The Rag Blog

Just over a year ago, during a high-school assembly in Jena, Louisiana, a black student asked the school’s white principal if it would be all right to sit under an oak tree outside, an oasis of shade known as the “white tree,” because only Caucasian students congregated there. The principal said that the young man could sit where he liked. Later, the student and some African-American friends walked over to the oak and chatted with some white schoolmates. The next day, somebody fixed two nooses to the tree’s branches.

The ropes inaugurated a narrative of conflict and small-town justice in the Deep South known today as the case of the Jena Six, a story populated by a disconcerting number of stock characters from the late Jim Crow era. Its origins signalled a theatrical quality that a swelling cast, including the Reverend Al Sharpton, has managed to sustain; an Off Broadway production (backlit oak tree, gentle wind machines, soliloquies about past and present) seems inevitable.

Although some of the evidence in the Jena case is murky, a cumulative verdict of racial double standards lies beyond reasonable doubt. Between Reconstruction and the end of the Second World War, more than two hundred and fifty people in Louisiana, the great majority of them African-Americans, were lynched. Jena’s recent noosemakers, identified as a trio of white students, were recommended for expulsion by the principal, who was evidently conscious of this history, but a white school superintendent imposed suspensions only, on the ground that the tree display was a prank. In the days leading up to that decision, fights had erupted between black and white students, and the local district attorney, Reed Walters, reportedly gave a speech in which he warned students, “With a stroke of my pen, I can make your lives disappear.”

Last December, at the school, a black student coldcocked a white student, Justin Barker, knocking him briefly unconscious; other black students allegedly kicked the victim while he lay on the ground. Barker was treated for cuts and bruises at a hospital and released a few hours later. The police arrested six black students, aged fourteen to eighteen, and Walters charged them with attempted second-degree murder and a conspiracy count; if convicted, they faced up to seventy-five years in prison.

Jena prosecutors started reducing the charges to aggravated second-degree battery and conspiracy. Still, last June an all-white jury convicted one of the defendants, Mychal Bell, who was sixteen years old at the time of the assault, of crimes that threatened him with up to twenty-two years in an adult state prison. Michael Baisden, a black syndicated radio talk-show host who normally specializes in romance and its perils, undertook an on-air protest, along with others, which spread across black radio and then to the Internet. In late September, thousands of demonstrators descended on Jena. Last Thursday, Bell, whose convictions had been thrown out, was released on bail, after ten months in jail; Reed Walters has agreed to retry him as a juvenile.

Last week, in the Times, Walters defended his work; he described himself as just “a lawyer obligated to enforce the laws of my state.” A devotion to the sanctity of statutes is, of course, essential in a nation governed by laws, but equally important is the exercise of prosecutorial discretion, derived from an intuitive commitment to fairness and common sense. If Walters had possessed a modest measure of such judgment, he might have rescued himself and the town of Jena from notoriety many months ago.

His bullheadedness, however, does not explain why Jena’s narrative has resonated so broadly. Many African-Americans understand the case not only as the civil-rights era redux but as a stark illustration of a here-and-now problem, one about which whites are mainly silent: the mass incarceration of black youths—America’s “school-to-prison pipeline,” as some scholars have christened it.

The number of blacks in prison has quadrupled since 1980. There are many overlapping causes, among them severe automated federal sentencing rules; a passionate but badly managed “war on drugs” prosecuted most heavily in African-American neighborhoods; and deepening inequalities in personal income and access to education, whose effects fall hardest on urban teen-agers. One study estimates that, if recent trends continue, a third of the black males born in 2001 can expect to do time.

The state of Louisiana, true to its reputation for rococo extremism in all matters political, locks up in prison a higher percentage of its population—black, white, and all other races combined—than any other state in the nation. It might be of some comfort to politicians, then, if the Jena case, like the disgraceful treatment of displaced African-American victims of Hurricane Katrina, could be rationalized as an isolated, swamp-inspired exception to a more temperate American norm.

The opposite is true, however. In July, the Sentencing Project, a research and advocacy group, released a state-by-state study of prison populations that identified where blacks endured the highest rates of incarceration. The top four states were South Dakota, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Vermont; the top ten included Utah, Montana, and Colorado—not places renowned for their African-American subcultures. In the United States today, driving while black—or shoplifting while black, or taking illegal drugs, or hitting schoolmates—often carries the greatest risk of incarceration, in comparison to the risk faced by whites, in states where people of color are rare, including a few states that are liberal, prosperous, and not a little self-satisfied. Ex-slave states that are relatively poor and have large African-American populations, such as Louisiana, display less racial disparity.

BAGHDAD, Oct. 7 — The Iraqi prime minister’s office said Sunday that the government’s investigation had determined that Blackwater USA private security guards who shot Iraqi civilians three weeks ago in a Baghdad square sprayed gunfire in nearly every direction, committed “deliberate murder” and should be punished accordingly.

Iraqi investigators, supported by Iraqi witness accounts, have said unofficially that they could not find evidence of any attack on the Blackwater guards that might have provoked the shooting on Nisour Square, which the Iraqis say killed 17 and wounded 27. But the statement by Ali al-Dabbagh, a spokesman for the prime minister, is the first indication that the government considers its investigation completed and the shootings unprovoked.

“This is a deliberate crime against civilians,” Mr. Dabbagh said. “It should be tried in court and the victims should be compensated.”

Those conclusions contradict Blackwater’s original statement on the shooting, which said that a convoy operated by the company’s guards “acted lawfully and appropriately in response to a hostile attack.” The Iraqi findings are also at odds with initial assertions by the State Department that the convoy had received small-arms fire.

Blackwater provides security for American diplomats in Iraq. A convoy carrying diplomats was approaching the square when a second Blackwater convoy, positioned on the square in advance to control traffic, opened fire.

“Not even a brick was thrown at them,” said Abdul Qader Mohammed Jassim, the Iraqi defense minister. “And until now we have been examining this matter.”

But in an indication of the legal uncertainties surrounding the case in Iraq, where the law gives American contractors virtual immunity, Mr. Dabbagh said decisions on specific legal steps would wait until the Americans completed their own investigation of the shooting and conferred with the Iraqis. It is not clear which provisions of American law would apply in this case.

American officials have cautioned against drawing conclusions until evidence from all witnesses in the case, including the Blackwater guards, has been compiled.

Mr. Jassim said that little information had come from the Americans and that Iraqi investigators had not been granted access to the guards. But he said the Americans had promised to cooperate.

In previously undisclosed details in the government’s final report, the Iraqi police documented that Blackwater guards shot in almost every direction, killing or wounding people in a near 360-degree circle around Nisour Square.

The thick file amassed for the investigation asserts that bullets reached bystanders who were as far as 200 feet away and nearly on the opposite side of the square.

The police investigation also shows that a second shooting, in which one person was killed and two wounded, occurred about 600 feet from the initial one on the opposite side of the square, along the departure route that the Blackwater team took from the first shooting.

Although American diplomats have worked with personal security companies for most of the time since the American invasion in March 2003, it appears that State Department officials only now have started to thoroughly look at every aspect of the relationship.

As part of that effort, Patrick Kennedy, who heads the State Department’s team reviewing the relationship with personal security companies, met in recent days with the private security industry in Iraq. He posed nearly 20 questions to representatives of the firms that make clear that American diplomats have been largely in the dark about some of the most basic procedures of the people who protect them. A list of the questions was provided by a participant.

Using abbreviations for the Department of State and personal security company, among the questions he posed were: “Do we provide weapons for P.S.C.’s? Does the D.O.S. travel outside the Green Zone too much? What is the ultimate method of discipline for P.S.C. individuals?”

Mérida, (venezuelanalysis.com)- Venezuelan Foreign Minister Nicolas Maduro sharply criticized Washington at the UN General Assembly yesterday for increasing threats against Iran and for its actions in the war on terrorism. Maduro also met with US officials on Monday to discuss the delicate relations between the two countries.

Maduro spoke in place of President Hugo Chavez, who had canceled his trip to the UN at the last minute.

In his speech, Maduro warned General Assembly representatives of a campaign on the part of Washington “to demonize the Iranian people and government” and called for an end “to the madness of the war in Iraq.”

“We have seen how, in a dangerous fashion, they are making threatening statements against the peaceful people of Iran,” he said. “Has the world thought about what would happen if this total madness on the part of the elites in the United States government led to an attack on the peaceful nation of Iran?”

Maduro assured the assembly that “there is still time” to stop the campaign and prevent a war between the United States and Iran.

Calling the war in Iraq “foolish” and “irrational”, Maduro pointed to the amount of money the United States has spent on the Iraq war, and emphasized the number of houses, schools and hospitals that could have been built for the poor people of the world.

“If we add up all the direct results of this foolish and irrational war we would have to say that this war has brought death, destruction, instability, and has created more havens for terrorism,” he said. “Those 600 billion dollars invested in the occupation of Iraq during the last six years could have been for progress, equality, and justice for the Iraqi people, but the results are very evident. Just look at it.”

Maduro went on to denounce Washington for its “hypocritical” policy of fighting terrorism, while at the same time protecting “one of the world’s most dangerous terrorists,” referring to Luis Posada Carriles, the Cuban anti-Castro terrorist responsible for various terrorist attacks, including the 1976 bombing of a Cuban airline that killed 73 people.

The minister renewed Venezuela’s request to extradite Posada Carriles to Venezuela to be tried for his involvement in the bombing. Posada Carriles was a CIA-operative who once worked inside Venezuela and is accused of plotting the bombing of the Cuban airliner that took off from Venezuela. He has also been connected to other crimes, including the bombing of hotels in Havana and an attempted bombing in Panama. US authorities have denied the extradition request, however, alleging that Posada Carriles would be “tortured” in Venezuela.

“He is free and protected by the US government in Florida. This terrorist has served the CIA for 40 years,” said Maduro. “This two-faced behavior shows the hypocrisy of a government that is supposedly fighting a war against terrorism, but in their own country they protect one of the most dangerous terrorists of the western hemisphere.”

Maduro called on the representatives of the General Assembly to help build a “multipolar” world without “imperial hegemony,” insisting that building another world is urgent and possible. He also renewed Venezuela’s calls for a reform of the United Nations.

“We believe this organization has to be rebuilt. It has to be constructed to be a faithful instrument at the service of a multipolar world, of equality, of peace, of a world without hegemonies,” he said.

Despite his harsh criticisms of Washington, Maduro met with top US envoy for the Americas Thomas Shannon at the UN headquarters on Monday, in what has been described as a “very cordial” meeting. According to reports, the main topic of the meeting was the humanitarian exchange being negotiated with Colombia in which Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez has taken an active role.

For 40 years, the French government has been fighting a secret war in Africa, hidden not only from its people, but from the world. It has led the French to slaughter democrats, install dictator after dictator – and to fund and fuel the most vicious genocide since the Nazis. Today, this war is so violent that thousands are fleeing across the border from the Central African Republic into Darfur – seeking sanctuary in the world’s most notorious killing fields

10/07/07 “The Independent” — – I first heard whispers of this war in March, when newspapers reported in passing that the French military was bombing the remote city of Birao, in the far north-east of the CAR. Why were French soldiers fighting there, thousands of miles from home? Why had they been intervening in Central Africa this way for so many decades? I could find no answers here – so I decided to travel there, into the belly of France’s forgotten war.

On the battlefield – Birao

I am standing now on its latest battlefield, looking out over abandoned mud streets streaked with ash. The city of Birao is empty and echoing, for the first time in 200 years. All around are miles of burned and abandoned homes, with the odd starved child scampering through the wreckage. What were all these buildings? On one faded green sign it says Ministry of Justice, on a structure reduced to a charcoal husk. In the market square, the people who have returned are selling a few scarce supplies – rice and manioc, the local yeasty staple food – and talking quietly. At the edges of the town, there are African soldiers armed and trained by the French, lolling behind sandbags, with machine guns jutting nervously at passers-by. They are singing weary nationalist anthems and dreaming of home.

To get here, you have to travel for eight hours on a weekly UN flight that carries eight passengers at most, and then ride on the back of a rusting flat-top truck for an hour along ravaged and broken roads. It is hard to know when you have arrived, because you are greeted only by emptiness and silence. What has happened here? Sitting amid the mud and dust and sorrow, I find Mahmoud, one of the 10 per cent of Birao’s residents who have returned to the rubble.

He is a thin-faced 45-year-old farmer, and explains, in a low, slow voice, how his home town came to this. “I woke up for morning prayers on 4 March and there was gunfire everywhere. We were very frightened so we stayed in the house and hoped it would stop. But then in the early afternoon my brother’s children came running to our house, screaming and crying. They told us the Forcés Armées Centrafricanes [Faca – the army trained and equipped by the French, on behalf of their friendly neighbourhood strongman, President François Bozize] had gone into their house. They wouldn’t calm down and explain. So I ran there, and I saw my brother on the floor outside, dead. His wife explained they had forced their way in and rounded him up, along with three men who lived nearby. They took them out on to the street and shot them one by one in the head.”

Mahmoud’s friend, Idris, lived nearby, and feared he, too, would be shot. He says now: “We could see the villages burning and the children were screaming and really scared, so we ran two kilometres out into the jungle. From there we could see our whole city on fire. We fled along the river and stayed out there. We ate fish, but there weren’t many. Some days we couldn’t catch anything and we starved. The children were so terrified. Still, when they hear a loud noise, they think there are guns coming and they start shaking.” Idris looks off into the distance and continues: “On the fourth day, we saw the French planes come. They each had six rockets that they fired. The explosions were loud. We don’t know what they were targeting, or why. Then the French soldiers arrived.” A military truck filled with French soldiers rumbles by not long after, its tanned troops wearing designer sunglasses and a “why am I here?” anxiety.

As Mahmoud and Idris talk it gets dark, and a suffocating blackness and silence falls on the city. There is no electricity and no moonlight. They explain in this blackness that the French-backed troops began firing and the French military began bombing in March for one reason: the desperate locals had begun to rise up against President Bozize, because he had done nothing for them. People here were tired of the fact that “there are no schools, no hospitals, and no roads”. “We are completely isolated,” they explain. “When it rains, we are cut off from the world because the roads turn to mud. We have nothing. All the rebels were asking was for government help.” As I stumble around Birao, I hear this every time: the rebels were simply begging for government help for the hungry, abandoned people. Even the bemused French soldiers and the Bozize lackeys sent to the area admit this privately. Yet the French response was with bombs against the rebels’ pick-up points. Why? What is there here that they want?

I look out towards the jungle and realise many of Birao’s residents are still hiding out there, risking the wild beasts. In the similarly burned-out areas in the north-west, I drive out into the jungle with Unicef and find these clusters of starving families scattered everywhere. In one cleared patch, I find a group of four men with their wives and mothers, clearing an area of ground with their bare hands where they will try to plant peanuts. They are living in handmade huts and set traps to catch mice to eat. Ariette Nulguhom is cradling her eight-month-old grandson with his distended little belly and praying he will survive another night. She tells me: “He’s been sick for a long time. We tried to get him to a nurse but there aren’t any. We think it is malaria but there is no medicine here. We don’t know what will happen… We are all weak and feverish. We’re exhausted because we work all day, every day. I have not eaten for days now.” When they left behind their houses, they left behind access to clean water, electricity, and medicine. When the Faca burned those homes, they burned away the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries for these families, too.

This is a forgotten corner of a forgotten country. Birao lies and dies in the far north-east of the Central African Republic. CAR itself has a population of just 3.8 million, spread across a territory bigger than Britain’s, landlocked at the exact geographical heart of Africa. It is the least-reported country on earth. Even the fact that 212,000 people have been driven out of their homes in this war doesn’t register on the global radar. In Birao, I realise I am too close to the immediate horror to find the deeper explanations for this war. I only begin to uncover the origins of this story when I stumble across a very rare find in the CAR – an old man.

A country of children – Paoua

In the CAR, you have beaten the odds if you live to be 42. There are times when this seems like a country of children, swarming around with guns and hardened laughs, without an adult in sight. So when I see Zolo Bartholemew limping past the wreckage of another burned-out town – this time in the distant north-west, outside the city of Paoua – he seems like a mirage. He has no teeth and a creased face, and when I ask, he does not know his age. But he remembers. He remembers the tail-end of the first time the French were here – and why.

“I watched my parents forced to work in the fields when I was a child,” he says in Sango, the local language. “When they got tired, they were whipped and beaten and made to go faster. It was constantly like this.” The French flag was first hoisted in the heart of Africa on 3 October 1880, seizing the right bank of the Congo for the cause of Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité – for the white man. The territory was swiftly divided up between French corporations, who were given the right effectively to enslave the people, like Zolo’s parents, and force them to harvest its rubber. This rubber was processed into car tyres for sale in Paris and London and New York. A French missionary called Father Daigre described what he saw: ” It is common to meet long files of prisoners, naked and in a pitiful state, being dragged along by a rope round their necks. They are famished, sick, and fall down like flies. The really ill and the little children are left in the villages to die of starvation. The people least affected often killed the dying, for food.”

Zolo nods when I mention this. “When the whites were here, we suffered even more,” he says. “They forced us to work. We were slaves.”

One horrified French administrator wrote in the 1920s that the locals reacted to being enslaved by the corporations by becoming “a troglodyte, subsisting wretchedly on roots until he starves to death, rather than accept these terrible burdens”. Areas that had “only a few months ago been rich, populous and firmly established in large villages” became, he wrote, “wasteland, sown with dilapidated villages and deserted plantations”.

But in the 1950s, men like Zolo rose and refused to be enslaved. “We followed Boganda,” he says. Barthélemy Boganda was born in a Central African village near here in 1910, and, as a child, he saw his mother beaten to death by the guards in charge of gathering rubber for a French corporation. He rose steadily through the Catholic priesthood, married a French woman, and, quite suddenly, became the leader of the CAR’s pro-democracy movement. He would begin his speeches to the French by introducing himself as the son of a polygamous cannibal, and then lecture them on the values of the French Revolution with a fluency that left them stunned and shamed. He crafted a vision of a democratic Africa beyond tribe, beyond race and beyond colonialism. He was passionate about the need for a plurality of political parties, a free press, and human rights. He rhapsodised about his vision of a United States of Africa, linking together the countries of Central Africa into a USA Mk II.

“And they killed him,” Zolo says, shaking his head and kicking at the earth beneath his feet. On 29 March 1959, not long after the French era of direct rule had ended, President Boganda’s plane was blasted out of the air. The French press reported that there had been “suspicious materials ” found in the remains of the fuselage – but on the orders of the French government, the local investigation was abandoned. The French installed the dictator David Dacko in his place. He swiftly shut down Boganda’s democratic reforms, brought back many French corporations, and reintroduced their old system of forced labour, rebranding it “village work”. French rule over the CAR – the whippings Zolo remembers – did not end with “independence”. It simply mutated, into a new and slippery form, and it is at the root of the current war.

But the clues to this lie far to the west, in the capital city. ” Nothing happens in this country without somebody pulling a lever in Paris,” a taxi driver tells me as I leave to travel to Bangui at the bottom of the country, driving through clouds of red-dust and past swarms of street-children. I have an appointment with an underground figure in the opposition to keep.

A tortured president – Bangui

Bangui looks like a city that rose with a heave from the jungle a century ago, and has been sighing back into it ever since. Every building appears to be rusting away, and great eruptions of vegetation are shoving the homes and shops aside, reaching for the sky. On corner after corner there are huge, hideous caricature-statues of black people, showing them as thick-lipped and kinky-haired, giving the city the ambience of a Ku Klux Klan garage sale.

Every few hours, the power supply dies, and the city stammers to a halt. People dawdle in the streets, playing cards and wiping away their sweat with the back of their wrists. It is during one of these blackouts that I arrive at the office of a leader of the opposition with a delegation from the British campaigning group Waging Peace. His office is above a parade of shops, and it is a simple room filled with African carvings and pictures of past and faded glories. He walks towards us in a green suit, and – although he does not say it – we all know he is taking a huge risk by meeting us secretly like this. Last year, 40 political figures who criticised the government of President Bozize were tossed into jail and tortured. ” They tried to kill my son. They are trying to assassinate me,” he says, with a matter-of-fact shrug. He gives the long, horrible details. I cannot repeat them here because they would identify him – and become a death sentence.

“The country is in a dire situation,” he says. “We have been described by the magazine Foreign Policy as one of the worst failed states in the world, after Iraq and Afghanistan.” He says the CAR is now ” a total and ferocious dictatorship” under the absolute command of Bozize. The roots of the wars in the north-east and north-west are, he says, simple. “Local people in these regions are rebelling against the government, because the government provides them with nothing. There are no services. There aren’t even roads. So the rebels rise up to get attention – and the government retaliates by rampaging through the area, killing civillians and burning homes.”

So who is this Francois Bozize, and why are the French supporting him with batallions and bombs? I telephone the vast presidential palace to meet the man who stares out from behind a smartly-trimmed moustache in the pictures hanging on every wall, and the President’s press officer eventually gets back to me. “Call me back, I am running out of credit on my mobile phone,” he snaps. Then he promises a meeting with the President, but finds mysterious “complications” that lead him to cancel every time. There are rumours across Bangui that Bozize is becoming ever-more paranoid and locked down, employing food tasters to check for poison before every meal and refusing to meet strangers. So I look instead to the few scraps of independent journalism that survive here for clues as to who this French love-child really is.

Le Citoyen is distributed on rough photocopied paper every day and sold on street corners for a few pennies – but it is one of the bastions of Central Africa’s remaining freedoms. Its editor Maka Obossokotte has a neat grey beard, square cheekbones, and balls of steel. He has been jailed for criticising the President and his cronies more than once, but he insists I quote him on-the-record and by name. “In jail, you were given rotten fish to eat. I got gout. The toilets…” he shakes his head. “It is hell.” He says he knows now that “it is very likely somebody from the presidential clan will kill me… Every morning when I wake up, I think there are three beds I could end up in tonight. Back here at home, the hospital, or the morgue.” But he says: “I will not be afraid. It is when you are afraid that you lose.”

Sitting in a delicious cloud of smoke, puffing away on high-tar cigarettes, Maka talks me through the President’s biography. He was born in nearby Gabon, the son of a police officer from the CAR. He wasn’t smart at school, but he managed to get a coveted job as bodyguard to Jean-Bedel Bokassa, one of the vicious dictators flattered and fawned over by the French. Bokassa was famously mad, declaring himself “Emperor of the CAR”, eating the leader of the opposition, and opening fire on a group of children who were protesting for help to buy their school uniforms. Bozize carried Bokassa’s cane and his bag, and, Maka explains: “It was through watching him that Bozize got his taste for power.” The “Emperor” promoted him to the rank of general.

After a while, Bokassa’s foaming madness made him an unreliable servant of the French, so they backed a coup against him. Bozize left to study at the Ecole Spécial Militaire de Saint-Cyr in France, and returned only to stage a farcical coup attempt of his own. In 1982, he seized control of one of the national radio stations and announced that he was now President. Everybody laughed; Bozize fled. A few years later he was deported back to Bangui to be punished. “They tortured him,” Maka says. “They pissed in his mouth, they broke his ribs, they really mistreated him for three years.”

Eventually, they let him go back to France for medical treatment – and the French government swiftly began to build him up as an alternative president, in case their current pick became too disobedient and got ideas of his own. From being a poor man, Bozize suddenly had the money to run a huge presidential campaign. He ran, and he lost. So in October 2002, he paid for a vast private mercenary army (you might wonder – with whose money?) to invade the CAR from neighbouring Chad, depose the sitting president and install himself as the supreme ruler. Since then, he has “won” a disputed election he arranged for himself and bathed in French approbation.

“France sees the CAR as a colony,” Maka says. “The presidents are selected by France, not elected by the people. The presidents do not serve the interests of this country; they serve the interests of France.” He lists the French corporations who use the CAR as a base to grab Central African resources. This French behaviour is, he reasons, at the root of the wars currently ripping apart the north of the country. Whoever becomes president knows his power flows down from Paris, not up from the people – so he has no incentive to build support by developing the country. Rebellions become inevitable, and the president crushes them with the house-burnings and French bombs I learned about in Birao.

“The country will only be able to develop when France stops putting in place these dictators and the people choose,” Maka adds, stubbing out his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. “The CAR will only progress when the president is scared of his people, not the French.”

Into rebel country – Bossangoa

I am driving now through the skin-sizzling heat of Bossangoa, the home-town of Bozize – and the last outpost of his power before you stumble into bandit-and-rebel territory. The Marie Celeste villages stretch for miles once more. Silence. Walls eaten by fire. Dead towns. In the houses there are smashed pots, abandoned as their residents fled Bozize’s marauding murderers. I find a stray shoe sitting alone in one. In another village, the bell that calls children to school is still hanging from a tree, forgotten. On the blackboard is the final lesson, still there: a map of the CAR in chalk.

But then, after an hour of driving beyond Bossangoa into the jungle, there are signs of life. In yet another burned village, there are 20 young men, all sweat and Kalashnikovs. We pull up, and realise we are in an unexpected rebel camp. The boys’ leader strolls toward us – an elder, at the age of 24 – and shakes our hands. He explains they are part of the rebel Army for the Restoration of the Republic and Democracy (French acronym APRD), who have taken this area. His “troops” are dressed oddly. One is swearing ski glasses and a ski hat, in a place as far from a ski slope as any on earth. Another is wearing nothing but bright red swimming trunks, and half a dozen strings of bullets around his neck. He is wearing a single woman’s flip-flop, silver and glittering in the sun.

They explain they are not allowed to make statements – only their leader can do that – but they are eager to have their photographs taken. As soon as I agree, they contort themselves into wild poses. They stick bullets in their mouths, flex their muscles and screw their faces into a fake rage, like they are recreating a Rambo poster. The baby-faced soldier in the corner, they tell me casually, is 13. They look like teenagers on any street corner anywhere in the world, playing at being rebels. Except these are real rebels, with real guns. A 13-year-old with a gun is a comic sight – until he points it towards you and smiles strangely.

Why, I ask, did you join the rebellion? “Bozize killed my father, my mother and my brother,” their leader steps forward to say, in a low voice. He peels up his vest and shows an angry scar where he says he was bayoneted. “They thought I was dead, so they left me.” I ask what the rebels want. “We want peace, we want schools, we want roads,” the leader says. Most of them nod. Do you want power? “That’s up to God. We want roads and schools.”

With that, we drive away, and they cheerfully wave their guns in our direction. I follow the trail of burned homes up to Paoua, a town at the top of the north-west – and I am sitting now on a bench with the man who ordered so many to be torched. A lieutenant of the Garde Présidentiel (GP) is chewing gum in the sun, behind barbed wire and sleeping security guards. The GP is the jagged spike of the country’s military accountable only to President Bozize – his own private militia. When you see them approach on the streets, with their wild eyes and ready guns, pulses surge and spines stiffen. In the market-square in Paoua, a GP “officer” put a gun to the head of a Médecins sans Frontières doctor and told him: ” We will do what they did in Rwanda.” And I am making small talk with one of its bosses.

He is wearing long shining purple robes and a white fez, and he tells us haltingly that he will be interviewed, yes, but we cannot use his name. He is young – 33 – with hunched shoulders. His bodyguard is a muscled ripple of anxiety, and he watches every move we make, as if ready to pounce. So, lieutenant, why do you think people join the rebels and fight against you? He makes eye contact only with his bodyguard. “I don’t know.” Chew, chew. Why do you think people are so scared of the GP here? ” There have been a few undisciplined elements, but we have dealt with them.” Chew, chew, chew. So it is only undisciplined soldiers who burn all these thousands upon thousands of homes? You don’t order them to? “If they burn homes, we deal with them.” How have you dealt with them? “We use discipline.” He stops leaning and sits up. Really? How many people have you disciplined? When? His bodyguard doesn’t like this question; he glares at me. “I had an officer who went to the market when he was not supposed to. I disciplined him.” That’s it? “We have disciplined.”

That’s not what people in the villages say, I comment. They are terrified. ” Show me the villages. I will show you how we have done good.” After we drive away from his compound, we meet up with two pale, disturbed workers from the Italian charity Coopi. They explain that as the lieutenant was assuring us his forces are disciplined, a GP officer drove up on a motorbike and waved a gun in their faces.

At every one of these scenes, the question keeps coming back: why? Why are the French providing military support and training for these militia? The French government says it is in the CAR because it signed a military agreement back in the 1970s to protect the country from external aggression. The rebellions in the north are, they say, supported by Sudan – so this counts. Mes amis, we are protecting a democratically elected President from a tyrannical and genocidal neighbour.

But I couldn’t find anyone in the CAR – not a single person, not even the most pro-French – who thought Sudan had anything to do with the rebels. So I arrange to meet up in Bangui with Louise Roland-Gosselin, an Anglo-French director of the group Waging Peace, who has been studying the Central African Republic. “The policies here in the CAR are part of a much bigger approach by France towards Africa,” she says. “We call this system ‘Franceafrique’, and it was set up by Charles de Gaulle to replace the former colonial system. There is clear continuity from the imperial system to the present day.”

The motives for this war are, Roland-Gosselin says, drenched in dollars and euros and uranium. “The overarching goal is to take African resources and funnel them towards French corporations,” she says. “The CAR itself is a base from which the French can access resources all over Africa. That is why it is so important. They use it to keep the oil flowing to French companies in Chad, the resources flowing from Congo, and so on. And of course, the country itself has valuable resources. CAR has a lot of uranium, which the French badly need because they are so dependent on nuclear power. At the moment they get their uranium from Niger, but the CAR is their back-up plan.” So this is, in part, a war for nuclear power? ” Yes, but also a lot of this money has been funnelled, through corruption, straight back into the French political process. Say somebody needs a road built here in the CAR. The French government will insist on a French company – and the French company back home donates a lot to the ‘right’ French political party.”

This neo-imperial war reached its psychotic apogee in 1994, when the French government used the CAR as a base to fund and fuel the Rwandan genocide, the most bloody since the death of Adolf Hitler. Vincent Mounie is a leading figure in Sur Vie, a French organisation monitoring its government’s actions in Africa. He explains: “The French were totally complicit in the genocide. There were French troops there before, during and after the genocide, backing the most extreme Hutu forces as they murdered the Tutsis. You know the identity cards that divided the Rwandan population into Hutus and Tutsis in preparation for the slaughter? They were printed in Paris.”

The French military base in Bangui had to be abandoned in 1996 after it was burned down by enraged locals, tired of the French ramming tyrants down their national gullet. Today the old base is overgrown, and the French military has shifted to new camps in Birao. But I stare at it now. The French planes that backed the Rwandan holocaust left from here.

President François Mitterrand began his career supporting one genocidal force, and he ended it supporting another. As a young man he rose through the ranks of the Hitler-hugging Vichy regime, only quitting and joining the Resistance when it became obvious the democrats would win. He then became nominally a Socialist and, finally, President – when at last genocide entered his life again. The French government had long seen the Hutu nationalists in Rwanda as Their Men, the people most friendly to French demands for military and corporate access. So when, starting in 1989, the Tutsi refugees who had been driven out decades before started to demand their right to return to their homes, the French were furious. Mitterrand saw this Tutsi rights movement as a creation of the CIA, designed to displace a pro-French regime and replace it with a buddy of Uncle Sam. His own aides told him there was no evidence of a link to the CIA – but he refused to listen. He announced that the Tutsis were a “Khmer Noir” , an evil anti-French force, and began to rapidly build up the Hutu Power forces to fight back.

In just four years, starting in 1990, the French buffed up the Hutu nationalist military forces in Rwanda from 10,000 to more than 40,000. The moderate forces within Rwanda began desperately trying to broker a power-sharing agreement between the two sides, “And the French government deliberately destroyed any attempt at a peace deal,” Mounie says. Then the hacking up of Tutsi men, women and children began. Mitterrand extended bigger loans to the Hutus, which they used to buy more weapons and ammunition. He publicly mocked anyone who talked about a Hutu-led genocide.

Then, when the international outrage became so great even Mitterrand could not ignore it, the French announced they would send in a military force to stop the killing. “It was France’s last lie, and the most cruel,” Mounie adds. “Even at this point, Mitterrand’s real aim was to recapture Kigali and restore the Hutus to power.” In Birao today, many of the soldiers patrolling the city are veterans of this “rescue operation”. I am sipping sweet tea in one of the local bigwig’s ramshackle houses when a group of local soldiers on patrol arrive. They are working-class men from the Paris and Lyons banlieues, and in the course of the small talk, they admit that they were in Rwanda – and they are still traumatised by what they were ordered to do by Mitterrand and his men. ” Children would bring us the severed heads of their parents and scream for help,” one says, “but our orders were not to help them.”

A year after the holocaust ended, Mitterrand told an aide: “Nobody in France cares about the genocide.” These disturbed soldiers, sitting in the waning sunlight, show the old cynic was wrong, at least, about that.

Mother, do not beat us – Bangui

In the red-dusted heart of Bangui, there is a rusting, collapsing metaphor for this war – and where it is going. On one side of the road is the vast stadium the French government built for Bokassa in the 1970s, so he could crown himself Emperor of Central Africa and Lord of All He Surveyed. It is falling down now, a dangerous wreck. Opposite, there is a gleaming new sports stadium with plush seating and marble floors. It was built by the Chinese. France is only one slice of this new great game, this global scramble for Africa’s resources. Every swaggering world power – the US, Britain, China – is grabbing Africa’s remaining riches now, shunting aside democracy and human rights to get to them. But even the Chinese dictators remember to toss some of the loose change from the riches they have pillaged to Bangui. The French have long since given up even on that. They come only with bullets and bombs.

As I prepare to leave the CAR, I am told by senior French and African sources that Paris could be getting ready to ditch President Bozize. Like a string of Central African dictators before him, he has been tugging too hard on the French leash, imagining he is the independent ruler of an independent country. He has decided to nationalise some of the energy companies operating here, including the French mega-corporations Total and ELF. ” If he wants the French to crush his rebellions and keep him in power, he has to do what they say,” my source says. Bozize is trying to deal with this pre-emptively, by offering the rebel leaders a place in his cabinet. As I drive past his presidential palace for the last time, I wonder if the paranoia that kept me from meeting him was justified all along.

But as my plane finally propels me away from this place, one CAR voice – angry, crazed – seems to follow me. In the jungles around Paoua, I was taken to the entrance to a remote burned-out village to meet Laurent Djim-Woei, the spokesman for the rebels in the north-west. He is a man talked about in awe by his followers – and his enemies.

A group of young men greeted us. They were carrying spears alongside their ski hats and scars. Silently, they beckoned us to follow them through more charcoal villages and dense foliage and beyond. Eventually we reached a clearing. Laurent was dressed in stained combat gear. He had a big smile that was marred by the absence of almost all his teeth. There were three cellphones hanging from his neck. He led an inspection of his rag-tag forces for our benefit, getting them to stand to attention and yelling hoarse orders at them in Sango. Then Laurent told us to sit down and embarked on a rambling, barely comprehensible lecture.

There were only a few of us in a silent jungle, but he looked beyond us and boomed, like he was addressing a stadium full of supporters. The CAR needs ” a guard dog” to “bark about justice” and not “the kind of dog that leads you, which we have had in the past”, he said. It is the first of a string of odd metaphors. I kept trying to draw him back to specifics: what does he want? He would only use abstract nouns – justice, peace – but then occasionally he voiced his grievances succinctly, before they were doused in metaphor and burned into incomprehensibility again: ” Bozize is burning our villages. A country shouldn’t burn its own country’s villages. It is like a mother and a child, a mother does not burn her child, it would be madness.” His eyes danced nervously around the jungle as we spoke, as if he was waiting for a raid.

“France is the mother of Central Africa, and we are the child,” he said, oddly picking up the old racist metaphor and making it his own. ” The French must now change sides and support us, not Bozize. The French are our parents, we want them to be good parents.” This is a sentiment that kept cropping up in the rubble of France’s interventions – an appeal to the French to suddenly become a benevolent mother, acting on the side of good, despite all the evidence. France and the CAR are, it strikes me at last, locked in a sick embrace. The French crave the riches offered by this lush, hungry patch of Africa, and the people of Central Africa pine for a deus ex machina to enter stage right and resolve their internal disputes with raw force.

10/07/07 “The Times” — — I remember that my first response to the reports of abuse and torture at Guantanamo Bay was to accuse the accusers of exaggeration or deliberate deception. I didn’t believe America would ever do those things. I’d also supported George W Bush in 2000, believed it necessary to give the president the benefit of the doubt in wartime, and knew Donald Rumsfeld as a friend.

It struck me as a no-brainer that this stuff was being invented by the far left or was part of Al-Qaeda propaganda. After all, they train captives to lie about this stuff, don’t they? Bottom line: I trusted the president in a time of war to obey the rule of law that we were and are defending. And then I was forced to confront the evidence.

From almost the beginning of the war, it is now indisputable, the Bush administration made a strong and formative decision: in the absence of good intelligence on the Islamist terror threat after 9/11, it would do what no American administration had done before. It would torture detainees to get information.

This decision was and is illegal, and violates America’s treaty obligations, the military code of justice, the United Nations convention against torture, and US law. Although America has allied itself over the decades with some unsavoury regimes around the world and has come close to acquiescing to torture, it has never itself tortured. It has also, in liberating the world from the evils of Nazism and communism, and in crafting the Geneva conventions, done more than any other nation to banish torture from the world. George Washington himself vowed that it would be a defining mark of the new nation that such tactics, used by the British in his day, would be anathema to Americans.

But Bush decided that 9/11 changed all that. Islamists were apparently more dangerous than the Nazis or the Soviets, whom Americans fought and defeated without resorting to torture. The decision to enter what Dick Cheney called “the dark side” was made, moreover, in secret; interrogators who had no idea how to do these things were asked to replicate some of the methods US soldiers had been trained to resist if captured by the Soviets or Vietcong.

Classic torture techniques, such as waterboarding, hypothermia, beatings, excruciating stress positions, days and days of sleep deprivation, and threats to family members (even the children of terror suspects), were approved by Bush and inflicted on an unknown number of terror suspects by American officials, CIA agents and, in the chaos of Iraq, incompetents and sadists at Abu Ghraib. And when the horror came to light, they denied all of it and prosecuted a few grunts at the lowest level. The official reports were barred from investigating fully up the chain of command.

Legally, the White House knew from the start that it was on extremely shaky ground. And so officials told pliant in-house lawyers to concoct memos to make what was illegal legal. Their irritation with the rule of law, and their belief that the president had the constitutional authority to waive it, became a hallmark of their work.

They redefined torture solely as something that would be equivalent to the loss of major organs or leading to imminent death. Everything else was what was first called “coercive interrogation”, subsequently amended to “enhanced interrogation”. These terms were deployed in order for the president to be able to say that he didn’t support “torture”. We were through the looking glass.

After Abu Ghraib, some progress was made in restraining these torture policies. The memo defining torture out of existence was rescinded. The Military Commissions Act was crafted to prevent the military itself from being forced to violate its own code of justice. But the administration clung to its torture policies, and tried every legal manoeuvre to keep it going and keep it secret. Much of this stemmed from the vice-president’s office.

Last week The New York Times revealed more. We now know that long after Abu Ghraib was exposed, the administration issued internal legal memos that asserted the legality of many of the techniques exposed there. The memos not only gave legal cover to waterboarding, hypothermia and beating but allowed them in combination to intensify the effect.

The argument was that stripping a chained detainee naked, pouring water over him while keeping room temperatures cold enough to induce repeated episodes of dangerous hypothermia, was not “cruel, inhuman or degrading”. We have a log of such a technique being used at Guantanamo. The victim had to be rushed to hospital, brought back from death, then submitted once again to “enhanced interrogation”.

George Orwell would have been impressed by the phrase “enhanced interrogation technique”. By relying on it, the White House spokesman last week was able to say with a straight face that the administration strongly opposed torture and that “any procedures they use are tough, safe, necessary and lawful”.

So is “enhanced interrogation” torture? One way to answer this question is to examine history. The phrase has a lineage. Verschärfte Verneh-mung, enhanced or intensified interrogation, was the exact term innovated by the Gestapo to describe what became known as the “third degree”. It left no marks. It included hypothermia, stress positions and long-time sleep deprivation.

The United States prosecuted it as a war crime in Norway in 1948. The victims were not in uniform – they were part of the Norwegian insurgency against the German occupation – and the Nazis argued, just as Cheney has done, that this put them outside base-line protections (subsequently formalised by the Geneva conventions).

The Nazis even argued that “the acts of torture in no case resulted in death. Most of the injuries inflicted were slight and did not result in permanent disablement”. This argument is almost verbatim that made by John Yoo, the Bush administration’s house lawyer, who now sits comfortably at the Washington think tank, the American Enterprise Institute.

The US-run court at the time clearly rejected Cheney’s arguments. Base-line protections against torture applied, the court argued, to all detainees, including those out of uniform. They didn’t qualify for full PoW status, but they couldn’t be abused either. The court also relied on the plain meaning of torture as defined under US and international law: “The court found it decisive that the defendants had inflicted serious physical and mental suffering on their victims, and did not find sufficient reason for a mitigation of the punishment . . .”

The definition of torture remains the infliction of “severe mental or physical pain or suffering” with the intent of procuring intelligence. In 1948, in other words, America rejected the semantics of the current president and his aides. The penalty for those who were found guilty was death. This is how far we’ve come. And this fateful, profound decision to change what America stands for was made in secret. The president kept it from Congress and from many parts of his own administration.

Ever since, the United States has been struggling to figure out what to do about this, if anything. So far Congress has been extremely passive, although last week’s leaks about the secret pro-torture memos after Abu Ghraib forced Arlen Specter, a Republican senator, to proclaim that the memos “are more than surprising. I think they are shocking.” Yet the public, by and large, remains indifferent; and all the Republican candidates, bar John McCain and Ron Paul, endorse continuing the use of torture.

One day America will come back – the America that defends human rights, the America that would never torture detainees, the America that leads the world in barring the inhuman and barbaric. But not until this president leaves office. And maybe not even then

The federal Real ID Act doesn’t have many friends these days. Eighteen states have passed legislation rejecting the law, Congress has refused to put any money into implementing it, and just this week New York Gov. Elliot Spitzer announced he, not the Feds, would determine New York’s drivers license policy, with officials in his administration indicating the state might opt out of the Real ID program altogether.

The few remaining cheerleaders for this national ID system, which promises to be a nightmare for privacy and identity security, have resorted to classic doublespeak to try to salvage Real ID’s reputation. On the Department of Homeland Security blog Wednesday, Secretary Michael Chertoff claims Real ID would actually protect privacy. (“War is Peace” and “Freedom is Slavery” will be the subjects of future blogs.)

Chertoff isn’t completely alone though. The Information Technology Association of America (ITAA) sent a letter to Congress this week begging for more federal funding for Real ID. Why would an organization, whose membership includes AOL, Microsoft, Verizon and Yahoo, support a national ID card? For the answer, let’s employ that fundamental adage of Washington politics: Follow the money.

Also included in the ITAA membership list are Digimarc and Northrop Grumman, companies that specialize in creating high-tech ID cards, as well as Choicepoint and LexisNexis, data brokers that make their money selling personal information about you to advertisers and the government. These companies stand to make millions in contracts from states who are struggling with a federal mandate to overhaul their licensing systems and share more data by the May 2008 deadline (now widely viewed as impossible to meet).

But there’s one small problem: The American people don’t want a national ID card, and polling has shown they don’t trust the private sector not to harvest their data once it’s collected in a national database. So what are the Department of Homeland Security and the ITAA to do?

Well, Digimarc invited a group of state DMV bureaucrats to Washington this week (as Jim Harper pointed out, that’s a good way to get around those pesky elected officials who oppose Real ID) in order to answer that very question. Their answer? It’s all about PR, baby. In a panel on “Bringing Your Public On Board,” participants discussed how to give Real ID a facelift. According to CNET’s News.com, one panelist even suggested that states use their homeland security grants — the ones that are supposed to go to counterterrorism, disaster response and infrastructure (read: bridge) safety — to take out paid advertising.

Real ID is so unpopular because in addition to being a $23 billion unfunded mandate, it will build a vast national database of personal information, expose us to a greater risk of identity theft, and move us ever closer to a total surveillance society. Spending our homeland security money on spin definitely isn’t the way to fix it.

A group of European politicians and intellectuals have started a new think tank aimed at pushing EU capitals to creating a “more coherent and vigorous” foreign affairs policy in an attempt to make Europe a stronger player on the global stage.

The new think tank – European Council on Foreign Relations (ECFR) – was launched on Tuesday (2 October) by fifty founding members such as former prime ministers, presidents, European commissioners, MEPs and ministers as well as intellectuals, business leaders, and cultural figures from the EU member states and candidate countries.

They include Martti Ahtisaari, former Finnish president and current special UN envoy for Kosovo; Joschka Fischer, former German foreign affairs minister; Gijs de Vries, former EU counter-terrorism coordinator; Timothy Garton Ash, renowned professor of European studies; and Bronislaw Geremek, MEP and former foreign minister of Poland.

They call on European governments “to adopt a more coherent and vigorous foreign policy in support of European values and interests backed by all of Europe’s power: political, cultural, economic and – when all else fails – military.”

The centre will be based in seven EU capitals – Berlin, London, Madrid, Paris, Rome, Sofia and Warsaw – and headed by Mark Leonard – a writer and former director of Foreign Policy at the UK-based Centre for European Reform.

Why did Canada help overthrow Haiti’s elected government in 2004? That’s a question I heard over and over when speaking about Canada in Haiti: Waging War on the Poor Majority, a book Anthony Fenton and I co-wrote. Most people had difficulty understanding why their country – and the US to some extent – would intervene in a country so poor, so seemingly marginal to world affairs. Why would they bother?

I would answer that Canada participated in the coup as a way to make good with Washington, especially after (officially) declining the Bush administration’s invitation (order) to join the “coalition of the willing” in Iraq.

It is also worth noting that at the start of 2003 the Haitian minimum wage was 36 Gourdes ($1) a day, which was nearly doubled to 70 Gourdes by the Aristide government. Of course, this was opposed by domestic and international capital, but especially Canadian capital. The largest blank T-shirt maker in the world, Montreal-based Gildan Activewear employs up to 5,000 people in Port-au-Prince’s assembly sector. Most of Gildan’s work is subcontracted to Andy Apaid, who was the leader of the Group 184 domestic “civil society” that opposed Aristide’s government.

It is also clear that some Canadian mining companies saw better opportunities in a post-Aristide government (A recent Toronto Star article explained, “Another Canadian-backed company recently resumed prospecting in Haiti after abandoning its claims a decade ago. Steve Lachapelle – a Quebec lawyer who is now chair of the board of the company, called St. Genevieve Haiti – says employees were threatened at gunpoint by partisans of ex-president Jean-Bertrand Aristide.”).

Another reason for the intervention came out of the contempt, heightened during the country’s 200-year anniversary of independence, directed at Haiti ever since the country’s revolution dealt a crushing blow to slavery and white supremacy. The threat of a good example – particularly worrisome for the powers that be, since Haiti is so poor – contributed to the motivation for the coup. Aristide was perceived as a barrier to a thorough implementation of the neo-liberal agenda. The attitude seems to have been, “If we can’t force our way in Haiti, where can we?”

But, I was never entirely satisfied with my answers. That was one motivation for spending hundreds of hours over the past year in the McGill University library researching the history of Canadian foreign policy. So, why did Canada help overthrow the elected Haitian government? Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Historically, countries’ foreign affairs were mostly about “projecting force” in a hostile world. This meant the use of power (military or economic) for protection or to gain advantage. In the modern era, the “advantage” to be gained and then protected was capitalist entitlement, the ability to make a profit. In other words, foreign affairs have mostly been about asserting and protecting the “rights” of a country’s wealth owners.

The Canadian government, from its beginning, was part of the command and control apparatus of the world economic system. At first, Canada served as an arm of the British Empire, but, given the country’s location, quickly became intertwined with the USA. Canada’s role over the past five decades, as assigned by the dominant power, has typically been some sort of “policing” operation, usually called peacekeeping. Since Canada has primarily been a “policing” rather than “military” power one must look to the language of policing to discover the motivations for our Haitian policy.

Over the past decade there has been much discussion of something called “pulling our weight” in external affairs. In laymen’s terms this means spending more of the country’s resources on defending and expanding the ability to make a profit around the world, for Canadian capitalists in particular, but also for the system in general. While the less sophisticated neoconservatives have simply called for more military spending and a pro-US foreign policy, the more liberal Canadian supporters of capitalism have been busy creating an ideological mask, called the “responsibility to protect” that will accomplish the same end.

The “responsibility to protect” is essentially a justification for imperialism using the dialect of policing instead of the old language of empire and militarism. It says there are “failed states” that must be overthrown because they do not provide adequately for their own citizens and because they threaten world order. This is the international equivalent of the “zero tolerance” (also called the “broken window”) strategy of the New York City police department. The policy is to aggressively go after petty crimes in order to create an environment that discourages more serious law breaking. In the same fashion, the international community should go after “failed states” that do not directly threaten other countries by invasion but only create an environment where “crime” may thrive.

(Noam Chomsky has used the Mafia analogy to explain the less sophisticated, older imperialist version of this policy. Any and all challenges, even minor ones, must be met with violence until “order” is established. The “responsibility to protect” differs in form but not in substance.)

The coup in Haiti was a Canadian-managed experiment in the use of the “responsibility to protect” doctrine. Aristide was overthrown precisely because Haiti is so unimportant to the world economic system and because cracking down on it is the international economic equivalent of the New York City police cracking down on graffiti writers. Once again Haiti was an example to the rest of the world, a message from the world’s rich and powerful.

The question to answer now is what next? And one can only hope that history will not be our guide. The first Haitian revolution was the earliest and most successful challenge to the entitlement of capitalist wealth owners in the era of slavery. In the late 1700s Haiti was home to some of the most brutal large-scale labour exploitation the world has ever seen. Stolen and shipped from Africa, nearly half a million slaves worked under horrific conditions as the “property” of approximately ten thousand white landowners and a few thousand property owners of mixed race. Up to 40 percent of France’s GDP came from Haiti in the mid 1700s. The profitability of Haiti’s sugar plantations was that era’s equivalent of Middle East oil.

The slave revolution from which Haiti was born was a rejection of the capitalist system as it then existed. But the country never found its way to an alternative economic system. Instead, within three years of independence the lighter-skinned plantation owners overthrew and murdered the country’s liberation hero Jean-Jacques Dessalines (the French having killed the famous revolutionary, Tousaint Louverture, prior to independence). Excluded from international commerce by the world’s capitalists, and facing threats of invasion, Haiti promised to repay its former exploiters. In 1825 Haiti agreed to pay $21 billion (in 2004 dollars) to compensate French slaveholders for their loss of property (land and now free Haitians). The price for its reintegration into the world economic system was extremely high.

Foreign powers, especially Germany, France and the US, repeatedly sent gunboats into Haitian waters. The most common reason was to press Haiti to pay debts (often to businesses from these countries) it was unable to afford. In one instance, US marines secretly entered Port-au-Prince and took the national treasury. The 1915 US invasion/occupation of Haiti was partly about forcing the country to repay its debt. And during that occupation, the US took over Haiti’s independence debt to France, which was not finally repaid until 1947. The Haitian state became dependent on foreign governments, autocratic and extremely repressive, because its primary role was ensuring the repayment of debt.

Once again the Haitian people and government are being forced along an economic path dictated by the world’s economic elite and I fear the result will be the same as before. Of the $1.2 billion in “aid” for Haiti announced at a Washington donors’ conference in July 2004, more than half was loans, which Haitians must repay. Haitians will have to repay this money even though they did not choose the Gerard Latortue regime that got most of the money, the US, France and Canada did. Much like compensating French slaveholders Haitians will (literally) be paying for the coup in the years to come. Already, under the thumb of Haiti’s debt holders and a foreign occupation, the elected government of Rene Preval is privatizing the last of Haiti’s state-owned companies.

Supporters of capitalism sometimes argue, incredibly, that Haiti’s impoverishment is a result of the country’s lack of capitalism. But, as even a short visit to Haiti quickly demonstrates, the country has no shortage of entrepreneurs or a willingness to work. Rather, a study of history reveals that the economic system commonly called capitalism has only ever been interested in profiting from the super exploitation of the vast majority of Haitians and ignoring their humanity.

10/06/07 “Counterpunch” — — -Ray Suarez (PBS News Hour Reporter, October 2, 2007): “You’re saying that the national legislature of this country, rather than doing the will of the citizens of the United States, passed that Iran resolution, sanctioning the Republican Guard, because of the American-Israeli Political Action Committee?”

Mike Gravel (Democratic Presidential Candidate): “Wait a second. They’ll (sic) be some information coming out about how this thing was drafted. So the answer is yes, the short answer. … This is what’s at stake with this resolution. And it’s the height of immorality, irresponsibility, and the United States Senate, with the Democrats in charge, voted for the passage of this resolution. It doesn’t get any worse than that, Ray.”.

In asking his question, Ray Suarez implies that our Senators capitulated to the desires of AIPAC, knowing their vote negated the expressed will of the American people. Gravel, once a Senator from Alaska during the Vietnam War period, answers unhesitatingly, “yes,” the short answer is yes. The obvious follow-up question would appear to be: “Why do you think that our Senators would vote against the expressed wishes of their constituents in favor of a special interest lobby?” It was never asked. Fortunately, Sy Hersh, in an interview with Amy Goodman that same day, responded to a question posed by Goodman, a question drawn from a Gravel criticism of Hillary Clinton for having voted for this resolution. Goodman pointed to the 76 votes in favor, both Republican and Democrat, asking Hersh to respond to Gravel’s critique: “This is fantasy land,” Gravel commented, “We’re talking about ending the war. My god, we’re just starting a war right today. There was a vote in the Senate today. Joe Lieberman, who authored the Iraq resolution, has authored another resolution, and it is essentially a fig leaf to let George Bush go to war with Iran. And I want to congratulate Biden for voting against it, Dodd for voting against it, and I’m ashamed of you, Hillary, for voting for it. You’re not going to get another shot at this, because what’s happened, if this war ensues, we invade, and they’re looking for an excuse to do it.” Goodman’s question is simple enough, why would 76 senators vote for such a resolution. Hersh’s response: “Money. A lot of the Jewish money from New York. Come on, let’s not kid about it. A significant percentage of Jewish money, and many leading American Jews support the Israeli position that Iran is an existential threat. And I think it is as simple as that. … That’s American politics circa 2007.”

Gravel understands the consequences of giving Cheney and Bush the freedom to attack Iran’s Republican Guard as a terrorist organization rather than as the legally constituted military of the state existing to protect the citizens of that state. They need no act of Congress to attack a terrorist organization and, citing the Encarta encyclopedia description of terrorism, “These violent acts are committed by non-governmental groups or individuals ­ that is by those who are neither part of or officially serving in the military forces ­ …,” they have defanged the definition of terrorism as it cannot be applied to a nation state. Cheney and Bush are now free to invade Iran to wipe out the terrorist organization harbored by that country. Why pretend that an established arm of the government of Iran is a terrorist organization when the opposite is so evident? Because Cheney and Bush and their Neo-con/AIPAC alliance have not been able to convince the American people of the threat to the US should Iran eventually acquire nuclear capability. The Kyl-Lieberman resolution gives this administration license to attack Iran using the original resolution passed by the Congress for the invasion of Afghanistan since Iran now harbors terrorists that threaten America.

How serious is this possibility we might ask. Newsweek carried an article in the October 1 issue about Israel’s “secret” raid on Syria. In it, Sam Gardiner, a former Air Force Colonel, seen as an expert in simulation of military exercises, makes this observation: “Even if Israel goes it alone (attacks Iran’s nuclear facilities), we will be blamed (the United States). Hence we would see retaliation against U.S. interests.” In short, the United States is tied to Israel and its interests by an umbilical cord that determines how and when we go to war and with whom. Iran is Israel’s primary nemesis as well as its primary target. The “mysterious raid deep in Syria” magnifies this point; only the media control created by “a nearly impenetrable wall of silence around the operation” has kept the American public from understanding the potential consequences of the Kyl-Lieberman resolution that passed October 2, only a month after Israel’s “raid.” Should Syria have responded to this unwarranted aggression by a missile or bomb attack on Israel, the U.S. Congress would have been forced to determine how to respond. With the Kyl-Lieberman resolution in place, only Bush has to respond by citing the Iranian terrorist organization’s ties to Syria and especially to Hezbollah. A threat to Israel is a threat to the U.S.

It is this reality that makes the recent study by Mearsheimer and Walt so dangerous to the Israeli lobbies, especially AIPAC. Indeed, they define AIPAC by encompassing the multitude of Jewish lobbies under that umbrella while adding in non-Jewish Neo-cons, Christian evangelicals of the far right and other sympathizers.

Gravel’s awareness of this threat as expressed to PBS represents the rare occurrence when the reality of our total support for Israel’s interests is aired in public. An objective consideration of the “raid” of September 6, 2007 by the Israeli Air Force against Syria as it would have been reported in the American press had it been Syria attacking Israel would not have been headlined “The Whispers of War.” Indeed that report did not focus on Israel’s disregard for international law or its consequences, but rather on how Israel can deliver nuclear or standard bombs as far as Iran. It went further to turn this unprovoked operation to Israel’s cause by noting how that state’s very existence is threatened by one atomic bomb, thus presenting Israel as the potential victim not the perpetrator of an action contrary to the United Nations’ charter. Had Syria attacked Israel, the explosiveness of such an unprovoked and uncalled for attack against an innocent country would have made front page headlines and the cover of all our news magazines. Yet Israel’s unprovoked and uncalled for attack on Syria is presented in U.S. News as “Israel takes a swipe at Syria,” hardly an item that would make the American people aware that they were at risk for their ally’s illegal action against a neighbor. And as if that were not enough, the significance of one nation bombing another without provocation becomes only the 10% hike in Ehud Olmert’s ratings as opposed to the death and destruction caused by this illegal action with an accompanying photo, not of the death and destruction, but of Olmert giving blood for his countrymen. No outcry follows this despicable behavior by the Teflon state ­ not from the United States, not from the United Nations, not from the EU, not from NATO. Only silence.

Consider for example the consequences of Israel using its United States’ gifts of nuclear bunker buster bombs on Syria or Iran, both possible scenarios as this “raid” ( the name of an insect repellent) makes clear: “… huge amounts of radioactive material will be lofted into the air to contaminate the people of Iran and surrounding countries … This fallout will induce cancers, leukemia, and genetic disease in these populations for years to come, both a medical catastrophe and a war crime of immense proportions,”(Dr. Helen Caldicott, Nuclear Power Is Not the Answer.) No outcry, only silence. Why?

What does AIPAC’s control of our Congress mean for the American people? Arguably, that influence propelled the U.S. into war against Iraq with its inevitable consequences in death, destruction and debt leaving the nation bereft of a resolution; it has solidified perception around the world that Israel’s defiance of the UN resolutions demanding that it obey international law regarding right of return for Palestinians and return of occupied territory is not just condoned by the U.S. but is the policy of the U.S., making the United States a co-partner in international crime; it has made Israel’s illegal treatment of the Palestinians in its indiscriminate killing of children and women, in its use of extrajudicial assassination, in its imprisonment of a whole people resulting in extreme poverty, malnutrition, and disease, in its total control of the lives of these people who have no recourse to overcome the occupation since they have no means to do so, practices condoned by the United States, and turned the U.S. from a compassionate and morally responsible nation to one that is amoral and hypocritical; and, in absolute despair, it has placed America on the thresh hold of one more devastating war against a people that has done nothing against the United States, has not occupied another nations’s territory, has not invaded another nation, and has signed the nuclear non-proliferation treaty, all actions that are diametrically opposed to those of our client state, Israel. Such is the sell out by our representatives of their constituents as they grovel, unlike Mike Gravel, before the insidious lobby that controls our fate. No outcry, only silence. Why?

Ultimately the question comes back to why those 76 senators voted for a resolution that “wipes the desires of the American people off the map,” to borrow an intentionally falsified and reiterated translation of the Iranian President’s message to his people. But those 76 are not alone. Virtually everyone of our representatives are subservient to the same lobbies, passing on average 100 resolutions per year favorable to Israel and written by the lobbyists, obsequiously fawning before AIPAC’s annual meeting where its very existence is touted as of “significant benefit for both the United States and Israel,” and where no one dares to question or criticize the state of Israel lest they suffer the fate of those who have, and lose their seats in Congress. This one might argue is coercion. Can it be documented? One need only research the congressional and senate races that put Paul Findley, Cynthia McKenny, Charles Percy and the few other renegades that dared to be critical of Israel out of their positions. “The handful of members of Congress who have been critical of Israel over the last 40 years have been publicly chastised with a figurative dunce cap or, worse, lost their seats to AIPAC-backed opponents” (NewsMax.com, May 1, 2006. “Israel the Third Rail of American Foreign Policy,” Arnaud de Borchgrava, Editor at large of the Washington Times).

Interestingly, the United States defines terrorism (18 USC 2331) as “violent acts or acts dangerous to human life that … appear to be intended (i) to intimidate or coerce a civilian population; (ii) to influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion; (iii) to affect the conduct of a government by assassination or kidnaping.” Could one not make a case that our Congress in its total support for Israeli policies regardless of their negative impact on the country and its disregard for the expressed desires of its citizens as the Kyl-Lieberman resolution demonstrates is “influenced” by “intimidation and coercion” by these lobbies? Add to this reality the influence they wield in our media where they limit the perception of the public to the lies and mythologies they present that justifies the actions of the Israeli state, and the pervasiveness of the lobbies prevents the American people from controlling their own destinies. Does that not make them terrorists residing on K street in our nation’s capitol?

Isn’t it obvious today that the direction of America’s policies regarding Iran, and our almost certain to be pre-emptive invasion of this nation on behalf of Israel, is directed by the same coterie of men who pushed us into the disastrous war against Iraq — Podhoretz, Wurmser, Perle, Feith, Crystal, Kagan, Krouthammer, Abrams and others too numerous to mention, the hounds of war that find no guilt in sending the sons and daughters of others to fight the wars they wage so eloquently in their heads as they sit in front of their computers guiding to their deaths those they never met.

The Hounds of War are gathered round
To forge the battle plan,
They pat each other on the back,
And grasp their fellow’s hand.

To battle stations they disperse
To carry on the fray,
These warriors of the word sublime
That makes us weep or pray.

They swing behind the keyboard now
That spits out their deceit;
Their goal, the end they desire,
That makes their life complete.

These victors suffer no regrets
As they pen brilliant epithets,
And so they ply their lonely craft,
And carve another’s epitaph.

I’m starting to look forward to our next war. On an average day, you can find me deploring war and all its trappings. But now I have deplored myself silly, and I am very tired. If there’s to be another war, I don’t know if I have the gumption left to oppose it. Actually it might even be a welcome thing, because after eleven-and-a-half score years, we would finally get the definitive answer on what kind of country America has become. Up to now our recent adventures could be considered a ghastly mistake. If we attack yet another nation, there’s no mistake at all. Most of me shudders at the thought, but a part of me, the same part that slows down to look at automobile wrecks on the freeway, is rather enjoying the suspense. It’s a sickness. In this creepy malaise I suspect I’m not alone.

Left-wing web sites are hurting for cash lately. I hear it from many of the long-suffering, ill-groomed people that run these outlets: the money was trickling in for a while, not exactly stacks of loot, but enough to pay some of the bills. Then, what with the popular call to piss money down the mainstream political sewers (after all, it’s almost an election year) and an economy that has turned as sour as Bigfoot’s jockstrap, the famed bastions of the Digital Progressive Movement are crumbling. Is it just because readers are strapped for cash? That’s part of it, certainly. My own time is dominated by the requirement to make as many dollars as I can while there are dollars to be made (it’s not working, but that’s a horse of another currency). I think, however, (clever people always say “however” if they can’t work “indeed” into the text somewhere) there’s more to it than just economics. Indeed, Shakespeare put the anti-war malaise best: “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” (He may have mistaken me for a woman, or he may have been speaking of someone else. The problem in my case is from behind I look uncannily like the late celebrity chef Julia Child.) I have protested too much, I admit it. Anti-war fatigue has hit me like a dose of clap, and I’m starting to think there’s an epidemic.

As an American I am satisfied, on some primal level, to have at the ready a nice fierce army with tanks and rockets, some battleships and airplanes and so forth, ready to slaughter any enemy that wades onto American shores for purpose of conquest or similar. As unlikely as the prospect is, we have obviously rather overdone it; I know it’s not the best idea in the world to have a bunch of folks standing around with half a trillion dollars worth of weapons if you can’t think of something useful for them to do, but it’s just bred in the bone. That said, Thomas Jefferson put an interesting line in his draft of the Constitution for Virginia: “There shall be no standing army but in time of actual war.” He ran that little notion up the flagpole, and it was promptly run right down again. We’ve had a standing army ever since. There’s something impressive about a great big military, as long as you never, ever, ever use it.

But war is another kettle of horse color! In my lifetime we’ve had the Cold War, Vietnam, the Bay of Pigs, Grenada, Panama, the Persian Gulf War, Afghanistan, and Iraq, plus assorted other actions martial. That’s a lot of exploding and dying. I oppose war of any kind, unless it is absolutely the only course left to stop an atrocity against mankind from occurring, such as our recent intervention in Myanmar. I mean Iraq. Those Burmese monks will do just fine without our help. Every single war we’ve gotten into since my spawning has been a complete and utter waste of life and resources. One could attempt to argue, if one had the vim, that the Persian Gulf War was necessary to stop Saddam Hussein annexing poor helpless Kuwait. But we were shaking that rat prick’s hand and clapping him on the back a quarter century ago. The Persian Gulf War was blowback.

I must pause here to say: please, pro-war types, don’t bother with the hate mail. It’s not even entertaining any more. I reserve the right to think war in general and our recent wars in particular are useless. This does not mean I think all military personnel are useless, or bad people, or baby killers, or any of that; I will not be at the airport spitting on them once we finally get them home. Instead it is the corrupt and incompetent asshats that start wars and conduct them from afar that I rage against, in my pacifist kind of way. Why do I offer this disclaimer? Same reason. Very tired. Don’t want to argue with the un-examined chickenhawk “I have a cousin in the military” jingoistic pro-death legion of hateloving fetus-fetishist Jesusgobbling fuckwits any more. Which brings me back to the point. I’m so damn tired.

The symptoms are unmistakable. First, one finds oneself repeating the same political and social arguments again and again, usually to people that already agree. An established pattern of obsessive news-watching develops, always aimed at confirming one’s darkest suspicions. These suspicions are generally confirmed. A distaste for the general public comes next, as one realizes that, statistically, most people just don’t give a shit. Symptoms begin to cascade: feelings of alienation, suspicion, and isolation hang overhead like a morning fog that never quite burns off (although it will dissolve in alcohol). Frustration at the lack of popular interest in life-or-death matters leads to a desire to do something drastic, such as flee the country, commit suicide, or post short videos on YouTube. At last, feelings of exhaustion take over. Apathy follows, sometimes accompanied by hives. I additionally broke out in onions, though this could have been unrelated as I had recently visited a farm.

What is to be done? Not only am I not donating money to my favorite leftie outlets, I don’t have any money to donate. I don’t even write for them much, any more. Used to be I’d knock out a polemical screed once a week. Now it’s months between outbursts. This is probably a good thing from a humanistic standpoint, but it’s worrisome. I’ve mostly dropped out of the game, just waiting for the news that we’ve attacked Iran, so I can move to a quieter place where they don’t start wars. As much as I deplore war, and I deplore it a whole bunch, at this point it would almost be a relief to hear we’ve finally gone round the bend and attacked somebody again. So far it’s been death by a thousand cuts, a series of insults to which one almost becomes inured: the magician Jim Steinmeyer describes such a fate as “being nibbled to death by ducks”. I’ve hobbled duck-like in peace marches, stood on a street corner vigil with an Ikea votive candle in a paper cup, written emails to congresspersons, called senators on the phone, scribbled thousands of semi-witted words for the digital thinkspace. None of it has mattered much. Not one bullet has gone unfired as a result.

Some minds have been changed, some ideas have caught on, and in this snail’s progress I may have played some tiny part. For years I’ve said to myself, “keep on keeping on”. Of late I’ve added, “you may stop keeping on if we become embroiled in another war, because keeping on is not working at that point”. There is something weirdly seductive about it. Alloyed with the horror and tragedy of war is the horror and tragedy of losing one’s own country to bad men and evil ideas, and yet there would be a certain catharsis in knowing it was time to get out before the Gestapo starts rounding up dissidents. One hopes for better– to avert catastrophe, to save millions from misery and death. But to have this hideous suspense end, even in disaster (like Julia Child’s recipe for dynamite & asshole soufflé), would signal it is okay to be done with the weary struggle and get the hell out of Dodge. That is how, despite every fiber of my being, I have come to find the idea of another war attractive.