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Roy Moore's Story Is Unraveling |
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Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=24111"><span class="small">William Saletan, Slate</span></a>
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Sunday, 10 December 2017 14:47 |
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Saletan writes: "Moore knows these women, and they have evidence to prove it. If Moore is fully investigated by the Senate Select Committee on Ethics, he'll be exposed not just as a former predator, but as a current slanderer."
Roy Moore pauses while speaking during a news conference on Nov. 16 in Birmingham, Alabama. (photo: Drew Angerer/Getty Images)

Roy Moore's Story Is Unraveling
By William Saletan, Slate
10 December 17
The Alabama Senate candidate knew his accusers, until he didn’t.
month ago, when Roy Moore was accused of having pursued teenage girls while in his 30s, he equivocated. “Do you remember dating girls that young?” Sean Hannity asked him. Moore hedged: “Not generally, no. If I did, you know, I’m not going to dispute anything, but I don’t remember anything like that.” Hannity asked Moore about Debbie Gibson, who said she had dated Moore when she was 17 and he was 34. “I don’t remember going out on dates,” said Moore. “I knew her as a friend. If we did go out on dates, then we did.”
Moore’s uncertainty troubled voters and Republican politicians. Some said his denials weren’t “strong” enough. So Moore tightened his story. On Nov. 27, he declared: “I do not know any of these women.” Two days later, he insisted: “I do not know any of these women, did not date any of these women.” Moore began to accuse the women of fabrication, malice, immorality, and political gamesmanship.
This counterattack may have saved Moore’s candidacy. He has given his fans what they crave: a crusade against evil. He has also impressed President Trump, earning Trump’s endorsement and aid from the Republican National Committee. “Roy Moore denies it,”’ Trump told reporters on Nov. 21. “He totally denies it.”
But the harder line comes at a cost: It’s demonstrably false. Moore knows these women, and they have evidence to prove it. If Moore is fully investigated by the Senate Select Committee on Ethics, he’ll be exposed not just as a former predator, but as a current slanderer.
On Nov. 21, in an interview with Scott Beason on the Alabama Cable Network, Moore said his accusers weren’t just mistaken about what had happened to them or who had done it. He said the incidents they described had “never occurred” and were “made up.” On Nov. 27, Moore called their accusations “malicious.” On Nov. 29, he falsely implied that they had agreed to appear in TV ads against him, proving that they weren’t real victims:
As a former prosecutor, judge, and chief justice, I’ve handled numerous rape cases, abuse cases, and sexual misconduct cases. And I have never had one victim in any of those cases who would come after 40 years, only two and a half weeks out of a general election, to appear in public political advertisements. It just doesn’t happen.
On Monday, in an interview on American Family Radio, Moore added that Beverly Nelson, who had accused him of forcibly groping her when she was 16, knew her account was false. Moore said her story was “made up just to defame my character.” He said of the accusations against him: “It just shows you how immorality permeates every aspect of our society.”
Moore’s surrogates, following his cue, have piled on. In national TV interviews, Moore’s spokeswoman, Janet Porter, has called Nelson a “fraud” and “the yearbook forger lady.” Porter says another accuser, Leigh Corfman, gave “an Academy Award performance” when she described on NBC how Moore had molested her at the age of 14. Another Moore supporter, Alabama Rep. Mo Brooks, calls Nelson “a liar” and claims that she “suppressed the evidence” involved in her story.
These attacks look forceful, but they expose Moore to investigation for an ongoing pattern of lies. On Nov. 21, Moore said Nelson knew she “had a divorce filed before me” when he was a circuit judge in 1999 and that she was therefore lying when she claimed not to have had any contact with him since 1978. (“Everybody in a divorce case knows who the judge is,” Moore told Beason.) Moore asserted that the case “came to me, and after several months … she asked for it to be dismissed.” This account by Moore is demonstrably false. Court records show that the case was before another judge, that Nelson asked that judge to delay a hearing, and that five weeks later, when Nelson asked the court to dismiss the case, Moore’s assistant stamped Moore’s name on the dismissal order, as a formality, only because he was the circuit judge.
On Nov. 15, after Nelson displayed her 1977 high school yearbook with an inscription apparently by Moore, he suggested that someone had “tampered” with the inscription, noting that the date and location information appended to it were written in a different style. But soon, Moore’s surrogates began to allege that the whole inscription was a forgery. On Nov. 28, Brooks said Nelson had “forged the ‘Love, Roy Moore’ part” of the inscription—precisely the part that Moore hadn’t initially challenged, since it obviously matched Moore’s handwriting on other documents. Brooks also claimed that seven of Moore’s accusers had presented “testimony or statements … that conflict with” Corfman’s story. No such conflicting statements existed.
Porter, Moore’s spokeswoman, has lied with abandon. She claims that on CNN, Nelson’s attorney, Gloria Allred, “wouldn’t deny” that Nelson’s “yearbook is a forgery.” That’s a gross misrepresentation: What Allred demanded was a Senate investigation, under penalty of perjury, in which independent experts would compare the yearbook to known samples of Moore’s handwriting. Porter also claims that Corfman’s mother “disputes her arguments and her case.” “Her own mother doesn’t believe elements of her story,” says Porter. False again: Corfman’s mother confirms her daughter’s account and says she witnessed Moore meeting her daughter, contrary to his statements.
The biggest risk in Moore’s bold denials and countercharges is that new evidence, as it emerges, will shred them. That’s already happening. On Monday, the Washington Post reported that one accuser, Gibson, had just found her high school scrapbook in her attic. The scrapbook had a card from Moore, in which he had written “Happy graduation Debbie,” and, “I wanted to give you this card myself.”
Moore’s initial story to Hannity—“If we did go out on dates, then we did”—was compatible with the card. But Moore’s new story, that he didn’t know any of his accusers, wasn’t. So the card had to be attacked. Moore’s campaign strategist, Dean Young, went on CNN to dismiss the card as a meaningless, well-wishing note from a politician. Porter said that Moore was just a “family friend” and that Gibson’s story—that the card was more intimate—didn’t pass “the straight-face test.”
Unfortunately for Moore, such disputes can be adjudicated. The card was signed “Roy.” It was taped to a page in Gibson’s scrapbook. On another page in the same scrapbook was this note: “Wednesday night, 3-4-81. Roy S. Moore and I went out for the first time. We went out to eat at Catfish Cabin in Albertville. I had a great time.” If the card is real, then presumably the date between Moore and Gibson was real, too.
Young thinks Moore can plead ignorance. “Judge Moore made it perfectly clear: If he did date a teenager, he didn’t know about it,” Young said Monday on CNN. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been on a date and then asked a girl how old she was.” But the graduation card, like the inscription in Nelson’s yearbook, shows Moore knew both girls were in high school.
What’s most damning is the handwriting on the card. It’s indistinguishable from the handwriting in the yearbook. Nelson and Gibson didn’t know one another, yet both have old documents bearing Moore’s signature, and the writing matches other samples. To believe that the yearbook inscription is forged, you have to postulate that a master forger somehow got access to both Nelson’s yearbook in Anniston, Alabama, and the scrapbook in Gibson’s attic in Delray Beach, Florida. And you can’t blame the Post, which revealed Gibson’s story but not Nelson’s. Only one person had access to both women: Roy Moore.
If the ethics committee holds hearings, Moore won’t just face these documents. His claim that the accusations are “completely unfounded, uncorroborated, unsubstantiated” will also be challenged by supporting witnesses. Corfman’s mother could tell the committee what she told the Post: that she was present when Moore met her daughter. The mother of Wendy Miller, another girl Moore targeted, could confirm the same thing. Nelson’s sister is ready to tell the committee what she has said on NBC: that in 1979, Nelson told her about her encounter with Moore. The lawyer for Gloria Deason, who has accused Moore of pursuing a relationship with her when she was 18, says Deason can supply additional details and “is willing to give sworn testimony before any judicial or governmental body.”
Republican senators need Moore’s vote. If he wins, they’ll argue that voters exonerated him and that his offenses, even if true, are ancient history. His Christian supporters will add, as some already have, that God has forgiven him. “Many of the things that he allegedly did were decades ago,” says Orrin Hatch, the Senate’s longest-serving Republican.
But Moore’s lies about his accusers aren’t ancient. They’re happening right now. That makes him an unrepentant sinner. It also makes him fair game for the ethics committee, which doesn’t like to delve into senators’ pasts. Open an investigation. Subpoena the yearbook and the scrapbook. Summon the accusers and their witnesses. And judge Roy Moore.

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Time for a Fundamental Break With the World Order |
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Sunday, 10 December 2017 14:43 |
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Corbyn writes: "Some want to use Brexit to turn Britain in on itself, rejecting the outside world, viewing everyone as a feared competitor. Others want to use Brexit to put rocket boosters under our current economic system's insecurities and inequalities, turning Britain into a deregulated corporate tax haven, with low wages, limited rights, and cut-price public services in a destructive race to the bottom."
Jeremy Corbyn. (photo: Reuters)

Time for a Fundamental Break With the World Order
By Jeremy Corbyn, Jacobin
10 December 17
On International Human Rights Day Jeremy Corbyn makes the case for a fundamental break with the world order.
ritish Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn addressed United Nations officials in Geneva this Friday in a speech outlining his vision for a twenty-first century internationalism.
The speech, scheduled to mark International Human Rights Day, examined the roots of global economic inequality, the developing climate crisis and the impact of war across the world. These “threats to our common humanity,” it argues, can only be overcome with “a global rules-based system that applies to all and works for the many, not the few.”
Quoting from late socialist leaders Salvador Allende and Thomas Sankara, Corbyn offers a blueprint for a fundamentally different world order based on international cooperation and solidarity.
The speech is reproduced below in full.
A New Internationalism
Thank you for inviting me to speak here in this historic setting at the Palais des Nations in Geneva a city that has been a place of refuge and philosophy since the time of Rousseau. The headquarters before the Second World War of the ill-fated League of Nations, which now houses the United Nations. It’s a particular privilege to be speaking here because the constitution of our party includes a commitment to support the United Nations. A promise “to secure peace, freedom, democracy, economic security and environmental protection for all.”
I would like to use this opportunity in the run-up to International Human Rights Day to focus on the greatest threats to our common humanity, and why states need to throw their weight behind genuine international cooperation and human rights—individual and collective, social and economic, as well as legal and constitutional at home and abroad—if we are to meet and overcome those threats. My own country is at a crossroads. The decision by the British people to leave the European Union in last year’s referendum means we have to rethink our role in the world.
Some want to use Brexit to turn Britain in on itself, rejecting the outside world, viewing everyone as a feared competitor. Others want to use Brexit to put rocket boosters under our current economic system’s insecurities and inequalities, turning Britain into a deregulated corporate tax haven, with low wages, limited rights, and cut-price public services in a destructive race to the bottom. My party stands for a completely different future when we leave the EU, drawing on the best internationalist traditions of the labour movement and our country. We want to see close and cooperative relationships with our European neighbors, outside the EU, based on solidarity as well as mutual benefit and fair trade, along with a wider proactive internationalism across the globe.
We are proud that Britain was an original signatory to the European Convention of Human Rights and our 1998 Human Rights Act enshrined it in our law. So Labour will continue to work with other European states and progressive parties and movements, through the Council of Europe to ensure our country and others uphold our international obligations, just as the work of the UN Human Rights Council helps to ensure countries like ours live up to our commitments—such as disability rights, where this year’s report found us to be failing.
International cooperation, solidarity, collective action are the values we are determined to project in our foreign policy. Those values will inform everything the next Labour government does on the world stage, using diplomacy to expand a progressive, rules-based international system, which provides justice and security for all. They must be genuinely universal and apply to the strong as much as the weak if they are to command global support and confidence. They cannot be used to discipline the weak, while the strong do as they please, or they will be discredited as a tool of power, not justice.
That’s why we must ensure that the powerful uphold and respect international rules and international law. If we don’t, the ideals of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948 will remain an aspiration, rather than a reality and international rules will be seen as a pick and mix menu for the global powers that call the international shots. Most urgently we must work with other countries to advance the cause of human rights, to confront the four greatest and interconnected threats facing our common humanity.
First, the growing concentration of unaccountable wealth and power in the hands of a tiny corporate elite, a system many call neoliberalism, which has sharply increased inequality, marginalization, insecurity and anger across the world.
Second, climate change, which is creating instability, fueling conflict across the world and threatening all our futures.
Third, the unprecedented numbers of people fleeing conflict, persecution, human rights abuses, social breakdown and climate disasters.
And finally, the use of unilateral military action and intervention, rather than diplomacy and negotiation, to resolve disputes and change governments.
Building a Social Economy
The dominant global economic system is broken. It is producing a world where a wealthy few control 90 percent of global resources; a world of growing insecurity and grotesque levels of inequality within and between nations, where more than 100 billion dollars a year are estimated to be lost to developing countries from corporate tax avoidance; a world where $1 trillion dollars a year are sucked out of the Global South through illicit financial flows. This is a global scandal.
The most powerful international corporations must not be allowed to continue to dictate how and for whom our world is run. Thirty years after structural adjustment programmes first ravaged so much of the world, and a decade after the financial crash of 2008, the neoliberal orthodoxy that delivered them is breaking down. This moment, a crisis of confidence in a bankrupt economic system and social order, presents us with a once in a generation opportunity to build a new economic and social consensus which puts the interests of the majority first.
But the crumbling of the global elite’s system and their prerogative to call the shots unchallenged has led some politicians to stoke fear and division. And deride international cooperation as national capitulation. President Trump’s disgraceful Muslim ban and his anti-Mexican rhetoric have fueled racist incitement and misogyny and shifted the focus away from what his Wall Street-dominated administration is actually doing.
In Britain, where wages have actually fallen for most people over the last decade as the corporations and the richest have been handed billions in tax cuts, our Prime Minister has followed a less extreme approach but one that also aims to divert attention from her Government’s failures and real agenda. She threatens to scrap the Human Rights Act, which guarantees all of our people’s civil and political rights and has actually benefited everyone in our country. And she has insisted “if you believe you’re a citizen of the world, you’re a citizen of nowhere”.
There is an alternative to this damaging and bankrupt order. The world’s largest corporations and banks cannot be left to write the rules and rig the system for themselves. The world’s economy can and must deliver for the common good and the majority of its people. But that is going to demand real and fundamental structural change on an international level.
The United Nations has a pivotal role to play, in advancing a new consensus and common ground based on solidarity, respect for human rights and international regulation and cooperation. That includes as a platform for democratic leaders to speak truth about unaccountable power.
One such moment took place on 4 December 1972, when President Salvador Allende of Chile, elected despite huge opposition and US interference, took the rostrum of the UN General Assembly in New York. He called for global action against the threat from transnational corporations, that do not answer to any state, any parliament or any organization representing the common interest. Nine months later, Allende was killed in General Augusto Pinochet’s coup, which ushered in a brutal 17-year dictatorship and turned Chile into a laboratory of free market fundamentalism.
But 44 years on, all over the world people are standing up and saying enough to the unchained power of multinational companies to dodge taxes, grab land and resources on the cheap and rip the heart out of workforces and communities. That’s why I make the commitment to you today that the next Labour government in Britain will actively support the efforts of the UN Human Rights Council to create a legally binding treaty to regulate transnational corporations under international human rights law. Genuine corporate accountability must apply to all of the activities of their subsidiaries and suppliers. Impunity for corporations that violate human rights or wreck our environment, as in the mineral-driven conflicts in the Democratic Republic of Congo, must be brought to an end.
For too long, development has been driven by the unfounded dogma that unfettered markets and unaccountable multinational companies are the key to solving global problems. So under the next Labour Government the Department for International Development will have the twin mission of not only eradicating poverty but also reducing inequality across the world. To achieve this goal we must act against the global scandal of tax dodging and trade mis-invoicing—robbing developing countries and draining resources from our own public services.
In Africa alone an estimated 35 billion dollars is lost each year to tax dodging, and 50 billion to illicit financial flows, vastly exceeding the 30 billion dollars that enters the continent as aid. As the Paradise and Panama Papers have shown the super-rich and the powerful can’t be trusted to regulate themselves. Multinational companies must be required to undertake country-by-country reporting, while countries in the Global South need support now to keep hold of the billions being stolen from their people. So the next Labour government will seek to work with tax authorities in developing countries, as Zambia has with NORAD—the Norwegian aid agency—to help them stop the looting.
Saturday marks International Anti-Corruption Day. Corruption isn’t something that happens “over there.” Our government has played a central role in enabling the corruption that undermines democracy and violates human rights. It is a global issue that requires a global response. When people are kept in poverty, while politicians funnel public funds into tax havens, that is corruption, and a Labour government will act decisively on tax havens: introducing strict standards of transparency for crown dependencies and overseas territories including a public register of owners, directors, major shareholders and beneficial owners for all companies and trusts.
Delivering Climate Justice
Climate change is the second great threat to our common humanity. Our planet is in jeopardy. Global warming is undeniable; the number of natural disasters has quadrupled since 1970.
Hurricanes like the ones that recently hit the Caribbean are bigger because they are absorbing moisture from warmer seas. It is climate change that is warming the seas, mainly caused by emissions from the world’s richer countries. And yet the least polluting countries, more often than not the developing nations, are at the sharp end of the havoc climate change unleashes—with environmental damage fueling food insecurity and social dislocation. We must stand with them in solidarity. Two months ago, I promised the Prime Minister of Antigua and Barbuda, Gaston Browne, that I would use this platform to make this message clear.
The international community must mobilize resources and the world’s biggest polluters shoulder the biggest burden. So I ask governments in the most polluting countries, including in the UK:
First, to expand their capacity to respond to disasters around the world. Our armed forces, some of the best trained and most highly skilled in the world, should be allowed to use their experience to respond to humanitarian emergencies. Italy is among those leading the way with its navy becoming a more versatile and multi-role force.
Second, to factor the costs of environmental degradation into financial forecasting as Labour has pledged to do with Britain’s Office of Budget Responsibility.
Third, to stand very firmly behind the historic Paris Climate Accords.
And finally, take serious and urgent steps on debt relief and cancellation.
We need to act as an international community against the injustice of countries trying to recover from climate crises they did not create while struggling to repay international debts. It’s worth remembering the words of Thomas Sankara, President of Burkina Faso, delivered to the Organization of African Unity in 1987 a few months before he too was assassinated in a coup. “The debt cannot be repaid,” he said, “first because if we don’t repay lenders will not die. But if we repay… we are going to die.”
The growing climate crisis exacerbates the already unparalleled numbers of people escaping conflict and desperation. There are now more refugees and displaced people around the world than at any time since the Second World War. Refugees are people like us. But unlike us they have been forced by violence, persecution and climate chaos to flee their homes. One of the biggest moral tests of our time is how we live up to the spirit and letter of the 1951 Refugee Convention. Its core principle was simple: to protect refugees. Yet ten countries, which account for just 2.5 percent of the global economy, are hosting more than half the world’s refugees.
It is time for the world’s richer countries to step up and show our common humanity. Failure means millions of Syrians internally displaced within their destroyed homeland or refugees outside it. Rohingya refugees returned to Myanmar without guarantees of citizenship or protection from state violence and refugees held in indefinite detention in camps unfit for human habitation as in Papua New Guinea or Nauru. And African refugees sold into slavery in war-ravaged Libya. This reality should offend our sense of humanity and human solidarity.
European countries can, and must, do more as the death rate of migrants and refugees crossing the Mediterranean continues to rise. And we need to take more effective action against human traffickers. But let us be clear: the long-term answer is genuine international cooperation based on human rights, which confronts the root causes of conflict, persecution and inequality.
Working for Peace
I’ve spent most of my life, with many others, making the case for diplomacy and dialogue over war and conflict, often in the face of hostility. But I remain convinced that is the only way to deliver genuine and lasting security for all. And even after the disastrous invasions and occupations of recent years there is again renewed pressure to opt for military force, America First or Empire 2.0 as the path to global security. I know the people of Britain are neither insensitive to the sufferings of others nor blind to the impact and blowback from our country’s reckless foreign wars. Regime change wars, invasions, interventions and occupations in Iraq, Afghanistan and Libya and Somalia have failed on their own terms, devastated the countries and regions and made Britain and the world a more dangerous place.
And while the UK government champions some human rights issues on others it is silent, if not complicit, in their violation. Too many have turned a willfully blind eye to the flagrant and large-scale human rights abuses now taking place in Yemen, fueled by arms sales to Saudi Arabia worth billions of pounds. The see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil approach undermines our credibility and ability to act over other human rights abuses. Total British government aid to Yemen last year was under £150 million—less than the profits made by British arms companies selling weapons to Saudi Arabia. What does that say about our country’s priorities, or our government’s role in the humanitarian disaster now gripping Yemen? Our credibility to speak out against the ethnic cleansing of Rohingya Muslims is severely undermined when the British Government has been providing support to Myanmar’s military.
And our Governments pay lip service to a comprehensive settlement and two state solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict but do nothing to use the leverage they have to end the oppression and dispossession of the Palestinian people. 70 years after the UN General Assembly voted to create a Palestinian state alongside what would become Israel, and half a century since Israel occupied the whole of historic Palestine, they should take a lead from Israeli peace campaigners such as Gush Shalom and Peace Now and demand an end to the multiple human rights abuses Palestinians face on a daily basis. The continued occupation and illegal settlements are violations of international law and are a barrier to peace.
The US president’s announcement that his administration will recognize Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, including occupied Palestinian territory, is a threat to peace that has rightly been met with overwhelming international condemnation. The decision is not only reckless and provocative – it risks setting back any prospect of a political settlement of the Israel-Palestine conflict. President Trump’s speech at the UN General Assembly in September signaled a wider threat to peace. His attack on multilateralism, human rights and international law should deeply trouble us all.
And this is no time to reject the Iran Nuclear Deal, a significant achievement agreed between Iran and a group of world power to reduce tensions. That threatens not just the Middle East but also the Korean Peninsula. What incentives are there for Pyongyang to believe disarmament will bring benefits when the US dumps its nuclear agreement with Tehran? Trump and Kim Jong-un threaten a terrifying nuclear confrontation with their absurd and bellicose insults. In common with almost the whole of humanity, I say to the two leaders: this is not a game, step back from the brink now.
It is a commonplace that war and violence do not solve the world’s problems. Violence breeds violence. In 2016 nearly three quarters of all deaths from terrorism were in five states; Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Nigeria and Somalia. So let us stand up for the victims of war and terrorism and make international justice a reality.
Let us also demand that the biggest arms exporters ensure all arms exports are consistent, not just legally, but with their moral obligations too. That means no more arms export licenses when there is a clear risk that they will be used to commit human rights abuses or crimes against humanity. The UK is one of the world’s largest arms exporters so we must live up to our international obligations while we explore ways to convert arms production into other socially useful, high-skill, high-tech industry.
That is why I welcome the recent bipartisan U.S. House of Representatives resolution which does two unprecedented things. First, it acknowledges the U.S. role in the destruction of Yemen, including the mid-air refueling of the Saudi-led coalition planes essential to their bombing campaign and helping in selecting targets. Second, it makes plain that Congress has not authorized this military involvement.
Yemen is a desperate humanitarian catastrophe with the worst cholera outbreak in history. The weight of international community opinion needs to be brought to bear on those supporting Saudi Arabia’s war in Yemen, including Theresa May’s Government, to meet our legal and moral obligations on arms sales and to negotiate an urgent ceasefire and settlement of this devastating conflict.
If we’re serious about supporting peace we must strengthen international cooperation and peacekeeping. Britain has an important role to play after failing to contribute significant troop numbers in recent years. We are determined to seize the opportunity to be a force for good in peacekeeping, diplomacy and support for human rights.
Labour is committed to invest in our diplomatic capabilities and consular services and we will reintroduce human rights advisers in our embassies around the world. Human rights and justice will be at the heart of our foreign policy along with a commitment to support the United Nations. The UN provides a unique platform for international cooperation and action. And to be effective, we need member states to get behind the reform agenda set out by Secretary General Guterres. The world demands the UN Security Council responds, becomes more representative and plays the role it was set up to on peace and security.
We can live in a more peaceful world. The desire to help create a better life for all burns within us.
Governments, civil society, social movements and international organisations can all help realize that goal. We need to redouble our efforts to create a global rules based system that applies to all and works for the many, not the few.
No more bomb first and talk later.
No more double standards in foreign policy.
No more scapegoating of global institutions for the sake of scoring political points at home.
Instead: solidarity, calm leadership and cooperation. Together we can:
- Build a new social and economic system with human rights and justice at its core.
- Deliver climate justice and a better way to live together on this planet.
- Recognize the humanity of refugees and offer them a place of safety.
- Work for peace, security and understanding.
The survival of our common humanity requires nothing less.
We need to recognize and pay tribute to human rights defenders the world over, putting their lives on the line for others—our voice must be their voice.
Thank you.

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Let This Flood of Women's Stories Never Cease |
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Sunday, 10 December 2017 14:35 |
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Solnit writes: "There's a problem with the way feminism moves forward in reaction to breaking news stories. It brings focus to a single predator, a single incident, and people who haven't faced the pervasiveness of misogyny can build stories around it about why this was the exception, not the rule."
Rebecca Solnit. (photo: David Levene)

Let This Flood of Women's Stories Never Cease
By Rebecca Solnit, Literary Hub
10 December 17
On Fighting Foundational Misogyny One Story at a Time
here’s a problem with the way feminism moves forward in reaction to breaking news stories. It brings focus to a single predator, a single incident, and people who haven’t faced the pervasiveness of misogyny can build stories around it about why this was the exception, not the rule. That Harvey Weinstein was typical of liberals or Hollywood, or Roy Moore and Bill O’Reilly were typical of conservatives, that this mass killer with a domestic violence background was typical of veterans or loners or was mentally ill, that case after case is a glitch in the pattern of society, not the pattern itself. But these are the norms, not the abberations. This is a society still permeated and shaped and limited by misogyny, among other afflictions.
Obviously—as we keep having to reassure them, because when we’re talking about our survival we’re supposed to still worry about men feeling comfortable—not all men, but enough to impact virtually all women. And in another way all men, because we’re all warped by living in such a society, and because as Kevin Spacey’s case demonstrates, though men are nearly always the perpetrators, other men and boys are sometimes the victims. Being groomed to be a predator dehumanizes you, as does being groomed to be prey. We need a de-normalization of all that so we can rehumanize ourselves.
Women spend their lives negotiating survival and bodily integrity and humanity in the home, on the streets, in workplaces, at parties, and now on the internet. The torrent of stories that has poured forth since the New Yorker and New York Times broke the long-suppressed stories about Weinstein tell us so. They tell us so in the news about famous women at the hands of famous men, in social media about the experiences of not-so-famous women and the endless hordes of abusers out there, whether we’re talking rape, molestation, workplace harassment, or domestic violence.
This seems to be what’s produced the shock in a lot of what we are supposed to call good men, men who assure us they had no part in this. But ignorance is one form of tolerance, whether it’s pretending we’re in a colorblind society or one in which misogyny is some quaint old thing we’ve gotten over. It’s not doing the work to know how the people around you live, or die, and why. It’s ignoring or forgetting that we had this kind of story explosion before, in the 1980s, with Anita Hill’s testimony in 1991, after the Steubenville gang rape and New Delhi rape-torture-murder in late 2012, and the Isla Vista mass shooting in 2014. One sentence I come back to again and again is James Baldwin’s: “It is the innocence that constitutes the crime.” He’s talking about white people in the early 1960s ignoring the violence and destructiveness of racism, their opting out of seeing it.
You can say the same about men who have not bothered to see what is all around us: a country in which a woman is beaten every 11 seconds, in which as the New England Journal of Medicine put it, “domestic violence is the most common cause of nonfatal injury to women in the United States,” and male partners and former partners were responsible for a third of all murders of women in the US, in which there are hundreds of thousands of rapes a year and only about 2 percent of rapists do time for their crimes. A world in which Bill Cosby wielded a power that could silence more than 60 women and let his crime spree go unchecked for half a century, in which Weinstein assaulted and harassed more than 109 women who, for the most part, had no recourse until something in the system broke, or changed. A world in which Twitter temporarily shut down Rose McGowan’s account for a tweet related to Weinstein that allegedly contained a phone number, but did nothing when alt-right pundit Jack Posobiec tweeted out the workplace address of the woman who reported Moore sexually exploited her when she was 14, as it has done nothing about so many campaigns of threat against outspoken women.
Because here’s a thing you might have forgotten about women being menaced or assaulted or beaten or raped: we think we might be murdered before it’s over. I have. And because there’s often a second layer of threat “if you tell.” From your assailant, or from the people who don’t want to hear about what he did and what you need. Patriarchy kills off stories and women to maintain its power. If you’re a woman, this stuff shapes you; it scars you, it tells you you are worthless, no one, voiceless, that this is not a world in which you are safe or equal or free. That your life is something someone else may steal from you, even a complete stranger, just because you’re a woman. And that society will look the other way most of the time, or blame you, this society that is itself a system of punishment for being a woman. Silence over these things is its default setting, the silence feminism has been striving to break, and is breaking.
Each individual action may be driven by an individual man’s hate or entitlement or both, but those actions are not isolated. Their cumulative effect is to diminish the space in which women move and speak, our access to power in public, private, and professional spheres. Many men may not have perpetrated it directly, but as some have finally discussed, they benefitted from it; it knocked out some of their competition, it dug a Mariana Trench through the playing fields we’re always being told are level. Diana Nyad, the world-famous swimmer who has just revealed that starting when she was 14 her Olympic-champion swim coach began sexually assaulting her, talks about the harm she suffered, the way that it changed who she was, diminished her well-being. She says, “I might have defied ruin, but my young life changed dramatically that day. For me, being silenced was a punishment equal to the molestation.” This story: it could be that of dozens of women I know, hundreds or thousands whose stories I’ve heard.
We treat the physical assault and the silencing after as two separate things, but they are the same, both bent on annihilation. Domestic violence and rape are acts that say the victim has no rights, not to self-determination or bodily integrity or dignity; that is a brutal way to be made voiceless, to have no say in your life and fate. Then to not be believed or to be humiliated or punished or pushed out of your community or your family—or in the case of Rose McGowan after Harvey Weinstein allegedly raped her, followed by spies intent on containing your voice and undermining your truth—is to be treated the same way over again. Ronan Farrow just exposed the network of spies employed to keep her silent; fellow New Yorker writer Emily Nussbaum noted, “if Rose McGowan had told the story of the Mossad spies earlier, everyone would have simply assumed she was nuts.”
Because we tell stories about what’s normal, or we’re told them, and this level of malevolence from our prominent men is not supposed to be normal, even when we have so many stories confirming that it is. So many women who told stories about men trying to harm them were treated as crazy or as malicious liars, because it’s easier to throw a woman under the bus than a culture. The bus rolls forward on a red carpet of women. Trump gets out of the bus and brags about getting away with grabbing women by the pussy and gets elected president less than a month later. He puts in place an administration that starts clearcutting women’s rights, including the rights of victims of sexual assault.
Fox renewed Bill O’Reilly’s contract after he settled a sexual harassment claim for 32 million dollars, a payment for silence from the victim that included destroying all the emails that documented what he had done to her. The Weinstein film company kept paying off victims, and the settlements purchased the victims’ silence. Fellow straight men in comedy apparently formed a protective wall of silence around Louis CK, making it clear that the man who kept jerking off at unwilling, non-consenting, appalled women was more valuable than those women were and would remain more audible than them. Until something broke; until journalists went fishing for the stories that had been hidden in plain sight. And the stories poured forth: about publishers, restaurateurs, directors, famous writers, famous artists, famous political organizers. We know these stories. We know how the victim in the 2012 Steubenville rape was harassed and threatened for reporting a rape by her high school peers. Four adults in the school district were indicted for obstructing justice by covering up the crimes. The message was clear: boys matter more than girls. One 2003 investigation reported that 75 percent of women who report workplace sexual harassment faced retaliation.
What would women’s lives be like, what would our roles and accomplishments be, what would our world be, without this terrible punishment that looms over our daily lives? It would surely rearrange who holds power, and how we think of power, which is to say that everyone’s life might be different. We would be a different society. We have shifted a little over the past 150 years or so, but since the Civil War, black people have still been held back, since women got the vote 77 years ago, women of all colors have still been kept out, and of course black women got it both ways. Who would we be if our epics and myths, our directors and media moguls, our presidents, congressmen, chief executive officers, billionaires were not so often white and male? For the men now being exposed controlled the stories—often literally as radio executives, film directors, heads of university departments. These stories are doors we walk through or doors that slam in our faces.
It is to the credit of Diana Nyad that, despite having a rapist as a coach, she became a great swimmer, to the credit of those Olympic gymnasts on the US team that they won gold medals despite having a molester for their doctor (more than 100 women have accused him to date). But who might they have been, in their personal lives as well as their professional achievements, without such harm being inflicted upon them by men who wished to harm them, who regarded harming them as their right and their pleasure? Who might we all have been if our society didn’t just normalize but celebrate this punishment and the men who inflict it? Who have we lost to this violence before we ever knew them, before they ever made their mark on the world?
Half a century after the fact, Tippi Hedren told how Alfred Hitchcock sexually assaulted and harassed her off-camera and punished her on-camera and then told her, “his face red with rage,” if she continued rejecting his advances, “I’ll ruin your career.” Hitchcock, whose desire to punish beautiful women drives many of his films, did his best to do so, even blocking an Oscar nomination for her starring role in his 1964 film Marnie. These famous people are not the exceptions, but the examples, the public figures we know playing out the dramas that are happening in schools and offices and churches and political campaigns and families too.
We live in a world where uncountable numbers of women have had their creative and professional capacity undermined by trauma and threat, by devaluation and exclusion. A world in which women were equally free and encouraged to contribute, in which we lived without this pervasive fear, might be unimaginably different. In the same way, a United States in which people of color did not have their votes increasingly suppressed, in which they did not also face violence and exclusion and denigration, might not just have different outcomes in its recent elections but different candidates and issues. The whole fabric of society would be something else. It should be. Because that is what justice would look like, and peace, or at least the foundation on which they could be built.
Rebecca Traister and others have made the important point that we should not mourn the end of the creative lives of the men being outed as predators; we should contemplate the creative contributions we never had, will never know, because their creators were crushed or shut out. When Trump was elected we were told not to normalize authoritarianism and lies, but the losses due to misogyny and racism have been normalized forever. The task has been to de-normalize them and break the silence they impose. To make a society in which everyone’s story gets told.
This too is a war about stories.

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Sunday, 10 December 2017 13:02 |
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Thompson writes: "Suddenly, those endless visions of water - that is, of freedom - made sense to me."
Sixteen years after the 9/11 attacks, the notorious prison at Guantánamo Bay is still occupied, trials continue to be delayed, and the costs keep mounting. (photo: Peter van Agtmael/Magnum)

The Art of Keeping Guantánamo Open
By Erin L. Thompson, TomDispatch
10 December 17
Few Americans ever took in the vastness of the prison outsourcing system the administration of George W. Bush set up from Afghanistan to Iraq, Thailand to Poland, the island of Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean to Guantánamo Bay in Cuba. In those years, I began referring to that global network of prisons as our own “Bermuda Triangle of injustice.” At one point, it housed at least 15,000 prisoners from Abu Ghraib and Camp Bucca in Iraq to the "Salt Pit" in Afghanistan and, of course, Guantánamo. They were often kept under the grimmest of conditions, involving in a striking number of cases torture and sometimes death. All those prisons, large and small, were borrowed or built to ensure that captives in the Bush administration’s Global War on Terror, the innocent and the guilty alike, whether taken in battle, traded for bounties, or kidnapped by the CIA off the streets of global cities as well as in the backlands of the planet, would be -- every last one of them -- beyond the reach of the law, American or international.
And that couldn’t have been more intentional. An administration whose top officials had torture methods -- the euphemism of that moment was “enhanced interrogation techniques” -- demonstrated in the White House wanted a free hand to do whatever it damn pleased, including waterboarding, slamming heads off walls, depriving prisoners of sleep, or just about anything else. They were going to “take the gloves off,” as the phrase of the era went, and no judge, no legal system was about to stop them. Their lawyers in the Department of Justice even redefined “severe physical or mental pain or suffering” in the classic legal description of torture so that an act would not be considered torture if “intent” wasn’t there -- and the only way to know about intent would be to ask the potential torturer. (Even then, he or she would need to have “specific intent to cause pain" in mind.)
In this web of CIA-operated “black sites” extending across significant parts of the planet, the jewel in the crown, a veritable recruitment poster for jihadist groups, was Guantánamo. It was tantalizingly just 90 miles offshore from American justice and pioneered those iconic orange jumpsuits for its prisoners that would later be adopted by ISIS for its torture and murder videos. There, prisoners could be kept more or less forever without either charges or trials, a system for which Donald Trump has shown remarkable enthusiasm.
TomDispatch has been covering all of this for years and yet I felt I first came face to face with Guantánamo only the other day in the strangest, quietest way imaginable. I went to meet Erin Thompson, author of Possession: The Curious History of Private Collectors from Antiquity to the Present. She then took me through “Ode to the Sea: Art from Guantánamo,” the first show of paintings and other works by some of the prisoners there, which she had curated. Who even knew that they painted, no less with a startling proficiency? Though the works were (as she describes today) in some way faceless -- untitled and largely without human images -- something about finally "meeting" those prisoners (and ex-prisoners), however facelessly, can’t help but take your breath away and remind you that we are all, however uncomfortably, in the same grim world.
-Tom Engelhardt, TomDispatch
The Art of Keeping Guantánamo Open What the Paintings by Its Prisoners Tell Us About Our Humanity and Theirs
e spent the day at a beach in Brooklyn. Skyscrapers floated in the distance and my toddler kept handing me cigarette filters she had dug out of the sand. When we got home, I checked my email. I had been sent a picture of a very different beach: deserted, framed by distant headlands with unsullied sands and clear waters. As it happened, I was looking not at a photograph, but at a painting by a man imprisoned at the Guantánamo Bay detention camp.
Of the roughly 780 people once imprisoned there, he is one of 41 prisoners who remain, living yards away from the Caribbean Sea. Captives from the Bush administration’s Global War on Terror began to arrive at that offshore prison in January 2002. Since Guantánamo is located on a military base in Cuba and the detainees were labeled “alien enemy combatants,” they were conveniently to be without rights under either United States or international law and so open to years of whatever their jailers wanted to do to them (including torture). President Barack Obama released 197 of them in his years in office, but was unable to fulfill the promise he made on his first day: to close Guantánamo.
The man whose painting I saw has been held for nearly 15 years without trial, without even having charges filed against him. The email came from his lawyer who had volunteered to defend a number of Guantánamo detainees. Some had been released after she helped them convince a military tribunal that they were no longer “threats” to the United States. The others remain in indefinite detention. Many of her clients pass their time by making art and, of all the unexpected things to come into my life, she was now looking for a curator who wanted to exhibit some of their paintings.
Collecting the Art of Guantánamo
I’m a professor at John Jay College in New York City. It has a small art gallery and so one day in August 2016 I found myself in that lawyer’s midtown Manhattan office preparing, however dubiously, to view the art of her clients. She was pushing aside speakerphones and notepads and laying out the artwork on a long table in a conference room whose windows overlooked the picturesque East River. As I waited, I watched from high up as the water cut a swath of silence through the city. When I finally turned my attention to the art, I was startled to see some eerily similar views. Painting after painting of water. Water trickling through the reeds at the edge of a pond. Water churning into foam as it ran over rocks in rivers. Calmly flowing water that reflected the buildings along a canal.
But above all, there was the sea. Everywhere, the sea. In those paintings in that conference room and in other work sent to me as word spread among detainees and their lawyers that I was willing to plan an exhibit, I found hundreds of depictions of the sea in all its moods. In some paintings, storms thrashed apart the last planks of sinking ships. In others, boats were moored safely at docks or scudded across vast expanses of water without a hint of shore in sight. Clouds bunched in blue midday skies or burned orange in mid-ocean sunsets. One detainee had even made elaborate models of sailing ships out of cardboard, old T-shirts, bottle caps, and other scraps of trash.
Puzzled, I asked the lawyer, “Why all the water?” She shrugged. Maybe the art instructor at the prison, she suggested, was giving the detainees lots of pictures of the sea. The detainees, it turned out, could actually take art classes as long as they remained “compliant.” But when there was a crackdown, as there had, for instance, been during a mass hunger strike in 2013, the guards promptly confiscated their art -- and that was the reason the lawyer’s clients had asked her to take it. They wanted to keep their work (and whatever it meant to them) safe from the guards.

As it turned out, the art doesn't leave Guantánamo that much more easily than the prisoners themselves. Military authorities scrutinized every piece for hidden messages and then stamped the back of each work, “Approved by US Forces.” Those stamps generally bled through, floating up into the surface of the image on the other side. The lawyer had even nicknamed one of the model ships the U.S.S. Approved because the censors had stamped those words across its sails.
So I found myself beginning to plan an exhibition of a sort I had never in my wildest dreams imagined I would curate. And I began to worry. A curator makes so many choices, judgments, interpretations of art. But how could I make them with any kind of accuracy when I was a woman, a non-Muslim, and a citizen of the very nation that had detained these men for so many years without charges or trial? Wasn’t I, in other words, the ultimate Other?
Greek to Me
By training, I’m a classical art historian. I expand fragments. If I show my students a broken ancient Greek vase, I use my words to mend it. I pour in more words to fill it with the memory of the wine it once carried, yet more to conjure up the men who once drank from it, and still more to offer my students our best guesses at what they might have been talking about as they drank.
This mode of dealing with art was known to the ancient Greeks. They called it ekphrasis: the rhetorical exercise of describing a work of art in great detail. For them, ekphrasis was a creative act. The speaker often explained things not shown by the artist, such as what happened just before or just after the illustrated moment. The maiden in this painting is smiling because she has just received a declaration of love, they would say.
But faced with this art from Guantánamo, ekphrasis seemed somehow inappropriate. These artists are still alive, even if entombed. Their artworks are as they intended them, not the fragmentary remains of some past world that needs a framework of interpretation. And whatever interpretation these might need, how in the world was I to provide it? Who was I to pour my words over them?
And yet I knew that they needed help or why would that lawyer have come to me? The detainees certainly couldn’t curate their own exhibit in New York because they would be barred from entering the United States even after being released from Guantánamo. So I told myself that I would have to help them realize their desire for an exhibit without inserting my own judgments. I told myself that I would instead be their amanuensis.
From the Latin: a manu, servant of the hand, the term once referring to someone who aided in an artistic project by taking dictation. Consider, for instance, John Milton’s daughters, Mary and Deborah, who took down his seventeenth century epic poem Paradise Lost after he had gone blind. They were his amanuenses. He composed the verses in his head at night. Then, in the morning, as a contemporary of his wrote, he “sat leaning backward obliquely in an easy chair, with his leg flung over the elbow of it” while they wrote down what he recited. If they dawdled coming to him, he would complain that he needed to be milked.

I would similarly let the artists speak for themselves through me, or so I thought. I wrote out a list of questions for their lawyers to ask them, including “What do you like about making art?” and “What would you like people to think about when they are looking at your art?” Then I waited for those lawyers to pose them during their Guantánamo visits in the midst of conferences about legal matters.
The answers were strikingly uniform and seemingly unrevealing. They wanted people to see their art, they said, and through it know that they are actual human beings. Really? I didn’t get it. Of course, they’re human beings. What else could they be?
At first, I wasn’t too concerned that their answers didn’t really make much sense to me. That’s part of the role of an amanuensis. Milton’s daughters were ten and six when he began Paradise Lost. It would take them all nearly a decade to finish it. In those years, their father also taught them to read books aloud to him in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, of which they couldn’t understand a word.
I was used to being an amanuensis myself. When I was a year and a half old and my mother was still pregnant with my sister, my father had an accident and broke his neck. The fractured edge of a vertebra sliced into his spinal cord, leaving his arms and legs paralyzed. As soon as we were old enough -- and I can’t remember a time when we weren’t considered old enough -- my sister and I would spend hours a day being his “hands.” We opened mail, paid bills, slid computer disks in and out of the desktop that he operated by stabbing at the keys with a long pointer held in his mouth. Through us, two daydreamy little girls, he did all the work of a stereotypical man of the house -- fixing broken appliances, hanging Christmas lights, grilling steak.
To be an amanuensis is, by the way, anything but a passive act. After all, there wouldn’t be enough time in the world if you had to tell your own hands what to do in every situation: reach for the coffee cup, close that finger around its handle, bring it to your mouth. In the same way, an amanuensis must anticipate needs, prepare tools, and know when something’s missing.
And this sense that something was missing -- honed from my years with my father -- was growing in me as I looked at the artwork and thought about those responses. It was the midsummer of 2017 and the exhibit was set to open in the fall. The file cabinets in my office were filled with paintings, overflowing into piles on the floor that came up to my shins. After the struggle to pry those artworks out of Guantánamo, I didn’t know how to say that one piece should be seen by the world and another should stay a prisoner in some dark drawer.
Freedom of the Seas
So I asked again -- this time by emailing Mansoor Adayfi, a former detainee working on a memoir about his time at Guantánamo. He explained that the cells of detainees were right by the sea. They could smell and hear the surf, but because tarps blocked their view, they could never see it. Only once, when a hurricane was coming, had the guards removed those tarps from the fences that separated them from the water. A few days later, when they went back up, the artist-inmates began to draw pictures of the sea as a substitute for what they had glimpsed during that brief moment of visual freedom.
Suddenly, those endless visions of water -- that is, of freedom -- made sense to me. And I understood something else as well. Guantánamo is a system designed to paint the men it holds as monsters, animals, sub-humans who don't deserve basic rights like fair trials. That was the reason those prisoners were speaking, but not speaking, in their art. Why would they say anything that risked a further fall from whatever precarious hold on humanity they still had?
They hoped someday to be released, which was unlikely to happen if the authorities became convinced that they bore any anger towards the United States. And even release would not mean freedom of speech, since they would be sent to countries that had agreed to host them. Dependent on the good graces of these governments, they would continue to live constrained lives in constrained circumstances, needing never to offend these new sets of authorities either.

I was indeed the Other. I might misinterpret and misrepresent, but so undoubtedly would anyone else in our world speaking for those artists. And they were incapable of speaking for themselves.
So I added an essay of my own to the catalog, becoming ekphrastic. I pointed out what was movingly missing in their artwork. It wasn’t that there weren’t people in their paintings. It was that those works had invisible holes where the people should have been. All those unmanned boats, sailing across those open waters, were carrying invisible self-portraits of the artists as they hardly dared to imagine themselves: free. Even when there were no boats, the famously mutable sea served as the perfect disguise. Its winds and waves and rocks represented the all-too-human emotions of the artists without ever making them visible to the censors.
It was, of course, so much less dangerous for me to interpret what they were saying than for them to say it directly. I had held many doors open for my father when I was his amanuensis, running ahead to make sure the path was clear and that there were no surprising flights of stairs. If there were, it was up to me to find a new way.
This is what I wanted to do for the artists. Open doors, scout out paths -- but their choice of doors, their choice of paths, not mine. They had told me they wanted people to see them as human beings and that was the case I tried to make for them.
As it turned out, I evidently succeeded a little too well. After the exhibit opened and received a surprising amount of media attention, the artists’ lawyers noticed that the authorities were taking longer and longer to clear artworks to leave Guantánamo. Then, three weeks ago, the Department of Defense declared that all art made at Guantánamo is government property. Detainees reported that their guards then told them any art left behind if they were ever released would be burned and works in their cells deemed “excess” would simply be discarded.
As with so many policy decisions about Guantánamo, the true rationale for this one remains hidden. My guess: the U.S. authorities there were surprised that the artwork they had been scrutinizing so carefully for hidden messages had a unifying one they had missed: that its makers were human beings. Which is precisely the realization the authorities need to stop the rest of us from having if Guantánamo is to remain open.
Erin L. Thompson, co-curator of “Ode to the Sea: Art from Guantánamo” with Charlie Shields and Paige Laino, is an assistant professor of art crime at John Jay College. Her book, Possession: The Curious History of Private Collectors from Antiquity to the Present, was an NPR Best Book of 2016. Follow her on Twitter at @artcrimeprof.
[Note: The exhibit “Ode to the Sea: Art from Guantánamo” is on display in New York City at the President's Gallery of John Jay College, 899 10th Avenue (6th Floor) until January 28, 2018.]
Follow TomDispatch on Twitter and join us on Facebook. Check out the newest Dispatch Book, Alfred McCoy's In the Shadows of the American Century: The Rise and Decline of U.S. Global Power, as well as John Dower's The Violent American Century: War and Terror Since World War II, John Feffer's dystopian novel Splinterlands, Nick Turse’s Next Time They’ll Come to Count the Dead, and Tom Engelhardt's Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World.

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