramatic gulf between what is often said in public by our senior leaders and what is actually true behind the scenes." "It would be illegal for me to discuss, use, or cite classified material in an open venue, and thus I will not do so." He traveled thousands of miles throughout the country. He spoke to US commanders, subordinates, and low-ranking soldiers. He talked at length with Afghan security officials, civilians and village elders. What he learned bore no resemblance to rosy scenario official accounts. Insurgent forces control "virtually every piece of land beyond eyeshot of a US or International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) base." Everywhere he visited, "the tactical situation was bad to abysmal." Afghanistan's government can't "provide for the basic needs of the people." At times, local security forces collude with insurgents. Davis hoped to learn something positive. He "witnessed the absence of success on virtually every level." One senior enlisted leader spoke for others. He hoped to get out alive in one piece. Why war continues remains for Obama to explain. He dissembles instead. Afghanistan is strategically important. It straddles the Middle East, South and Central Asia. It's in the heart of Eurasia. Occupation projects America's military might. It targets Russia, China, Iran, and other oil-rich Middle East States. It furthers Washington's imperium. It prioritizes unchallenged global dominance. China and Russia matter most. Allied they rival US superpower strength. Beijing is economically robust. Russia's nuclear capability and military pose the only threat to America's formidable might. Russia is also resource rich. Its oil reserves are vast. Its natural gas supply is the world's largest. Expect neither country to roll over for Washington. They're a vital last line of defense. More on Washington's plans below. A previous article discussed Afghanistan's troubled history. In his book titled, "Freedom Next Time: Resisting the Empire," John Pilger addressed it, saying: "Through all the humanitarian crises in living memory, no country has been abused and suffered more, and none has been helped less than Afghanistan." For centuries, Afghans endured what few can imagine. Marauding armies besieged cities, slaughtered thousands, and caused vast destruction. Great Game 19th century struggles followed. Wars, devastation, and deplorable human misery reflect daily life for millions. America bears full responsibility now. Wherever US forces show up, mass killings, destruction and incalculable human misery follow. After over 11 years of war and occupation, Afghans perhaps suffer most of all. Living conditions are deplorable. Millions remain displaced. Makeshift dwellings substitute for real ones. Little protection from harsh Afghan weather is afforded. People freeze to death in winter. Dozens of children die daily. Millions have little or no access to clean water. Life expectancy is one of the world's lowest. Infant mortality is one of the highest. So is pre-age five mortality. Electricity is scarce. Extreme poverty, unemployment, human misery, and constant fear reflect daily life. Afghans worry about surviving. Many don't get enough food. Forced evictions affect them. They lack healthcare, education, and other vital services. Occupation related violence harms innocent men, women, children and infants. Civilians always suffer most. Washington prioritizes conquest, colonization, plunder and dominance. War without end rages. Human needs go begging. Displaced Afghans lack virtually everything necessary to survive. Included are proper housing, clean water, sanitation, healthcare, education, employment, enough income, and sufficient food to avoid starvation. America and Afghanistan's puppet government don't help. Karzai is a pathetic stooge. He's a caricature of a leader. He wasn't elected. He was installed. He's a former CIA asset/UNOCAL Oil consultant. He's little more than Kabul's mayor. He's despised. He wouldn't last five minutes unprotected anywhere. Afghanistan is the world's leading opium producer. During the 1990s, Taliban officials largely eradicated it. Washington reintroduced it. Crime bosses and CIA profit hugely. So do major banks. Money laundering is a major profit center. An estimated $1.5 trillion is laundered annually. Around $500 billion reflects elicit drug money. Obama lied about ending combat operations by 2014. America came to stay. Permanent occupation is planned. Washington's empire of bases reflect it. During WW II, Brits complained that Americans were "overpaid, overfed, oversexed, and over here." They virtually everywhere now. Planet earth is Washington occupied territory. Bases vary in size. They include large main operating bases to medium and smaller-sized ones. Covert ones supplement them. US Special Forces operate in over 120 countries. CIA elements are everywhere. National sovereignty rights are violated. America's malevolent agenda is hostile. Public land is expropriated. Toxic pollution, environmental damage, intolerable noise, violence, occupation related criminality, and unaccountability reflect Washington's presence. It's hugely destructive. Afghanistan's dystopian hell reflects it. Status of forces (SOFA) agreements establish a framework under which US forces operate abroad. They provide an illusion of legitimacy. Nations are pressured and bullied to accept what harms their national interest. In his book, "The Sorrows of Empire: Militarism, Secrecy, and the End of the Republic," Chalmers Johnson explained SOFAs as follows: "America's foreign military enclaves, though structurally, legally, and conceptually different from colonies, are themselves something like microcolonies in that they are completely beyond the jurisdiction of the occupied nation." "The US virtually always negotiates a 'status of forces agreement' (SOFA) with the ostensibly independent 'host' nation." They're a modern day version of 19th century China's extraterritoriality agreements. They granted foreigners charged with crimes the right to be tried by his (or her) own government under his (or her) own national law. SOFAs prevent local courts from exercising legal jurisdiction over American personnel. Murder and rape go unpunished unless US officials yield to local authorities. Offenders are usually whisked out of countries before they ask. America's total number of SOFAs is unknown. Most are secret. Some are too embarrassing to reveal. America has hundreds of known, shared, and secret bases in over 150 countries. Johnson said they "usurp, distort, or subvert whatever institutions of democratic (or other form of) government may exist with the host society." Their presence is troubling. Locals lose control of their lives. They have no say. There's virtually no chance for redress. Permanent occupations harm most. America built city-sized Iraq and Afghanistan super bases. They weren't established to be abandoned. Washington came to stay. Both countries are US occupied territory. Tens of thousands of private military contractors supplement military forces. Their skills range from technical to hired guns. Obama suppressed Washington's agenda. Permanent occupation is planned. America came to stay. Abandoning what's strategically important won't happen. How much longer Americans will tolerate war without end, they'll have to explain. Stephen Lendman lives in Chicago and can be reached at lendmanstephen (at) sbcglobal.net. His new book is titled "Banker Occupation: Waging Financial War on Humanity." http://www.claritypress.com/LendmanII.html Visit his blog site at sjlendman.blogspot.com and listen to cutting-edge discussions with distinguished guests on the Progressive Radio News Hour on the Progressive Radio Network Thursdays at 10AM US Central time and Saturdays and Sundays at noon. All programs are archived for easy listening. http://www.progressiveradionetwork.com/the-progressive-news-hour http://www.dailycensored.com/permanent-afghanistan-occupation-planned-2/
See also: http://sjlendman.blogspot.com

Aaron Swartz: Suicide or Murder?
by Stephen Lendman Email: lendmanstephen (nospam) sbcglobal.net (verified)	17 Jan 2013
bet on foul play
Aaron Swartz: Suicide or Murder? by Stephen Lendman Advocates of online openness and freedom lost a committed champion. The Economist said to call him "gifted would be to miss the point. As far as the internet was concerned, he was the gift." The Electronic Frontier Foundation called him an "Internet freedom rock star." An official family statement called him "(o)ur beloved brother, son, friend, and partner….We are in shock, and have not yet come terms with his passing." His "insatiable curiosity, creativity, and brilliance; his reflexive empathy and capacity for selfless, boundless love; his refusal to accept injustice as inevitable - these gifts made the world, and our lives, far brighter." "Aaron’s commitment to social justice was profound, and defined his life. He was instrumental to the defeat of an Internet censorship bill; he fought for a more democratic, open, and accountable political system; and he helped to create, build, and preserve a dizzying range of scholarly projects that extended the scope and accessibility of human knowledge." "He used his prodigious skills as a programmer and technologist not to enrich himself but to make the Internet and the world a fairer, better place." "His deeply humane writing touched minds and hearts across generations and continents. He earned the friendship of thousands and the respect and support of millions more." "Aaron’s death is not simply a personal tragedy. It is the product of a criminal justice system rife with intimidation and prosecutorial overreach." "Decisions made by officials in the Massachusetts US Attorney’s office and at MIT contributed to his death. The US Attorney’s office pursued an exceptionally harsh array of charges, carrying potentially over 30 years in prison, to punish an alleged crime that had no victims." "Meanwhile, unlike JSTOR, MIT refused to stand up for Aaron and its own community’s most cherished principles." "Today, we grieve for the extraordinary and irreplaceable man that we have lost." Lawrence Lessig is an academic, political activist, online freedom proponent, former University of Chicago/Harvard Law School Professor, and current Professor of Law at Stanford. He founded the school's Center for Internet and Society. He knew Aaron as a friend and lawyer. On January 13, he headlined "Prosecutor as Bully," saying: Whatever Aaron did wasn't for personal gain. He did what he thought right. JSTOR understood. "They declined to pursue their own action against Aaron." They asked prosecutors to drop charges. "MIT, to its great shame, was not as clear." Prosecutors took full advantage. They got the excuse they wanted to target Aaron. They wrongfully criminalized him. "From the beginning, the government worked as hard as it could to characterize what Aaron did in the most extreme and absurd way." It suggested he downloaded academic and scholarly articles for profit. "But anyone who says that there is money to be made in a stash of ACADEMIC ARTICLES is either an idiot or a liar. It was clear what this was not, yet our government continued to push as if it had caught the 9/11 terrorists red-handed." "Aaron had literally done nothing in his life 'to make money.' " Whatever he earned wasn't by intent. "(W)e live in a world where the architects of the financial crisis, (notorious despots, and other scoundrels) regularly dine at the White House." "(W)hy (was) Aaron labeled a 'felon?' " Prosecutors bled him dry. "(W)e need to get beyond the 'I'm right so I'm right to nuke you' ethics that dominates our time." "That begins with one word: shame. One word, and endless tears." A previous article questioned the official suicide story. It quoted Aaron extensively in his own words. It asked if he sounded like someone planning suicide. He advocated online openness and freedom. He called information "power." He wanted it in the public domain. He wanted everyone able to share it freely and openly. Failure is "too high a price to pay," he said. It's "outrageous and unacceptable," he added. Possessors of information are obligated to share it. They're morally bound not to "keep this privilege for (them)selves." "(S)haring isn't immoral - it's a moral imperative. Only those blinded by greed would refuse to let a friend make a copy." "Large corporations….are blinded by greed." Politicians are "bought off to back them." Legislation follows. It's immoral and unjust. "There is no justice in following unjust laws. It’s time to come into the light and, in the grand tradition of civil disobedience, declare our opposition to this private theft of public culture." Aaron advocated open access. He wanted information everyone has the right to know made public. Download them from scientific journals, he urged. Upload them to file sharing networks. Make privatization of knowledge a thing of the past. He asked everyone to join him in a struggle for what's right. He did it because it matters. He paid with his life. New York's medical examiner allegedly conducted an autopsy. He pronounced death by "hang(ing) himself in his Brooklyn apartment." A previous article said lingering suspicions remain. Why would someone with so much to give end it all this way? Why would he throw it away? Why was no private autopsy and forensic examination done? Why aren't questions raised about a potential coverup? Why isn't independently determined full disclosure demanded? Prosecutors notoriously lie. Medical examiners help them. So do media scoundrels. Did Aaron take his own life or was he murdered? America has a dark history of eliminating noted figures it wants silenced. Aaron perhaps is the latest. His death raises obvious suspicions. He appears a victim of capitalist greed. His open access advocacy had to be silenced. What better way than by making murder look like suicide. Was he drugged and then hanged? Was eliminating him planned long ago? Was it done to avoid protracted headline-making trial proceedings? Many of Aaron's global followers would have reported them daily. Doing so would have revealed prosecutorial injustice. Dark forces perhaps decided not to risk it. Prosecutors hounded him. His attorney, Elliot Peters, accused them of doing it to gain publicity. They cooked up alleged computer crimes against him. They targeted his advocacy for what's right. They wanted him silenced. They wanted him put away for decades. They wanted him out of sight and mind. They crossed ethical and moral lines, said Lessig. They did what they did because they can. They made him a martyr in the process. He's internationally recognized for fighting for what's right. Internet freedom is at stake. In 2008, candidate Obama promised to "(s)upport the principle of network neutrality to preserve the benefits of open competition on the Internet." As president he's waged war to destroy it. He wants open access advocates criminalized. He calls doing so investing in America's future. He wants censorship replacing First Amendment rights. He and likeminded Washington extremists support an alphabet soup of federal and international freedom-destroying measures. Various cybersecurity acts threaten constitutional freedoms. SOPA, PIPA, CISPA, ACTA, and TPP are stealth pro-corporate, anti-populist schemes. Secrecy and misbranding conceal their harshness. Activists know what's going on and say so. At issue is unchallenged global corporate empowerment regulation free. Internet freedom, popular rights, and national sovereignty are too important to lose. They're on the chopping block for elimination. Profits alone matter. Compromising civil liberties is a small price to pay. So are public knowledge, privacy, and other fundamental rights free societies should champion. Democratic values are too important to lose. Obama has other ideas in mind. Aaron and likeminded open access advocates challenged him. Doing so targeted him for elimination. Others are likewise threatened. Doing the right thing is dangerous. Everyone involved is closely monitored. FBI, CIA and other national security files are maintained. Lawless warrantless surveillance watches like Big Brother. Phones are tapped. Emails and other private communications are monitored, collected and stored. Stealth videos at times are used. There's no place to hide. Doing the right thing is hazardous. America's unfit to live in. For many, it's dangerous. Other Western societies operate the same way. The best, brightest and most dedicated are targeted. Some are marked for elimination. Odds suggest Aaron was one. A fitting epitaph should read killed by capitalist greed. He's gone but by no means forgotten. Others continue his struggle for open access justice. Doing so is the only chance to have it. The alternative is too intolerable to accept. A Final Comment On January 15, Russia Today said Massachusetts federal court charges were dropped. Why pursue a dead man. A simple statement read: "DISMISSAL" "Pursuant to FRCP 48(a), the United States Attorney for the District of Massachusetts, Carmen M. Ortiz, hereby dismisses the case presently pending against Defendant Aaron Swartz." "In support of this dismissal, the government states that Mr. Swartz died on January 11, 2013." Omitted was full disclosure about how and most important why. Aaron was no ordinary Internet freedom advocate. His prominence made him a marked man. It cost him his life. JSTOR didn't press charges. MIT pursued a civil suit. Repercussions remain ongoing. On January 14, the global hacktivist collective, Anonymous, broke into MIT's website. It replaced its front page. A simple line read: "In Memoriam, Aaron Swartz." A statement followed. It called the Justice Department's prosecution "a grotesque miscarriage of justice" and "a distorted and perverse shadow of the justice that Aaron died fighting for." "We call for this tragedy to be a basis for a renewed and unwavering commitment to a free and unfettered Internet, spared from censorship with equality of access and franchise for all," it added. Aaron grew up in suburban Chicago. On January 11, he died in his Brooklyn apartment. He was 26 years old. On January 15, suburban Chicago's Highland Park Central Avenue Synagogue was filled to capacity. Family, friends and supporters came to honor him. Taren Stinebrickner-Kauffman spoke for others, saying "Aaron wanted so badly to change the world. He wanted it more than money. He wanted it more than fame." "When things are hard - and he said it is the important things that are hard - you have to lean into the pain." Does that sound like someone planning suicide? Stephen Lendman lives in Chicago and can be reached at lendmanstephen (at) sbcglobal.net. His new book is titled "Banker Occupation: Waging Financial War on Humanity." http://www.claritypress.com/LendmanII.html Visit his blog site at sjlendman.blogspot.com and listen to cutting-edge discussions with distinguished guests on the Progressive Radio News Hour on the Progressive Radio Network Thursdays at 10AM US Central time and Saturdays and Sundays at noon. All programs are archived for easy listening. http://www.progressiveradionetwork.com/the-progressive-news-hour http://www.dailycensored.com/remembering-aaron-swartz/
See also: http://sjlendman.blogspot.com

Free Lynne Stewart! (Image by Chistopher Hutchinson)

December 24th, 2012

This poster was created for Lynne by Christopher Hutchinson the day she went to prison. Note the smiling face of Mumia Abu Jamal in the corner as if to say: “Welcome to the ranks of political prisoner. We will stand together and fight until all are free.”

Message from Lynne for the New Year

January 16th, 2013
12/30/12; 7;05 pm
To All the Wonderful People who Love and Support Me;
We embark on the New Year with fear and trepidation of the trip ahead during the rolling months of 2013. We also carry the indefatigable hope of righteousness and struggle as we face those dread tentacles of Corporatism that will try to strangle us.
This is no easy task but I, for one, have always known this. Greed is an overwhelming motivation and seems to prevail among many more that the 1 % we have identified. It is so linked to fear that our population is all but immobilized.
That Said, I am happy to be engaging. I have some personal challenges–the newly discovered lymphatic cancer that I believe will now subject me to Chemotherapy. However, I have a strong sense of never allowing any such problem deter me from someday getting released and walking out under my own power to rejoin our struggle. My strong will !! The focus that all of you infuse me with !!
We also face a formidable challenge in getting my case before the Supreme Court. Will they deign to hear us ? Will we advance the sunlight or only increase the shadows on our Constitutional rights?? We can only strive to present our issues in the best possible way and “fight like Hell”. There is no predicting results but in prison HOPE is the only currency.
Finally, on a personal note, I am joyous over the return of our Doctor daughter, Zenobia, and her grand family to the City. (NY, of course). A courageous move for them but her roots go deep and Florida just couldn’t contain them. Also, happy about the January 12 tribute at Riverside Church for Ramsey Clark, my close friend and comrade. I hope many will attend.
As I now am counting down my 74th year (Ralph his 79th !) I continue to do work for the other women behind bars. I am trying to help a woman given only 6 months to live get compassionate release — she was turned down and then told they would allow her to go to hospice !! Her crime? “Harboring an Alien”– I’m outraged but then a lot outrages me… and I guess that’s why I am who I am . (smile).
Love Struggle,
Lynne

Lynne Stewart Speech at Ramsey Clark’s 84th Birthday (Audio)

January 18th, 2013
To listen to Ralph Poynter deliver Lynne’s speech, please click the following link: RAMSEY CLARK and IAC BDAY (MP3 format. Right-click to save)

Lynne Stewart’s Message for Ramsey Clark, January 12, 2013 (Presented by Ralph Poynter)

Ramsey Clark and I have known each other for a long time but we only became face to face and personal friends after 1994.
In the 60′s Ramsey represented government enforcement and I was very anti-government, so you can draw your own conclusions! By 1976, I had hung out my law practice shingle and he was once again a private citizen and a lawyer defender. I was aware of his worldwide work as an ambassador to less than popular regimes, his candidacy to the Senate and of some of his cases–Ruchel Magee and the action at the Alameda County court house, Leonard Peltier, the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas.

However, it was not until 1994 that we embarked on our professional and personal relationship, which has now widened and deepened into something rich and fine.
The story of my meeting with Ramsey in 1994 is one that I have repeated often and love to tell. I had learned from a number of sources that a search was underway for a lawyer to represent Sheik Omar Abdel Rahman in his upcoming sedition trial (better known as the landmarks case). I got a call from Abdeen Jabarra at my office asking if he could bring by some of the materials and talk to me about the case. Apparently Ramsey had been approached by a concerned group of Egyptians here in America, because the Sheik was representing himself with the “help” of an appointed ex-US Attorney lawyer, and they believed it was less than desirable for trial. He was blind, unfamiliar with English and would require an interpreter and finally was unfamiliar with the legal/courtroom procedures. The point was also made to me that Sheik Omar was a person of extraordinary religious repute and integrity–a highly respected Muslim scholar, a PhD graduate, despite his handicap, from Al Aztar University in Cairo. We would be viewed with contempt throughout the middle east and the world if the progressive community in the US could not arrange to have him defended with one of our very best political lawyers.
Numerous candidates had gone to the jail behind the federal court and interviewed the Sheik. There was a very limited amount of money available to provide a retainer in a
case that was projected to last for at least 6 to 8 months and that was due to begin shortly. I too went down to speak to him–not sure at that point if I even wanted the case but out of respect for Ramsey and Abdeen, I went. Everyone knows that that first interview sparked the kind of attorney-client chemistry that was to last for the next fifteen + years, but on that day, I still wasn’t sure. I had a heavy schedule. I knew what a lengthy trial can do to a healthy law practice. Most importantly, I am a compulsive preparer with a great memory, who always knows the case before the trial, better than the agents and the prosecution, and I would have no time to do so in a case in which my co-counsel had been getting ready for months if not years. The Judge would grant no adjournments. I felt I just couldn’t do it. I remember going with my husband Ralph Poynter, to Ramsey’s beautiful loft office in the Village on a Saturday afternoon in November to tell him so. I learned that day what had made this man the dauntless and persuasive Attorney General of Selma and the South of the 60s. He listened to all my reasons patiently and then unfolded his long lean Texas frame to stand and to say “Lynne, you are the only one who can do this. There is no-one else. I know how difficult it is but if you are going past a burning building and there’s a little child in there, you can’t stop to say, I need my fireman’s boots, my fireman hat, my tools, my ladder–you know you have to save that little one. You must do your best. There is no choice. You are it.” Well, after Ralph murmured his concern about my safety — not a real
problem, except for the government — I accepted and was committed and have remained so ever since.
Ramsey Clark and Abdeen Jabara made up the rest of this “dream team” but I was lead counsel. The Judge, Michael Mukasey, a Zionist, gave us no quarter pre trial, during the trial or after, but we carried the fight. Ramsey and I had differences over trial tactics but committed as we were to client-centered representation, the final decision was always the Sheik’s. After the bitter ending of the trial, in which the defense was not allowed to be presented to the Jury (one of the few times I have wept in a courtroom), we still went forward. There was no question that we would continue our representation, but that Ramsey and Larry Shilling would take over responsibility for the appeal.
I can say with complete honesty that I have never had the good fortune to work with a better or more committed attorney than Ramsey Clark, and I have worked with many. He was always generous, always understanding, always brilliant. The next years saw a deepening of our regard for each other. The phone calls; the long distance visits, meetings with the persons who had been concerned initially about the Sheik’s representation; we did all we could to zealously represent him.
Faced thereafter with the devastating loss of the Appeal and the imposition of the Special Administrative Measures on the Sheik, by the government–we still went forward, although our agenda was limited. We realize now that the Prison Conditions first at Springfield, Missouri, and later in Rochester, Minnesota were tantamount to extreme solitary confinement. Our client deteriorated physically and mentally and we fought for him, including keeping him from being “disappeared” off the world political scene. Ramsey did more than I could. He visited the client, fielded most of the prisoncalls and went to Egypt to keep supporters and family up to date. We both made press releases on the Sheik’s behalf, notwithstanding the attempt by the Government to stifle his voice. There was one occasion where the government in Afghanistan had made contact and offered to exchange a group of U.S. missionaries for Dr. Rahman. The date of our discussion and making of plans for Ramsey to go to Washington was September 10, 2001. Needless to say, after the events of the following day, the world had shifted and that offer was never acted upon.
Six months later, my own world shifted when I was arrested for a press release I had made on behalf of the Sheik in May/June 2001, which the government now characterized as material aid to a terrorist organization. In all the years that have followed Ramsey Clark has never wavered in his loyalty to me or the cause we both served as attorneys. He never hesitated to make known that he had equally, if not more so, done all that I had done but was never even admonished, much less prosecuted. He took the witness stand and testified at the trial. (I will tell you parenthetically that it was some of the most riveting testimony I had ever heard in a courtroom, when, speaking in his soft Texas drawl, as he recounted his dedicated work in the South–Selma, Birmingham, Little Rock, as Attorney General of the United States. You could have heard a pin drop when he ended by saying, “All those people wanted to do was vote.”)
Since the trial, Ramsey Clark has remained a stalwart for me. He has written letters to the Judge at BOTH sentencings. After I was hustled off to prison, he has always been available to my family and supporters and he came to Texas to visit me; to the adoration and respect of all the old timers on the prison staff. I am still fighting the injustice of my prosecution and sentence and I know he is with me every step of the way. Our professional regard from 1994 has continued to grow and our personal relationship can only be described as loving–not in the Hollywood sense, but in the love one shares with a comrade, a brother. A tribute to him cannot hope to measure up to the stature he has maintained for a lifetime. My friend, and warrior in the fight against injustice, my dear compadre Ramsey Clark.