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This Is What It's Like Answering All Those Phone Calls to Congress Print
Sunday, 26 March 2017 12:51

Harris writes: "It's not even noon, and I've already answered dozens of phone calls from angry constituents."

Activists gather line up in the hallway of Sen. Michael Bennet's office, in Denver. (photo: RJ Sangosti/The Denver Post)
Activists gather line up in the hallway of Sen. Michael Bennet's office, in Denver. (photo: RJ Sangosti/The Denver Post)


This Is What It's Like Answering All Those Phone Calls to Congress

By Eric Harris, The Washington Post

26 March 17

 

Keep on dialing.

t’s not even noon, and I’ve already answered dozens of phone calls from angry constituents. A single mother demanded answers as to where her family could turn for health-care services if Republicans repeal the Affordable Care Act. An older gentleman had to take a breath as he used some choice words to describe House Speaker Paul D. Ryan’s proposals to cut Medicare benefits. The resentment and anger are palpable. Seconds after I hang up, the phone rings again. And again. And again.

As a communications director for Rep. Gwen Moore (D-Wis.), answering constituent calls is not usually in my job description; in most offices on Capitol Hill, staff assistants and interns pick up. But with phones ringing off the hook since Donald Trump became the 45th president, the policy experts and I have been pitching in — and all of us have been on the receiving end of a nonstop barrage of indignation and frustration from constituents, many of whom have never been in touch before.

So I have something to say to the hordes of furious callers who continue to bombard our office on a daily basis: Thank you.

Democratic and Republican congressional offices have been inundated with calls, letters, tweets, posts and visits from impassioned people upset and outraged by the president’s actions, Cabinet nominations and executive orders. Senate Minority Leader Charles E. Schumer’s office reported an average of 1.5 million daily calls to the Senate in the first week of February alone. Phone lines are so gridlocked that lawmakers are nervously taking to social media to apologize that constituents can’t get through and reassure them that we hear them on Capitol Hill.

Before Trump’s inauguration, our Washington office received anywhere from 120 to 200 calls in a given week. Those numbers have more than doubled this year. With some callers, ire drips from their every word, especially in relation to Republican efforts to dismantle Obamacare. With others, it’s easy to recognize the regret and disappointment in their voices, as if they’re angry with themselves for somehow allowing such a man to assume the most powerful office in the world. We rarely receive phone calls backing Trump; our district has been a Democratic stronghold for generations.

Despite claims by administration officials that opposition efforts are being led by paid operatives, these calls do not sound scripted or prompted by professional activists. We hear from people who live in our district, and from residents of elsewhere in Wisconsin and throughout the Midwest, some who are contacting us for the first time. (We don’t put calls from people outside the district into our constituent database, but otherwise, we handle all the calls the same way.) Their authenticity is impossible to mistake. Their sentiments come from a genuine place of sincerity and alarm. And at the end of each week, when we convey their fears and frustrations to our boss, we discuss what we can do as public servants to address their concerns and the atmosphere of uncertainty that has been cultivated by this administration and its policies. 

Urgent and emotionally charged calls come with the territory when you work in Congress, but some conversations follow me home from the Rayburn House Office Building. One woman broke down describing how she’s afraid to call the police in an emergency out of fear she’ll be deported. A college student asked how the Environmental Protection Agency’s administrator could question the link between human activity and climate change.

As a Jew, I was particularly touched by a call from a father whose young daughter was one of those evacuated from the Harry & Rose Samson Family Jewish Community Center in Whitefish Bay, Wis., several times after recent bomb threats. For me, it evoked powerful childhood memories: My mother worked in the preschool of the Mittleman Jewish Community Center in Portland, Ore. (which also received a bomb threat recently), and our local synagogue, the place where I had my bar mitzvah, was vandalized with anti-Semitic graffiti. I was 13 or 14 at the time. I remember asking her why it happened and feeling frustrated by her answer, and I hoped that this father on the line — who wanted to know why someone like Stephen K. Bannon had a seat on the National Security Council — didn’t feel that same dissatisfaction with my response.

Thanks to my boss’s all-hands-on-deck approach, our office has been able to accommodate the influx of calls and correspondence. The congresswoman doesn’t care if there’s a “director” or “chief” in your title or if you just started your internship yesterday: When a constituent calls our office, you answer immediately. That policy was in place before the flood of calls started, and it’s served us well. At some other offices where even more calls are coming in, voice-mail inboxes overflow within hours, and call volume is so large that it’s nearly impossible for people to get through to a human being, leading to complaints of busy signals and missed calls. Still, the message is getting through to those in power.

Just before the start of the 115th Congress, House Republicans tried weakening the power of the independent Office of Congressional Ethics to investigate corruption and misconduct, only to reverse course 24 hours later after being pummeled by phone calls from infuriated constituents. Last month, Rep. Jason Chaffetz (R-Utah) announced that he’d withdrawn a controversial bill that would have privatized 3.3 million acres of federally owned land after conservationists, environmentalists, hunters and fishermen lashed out at him. Betsy DeVos was just barely confirmed as secretary of education after Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-Alaska) and Sen. Susan Collins (R-Maine) opposed her nomination. Days before the vote, Murkowski took to the Senate floor and said, “I have heard from thousands — truly thousands — of Alaskans who shared their concerns about Mrs. DeVos as secretary of education.”

The response by lawmakers to this spontaneous grass-roots uprising — women and men calling our offices, attending town halls and adding their voices on social media — demonstrates that civic participation works. And those concerned citizens appreciate that consistent engagement with their elected officials gets results. They understand that their representatives must hear and see their opposition to the path on which this country finds itself. While others saw Election Day as the last phase of their civic duty, those who continue to pepper congressional offices with their messages of opposition recognize that Nov. 8, 2016, was just the beginning.

Contrary to popular belief, politics isn’t about power but about connection. Each time a constituent calls and shares their story, my colleagues and I become a part of that story. In many cases, their concerns are our concerns. Their calls remind us of the posts our friends make on Facebook and the conversations across the dinner table with our families. For me, that shared candor provides warmth in a world that too many people find cold and lonely since the election.

For a Democratic staffer on Capitol Hill in the age of Trump, the struggle for justice can feel disheartening, if not demoralizing. But with every phone call from a concerned constituent, every tweet in support of our shared resistance, every protest sign held by someone who demands dignity for all, I feel a renewed confidence in the resilience of our democracy. Their activism gives me hope. Their resolve gives me strength. And hopefully, hearing a live voice on the other end of the phone rather than a voice-mail message does a little of the same for them.


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The Future Will Be Battery-Powered Print
Sunday, 26 March 2017 12:47

Urry writes: "The future will be battery-powered. It has to be. From electric cars to industrial-scale solar farms, batteries are the key to a cleaner, more efficient energy system - and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can stop contributing to potentially catastrophic climate change."

Are batteries the future? (image: Amelia Bates/Grist)
Are batteries the future? (image: Amelia Bates/Grist)


The Future Will Be Battery-Powered

By Amelia Urry, Grist

26 March 17

 

he battery might be the least sexy piece of technology ever invented. The lack of glamour is especially conspicuous on the lower floors of MIT’s materials science department, where one lab devoted to building and testing the next world-changing energy storage device could easily be mistaken for a storage closet.

At the back of the cramped room, Donald Sadoway, a silver-haired electrochemist in a trim black-striped suit and expensive-looking shoes, rummages through a plastic tub of parts like a kid in search of a particular Lego. He sets a pair of objects on the table, each about the size and shape of a can of soup with all the inherent drama of a paperweight.

No wonder it’s so hard to get anyone excited about batteries. But these paperweights — er, battery cells — could be the technology that revolutionizes our energy system.

Because batteries aren’t just boring. Frankly, they kinda suck. At best, the batteries that power our daily lives are merely invisible — easily drained reservoirs of power packed into smartphones and computers and cars. At worst, they are expensive, heavy, combustible, complicated to dispose of properly, and prone to dying in the cold or oozing corrosive fluid. Even as the devices they power become slimmer and smarter, batteries are still waiting for their next upgrade. Computer processors famously double their capacity every two years; batteries may scrounge only a few percentage points of improvement in the same amount of time.

Nevertheless, the future will be battery-powered. It has to be. From electric cars to industrial-scale solar farms, batteries are the key to a cleaner, more efficient energy system — and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can stop contributing to potentially catastrophic climate change.

But the batteries we’ve got — mostly lithium-ion — aren’t good enough. There’s been some progress: The cost of storing energy has fallen by half over the last five years, and big companies are increasingly making marquee investments in the technology, like Tesla’s ‘gigafactory.’ But in terms of wholesale economic transformation, lithium-ion batteries remain too expensive. They are powerful in our devices, but when you scale them up they are liable to overheat and even, occasionally, explode.

Perhaps the biggest problem with lithium-ion batteries is that they wear out. Think of your phone battery after it’s spent a few years draining to 1 percent then charging back up to 100. That kind of deep discharge and recharge takes a physical toll and damages a battery’s performance over time.

So we’re overdue for a brand new battery, and researchers around the world are racing to give us one, with competing approaches and technologies vying for top spot. Some of their ideas are like nothing we’ve ever plugged into the grid — still not sexy, exactly, but definitely surprising. Liquid batteries. Batteries of molten metal that run as hot as a car engine. Batteries whose secret ingredient is saltwater.

It’s all part of a brand new space race — if less flashy than, you know, outer space.

Just add batteries

There are a few things you want in a good battery, but two are essential: It needs to be reliable, and it needs to be cheap.

“The biggest problem is still cost,” says Eric Rohlfing, deputy director of technology for ARPA-E, a division of the Department of Energy that identifies and funds cutting-edge research and development. A 2012 study in Nature found that the average American would only be willing to pay about $13 more each month to ensure that the entire U.S. electrical supply ran on renewables. So batteries can’t add much to electrical bills.

For utilities, that means providing grid-level energy storage that would cost them less than $100 per kilowatt hour. Since it was established by President Obama in 2009, ARPA-E has put $85 million toward developing new batteries that can meet that goal.

“People called us crazy,” says Rohlfing. That number was absurdly low for an industry that hadn’t yet seen the near side of $700 per kilowatt hours when they started, according to one study of electric vehicle batteries published in Nature. Now, though still unattained, $100 per kWh is the standard target across the industry, Rohlfing says. Get below that, it seems, and you can not only compete — you can win.

And here’s what a better battery stands to win: a cleaner, more reliable power system, which doesn’t rely on fossil fuels and is more robust to boot.

Every time you flip a light switch, you tap into a gigantic invisible web, the electrical grid. Somewhere, at the other end of the high-voltage transmission lines carrying power to your house, there’s a power plant (likely burning coal or, increasingly, natural gas) churning out the electricity that you and everyone else are draining at that moment.

The amount of power in our grid at any one time is carefully maintained — too much or too little and things start to break. Grid operators make careful observations and predictions to determine how much electricity power plants should produce, minute by minute, hour by hour. But sometimes they’re wrong, and a plant has to power up in a hurry to make up the difference.

Lucky for us, it’s a big, interconnected system, so we rarely notice changes in the quality or quantity of electricity. Imagine the difference between stepping into a bucket of water versus stepping into the ocean. In a small system, any change in the balance between supply and demand is obvious — the bucket overflows. But because the grid is so big — ocean-like — fluctuations are usually imperceptible. Only when something goes very wrong do we notice, because the lights go out.

Renewable energy is less obedient than a coal- or gas-fired power plant — you can’t just fire up a solar farm if demand spikes suddenly. Solar power peaks during the day, varies as clouds move across the sun, and disappears at night, while wind power is even less predictable. Too much of that kind of intermittency on the grid could make it more difficult to balance supply and demand, which could lead to more blackouts.

Storing energy is a safety valve. If you could dump extra energy somewhere, then draw from it when supply gets low again, you can power a whole lot more stuff with renewable energy, even when the sun isn’t shining and the wind isn’t blowing. What’s more, the grid itself becomes more stable and efficient, as batteries would allow communities and regions to manage their own power supply. Our aging and overtaxed power infrastructure would go a lot further. Instead of installing new transmission lines in places where existing lines are near capacity, you could draw power during off-peak times and stash it in batteries until you need it.

Just like that, the bucket can behave a lot more like the ocean. That would mean — at least in theory — more distributed power generation and storage, more renewables, and less reliance on giant fossil-fueled power plants.

So that’s why this battery thing is kind of A Big Deal.

Heating up

“A battery will do for the electricity supply chain what refrigeration did to our food supply chain,” Sadoway says from his office in MIT, a good deal more spacious than the battery lab.

Those canisters he showed me were early prototypes of cells for a “liquid metal battery” he started researching a decade ago.

“I started working on batteries just because I was crazy about cars,” Sadoway tells me. (His desktop background is a 1961 Studebaker Avanti he sold a few years ago. He keeps the picture around the way one would memorialize a family pet.) In 1995, he took a test drive in an early Ford electric vehicle and fell in love. “I realized the only reason we don’t have electric cars is because we don’t have batteries.”

So Sadoway started thinking. He had some experience with the process of refining aluminum, and he wondered if that could be a model for a new, unorthodox kind of battery. Aluminum smelting is a dirt-cheap, energy-intensive process by which purified metal is boiled out of ore. But if that one-way process could be doubled up and looped back on itself, maybe the huge amount of energy fed into the molten metal could be stored there.

In some ways, that’s insane — the molten battery would have to run around of 880 degrees F, only slightly cooler than the combustion chamber of a car engine. But it’s also a bizarrely simple concept, at least to an electrochemist. It turns out assembling a cell of a liquid metal battery cell is as easy as dropping a plug of metal, made up of two alloys of different densities, into a vessel and pouring some salt on top. When the cell is powered up, the two metals melt and divide into two layers automatically, like salad oil floating on vinegar. The molten salt forms a layer between them, conducting electrons back and forth.

But even with a promising start, developing a new battery is a glacially slow process, Sadoway says. Early funding from ARPA-E and the French oil giant Total helped him get the idea off the ground, but sustaining research for the years needed to build any brand new technology is expensive. Venture capitalists are shy about drawn-out engineering projects when there are so many software startups promising fast profits.

“In any capital-intensive industry, industry will stand in the way of innovation,” Sadoway says. Existing battery companies have too much invested in the status quo to be much help, he says. Lithium-ion came from outside the established battery industry of its time, he points out; the next battery will have to do the same.

The molten metal battery has long since moved out of the basement lab. In 2010, Sadoway started the battery company Ambri with several of his former students, then moved HQ into a manufacturing facility 30 miles west of Cambridge to the town of Marlborough. Now, Ambri employs about 40 people and is busy building prototype battery packs out of hundreds of the molten metal cells.

Sadoway says Ambri is less than a year away from deploying its first commercial models. All signs have been hopeful so far, he says. At the manufacturing facility, some test cells have been up and running for almost four years without showing any signs of wear and tear. Getting the assembled battery packs, each consisting of 432 individual cells, to work was trickier. But after ironing out some pesky issues with the heat seals, the battery packs can reach a self-sustaining operating temperature, hot enough to charge and discharge without any extra energy input. Now Ambri is in the middle of raising another round of funding, enough to reach market-ready production mode.

On my way out the door, I say that, for all the difficulty and delay, it seems like this battery could really be close. “I hope so,” Sadoway says, looking almost wistful. “Maybe this is it. I’d like to see that.”

A crowded field

The molten metal battery isn’t the only moonshot battery. It’s not even the obvious front-runner. Other technologies are pushing ahead, quietly and without fanfare, from “iron flow batteries” to zinc- and lithium-air varieties.

Like Sadoway’s project, many of these untested technologies are funded initially by grants from ARPA-E. “These are very early stage, high-risk technologies,” says Rohlfing, the agency’s deputy director. “We take a lot of shots on goal.”

One especially promising contender in the better battery battle is the Pittsburgh-based company Aquion, whose founder, Carnegie Mellon professor Jay Whitacre, set out in 2008 to design the cheapest, most reliable battery you could make.

The result is something colloquially called a “saltwater battery.” It looks, more or less, like a Rubbermaid bin full of seawater. All of the materials in the Aquion batteries are abundant and easily obtained elements, from salt to stainless steel to cotton. What’s more, none of those materials carry the risks of a lithium-ion battery.

“Our chemistry is very simple,” says Matt Maroon, Aquion’s vice president of product management. “There’s nothing in our battery that is flammable, toxic, or caustic.”

It’s also stupidly easy to assemble. “Our main piece of manufacturing assembly equipment comes out of the food packaging industry,” Maroon says. “It’s a simple pick-and-place robot that you’d find at Nabisco, putting crackers inside of blister packs.”

Aquion batteries have been on the market for nearly three years, installed in both homes and utility-scale facilities. Overall, Aquion has 35 megawatt hours of storage deployed around the world in 250 different installations. One in Hawaii has been up and running for two years; last year, the battery-plus-solar system powered several buildings for six months without ever falling back on a diesel generator.

“We need to get more of these things out into the field,” says Rohlfing. “Right now, if I’m a utility or a grid operator and I want to buy storage, I want to buy something that comes with a 20-year warranty. The technologies we’re talking about aren’t at that stage yet.”

But they’re getting close. Another ARPA-E-funded project, Energy Storage Systems, or ESS, announced last November that it would install one of its iron-flow batteries as part of an Army Corps of Engineers microgrid experiment on a military base in Missouri. ESS has also installed batteries to help power an off-grid organic winery in Napa Valley — for that matter, so has Aquion. As more and more of these one-off experiments prove successful — and more of these new kinds of batteries prove their worth — the possibility of a battery-powered energy system comes a little closer.

But will batteries ever be, well, cool? That’s a harder question. Aquion’s Matt Maroon has been working in the field since 2002, soon after he left college. At conferences, Maroon was often the youngest person in the room by 30 years. He was sure he wouldn’t be “a battery guy” for his whole career.

Fifteen years later, he’s still a battery guy — but he’s no longer the youngest person in the room. More students are starting to get involved with batteries, and people are starting to take notice. “It’s still not as a cool as working at Apple,” he says. “But I think people recognize its importance and that kind of makes it cool.”

“Or I hope so,” he laughs. “I’ve got a 9-year-old daughter. So I’d like to work on something that she thinks is cool someday. That’s my ultimate goal.”


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FOCUS: Sad Paul Ryan Is Sad Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=11104"><span class="small">Charles Pierce, Esquire</span></a>   
Sunday, 26 March 2017 12:00

Pierce writes: "The ghost, it was given up around 3:30 on Thursday afternoon, at least for 12 hours or so. Speaker Paul Ryan, the zombie-eyed granny starver from the state of Wisconsin, took one in the chops when a vote of his well-camouflaged tax-cut bill was postponed until Friday morning."

Paul Ryan. (photo: Getty Images)
Paul Ryan. (photo: Getty Images)


Sad Paul Ryan Is Sad

By Charles Pierce, Esquire

26 March 17

 

he ghost, it was given up around 3:30 on Thursday afternoon, at least for 12 hours or so. Speaker Paul Ryan, the zombie-eyed granny starver from the state of Wisconsin, took one in the chops when a vote of his well-camouflaged tax-cut bill was postponed until Friday morning. This came after a frenzied 48 hours in which Ryan and the president* were pulled around by the nose by the more lunatic members of their party who thought the dead-fish Ryan had sent to the House wasn't tough enough on poor people.

Finally, rather than face the revolt of the wingnuts, Ryan and the Republican leadership pulled the vote, opting for a meeting of the Republican conference and a possible vote on Friday. This sent the House side of the Capitol into a positive whirlwind of rumor, speculation, and undeniable flopsweat. Buttonholed outside the House chamber, Congressman John Ratcliffe, a Republican from Texas who is a radical conservative, but not a Freedom Caucus cultist, was honest about the whole business. The president* carried Ratcliffe's district with 76 percent of the vote, and Ratcliffe would like to stay in Congress.

"If I had more news, I'd give it to you," Ratcliffe said. "There's a meeting tonight and there might be some kind of vote, or maybe not. That's where it stands."

The sticking point remains with the Freedom Caucus, the political S&M cult led by Mark Meadows, Republican of the newly insane state of North Carolina. Meadows comes from a jerry-rigged district in the western part of the state. He's one of the beneficiaries of the radical redistricting plan cooked up in 2011 by the North Carolina legislature, the plan that's so nakedly awful that it is currently under review by the Supreme Court. So he's largely immune from the fact that, according to this handy map from the Kaiser Foundation, the premiums for the people in the counties he represents will increase by an average of 16 percent if the new bill as it's currently designed will pass. Of course, Meadows doesn't think the bill as it's currently designed allows enough freedom for those folks, so he has his heart set on making it worse. And he's willing to blow up the House to do it.

"I just have one vote," he said, oozing counterfeit sincerity from every pore. "My voting card only has one picture on it. Mine. I don't bring anything to the Congress except the voice of one district in western North Carolina."

I don't know how many new ways they can find to screw this up, but I'm sadly convinced that none of them will pay any price for it.

UPDATE—Oh, look. The Congressional Budget Office has stopped by to call again.

Smaller savings.

More uninsured.

But $999 billion more in tax cuts.


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FOCUS: Donald Trump Is Done Print
Written by <a href="index.php?option=com_comprofiler&task=userProfile&user=36478"><span class="small">John Kiriakou, Reader Supported News</span></a>   
Sunday, 26 March 2017 10:45

Kiriakou writes: "I'm going to go out on a limb, but remember that you heard it here first: Donald Trump is done. He's finished. He's a lame duck president 65 days into his term."

Donald Trump campaign signs. (photo: Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images)
Donald Trump campaign signs. (photo: Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images)


Donald Trump Is Done

By John Kiriakou, Reader Supported News

26 March 17

 

’m going to go out on a limb, but remember that you heard it here first: Donald Trump is done. He’s finished. He’s a lame duck president 65 days into his term. As president and head of the Republican Party, he couldn’t even get his own party members to vote for the repeal and replacement of Obamacare, even after the Republican-controlled House voted more than three dozen times since 2011 to do exactly that and after nearly every Republican candidate for federal office promised to do so. If Trump can’t bring his own party into line on its most important campaign promise, he’s unlikely to be able to accomplish anything else.

Trump also promised during the campaign to “drain the swamp” and to name outsiders, rather than lobbyists and professional political hangers-on, to important policy positions in Washington. It’s not working. Trump should have hired people from the swamp, who know how the city runs and how to get things done. But Trump isn’t capable of learning from the mistakes or others. Instead, he brought in the likes of Steve Bannon and neo-Nazi Sebastian Gorka to run the show.

This same “drain the swamp” thing has happened in the past. Jimmy Carter promised in the 1976 campaign to bring in outsiders, to push out the insiders, and to turn Washington politics upside down. Instead, he couldn’t get along with Democratic Senate Majority Leader Robert Byrd (D-WV) or House Speaker Tip O’Neill (D-Mass.) and was able to pass almost no legislation of any note. In the 1980 elections, voters punished the president — and the Democrats in Congress — for the gridlock by giving the presidency to Ronald Reagan by an electoral vote of 489-49, the Democrats lost the Senate, and they lost 34 seats in the House.

CNN political commentator David Gergen, who has served in senior positions for presidents of both parties, including Ford, Reagan, and Clinton, said last week that Trump’s first 100 days in office have so far been the worst in presidential history — and we’re only two-thirds of the way into it. Gergen and others argue that, absent a major unifying event like, God forbid, a terrorist attack, it will be virtually impossible for Trump to push through Congress any controversial or polarizing legislation. With his abject failure on the health care bill, an utter lack of a bully pulpit, no political capital to hold over the heads of either Democrats or Republicans on Capitol Hill, and the Democrats’ willingness to use the filibuster in the Senate, Trump is simply crippled legislatively.

That’s good for the country, for the most part. (I say “for the most part” because I think the country really does need a major infrastructure spending bill.) Don’t expect any major legislation on school vouchers, though. Don’t expect any new legislation to restrict abortion rights. Don’t expect any real effort to shut down the departments and agencies that Trump railed against during the campaign. His own party members just aren’t intimidated by him. They don’t feel compelled to do what he wants.

Now is not the time for the opposition to sit on their laurels. There’s an old saying in Washington: “Don’t kick a man when he’s down. But once he’s down, don’t stop kicking him.” And that’s what Democrats, progressives, and others have to do — keep kicking. If we keep up the pressure, if we continue our activism, if we block legislation, if we remain in the streets, we can make this president an asterisk in the history books. We can emasculate him starting now. Let’s do it.



John Kiriakou is a former CIA counterterrorism officer and a former senior investigator with the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. John became the sixth whistleblower indicted by the Obama administration under the Espionage Act - a law designed to punish spies. He served 23 months in prison as a result of his attempts to oppose the Bush administration's torture program.

Reader Supported News is the Publication of Origin for this work. Permission to republish is freely granted with credit and a link back to Reader Supported News.

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The Russian Job: The Plot Thickens Print
Saturday, 25 March 2017 13:49

Cole writes: "An avalanche of news about the connection of key Trump political operatives to Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation rolled down ominously on the West Wing on Wednesday."

President's former campaign manager Paul Manafort at a discussion on security at Trump Tower, August 17, 2016. (photo: Carlo Allegri/Reuters)
President's former campaign manager Paul Manafort at a discussion on security at Trump Tower, August 17, 2016. (photo: Carlo Allegri/Reuters)


The Russian Job: The Plot Thickens

By Juan Cole, Informed Comment

25 March 17

 

n avalanche of news about the connection of key Trump political operatives to Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation rolled down ominously on the West Wing on Wednesday.

The evidence for collusion between Trump figures and the Russian Federation to gain the White House for Trump is still mostly circumstantial, but some of it is beginning to cross over into being direct.

Paul Manafort was chairman of the Trump presidential campaign from March until late August of 2016, including during the Republican National Convention. He served much longer than did Steve Bannon, the Breitbart fake news purveyor, who succeeded him.

During the Republican National Convention, Manafort orchestrated the removal from the Republican Party platform of a pledge to provide lethal weapons to Ukraine with which to oppose Russian incursions into the east of that country. Obviously, removal of that plank was something Russia wanted very badly, and Manafort obliged them. Why?

Manafort is a third-generation Italian-American and an attorney and Republican Party fixture who worked on the Ford, Bush Sr., and Dole campaigns. For Reagan he had served as Associate Director of the Presidential Personnel Office at the White House.

In Washington, knowing rich and powerful people personally is worth gold and offers the hail fellow well met the opportunity for enormous riches as a lobbyist.

By 2006, the intrepid reporters Jeff Horwitz and Chad Day Associated Press reported, Manafort was hired for $10 million as a lobbyist by Russian billionaire Oleg Deripaska to lobby for him and for Vladimir Putin and the Russian Federation. The arrangement would “greatly benefit the Putin Government.”

As the post-Soviet political system evolved in Russia a group of billionaires or oligarchs rose from the ashes of socialism. As Putin gradually established his power from 2000, he was visibly uncomfortable with the pluralism of political power that battling billionaires could wield, and with the independent media some of them were running. He gradually brought them to heel and attached them to himself. Those who refused to be so coopted were destroyed by exile, imprisonment and mulcting.

Those politically destroyed included media owner Vladimir Gusinsky, Boris Berezovsky and the fantastically wealthy Mikhail Khodorkovsky. Putin himself also arranged to join the ranks of the remaining oligarchs, amassing great wealth that however cannot be specified with certainty. He certainly has at least a few billions, and may be wealthy enough to place in the top ten of Forbes’ list of the wealthiest persons in the world.

Deripaska is therefore not just a random aluminum mogul. That he is allowed to be an oligarch bespeaks his subordination to Putin. Working for him is the same as working for Putin. And the AP report of Manafort’s deal with Deripaska makes this point quite clear.

One of Manafort’s charges, was to open a pro-Russian television station in the Ukraine, which however never materialized despite an $18 million payment. Deripaska charged Manafort with bad faith and last summer spoke of suing him, but once Trump won the election he said no more about a suit.

Manafort denies that the work he did for Deripaska had any political dimensions, and initially seemed to deny doing this kind of work for a powerful Russian concern at all.

Although his relationship with Deripaska seems to have ended in 2009, Manafort went on to do similar work for pro-Russian Ukrainian politician Viktor Yanukovych . Yanukovych was overthrown by the Euromaidan crowds in 2014 and now lives in exile in Russia. Russia then took back Crimea from Ukraine, which had turned hostile to Moscow (Khrushchev gave Russia’s Crimea to Ukraine when all were part of the same country in the 1950). As a result of the annexation of Crimea, the United States and Western European countries placed sanctions on Russia. Russia wants those sanctions removed. One deal ruined by the sanctions was a $500 bn. arrangement with Exxon-Mobil, i.e. with current Secretary of State Rex Tillerson.

Putin and his circle believe that Ukraine’s Orange Revolution and tilt toward the European Union was engineered by the CIA, and that it is possible that Washington may try to get up a color revolution in Moscow itself. Russia would like to break up the European Union, break up NATO, recover Ukraine as a sphere of influence, and erase US and European sanctions. These goals have been voiced by Donald Trump, Steve Bannon and others in their circle who came to power in Washington last November.

Then as the Manafort news was breaking, someone in the FBI leaked that the agency had evidence of Trump operatives being in direct contact with Russian officials and colluding to sink the candidacy of Hillary Clinton.

Rep. Adam Schiff, (D-Calif) also said Wednesday that the evidence for collusion between Trump operatives and Russian ones to hand Trump the elections was not simply circumstantial. That is, he is aware of direct evidence to that effect.

In other words, Wednesday was a very bad day for the Trump team.

Then Rep. Devin Nunes (R-Calif), chair of the House Intelligence Committee, went to see Trump to reassure him, and said publicly that the US intelligence community may have acquired communications of the Trump team because they had had non-US citizens under surveillance, and then the Trumpies called them up. Who ever is in contact with a person under investigation in this day and age also comes under investigation.

Trump took Nunes’s pronouncement to vindicate his allegation that President Obama ordered him wiretapped inside the Trump White House.

Nunes, however, continued to say that there was no evidence that Obama ever ordered that Trump be put under surveillance.

Nunes was criticized for visiting Trump and saying these things since it brought into question the integrity of the House investigation of Trump’s Russia ties. Nunes may also have revealed classified information.

Sen. John McCain immediately called for a joint select committee on intelligence to be shared by the House and the Senate.

So the evidence trail leading to Russia is getting deeper and the Trump administration has no idea what to do about it.

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