President Obama Pardon Chelsea Manning Now!-The Struggle Continues ….We Will Not Leave Our Sister Behind-A Personal Letter From The Pen Of Chelsea Manning From Fort Leavenworth 

  

 

 

UNACpeace@gmail.com           518-227-6947             www.UNACpeace.org   The United National Antiwar Coalition (UNAC) invites you to two panels at the Left Forum May 30-31, 2015, New York City   John Jay College of Criminal Justice of the City University of New York 524 W. 59th St at Amsterdam Ave. WHY WE FOCUS ON U.S. IMPERIALIST WARS Saturday, May 30 Session 1, 10:00-11:50 am, Room 1.83   Abstract:  Many antiwar groups have joined with the U.S. in condemning Russia or ISIS or others that the U.S. government sees as its enemy. This has led some to not take up the fight against U.S. military attacks in Libya, Syria or Ukraine. However, it is the U.S. that is the main terrorist force and the cause of war in all these areas. This panel will discuss the role of the U.S. military abroad and how we can stop it Joe Lombardo, Co-Coordinator, UNAC Sara Flounders, Co-Director, International Action Center Additional speaker tba     THE WARS COME HOME Sunday, May 31 Session 6, 12:00-1:50 pm, Room 1.85   Abstract: Since 9/11, we have not only seen continuous war abroad but increased militarization of the police, attacks on Muslim and communities of color, austerity and attacks on our civil liberties. This is what UNAC means when we call for an end to the War at Home and Abroad. The panel will discuss this situation and how we can fight against it.   Margaret Kimberley, Editor and Senior Columnist, Black Agenda Report Abayomi Azikiwe, Editor, Pan-African News Wire and a Co-founder of the Michigan Emergency Committee Against War and Injustice Marilyn Levin, Co-Coordinator, UNAC     FREE OSCAR LOPEZ RIVERA! EAST COAST MARCH 2015 Saturday, May 30, NYC West Harlem – El Barrio Now age 72, Puerto Rican political prisoner Oscar López Rivera has served more than 30 years in prison, convicted of seditious conspiracy for his commitment to the independence of Puerto Rico, though he was not accused or convicted of causing harm or taking a life.  Serving a sentence of 70 years, he is among the longest held political prisoners in the history of Puerto Rico and in the world. Route & Rally: Assemble at 11:00 am 125th & Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. Blvd.  March east to Lexington, then south to 106th & Lexington St. rally site. info@freeoscarnycmay30.org       http://freeoscarnycmay30.org/     Red Crescent relief ship to Yemen stopped by US-backed Saudi destruction of Yemeni port. (Excerpts taken from report of U.S. resident Caleb Maupin of the International Action Committee who was on the ship delivering humanitarian aid, writing from Djibouti on May 23, 2015.)   I Have Witnessed A Crime Against Humanity! - A Message from Caleb Maupin in the Port of Djibouti From the Port of Djibouti in North Africa, it is with great sadness and burning outrage that I announce that the voyage of the Iran Shahed Rescue Ship has concluded. We will not reach our destination at the Port of Hodiedah in Yemen to deliver humanitarian aid. The unsuccessful conclusion of our mission is the result of only one thing: US-backed Saudi Terrorism.  Yesterday, as it appeared our arrival was imminent, the Saudi forces bombed the port of Hodiedah. They didn’t just bomb the port once, or even twice. The Saudi forces bombed the port of Hodiedah a total of eight times in a single day! The total number of innocent dock workers, sailors, longshoremen, and bystanders killed by these eight airstrikes is still being calculated.   With its so many criminal threats and actions, the Saudi regime was sending a message to the crew of doctors, medical technicians, anesthesiologists, and other Red Crescent Society volunteers onboard the ship. The message was “If you try to help the hungry children of Yemen we will kill you.”  These actions, designed to terrorize and intimidate those seeking to deliver humanitarian aid, are a clear violation of international law. I can say, without any hesitation, that I have witnessed a crime against humanity.   In the context of the extreme Saudi threats, after lengthy negotiations which have been taking place around the clock in Tehran, it has been determined that the Red Crescent Society cannot complete this mission. The 2,500 tons of medical supplies, food, and water are being unloaded, and handed over to the World Food Program, who has agreed to distribute them on our behalf by June 5th. ……….   The people of Yemen, like the forces of resistance in so many other parts of the world, have refused to surrender. As they face a horrendous onslaught with US made Saudi bombs, I hope that news of our peaceful, humanitarian mission has reached them. I hope they are aware that in their struggle against the Saudi King, the Wall Street bankers, and all the great forces of evil, they are not alone. There are millions of people across the planet who are on their side.   Imperialism is doomed, and all humanity shall soon be free! Remove U.S. Drone Relay Stations from German Soil At the UNAC Convention, May 8-10, American German activist Elsa Rassbach spoke powerfully about the need to stand in solidarity with German activists who are protesting the use of the U.S. Base in Ramstein, Germany to host a satellite relay necessary to the military drone program.   All targeted killings and surveillance by US drones in Africa, the Middle East and Southwest Asia require the use of this relay, which sends data received overland from domestic U.S. bases to a satellite which  then forwards the signals to individual drones. This is a gross violation of the sovereignty of Germany, just as the drone surveillance and strikes themselves are violations of the sovereignty of Yemen, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Somalia and the other countries where they are used, and targeted killings are a violation of the most basic human rights of the victims, all of whom are technically civilian.  UNAC supports the campaign to remove the relay from German soil, and stands in solidarity with the people of Germany.  On Wednesday, May 27, Faisal bin Ali Jaber will have his first hearing in a lawsuit against the German government's complicity in the deaths of his brother-in-law and nephew by a drone strike in Yemen.   Jaber's brother-in-law was a cleric and a peacemaker.  He was arranging a meeting to show the local Al Qaeda converts the error of their understanding when he ws killed.   Drone strikes prohibit local solutions to local problems.    The relay in Germany was installed in secrecy under the cover of the U.S. - German Status of Forces agreement.    Now that it's existence is known, the German government must respond appropriately in light of German, EU and International Law.   We support Faisal bin Ali Jaber's right to justice, and the rights of all the victims to a just hearing, and the right of the German people not to be made complicit in U.S. war crimes  Please click here to donate to UNAC

 

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Veterans call for peace on Memorial Day

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KEITH BEDFORD/GLOBE STAFF

At Columbus Park in Boston, Linda Hickey and others tossed carnations representing service members killed in war during a Veterans for Peace ceremony on Memorial Day.

By Kathy McCabe GLOBE STAFF   MAY 26, 2015

The brass bell tolled as the name of each of the 124 service members from Massachusetts who died in Iraq or Afghanistan was solemnly announced.

After each name was called, a red, white, or blue carnation was dropped into the still waters of Boston Harbor.

Army Sergeant Jordan Shay of Amesbury was the first name called. He was killed on Sept. 3, 2009, in a combat vehicle accident just weeks into his second tour of duty in Iraq. He was 22.

“It was very thoughtful and moving,” said Louise Bruyn, 85, of Newton, who dropped the flower in memory of Shay, whom she never met.

The flower ceremony was the emotional high point of a Memorial Day tribute organized by the Boston chapter of Veterans for Peace, an international organization that promotes a nonviolent end to war.

Carnations were also dropped to honor the more than 1,300 servicemen and women from Massachusetts who died in Vietnam.

The 90-minute ceremony, held under overcast skies at Christopher Columbus Park in the North End, struck a different tone than traditional Memorial Day parades and services held Monday in communities across the state.

Spectators waved peace flags and wore T-shirts with the message, “War is a racket. A few profit — the many pay,” printed on the back.

“I think the current wars are a big mistake,” said Carolyn Whiting, 65, of Reading, who held a rainbow-colored peace flag and wore strands of red-and-blue peace symbol beads around her neck.

“Amazing Grace” sounded from a harmonica. Poems penned by combat veterans were read.

“It was OK,” Patrick Doherty, 31, of Dorchester, an Army Iraq war veteran, said after reading a poem. “It’s kind of a sad day.”

Vietnam and Iraq war veterans remembered both their fallen comrades and civilians who have lived through war.

“We always remember those who wore the uniforms, but we never seem to recall those civilians, the ones who did not want war . . . and who had nothing to do with it,” said Bob Funke, 63, of Roslindale, an Army veteran who served two tours of duty in Vietnam.

Funke recalled the stark difference between his first tour as an infantryman and his second tour as a medic.

“In my first tour . . . I killed at least 21 people,” he said in a raspy voice. “In the second tour, I was a medic and I saved over 200 people.

“I can tell you right now, saving lives beats the hell out of taking them,” Funke added, drawing applause from the crowd of about 50 gathered before him. “We should be doing all we can to save lives, and bring home those who have gone to war.”

Travis Weiner, 29, an Army veteran who served two tours in Iraq, offered a moment of silence for Army Corporal John M. Dawson of Northbridge, the state’s most recent casualty, who was killed in Afghanistan on April 8, and for six men from his platoon who died serving in Iraq.

“It is good and fitting that we do this,” said Weiner, who works as an outreach worker for Homebase Program, which provides support services to veterans.

But Memorial Day should also be “a day in which people around this country take time to contemplate some fundamental moral, ethical, and philosophical questions related to our country’s wars,” Weiner said. “I believe, with all my heart, that it is dishonoring to our fallen brothers and sisters to refuse to even consider these questions.”

Kathy McCabe can be reached at katherine.mccabe@ globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @GlobeKMcCabe.

---

From The Archives

 

 

 

 

From The Archives

 

support efforts

Presentation by JEFF PATERSON, former Kaneohe Bay Marine who publicly refused to deploy to the Gulf War, entitled “Chelsea Manning and War Objectors,” begins approx. 34 min. into the video. Presentation held March 10th, 2015, at Weaver Hall on the ground of the Church of the Crossroads, Honolulu, Hawaii.
Also featuring: JACOB BRIDGE – active duty Kaneohe Bay Marine officer, Conscientious Objector applicant, KYLE KAJIHIRO – advocate for downsizing the US Army on Oahu, Hawaii Peace & Justice activist, NANCY ALECK – evening moderator, Executive Director of Hawaii People’s Fund.

Event hosted by the Chelsea Manning Support Network and Courage to Resist. Endorsed by: ACLU Foundation of Hawaiʻi, Hawaiʻi Peace & Justice, Hawaiʻi People’s Fund, Revolution Books Honolulu, World Can’t Wait-Hawaiʻi
In August 1990, US Marine artilleryman Corporal Jeff Paterson became the first of many US military personnel to refuse to fight in Iraq. Jeff sat down on the tarmac of the Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station to refuse deployment. Today, he is the Project Director of Courage to Resist, an Oakland, California-based organization dedicated to supporting GI war resisters and conscientious objectors.
Since 2004, Jeff has worked with hundreds of US military objectors who faced serious consequences for objecting to our nation’s endless wars. In 2006, he worked with Oahu native US Army Lt. Ehren Watada to refuse to fight an illegal war in Iraq.
Since 2010, Jeff has managed the staff and defense fund of the Chelsea Manning Support Network. Chelsea (former Bradley) Manning was sentenced to 35 years in military prison for providing the WikiLeaks website with embarrassing details of the Iraq and Afghanistan Wars, US State Department double-dealings, and information about the detainees at Guantanamo Bay.
Note: US Marine officer 1st Lt. Jacob Bridge was NOT representing the US military at this event, in any way. His participation was limited to sharing his personal views on these matters with the local community.

Chelsea writes on 5 years in confinement in new Guardian op-ed

May 27, 2015 by Chelsea E. Manning
“The years since I was jailed for releasing the ‘war diaries’ have been a rollercoaster.”
It can be difficult, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years.

“In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare”, writes Chelsea E Manning.

Today marks five years since I was ordered into military confinement while deployed to Iraq in 2010. I find it difficult to believe, at times, just how long I have been in prison. Throughout this time, there have been so many ups and downs – it often feels like a physical and emotional roller coaster.
It all began in the first few weeks of 2010, when I made the life-changing decision to release to the public a repository of classified (and unclassified but “sensitive” ) documents that provided a simultaneously horrific and beautiful outlook on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. After spending months preparing to deploy to Afghanistan in 2008, switching to Iraq in 2009 and actually staying in Iraq from 2009-10, I quickly and fully recognized the importance of these documents to the world at large.
I felt that the Iraq and Afghanistan “war diaries” (as they have been dubbed) were vital to the public’s understanding of the two interconnected counter-insurgency conflicts from a real-time and on-the-ground perspective. In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare. Once you come to realize that the co-ordinates in these records represent real places, that the dates are our recent history and that the numbers represent actual human lives – with all of the love, hope, dreams, hate, fear and nightmares with which we all live – then you cannot help but be reminded just how important it is for us to understand and, hopefully, prevent such tragedies in the future.
A few months later, after spending months poring over at least a few thousand classified US diplomatic cables, I moved to also have these documents released to the public in the “cablegate” archive. After reading so many of these documents – detailing an exhaustive list of public interest issues, from the conduct of the “global war on terrorism” to the deliberate diplomatic and economic exploitation of developing countries – I felt that they, too, belonged in the public domain.
In 2010, I was considerably less mature than I am now, and the potential consequences and outcomes of my actions seemed vague and very surreal to me. I certainly expected the worst possible outcome, but I lacked a strong sense of what “the worst” would entail. I did expect to be demonized and targeted, to have every moment of my life re-examined and analyzed for every possible personal flaw and blemish, and to have them used against me in the court of public opinion or against transgender people as a whole.
When the military ordered me into confinement, I was escorted (by two of the friendliest guys in my unit) to Kuwait, first by helicopter to Baghdad and finally by cargo plane. It was not until I arrived at the prison camp in Kuwait that I actually felt like I was a prisoner. Over the succeeding days, it only got worse as the public and the media began to seek and learn more about what happened to me. After living in a communal setting for about a week, I was transferred to what amounted to a “cage” in a large tent.
After a few weeks of living in the cage and tent – not knowing what my charges were, having very limited access to my attorney and having absolutely no idea of the media firestorm that was beginning to swirl in the world outside – I became extremely depressed. I was terrified that I was not going to be treated in the dignified way that I had expected. I also began to fear that I was forever going to be living in a hot, desert cage, living as and being treated as a male, disappearing from the world into a secret prison and never facing a public trial.
It didn’t help that a few of the Navy guards delivering meals would tell me that I was was waiting for interrogation on a brig on a US cruiser off the coast of the horn of Africa, or being sent to the prison camps of Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. At the very lowest point, I contemplated castrating myself, and even – in what seemed a pointless and tragicomic exercise, given the physical impossibility of having nothing stable to hang from – contemplated suicide with a tattered blanket, which I tried to choke myself with. After getting caught, I was placed on suicide watch in Kuwait.
After being transferred back to the US, I was confined at the now-closed military brig at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. This time was the most difficult for me overall, and felt like the longest. I was not allowed to have any items in my cell – no toothbrushes, soap, toilet paper, books, paper and on a few occasions even my glasses – unless I was given permission to use them under close supervision. When I was finished, I had to return these items. At night, I had to surrender my clothing and, despite recommendations by several psychiatrists that I was not deemed suicidal), wear a “suicide prevention” smock – a single-piece, padded, tear-proof garment.
Eventually, after public outcry regarding the conditions of my confinement at Quantico and the resignation of PJ Crowley, the former press secretary of the Department of State, I was transferred to medium custody and the general population at an Army prison. It was a high point in my incarcerated life: after nearly a year of constantly being watched by guards with clipboards and having my movements controlled by groups of three-to-six guards while in hand irons and chains and limited contact with other humans, I was finally able to walk around and have normal conversations with human beings again.
The government pressed forward with charges of “aiding the enemy” – a treasonable offense under the US constitution – and various charges under the Espionage Act of 1917 and the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. Over nearly two years of hearings, I witnessed firsthand just how much the the government was willing to invest in my prosecution: the stacks of money spent; the gallons of fuel burned; the reams of paper printed; and the lengthy rolls of personnel, lawyers and experts.
For over 100 days, I watched the lawyers who prosecuted my case present me as a “traitor” and “enemy of state” in court and then become friendly people giving greetings and making chit-chat out of court. It became clear to me that they were basically just decent people doing their jobs. I am convinced that they did not believe the treason arguments they made against me – and was, even as they spoke them.
The verdict and sentencing at the end of my court-martial was difficult to predict. The defense team seriously worried about the aiding the enemy charge and the very wide range for a sentence, which was anything between “time served” and life without parole. After the judge announced my 35-year sentence, I had to console my attorneys who, after years of hard work and effort, looked worn out and dejected. It was a low-point for all of us.
After years of hiding and holding off because of the trial, I finally announced my intent to change my name and transition to living as woman on 22 August 2013 – the day following my sentencing – a personal high point for me, despite my other circumstances. However, the military initially declined my request to receive the medically-mandated treatment for my diagnosed gender dysphoria, which is to live as a woman and receiving a regular regiment of estrogen and androgen blockers. Just like during my time at Quantico and during my court-martial, I was subjected to a laborious and time consuming legal process. Finally, just under four months ago – but nearly a year and a half after my initial request – I began my hormone treatment. I am still fighting for the right to grow out my hair to the military’s standard for women, but being able to transition remains one of the highest points for me in my entire life.
It can be hard, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years (let alone my entire life). The things that seem consistent and clear to me are the support that I receive from my friends, my family and the millions of people all over the world. Through every struggle that I have been confronted with, and have been subjected to – solitary confinement, long legal battles and physically transitioning to the woman I have always been – I manage not only to survive, but to grow, learn, mature and thrive as a better, more confident person.

Help us provide support to Chelsea in prison, maximize her voice in the media, continue public education and build a powerful movement for presidential pardon.

Please donate today!

 

Chelsea writes on 5 years in confinement in new Guardian op-ed

May 27, 2015 by Chelsea E. Manning
“The years since I was jailed for releasing the ‘war diaries’ have been a rollercoaster.”
It can be difficult, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years.

“In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare”, writes Chelsea E Manning.

Today marks five years since I was ordered into military confinement while deployed to Iraq in 2010. I find it difficult to believe, at times, just how long I have been in prison. Throughout this time, there have been so many ups and downs – it often feels like a physical and emotional roller coaster.
It all began in the first few weeks of 2010, when I made the life-changing decision to release to the public a repository of classified (and unclassified but “sensitive” ) documents that provided a simultaneously horrific and beautiful outlook on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. After spending months preparing to deploy to Afghanistan in 2008, switching to Iraq in 2009 and actually staying in Iraq from 2009-10, I quickly and fully recognized the importance of these documents to the world at large.
I felt that the Iraq and Afghanistan “war diaries” (as they have been dubbed) were vital to the public’s understanding of the two interconnected counter-insurgency conflicts from a real-time and on-the-ground perspective. In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare. Once you come to realize that the co-ordinates in these records represent real places, that the dates are our recent history and that the numbers represent actual human lives – with all of the love, hope, dreams, hate, fear and nightmares with which we all live – then you cannot help but be reminded just how important it is for us to understand and, hopefully, prevent such tragedies in the future.
A few months later, after spending months poring over at least a few thousand classified US diplomatic cables, I moved to also have these documents released to the public in the “cablegate” archive. After reading so many of these documents – detailing an exhaustive list of public interest issues, from the conduct of the “global war on terrorism” to the deliberate diplomatic and economic exploitation of developing countries – I felt that they, too, belonged in the public domain.
In 2010, I was considerably less mature than I am now, and the potential consequences and outcomes of my actions seemed vague and very surreal to me. I certainly expected the worst possible outcome, but I lacked a strong sense of what “the worst” would entail. I did expect to be demonized and targeted, to have every moment of my life re-examined and analyzed for every possible personal flaw and blemish, and to have them used against me in the court of public opinion or against transgender people as a whole.
When the military ordered me into confinement, I was escorted (by two of the friendliest guys in my unit) to Kuwait, first by helicopter to Baghdad and finally by cargo plane. It was not until I arrived at the prison camp in Kuwait that I actually felt like I was a prisoner. Over the succeeding days, it only got worse as the public and the media began to seek and learn more about what happened to me. After living in a communal setting for about a week, I was transferred to what amounted to a “cage” in a large tent.
After a few weeks of living in the cage and tent – not knowing what my charges were, having very limited access to my attorney and having absolutely no idea of the media firestorm that was beginning to swirl in the world outside – I became extremely depressed. I was terrified that I was not going to be treated in the dignified way that I had expected. I also began to fear that I was forever going to be living in a hot, desert cage, living as and being treated as a male, disappearing from the world into a secret prison and never facing a public trial.
It didn’t help that a few of the Navy guards delivering meals would tell me that I was was waiting for interrogation on a brig on a US cruiser off the coast of the horn of Africa, or being sent to the prison camps of Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. At the very lowest point, I contemplated castrating myself, and even – in what seemed a pointless and tragicomic exercise, given the physical impossibility of having nothing stable to hang from – contemplated suicide with a tattered blanket, which I tried to choke myself with. After getting caught, I was placed on suicide watch in Kuwait.
After being transferred back to the US, I was confined at the now-closed military brig at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. This time was the most difficult for me overall, and felt like the longest. I was not allowed to have any items in my cell – no toothbrushes, soap, toilet paper, books, paper and on a few occasions even my glasses – unless I was given permission to use them under close supervision. When I was finished, I had to return these items. At night, I had to surrender my clothing and, despite recommendations by several psychiatrists that I was not deemed suicidal), wear a “suicide prevention” smock – a single-piece, padded, tear-proof garment.
Eventually, after public outcry regarding the conditions of my confinement at Quantico and the resignation of PJ Crowley, the former press secretary of the Department of State, I was transferred to medium custody and the general population at an Army prison. It was a high point in my incarcerated life: after nearly a year of constantly being watched by guards with clipboards and having my movements controlled by groups of three-to-six guards while in hand irons and chains and limited contact with other humans, I was finally able to walk around and have normal conversations with human beings again.
The government pressed forward with charges of “aiding the enemy” – a treasonable offense under the US constitution – and various charges under the Espionage Act of 1917 and the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. Over nearly two years of hearings, I witnessed firsthand just how much the the government was willing to invest in my prosecution: the stacks of money spent; the gallons of fuel burned; the reams of paper printed; and the lengthy rolls of personnel, lawyers and experts.
For over 100 days, I watched the lawyers who prosecuted my case present me as a “traitor” and “enemy of state” in court and then become friendly people giving greetings and making chit-chat out of court. It became clear to me that they were basically just decent people doing their jobs. I am convinced that they did not believe the treason arguments they made against me – and was, even as they spoke them.
The verdict and sentencing at the end of my court-martial was difficult to predict. The defense team seriously worried about the aiding the enemy charge and the very wide range for a sentence, which was anything between “time served” and life without parole. After the judge announced my 35-year sentence, I had to console my attorneys who, after years of hard work and effort, looked worn out and dejected. It was a low-point for all of us.
After years of hiding and holding off because of the trial, I finally announced my intent to change my name and transition to living as woman on 22 August 2013 – the day following my sentencing – a personal high point for me, despite my other circumstances. However, the military initially declined my request to receive the medically-mandated treatment for my diagnosed gender dysphoria, which is to live as a woman and receiving a regular regiment of estrogen and androgen blockers. Just like during my time at Quantico and during my court-martial, I was subjected to a laborious and time consuming legal process. Finally, just under four months ago – but nearly a year and a half after my initial request – I began my hormone treatment. I am still fighting for the right to grow out my hair to the military’s standard for women, but being able to transition remains one of the highest points for me in my entire life.
It can be hard, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years (let alone my entire life). The things that seem consistent and clear to me are the support that I receive from my friends, my family and the millions of people all over the world. Through every struggle that I have been confronted with, and have been subjected to – solitary confinement, long legal battles and physically transitioning to the woman I have always been – I manage not only to survive, but to grow, learn, mature and thrive as a better, more confident person.

Help us provide support to Chelsea in prison, maximize her voice in the media, continue public education and build a powerful movement for presidential pardon.

Please donate today!

 

Chelsea Manning (formerly Bradley Manning)

Comment is free

The years since I was jailed for releasing the 'war diaries' have been a rollercoaster

Chelsea E Manning

It can be difficult, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years

“In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare”, writes Chelsea E Manning. Photograph: AP

Wednesday 27 May 2015 10.43 EDT Last modified on Thursday 28 May 2015 03.29 EDT

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Today marks five years since I was ordered into military confinement while deployed to Iraq in 2010. I find it difficult to believe, at times, just how long I have been in prison. Throughout this time, there have been so many ups and downs – it often feels like a physical and emotional roller coaster.
It all began in the first few weeks of 2010, when I made the life-changing decision to release to the public a repository of classified (and unclassified but “sensitive” ) documents that provided a simultaneously horrific and beautiful outlook on the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. After spending months preparing to deploy to Afghanistan in 2008, switching to Iraq in 2009 and actually staying in Iraq from 2009-10, I quickly and fully recognized the importance of these documents to the world at large.

Chelsea Manning reveals threats of 'disappearing' at Guantánamo Bay

US soldier marks fifth anniversary of military custody with most personal firsthand account yet and accuses military guards of threatening her with exile

Read more

I felt that the Iraq and Afghanistan “war diaries” (as they have been dubbed) were vital to the public’s understanding of the two interconnected counter-insurgency conflicts from a real-time and on-the-ground perspective. In the years before these documents were collected, the public likely never had such a complete record of the chaotic nature of modern warfare. Once you come to realize that the co-ordinates in these records represent real places, that the dates are our recent history and that the numbers represent actual human lives – with all of the love, hope, dreams, hate, fear and nightmares with which we all live – then you cannot help but be reminded just how important it is for us to understand and, hopefully, prevent such tragedies in the future.
A few months later, after spending months poring over at least a few thousand classified US diplomatic cables, I moved to also have these documents released to the public in the “cablegate” archive. After reading so many of these documents – detailing an exhaustive list of public interest issues, from the conduct of the “global war on terrorism” to the deliberate diplomatic and economic exploitation of developing countries – I felt that they, too, belonged in the public domain.

In 2010, I was considerably less mature than I am now, and the potential consequences and outcomes of my actions seemed vague and very surreal to me. I certainly expected the worst possible outcome, but I lacked a strong sense of what “the worst” would entail. I did expect to be demonized and targeted, to have every moment of my life re-examined and analyzed for every possible personal flaw and blemish, and to have them used against me in the court of public opinion or against transgender people as a whole.
When the military ordered me into confinement, I was escorted (by two of the friendliest guys in my unit) to Kuwait, first by helicopter to Baghdad and finally by cargo plane. It was not until I arrived at the prison camp in Kuwait that I actually felt like I was a prisoner. Over the succeeding days, it only got worse as the public and the media began to seek and learn more about what happened to me. After living in a communal setting for about a week, I was transferred to what amounted to a “cage” in a large tent.
After a few weeks of living in the cage and tent – not knowing what my charges were, having very limited access to my attorney and having absolutely no idea of the media firestorm that was beginning to swirl in the world outside – I became extremely depressed. I was terrified that I was not going to be treated in the dignified way that I had expected. I also began to fear that I was forever going to be living in a hot, desert cage, living as and being treated as a male, disappearing from the world into a secret prison and never facing a public trial.
It didn’t help that a few of the Navy guards delivering meals would tell me that I was was waiting for interrogation on a brig on a US cruiser off the coast of the horn of Africa, or being sent to the prison camps of Guantánamo Bay, Cuba. At the very lowest point, I contemplated castrating myself, and even – in what seemed a pointless and tragicomic exercise, given the physical impossibility of having nothing stable to hang from – contemplated suicide with a tattered blanket, which I tried to choke myself with. After getting caught, I was placed on suicide watch in Kuwait.
After being transferred back to the US, I was confined at the now-closed military brig at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. This time was the most difficult for me overall, and felt like the longest. I was not allowed to have any items in my cell – no toothbrushes, soap, toilet paper, books, paper and on a few occasions even my glasses – unless I was given permission to use them under close supervision. When I was finished, I had to return these items. At night, I had to surrender my clothing and, despite recommendations by several psychiatrists that I was not deemed suicidal), wear a “suicide prevention” smock – a single-piece, padded, tear-proof garment.
Eventually, after public outcry regarding the conditions of my confinement at Quantico and the resignation of PJ Crowley, the former press secretary of the Department of State, I was transferred to medium custody and the general population at an Army prison. It was a high point in my incarcerated life: after nearly a year of constantly being watched by guards with clipboards and having my movements controlled by groups of three-to-six guards while in hand irons and chains and limited contact with other humans, I was finally able to walk around and have normal conversations with human beings again.
The government pressed forward with charges of “aiding the enemy” – a treasonable offense under the US constitution – and various charges under the Espionage Act of 1917 and the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. Over nearly two years of hearings, I witnessed firsthand just how much the the government was willing to invest in my prosecution: the stacks of money spent; the gallons of fuel burned; the reams of paper printed; and the lengthy rolls of personnel, lawyers and experts.
For over 100 days, I watched the lawyers who prosecuted my case present me as a “traitor” and “enemy of state” in court and then become friendly people giving greetings and making chit-chat out of court. It became clear to me that they were basically just decent people doing their jobs. I am convinced that they did not believe the treason arguments they made against me – and was, even as they spoke them.
The verdict and sentencing at the end of my court-martial was difficult to predict. The defense team seriously worried about the aiding the enemy charge and the very wide range for a sentence, which was anything between “time served” and life without parole. After the judge announced my 35-year sentence, I had to console my attorneys who, after years of hard work and effort, looked worn out and dejected. It was a low-point for all of us.
After years of hiding and holding off because of the trial, I finally announced my intent to change my name and transition to living as woman on 22 August 2013 – the day following my sentencing – a personal high point for me, despite my other circumstances. However, the military initially declined my request to receive the medically-mandated treatment for my diagnosed gender dysphoria, which is to live as a woman and receiving a regular regiment of estrogen and androgen blockers. Just like during my time at Quantico and during my court-martial, I was subjected to a laborious and time consuming legal process. Finally, just under four months ago – but nearly a year and a half after my initial request – I began my hormone treatment. I am still fighting for the right to grow out my hair to the military’s standard for women, but being able to transition remains one of the highest points for me in my entire life.
It can be hard, sometimes, to make sense of all the things that have happened to me in the last five years (let alone my entire life). The things that seem consistent and clear to me are the support that I receive from my friends, my family and the millions of people all over the world. Through every struggle that I have been confronted with, and have been subjected to – solitary confinement, long legal battles and physically transitioning to the woman I have always been – I manage not only to survive, but to grow, learn, mature and thrive as a better, more confident person.

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Topics

• Chelsea Manning (formerly Bradley Manning)
• Transgender
• Surveillance
• Afghanistan
• Iraq