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Albert Einstein:

Twee dingen zijn oneindig: het universum en de menselijke domheid. Maar van het universum ben ik niet zeker.
Posts tonen met het label Martin Luther King. Alle posts tonen
Posts tonen met het label Martin Luther King. Alle posts tonen

zondag 24 januari 2021

Beyond Vietnam: tijd om de stilte te doorbreken, een toespraak van Martin Luther King, een les ook voor de huidige tijd

Op 4 april 1967, opvallend* genoeg precies een jaar voor hij onder regie van de FBI werd vermoord, gaf Martin Luther King (MLK) een toespraak in de Riverside Church (New York) waarin hij de VS de grootste leverancier van geweld noemde op de toenmalige wereld.......

Hoe weinig is er veranderd sindsdien, sterker nog je kan nu zonder meer stellen dat de VS de grootste terreurentiteit ter wereld is, de VS ook aangeduid als het Vierde Rijk, met haar meer dan 800 militaire bases over de wereld, de VS met haar voortdurende illegale oorlogsvoering (sinds het begin van de Obama administraties geen dag meer zonder oorlog...), de VS met haar geheime militaire acties waar het maar uitkomt en met haar moordprogramma uitgevoerd middels drones...... Alleen deze eeuw heeft de VS met hulp van haar oorlogshond NAVO al meer dan 5 miljoen mensen vermoord.....

Het is dan ook schunnig als je ziet dat de reguliere (westerse) media en politici het moorddadig optreden van de VS steunen zonder te spreken over het enorme aantal slachtoffers, terwijl ze tegelijkertijd Rusland, China en Iran durven te beschuldigen van agressie en het destabiliseren van de situatie in het Midden-Oosten, Azië en zelfs het westen, de laatste met leugens over cyberaanvallen, waarvoor geen flinter aan bewijs kan worden geleverd......

Het is juist ook nu van belang de stilte te doorbreken, de stilte over hoe mensen in massa's worden vermoord door militairen van de VS en haar NAVO-partners, de stilte over het nog steeds verdrukte gekleurde volk in de VS, zelfs na de gekleurde president Obama die dan ook maar weinig of niets voor de gekleurde bevolking heeft gedaan, de politie vermoordt ze nog steeds op grote schaal...., de stilte over het bloedige beleid van Israël tegen het verdrukte Palestijnse volk, mogelijk gemaakt door de VS, de stilte over de genocide in Jemen uitgevoerd door de Saoedische terreurcoalitie, politiek en militair gesteund door de VS, Groot-Brittannië en Frankrijk (waar de laatste 2 hoofdzakelijk zorgen voor wapenleveranties aan Saoedi-Arabië en de training van soldaten), de stilte over de smerige spelletjes die de VS in veel landen speelt om de boel te destabiliseren en zelfs democratisch gekozen regeringen omver te werpen...... (waarna de VS een dictator aanstelt die braaf doet wat de VS verlangt...)

De stilte ook over de enorme vervuiling door het militaire apparaat, ook daarin is de VS de 'grootste....' (bovendien een fikse aanjager van de klimaatverandering, om over de vervuiling middels radioactieve munitie maar te zwijgen, de reden voor veel medische ellende nadat de VS is verdwenen**) De stilte over seismische proeven van de VS marine in de oceanen, die alles wat onderwater leeft in de nabijheid doet sterven en verder walvis- en dolfijnachtigen geheel in verwarring brengen, volgens deskundigen één van de redenen waarom zo nu en dan grote aantallen walvisachtigen stranden....... Tot slot de stilte in de reguliere westerse (massa-) media over de meeste van deze zaken (Black Liver Matter >> BLM is al lang weer vergeten....), een stilte die zelfs bewust wordt gehandhaafd door die media, zie ook hoe zogenaamde journalisten van die media, NB collega's van Julian Assange die hem hebben besmeurd, hem voor verrader en spion hebben uitgemaakt en hem zelfs een charlatan durfden te noemen, terwijl één van de eerste onthullingen op Wikileaks het neerschieten was van burgers door militairen van de VS vanuit een helikopter, waarbij 2 journalisten van Reuters werden vermoord...... Hoe kan je je als journalist keren tegen een collega die dit soort vreselijke oorlogsmisdaden openbaart...???

Oh vergeet ik nog een belangrijke: laten we de stilte doorbreken die wordt veroorzaakt door de hysterie over het Coronavirus en waarmee in korte tijd een groot aantal burgerrechten geweld werd en wordt aangedaan!!

Lees de toespraak van MLK en zie hoe weinig er is veranderd:

"Beyond Vietnam"

A Time to Break Silence

By Rev. Martin Luther King

By 1967, King had become the country's most prominent opponent of the Vietnam War, and a staunch critic of overall U.S. foreign policy, which he deemed militaristic. In his "Beyond Vietnam" speech delivered at New York's Riverside Church on April 4, 1967 -- a year to the day before he was murdered -- King called the United States "the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today."

Time magazine called the speech "demagogic slander that sounded like a script for Radio Hanoi," and the Washington Post declared that King had "diminished his usefulness to his cause, his country, his people."

Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence

By Rev. Martin Luther King
4 April 1967
Speech delivered by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on April 4, 1967, at a meeting of Clergy and Laity Concerned at Riverside Church in New York City

I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight because my conscience leaves me no other choice. I join with you in this meeting because I am in deepest agreement with the aims and work of the organization which has brought us together: Clergy and Laymen Concerned about Vietnam. The recent statement of your executive committee are the sentiments of my own heart and I found myself in full accord when I read its opening lines: "A time comes when silence is betrayal." That time has come for us in relation to Vietnam.

The truth of these words is beyond doubt but the mission to which they call us is a most difficult one. Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover when the issues at hand seem as perplexed as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty; but we must move on.

Some of us who have already begun to break the silence of the night have found that the calling to speak is often a vocation of agony, but we must speak. We must speak with all the humility that is appropriate to our limited vision, but we must speak. And we must rejoice as well, for surely this is the first time in our nation's history that a significant number of its religious leaders have chosen to move beyond the prophesying of smooth patriotism to the high grounds of a firm dissent based upon the mandates of conscience and the reading of history. Perhaps a new spirit is rising among us. If it is, let us trace its movement well and pray that our own inner being may be sensitive to its guidance, for we are deeply in need of a new way beyond the darkness that seems so close around us.

Over the past two years, as I have moved to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart, as I have called for radical departures from the destruction of Vietnam, many persons have questioned me about the wisdom of my path. At the heart of their concerns this query has often loomed large and loud: Why are you speaking about war, Dr. King? Why are you joining the voices of dissent? Peace and civil rights don't mix, they say. Aren't you hurting the cause of your people, they ask? And when I hear them, though I often understand the source of their concern, I am nevertheless greatly saddened, for such questions mean that the inquirers have not really known me, my commitment or my calling. Indeed, their questions suggest that they do not know the world in which they live.

In the light of such tragic misunderstandings, I deem it of signal importance to try to state clearly, and I trust concisely, why I believe that the path from Dexter Avenue Baptist Church -- the church in Montgomery, Alabama, where I began my pastorate -- leads clearly to this sanctuary tonight.

I come to this platform tonight to make a passionate plea to my beloved nation. This speech is not addressed to Hanoi or to the National Liberation Front. It is not addressed to China or to Russia.

Nor is it an attempt to overlook the ambiguity of the total situation and the need for a collective solution to the tragedy of Vietnam. Neither is it an attempt to make North Vietnam or the National Liberation Front paragons of virtue, nor to overlook the role they can play in a successful resolution of the problem. While they both may have justifiable reason to be suspicious of the good faith of the United States, life and history give eloquent testimony to the fact that conflicts are never resolved without trustful give and take on both sides.

Tonight, however, I wish not to speak with Hanoi and the NLF, but rather to my fellow Americans, who, with me, bear the greatest responsibility in ending a conflict that has exacted a heavy price on both continents.

The Importance of Vietnam
Since I am a preacher by trade, I suppose it is not surprising that I have seven major reasons for bringing Vietnam into the field of my moral vision. There is at the outset a very obvious and almost facile connection between the war in Vietnam and the struggle I, and others, have been waging in America. A few years ago there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor -- both black and white -- through the poverty program. There were experiments, hopes, new beginnings. Then came the buildup in Vietnam and I watched the program broken and eviscerated as if it were some idle political plaything of a society gone mad on war, and I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such.

Perhaps the more tragic recognition of reality took place when it became clear to me that the war was doing far more than devastating the hopes of the poor at home. It was sending their sons and their brothers and their husbands to fight and to die in extraordinarily high proportions relative to the rest of the population. We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. So we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools. So we watch them in brutal solidarity burning the huts of a poor village, but we realize that they would never live on the same block in Detroit. I could not be silent in the face of such cruel manipulation of the poor.

My third reason moves to an even deeper level of awareness, for it grows out of my experience in the ghettoes of the North over the last three years -- especially the last three summers. As I have walked among the desperate, rejected and angry young men I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they asked -- and rightly so -- what about Vietnam? They asked if our own nation wasn't using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent.

For those who ask the question, "Aren't you a civil rights leader?" and thereby mean to exclude me from the movement for peace, I have this further answer. In 1957 when a group of us formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, we chose as our motto: "To save the soul of America." We were convinced that we could not limit our vision to certain rights for black people, but instead affirmed the conviction that America would never be free or saved from itself unless the descendants of its slaves were loosed completely from the shackles they still wear. In a way we were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier:


O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Now, it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read Vietnam. It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that America will be are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land.

As if the weight of such a commitment to the life and health of America were not enough, another burden of responsibility was placed upon me in 1964; and I cannot forget that the Nobel Prize for Peace was also a commission -- a commission to work harder than I had ever worked before for "the brotherhood of man." This is a calling that takes me beyond national allegiances, but even if it were not present I would yet have to live with the meaning of my commitment to the ministry of Jesus Christ. To me the relationship of this ministry to the making of peace is so obvious that I sometimes marvel at those who ask me why I am speaking against the war. Could it be that they do not know that the good news was meant for all men -- for Communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the one who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them? What then can I say to the "Vietcong" or to Castro or to Mao as a faithful minister of this one? Can I threaten them with death or must I not share with them my life?

Finally, as I try to delineate for you and for myself the road that leads from Montgomery to this place I would have offered all that was most valid if I simply said that I must be true to my conviction that I share with all men the calling to be a son of the living God. Beyond the calling of race or nation or creed is this vocation of sonship and brotherhood, and because I believe that the Father is deeply concerned especially for his suffering and helpless and outcast children, I come tonight to speak for them.

This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism and which go beyond our nation's self-defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for victims of our nation and for those it calls enemy, for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.

Strange Liberators
And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and search within myself for ways to understand and respond to compassion my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the junta in Saigon, but simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them too because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries.

They must see Americans as strange liberators. The Vietnamese people proclaimed their own independence in 1945 after a combined French and Japanese occupation, and before the Communist revolution in China. They were led by Ho Chi Minh. Even though they quoted the American Declaration of Independence in their own document of freedom, we refused to recognize them. Instead, we decided to support France in its reconquest of her former colony.

Our government felt then that the Vietnamese people were not "ready" for independence, and we again fell victim to the deadly Western arrogance that has poisoned the international atmosphere for so long. With that tragic decision we rejected a revolutionary government seeking self-determination, and a government that had been established not by China (for whom the Vietnamese have no great love) but by clearly indigenous forces that included some Communists. For the peasants this new government meant real land reform, one of the most important needs in their lives.

For nine years following 1945 we denied the people of Vietnam the right of independence. For nine years we vigorously supported the French in their abortive effort to recolonize Vietnam.

Before the end of the war we were meeting eighty percent of the French war costs. Even before the French were defeated at Dien Bien Phu, they began to despair of the reckless action, but we did not. We encouraged them with our huge financial and military supplies to continue the war even after they had lost the will. Soon we would be paying almost the full costs of this tragic attempt at recolonization.

After the French were defeated it looked as if independence and land reform would come again through the Geneva agreements. But instead there came the United States, determined that Ho should not unify the temporarily divided nation, and the peasants watched again as we supported one of the most vicious modern dictators -- our chosen man, Premier Diem. The peasants watched and cringed as Diem ruthlessly routed out all opposition, supported their extortionist landlords and refused even to discuss reunification with the north. The peasants watched as all this was presided over by U.S. influence and then by increasing numbers of U.S. troops who came to help quell the insurgency that Diem's methods had aroused. When Diem was overthrown they may have been happy, but the long line of military dictatorships seemed to offer no real change -- especially in terms of their need for land and peace.

The only change came from America as we increased our troop commitments in support of governments which were singularly corrupt, inept and without popular support. All the while the people read our leaflets and received regular promises of peace and democracy -- and land reform. Now they languish under our bombs and consider us -- not their fellow Vietnamese --the real enemy. They move sadly and apathetically as we herd them off the land of their fathers into concentration camps where minimal social needs are rarely met. They know they must move or be destroyed by our bombs. So they go -- primarily women and children and the aged.

They watch as we poison their water, as we kill a million acres of their crops. They must weep as the bulldozers roar through their areas preparing to destroy the precious trees. They wander into the hospitals, with at least twenty casualties from American firepower for one "Vietcong"-inflicted injury. So far we may have killed a million of them -- mostly children. They wander into the towns and see thousands of the children, homeless, without clothes, running in packs on the streets like animals. They see the children, degraded by our soldiers as they beg for food. They see the children selling their sisters to our soldiers, soliciting for their mothers.

What do the peasants think as we ally ourselves with the landlords and as we refuse to put any action into our many words concerning land reform? What do they think as we test our latest weapons on them, just as the Germans tested out new medicine and new tortures in the concentration camps of Europe? Where are the roots of the independent Vietnam we claim to be building? Is it among these voiceless ones?

We have destroyed their two most cherished institutions: the family and the village. We have destroyed their land and their crops. We have cooperated in the crushing of the nation's only non-Communist revolutionary political force -- the unified Buddhist church. We have supported the enemies of the peasants of Saigon. We have corrupted their women and children and killed their men. What liberators?

Now there is little left to build on -- save bitterness. Soon the only solid physical foundations remaining will be found at our military bases and in the concrete of the concentration camps we call fortified hamlets. The peasants may well wonder if we plan to build our new Vietnam on such grounds as these? Could we blame them for such thoughts? We must speak for them and raise the questions they cannot raise. These too are our brothers.

Perhaps the more difficult but no less necessary task is to speak for those who have been designated as our enemies. What of the National Liberation Front -- that strangely anonymous group we call VC or Communists? What must they think of us in America when they realize that we permitted the repression and cruelty of Diem which helped to bring them into being as a resistance group in the south? What do they think of our condoning the violence which led to their own taking up of arms? How can they believe in our integrity when now we speak of "aggression from the north" as if there were nothing more essential to the war? How can they trust us when now we charge them with violence after the murderous reign of Diem and charge them with violence while we pour every new weapon of death into their land? Surely we must understand their feelings even if we do not condone their actions. Surely we must see that the men we supported pressed them to their violence. Surely we must see that our own computerized plans of destruction simply dwarf their greatest acts.

How do they judge us when our officials know that their membership is less than twenty-five percent Communist and yet insist on giving them the blanket name? What must they be thinking when they know that we are aware of their control of major sections of Vietnam and yet we appear ready to allow national elections in which this highly organized political parallel government will have no part? They ask how we can speak of free elections when the Saigon press is censored and controlled by the military junta. And they are surely right to wonder what kind of new government we plan to help form without them -- the only party in real touch with the peasants. They question our political goals and they deny the reality of a peace settlement from which they will be excluded. Their questions are frighteningly relevant. Is our nation planning to build on political myth again and then shore it up with the power of new violence?

Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence when it helps us to see the enemy's point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.

So, too, with Hanoi. In the north, where our bombs now pummel the land, and our mines endanger the waterways, we are met by a deep but understandable mistrust. To speak for them is to explain this lack of confidence in Western words, and especially their distrust of American intentions now. In Hanoi are the men who led the nation to independence against the Japanese and the French, the men who sought membership in the French commonwealth and were betrayed by the weakness of Paris and the willfulness of the colonial armies. It was they who led a second struggle against French domination at tremendous costs, and then were persuaded to give up the land they controlled between the thirteenth and seventeenth parallel as a temporary measure at Geneva. After 1954 they watched us conspire with Diem to prevent elections which would have surely brought Ho Chi Minh to power over a united Vietnam, and they realized they had been betrayed again.

When we ask why they do not leap to negotiate, these things must be remembered. Also it must be clear that the leaders of Hanoi considered the presence of American troops in support of the Diem regime to have been the initial military breach of the Geneva agreements concerning foreign troops, and they remind us that they did not begin to send in any large number of supplies or men until American forces had moved into the tens of thousands.

Hanoi remembers how our leaders refused to tell us the truth about the earlier North Vietnamese overtures for peace, how the president claimed that none existed when they had clearly been made. Ho Chi Minh has watched as America has spoken of peace and built up its forces, and now he has surely heard of the increasing international rumors of American plans for an invasion of the north. He knows the bombing and shelling and mining we are doing are part of traditional pre-invasion strategy. Perhaps only his sense of humor and of irony can save him when he hears the most powerful nation of the world speaking of aggression as it drops thousands of bombs on a poor weak nation more than eight thousand miles away from its shores.

At this point I should make it clear that while I have tried in these last few minutes to give a voice to the voiceless on Vietnam and to understand the arguments of those who are called enemy, I am as deeply concerned about our troops there as anything else. For it occurs to me that what we are submitting them to in Vietnam is not simply the brutalizing process that goes on in any war where armies face each other and seek to destroy. We are adding cynicism to the process of death, for they must know after a short period there that none of the things we claim to be fighting for are really involved. Before long they must know that their government has sent them into a struggle among Vietnamese, and the more sophisticated surely realize that we are on the side of the wealthy and the secure while we create hell for the poor.

This Madness Must Cease
Somehow this madness must cease. We must stop now. I speak as a child of God and brother to the suffering poor of Vietnam. I speak for those whose land is being laid waste, whose homes are being destroyed, whose culture is being subverted. I speak for the poor of America who are paying the double price of smashed hopes at home and death and corruption in Vietnam. I speak as a citizen of the world, for the world as it stands aghast at the path we have taken. I speak as an American to the leaders of my own nation. The great initiative in this war is ours. The initiative to stop it must be ours.

This is the message of the great Buddhist leaders of Vietnam. Recently one of them wrote these words:

"Each day the war goes on the hatred increases in the heart of the Vietnamese and in the hearts of those of humanitarian instinct. The Americans are forcing even their friends into becoming their enemies. It is curious that the Americans, who calculate so carefully on the possibilities of military victory, do not realize that in the process they are incurring deep psychological and political defeat. The image of America will never again be the image of revolution, freedom and democracy, but the image of violence and militarism."

If we continue, there will be no doubt in my mind and in the mind of the world that we have no honorable intentions in Vietnam. It will become clear that our minimal expectation is to occupy it as an American colony and men will not refrain from thinking that our maximum hope is to goad China into a war so that we may bomb her nuclear installations. If we do not stop our war against the people of Vietnam immediately the world will be left with no other alternative than to see this as some horribly clumsy and deadly game we have decided to play.

The world now demands a maturity of America that we may not be able to achieve. It demands that we admit that we have been wrong from the beginning of our adventure in Vietnam, that we have been detrimental to the life of the Vietnamese people. The situation is one in which we must be ready to turn sharply from our present ways.

In order to atone for our sins and errors in Vietnam, we should take the initiative in bringing a halt to this tragic war. I would like to suggest five concrete things that our government should do immediately to begin the long and difficult process of extricating ourselves from this nightmarish conflict:


End all bombing in North and South Vietnam.
Declare a unilateral cease-fire in the hope that such action will create the atmosphere for negotiation.
Take immediate steps to prevent other battlegrounds in Southeast Asia by curtailing our military buildup in Thailand and our interference in Laos.
Realistically accept the fact that the National Liberation Front has substantial support in South Vietnam and must thereby play a role in any meaningful negotiations and in any future Vietnam government.
Set a date that we will remove all foreign troops from Vietnam in accordance with the 1954 Geneva agreement.

Part of our ongoing commitment might well express itself in an offer to grant asylum to any Vietnamese who fears for his life under a new regime which included the Liberation Front. Then we must make what reparations we can for the damage we have done. We most provide the medical aid that is badly needed, making it available in this country if necessary.

Protesting The War
Meanwhile we in the churches and synagogues have a continuing task while we urge our government to disengage itself from a disgraceful commitment. We must continue to raise our voices if our nation persists in its perverse ways in Vietnam. We must be prepared to match actions with words by seeking out every creative means of protest possible.

As we counsel young men concerning military service we must clarify for them our nation's role in Vietnam and challenge them with the alternative of conscientious objection. I am pleased to say that this is the path now being chosen by more than seventy students at my own alma mater, Morehouse College, and I recommend it to all who find the American course in Vietnam a dishonorable and unjust one. Moreover I would encourage all ministers of draft age to give up their ministerial exemptions and seek status as conscientious objectors. These are the times for real choices and not false ones. We are at the moment when our lives must be placed on the line if our nation is to survive its own folly. Every man of humane convictions must decide on the protest that best suits his convictions, but we must all protest.

There is something seductively tempting about stopping there and sending us all off on what in some circles has become a popular crusade against the war in Vietnam. I say we must enter the struggle, but I wish to go on now to say something even more disturbing. The war in Vietnam is but a symptom of a far deeper malady within the American spirit, and if we ignore this sobering reality we will find ourselves organizing clergy- and laymen-concerned committees for the next generation. They will be concerned about Guatemala and Peru. They will be concerned about Thailand and Cambodia. They will be concerned about Mozambique and South Africa. We will be marching for these and a dozen other names and attending rallies without end unless there is a significant and profound change in American life and policy. Such thoughts take us beyond Vietnam, but not beyond our calling as sons of the living God.

In 1957 a sensitive American official overseas said that it seemed to him that our nation was on the wrong side of a world revolution. During the past ten years we have seen emerge a pattern of suppression which now has justified the presence of U.S. military "advisors" in Venezuela. This need to maintain social stability for our investments accounts for the counter-revolutionary action of American forces in Guatemala. It tells why American helicopters are being used against guerrillas in Colombia and why American napalm and green beret forces have already been active against rebels in Peru. It is with such activity in mind that the words of the late John F. Kennedy come back to haunt us. Five years ago he said, "Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable."

Increasingly, by choice or by accident, this is the role our nation has taken -- the role of those who make peaceful revolution impossible by refusing to give up the privileges and the pleasures that come from the immense profits of overseas investment.

I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin the shift from a "thing-oriented" society to a "person-oriented" society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.

A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies. n the one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life's roadside; but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation, it will look across the seas and see individual capitalists of the West investing huge sums of money in Asia, Africa and South America, only to take the profits out with no concern for the social betterment of the countries, and say: "This is not just." It will look at our alliance with the landed gentry of Latin America and say: "This is not just." The Western arrogance of feeling that it has everything to teach others and nothing to learn from them is not just. A true revolution of values will lay hands on the world order and say of war: "This way of settling differences is not just." This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into veins of people normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.

America, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, can well lead the way in this revolution of values. There is nothing, except a tragic death wish, to prevent us from reordering our priorities, so that the pursuit of peace will take precedence over the pursuit of war. There is nothing to keep us from molding a recalcitrant status quo with bruised hands until we have fashioned it into a brotherhood.

This kind of positive revolution of values is our best defense against communism. War is not the answer. Communism will never be defeated by the use of atomic bombs or nuclear weapons. Let us not join those who shout war and through their misguided passions urge the United States to relinquish its participation in the United Nations. These are days which demand wise restraint and calm reasonableness. We must not call everyone a Communist or an appeaser who advocates the seating of Red China in the United Nations and who recognizes that hate and hysteria are not the final answers to the problem of these turbulent days. We must not engage in a negative anti-communism, but rather in a positive thrust for democracy, realizing that our greatest defense against communism is to take offensive action in behalf of justice. We must with positive action seek to remove thosse conditions of poverty, insecurity and injustice which are the fertile soil in which the seed of communism grows and develops.

The People Are Important
These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression and out of the wombs of a frail world new systems of justice and equality are being born. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are rising up as never before. "The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light." We in the West must support these revolutions. It is a sad fact that, because of comfort, complacency, a morbid fear of communism, and our proneness to adjust to injustice, the Western nations that initiated so much of the revolutionary spirit of the modern world have now become the arch anti-revolutionaries. This has driven many to feel that only Marxism has the revolutionary spirit. Therefore, communism is a judgement against our failure to make democracy real and follow through on the revolutions we initiated. Our only hope today lies in our ability to recapture the revolutionary spirit and go out into a sometimes hostile world declaring eternal hostility to poverty, racism, and militarism. With this powerful commitment we shall boldly challenge the status quo and unjust mores and thereby speed the day when "every valley shall be exalted, and every moutain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight and the rough places plain."

A genuine revolution of values means in the final analysis that our loyalties must become ecumenical rather than sectional. Every nation must now develop an overriding loyalty to mankind as a whole in order to preserve the best in their individual societies.

This call for a world-wide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one's tribe, race, class and nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all men. This oft misunderstood and misinterpreted concept -- so readily dismissed by the Nietzsches of the world as a weak and cowardly force -- has now become an absolute necessity for the survival of man. When I speak of love I am not speaking of some sentimental and weak response. I am speaking of that force which all of the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. Love is somehow the key that unlocks the door which leads to ultimate reality. This Hindu-Moslem-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist belief about ultimate reality is beautifully summed up in the first epistle of Saint John:

Let us love one another; for love is God and everyone that loveth is born of God and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. If we love one another God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us.

Let us hope that this spirit will become the order of the day. We can no longer afford to worship the god of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation. The oceans of history are made turbulent by the ever-rising tides of hate. History is cluttered with the wreckage of nations and individuals that pursued this self-defeating path of hate. As Arnold Toynbee says : "Love is the ultimate force that makes for the saving choice of life and good against the damning choice of death and evil. Therefore the first hope in our inventory must be the hope that love is going to have the last word."

We are now faced with the fact that tomorrow is today. We are confronted with the fierce urgency of now. In this unfolding conundrum of life and history there is such a thing as being too late. Procrastination is still the thief of time. Life often leaves us standing bare, naked and dejected with a lost opportunity. The "tide in the affairs of men" does not remain at the flood; it ebbs. We may cry out deperately for time to pause in her passage, but time is deaf to every plea and rushes on. Over the bleached bones and jumbled residue of numerous civilizations are written the pathetic words: "Too late." There is an invisible book of life that faithfully records our vigilance or our neglect. "The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on..." We still have a choice today; nonviolent coexistence or violent co-annihilation.

We must move past indecision to action. We must find new ways to speak for peace in Vietnam and justice throughout the developing world -- a world that borders on our doors. If we do not act we shall surely be dragged down the long dark and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight.

Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter -- but beautiful -- struggle for a new world. This is the callling of the sons of God, and our brothers wait eagerly for our response. Shall we say the odds are too great? Shall we tell them the struggle is too hard? Will our message be that the forces of American life militate against their arrival as full men, and we send our deepest regrets? Or will there be another message, of longing, of hope, of solidarity with their yearnings, of commitment to their cause, whatever the cost? The choice is ours, and though we might prefer it otherwise we must choose in this crucial moment of human history.

As that noble bard of yesterday, James Russell Lowell, eloquently stated:

Once to every man and nation
Comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth and falsehood,
For the good or evil side;
Some great cause, God's new Messiah,
Off'ring each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever
Twixt that darkness and that light.

Though the cause of evil prosper,
Yet 'tis truth alone is strong;
Though her portion be the scaffold,
And upon the throne be wrong:
Yet that scaffold sways the future,
And behind the dim unknown,
Standeth God within the shadow
Keeping watch above his own.

FBI ‘honors’ Martin Luther King Jr., 50 years after plotting to ‘neutralize’ him

=============================================

*  Ik ben ervan overtuigd dat deze toespraak van Martin Luther King tevens zijn doodvonnis was, niet voor niets dat hij precies een jaar na deze toespraak werd vermoord door de FBI........ (hoe ongelofelijk cynisch, maar ja wat wil je: de FBI en dan ook nog eens in de 60er jaren, toen Hoover, de topgraaier van deze terreurrorganisatie, zich nog oppermachtig voelde, al werd er al flink aan z'n stoelpoten gezaagd)

** Wat doet denken aan het enorme aantal slachtoffers in Vietnam door het gebruik van Agent Orange door de VS in die smerige door de VS gevoerde illegale oorlog, nog steeds eist dat Agent Orange slachtoffers onder kinderen die een leven vol ellende wacht......

Zie ook: 'Joe Biden, de nieuwe VS president heeft een 'grote' racistische geschiedenis'

'Martin Luther King: vrede en gelijkheid is mogelijk

'Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.: 8 wijze lessen!')

'Martin Luther King: de moord van 50 jaar geleden door de VS overheid uiterst beperkt herdacht'

'Als Martin Luther King nog zou leven was hij onderwerp van censuur en was zijn Facebook pagina verwijderd'

'NAVO, het grootste militaire verbond maakt zich schuldig aan grootschalige terreur i.p.v. de vrede te bewaren' (o.a. geluidsfragmenten met het protest van King tegen de oorlog in Vietnam)

'Thomas Merton >> een kritische rk geestelijke vermoord in hetzelfde jaar als Robert F. Kennedy en Martin Luther King'

'Fred Hampton 30 augustus 1948 – 4 december 1969 >> mensenrechtenactivist vermoord door FBI en Chicago politie'

'Martin Luther King: de moord van 50 jaar geleden door de VS overheid uiterst beperkt herdacht'

'Martin Luther King jr. vermoord door de overheid, aldus rechter........'

'De langzame moord op de ideeën van Martin Luther King................. Ofwel: Dr. Martin Luther Kings lessen willens en wetens verzwegen....'

'De oorlog tegen het arme deel van de VS bevolking'

'Nam Kurt Cobain zijn eigen leven? Niet volgens een flink aantal mensen'

'Martin Luther King misbruikt door Radio1'

'Paul Scheffer, het media-orakel met een 'vlijmscherpe analyse' over het racistische optreden van de politie in de VS......... AUW!!!'

'Willem Post over de zegeningen van het zero tolerance beleid in de VS en ach, het is misschien ietsje doorgeschoten.......'  

Voor berichten over Julian Assange, klik op het label met zijn naam, direct onder dit bericht.

maandag 11 januari 2021

Een anti-fascistisch manifest over de vermoorde Chileense politiek activist en protestzanger Victor Jara

Desiree Hellegers heeft een uitgebreid artikel geschreven over de door de VS georganiseerde en geregisseerde coup tegen het socialistische bewind van Salvador Allende op 11 september 1973 (de eerste 9/11).

Hellegers begint haar artikel met de vraag op Facebook van haar vriendengroep waar zij zich bevonden gedurende belangrijke gebeurtenissen als de 9/11 aanvallen op de Twin Towers en de moord op John F. Kennedy in 1963. Ze vraagt zich af of ze later op de huidige tijd zal terugkijken als een korte pauze in het afzakken van de VS naar een 'full blown' fascistische staat (het aantreden van Biden als VS president ziet ze dan als pauze*). Als dat gebeurt zal ook de klimaatverandering verder worden aangejaagd door de VS, wat overigens ook gebeurde onder Obama, die zelfs toestemming gaf voor de bouw van een enorme kolencentrale aan de rand van een uiterst belangrijk natuurgebied de Sundarbans dit over de grens met India in dit natuurgebied, op de kant behorend tot Bangladesh......... 

Onder Obama werd de VS de op één na grootste steenkoolexporteur, de absolute nummer 1 is het als de VS zo door de klimaatverandering geteisterde Australië dat nu nog 1 miljoen ton steenkool per dag exporteert en daar binnenkort nog een fikse schep bovenop doet, als de nieuwste en grootste steenkoolterminal ter wereld wordt geopend, waarvoor een zeekanaal dwars door het Groot Barrièrerif werd gegraven...... Het is maar de vraag of Biden inderdaad een andere koers zal inslaan, immers ook hij is een marionet van de oliemaatschappijen, het militair-industrieel complex en de financiële maffia.......*

Ook besteedt Hellegers aandacht aan de illegale oorlog van de VS tegen het Noord-Vietnamese volk en bijvoorbeeld de rol van Henry Kissinger, een uitermate smerige oorlogsmisdadiger die al lang in Scheveningen gevangen had moeten zitten (na te zijn berecht door het Internationaal Strafhof >> ICC)... Echter deze schoft, die schunnig genoeg ook de Nobelprijs voor de Vrede kreeg, zal gewoon in een bed buiten de gevangenis sterven, zoals zoveel witte oorlogsmisdadigers......   

Hellegers wijst o.a. op de triomf van het huidige Chileense volk dat in een referendum eiste dat de grondwet die door Pinochet in 1980 werd opgesteld wordt vervangen door een nieuwe grondwet en waarmee men nu bezig is deze op te stellen.

'Terug naar Chili van 1973' en de bloedige coup van fascist, massamoordenaar, verkrachter en martelbeul Pinochet, die zoals gezegd werd gesteund door de VS (ofwel de CIA, zonder deze hulp was de coup mislukt!!). Hellegers spreekt veel over de politiek activist, protestzanger en schrijver Victor Jara, die eveneens werd vermoord na de bloedige staatsgreep in 1973, samen met minstens 3.000 anderen, o.a. bestaande uit intellectuelen, studenten, professoren, advocaten en politiek activisten.

Lees het uitgebreide artikel van Hellegers en zegt het voort, de reguliere media hebben amper aandacht voor de enorme invloed van de VS die zoals gezegd ook de grondslag was voor de coup in het Chili van 1973..... (overigens heeft de VS voor en na die coup nog meer staatsgrepen met wapens, organisatie en regie gesteund in Latijns Amerika, zoals die in Guatemala, Honduras, Brazilië en die tegen de socialistische president Morales van Bolivia....) In het artikel verder een vergelijking van Victor Jara met Martiun Luther King en een korte beschuwing over het ijskoude inhumane neoliberalisme, geïntroduceerd door de duivels Margareth Thatcher, de Britse ex-premier en C-acteur en VS president Ronald Reagan, een politieke ideologie die de meeste westerse landen schunnig genoeg nog steeds volgen..... ('onze' huidige valse premier Rutte stelt wel dat hij het neoliberalisme niet meer als leidraad neemt, echter dat is de zoveelste leugen van deze aartsleugenaar!!)

CounterPunch

January 1, 2021

Victor Jara’s Hands: An Anti-Fascist Memoir-festo and Brief Personal History of Neoliberalism

by Desiree Hellegers

You can easily carbon date your friends on Facebook based on where they were during any major milestone in U.S. history. As a university professor teaching now for decades at what we euphemistically call a “land grant” university, many of my students these days were born after 9-11–into the U.S.’s seemingly endless “War on Terror.” It’s a war that some of their family members died in, but one that few of them seem to know much about.

Last month, older friends on Facebook who came of age in the 1960s were busy reflecting on what they were doing when they heard the news that JFK had been assassinated. Personally, I had only recently graduated from diapers to plastic pants and was likely occupied with important matters like trying to do the twist in front of the TV while my grandmother clapped and sloshed Scotch all over her TV table. But like most Americans who have not washed down decades of Rush Limbaugh with great swigs of QAnon Kool-Aid, I can’t help but wonder how we will look back at this moment in history. Is this the moment we turn the tide, or is it a brief respite from the country’s descent into full-blown fascism? The latter scenario would mean, of course, full speed ahead into climate collapse, given that the U.S. military is hands down the single largest carbon emissions machine on the planet, and our collective dust speck is already close to the boiling point.

May you live in interesting times. You got that right. These times are so interesting that we’ve had a lame duck president holed up in the White House consulting with his legal team from the Island of Malevolent Misfit Toys about the possibilities for declaring martial law to overturn the results of the election and it’s not the top story.

That stands to reason, I guess, when you’ve got a pandemic death count equivalent of a hundred 9-11s, and across the country bodies stacking up like cordwood in overstuffed mobile morgue units.

It’s hard to sustain the level of national alert so many of us felt during the run up to the election and the vote count, when Trump’s automatic-weapon-waving goon squads were busy battering on windows at voting precincts or sky-writing “Surrender Gretchen” over the Michigan State House. A meme was making the rounds at the time on Facebook: American politics as Night of the Living Dead. Personally, I was starting to feel like an insomnia-addled Lady Macbeth who’d been mainlining Halloween candy or days, and as in all things, I blamed my lovely spouse, who had shopped for Halloween candy like he was stocking up for Y2K.

Like me, my spouse knows how to brace for the worst, a skill we bonded over when we met organizing against the second Gulf War. One of the biggest misconceptions about the anti-war “movement,” if such a thing exists right now, is that peace activists somehow hate veterans. Since well before the war in Vietnam, the U.S. military has given veterans critical insight into the American war machine, along with heavy helpings of trauma and self-loathing. Some of my favorite peace activists are veterans, my spouse chief and foremost among them. We bonded organizing protests and staging a die-in in front of the Portland federal building. It was one of those “what are you doing after the die-in?” kinds of courtships.

I don’t remember exactly when I began thinking of Victor Jara’s hands and how they’d been crushed by Chilean soldiers in the early days of the U.S.-sponsored Chilean coup in 1973. I do know, though, that as my spouse and I took a left turn to drop our ballots off at our local library, Victor Jara had been on both our minds. It wasn’t a total coincidence, given that only a day or two before, on October 25, Chileans had voted overwhelmingly in favor of drafting a new constitution.

The referendum was a concession wrenched from President Sebastian Piñera following a year of street protests and civil unrest. The vote was a definitive kiss-off to the Chilean constitution of 1980, enacted under the regime of General Augusto Pinochet.

Living in the U.S., you’d never know that Chile had had its own national disaster on September 11, nearly three decades before the U.S.

Not many Americans can define neoliberalism, let alone know that on September 11, 1973, it was ushered into Chile by U.S.-made tanks and at the butt of U.S.-made guns—automatic weapons of the sort Trump’s “very fine” friends never seem to tire of waving. And not at all unlike the militarized Portland Police, and the BORTAC and Homeland Security armies that spent all summer pounding and traumatizing friends of mine in the streets of Portland, and spraying them with chemical weapons long ago judged too dangerous to use in war, the health effects being so severe and long term.

It was on September 11, 1973, that Richard Nixon and his henchman Henry Kissinger swept Pinochet to power as the front man for the U.S.-sponsored “experiment” in neoliberalism. A folksinger-songwriter, often referred to as “Chile’s Bob Dylan,” Victor Jara would be the most visible of more than 3,000 Chileans executed by Pinochet’s death squads in September, as the coup began. You can get a quick overview of the horrors that the U.S. helped unleash on Chileans in the 1970s by watching the 2019 Netflix documentary Massacre at the Stadium.

Shortly after Pinochet’s reign of terror began, an estimated five thousand were detained at a Santiago stadium—then named Estadio Chile, and since renamed Estadio Victor Jara—and another twenty thousand at the Estadio Nacional across town. Professors, students, musicians, farm and factory workers were crowded shoulder to shoulder and sorted into lines to live or die, to be interrogated, beaten, tortured, and/or murdered. At Estadio Chile, more than seventy were executed on site, while others were “disappeared.” Today a quote painted on the back of the Estadio Nacional reads: “Un pueblo sin memoria es un pueblo sin futuro” – “A people without memory are a people without a future.”

Jara grew up poor, in a family of farmworkers, but went on to become a theater director and teacher, and to achieve international visibility with songs like “Manifesto,” which speaks to Jara’s understanding of art as a critical tool in struggles for justice, as an instrument of decolonizing resistance, of spiritual, material, and ecological liberation.



I don’t sing for the love of singing, /or because I have a good voice,” sang Jara, “I sing because my guitar/has both feeling and reason. It has a heart of earth/and the wings of a dove….”

Jara’s music was inspired by his mother Amanda Martínez’s love of folk music rooted in her Indigenous Mapuche heritage; his music was also shaped by a Catholic education that included a brief period in the seminary. Jara’s music was embraced in the 1960s and ‘70s by American folk heavies like Pete Seeger and Joan Baez. Arlo Guthrie and Holly Near are among the American songwriters who have since written tribute songs. In the run-up to the election of Allende, Jara’s version of the song “Venceremos” or “We Will Overcome,” became the anthem of Allende’s Popular Unity Coalition, and also figured centrally in eyewitness accounts of Jara’s death. Pinochet’s U.S.-supported forces beat and tortured him, smashing his wrists.


At some point in the stadium, Jara reportedly sang to the other prisoners “Venceremos,” a song he’d adapted with new lyrics that had egged Allende on to victory. Before he was executed, shot more than 40 times by Pinochet’s U.S.-funded forces, Jara wrote his final song: “What horror the face of fascism creates!/They carry out their plans with knife-like precision./Nothing matters to them./To them, blood equals medals,/slaughter is an act of heroism./Oh God, is this the world that you created?” 

 

No human cost was too high to pay to usher in neoliberalism, to eviscerate the gains that labor had made under Allende’s Popular Unity Coalition, and to maintain a steady flow of cheap copper, fruit and fish to the U.S. under the auspices of “trade liberalization.” The new constitution passed under Pinochet’s dictatorship rolled back the reforms instituted under Allende. It expanded the power of the presidency and enshrined private property and corporate profits over social needs; Pinochet rolled back taxes on corporations and the wealthy, and eliminated a host of government services. State-owned companies, public housing, education, health care, and pensions were all privatized, turned into profit centers for corporations and the wealthy. The constitution written under Pinochet limited reforms, and the gap today between rich and poor in Chile is one of the highest in Latin America.

Jara may be technically dead, but if you do a bit of digging around on the internet, you’ll see evidence of his long afterlife; hence the title of a documentary about his impact on musicians in particular: The Resurrection of Victor Jara. Tens of thousands of hands have gone on playing Jara’s songs in the nearly fifty years since his torture and murder in the stadium. Jara, says Chilean musician Horacio Salinas, in the documentary, “could create a ceremonial effect with his music.” On youtube, you can find countless videos of musicians playing Jara’s songs, and songs written in tribute to him, including my personal favorite, “Victor Jara’s Hands,” by Joey Burns of the Tucson-based indie-rock band Calexico, sung alternately in Spanish and English: “Songs of the birds like hands/ call the earth to witness/ Sever from fear before taking flight.”

And for the past year, as across the streets of the U.S. Black Lives Matter activists have demanded justice for George Floyd and the defunding of police departments that consume the lion’s share of city budgets across the country, Jara has been resurrected again and again–in an all-star Chilean studio recording–and on the streets of Chile. At an October 25, 2019 march in Santiago with a crowd estimated at more than a million, people sang together Jara’s anti-war anthem “El Derecho De Vivir En Paz,” or “The Right to Live in Peace,” while countless people played along on the guitar.

This past year, workers in Chile have risen up again to demand a world in which workers do more than just struggle to survive, one in which everyone has a right to not just bread, but roses, music, and art.

Over the past year, Chilean women have created their own distinctive, woman-centered actions on the streets of Chile, with thousands collectively performing the song “Un Violador en Tu Camino,” or “A Rapist in Your Path,” in a public rite of resistance to rape culture and femicide.

The song was inspired by the work of the renowned Argentinian-Brazilian feminist anthropologist/bioethicist Rita Laura Segato. The song calls out the role of police and the courts in perpetrating and perpetuating sexual violence that repeats, on a smaller scale, the systemic rape and torture of women that happened under Pinochet, and that is a central feature of fascism.

If the goal in Chile—as it would be later in Iraq—was, as Naomi Klein has argued–to disorient or “shock” the country into submitting to a radically different and patently exploitative economic system, the system that was imposed was also more rigidly patriarchal.  Sexual violence and degradation were integral parts of Pinochet’s fascist playbook. But as Chileans battle the legacy of Pinochet, this rite of feminist resistance, together with other longstanding organizing, is propelling Chile to break new ground internationally: Chile will be the first country in the world with a constitutional assembly comprised equally of women and men.

I turned twelve the month that Pinochet came to power, and I have no memory whatsoever of hearing about the murder of Jara, the mutilation of his hands, or the thousands of Chileans who were tortured or disappeared. Looking back, I find this fact stranger for the fact that I grew up within miles of the White House. And when I look back on growing up in two very white suburbs on the edge of Washington D.C., it might as well have been Apartheid South Africa, the lines of demarcation between the Black inner city; Georgetown, where my father was a professor; and the white suburbs, were so clear and stark.

My first inklings of the Chilean coup came in 1976, when the political violence of the Pinochet regime erupted in Washington, D.C. I was fifteen, and a friend of my older sister was dating Pablo Letelier, the son of Orlando Letelier, when the latter was blown to pieces in a car bombing, along with his co-worker Ronni Karpen Moffett. Orlando Letelier had been a close associate of Allende and remained until his death an outspoken critic of Pinochet, who was eventually pegged for the bombing, though a fat lot of good that did.

By the age of fifteen in 1976, I was not a complete newbie when it came to assassinations. Just months before the Chilean Coup, in July of 1973, Colonel Yosef Alon, a 42-year-old an Israeli Air Force pilot and military attaché, whose daughter Yael rode the bus with us to school in the morning, was assassinated in their driveway.

But Alon’s assassination was not the first to have entered the sphere of my privileged white childhood. My guess is that would have been the Yablonski murders on New Year’s Eve, 1969.

We attended a parochial school at the time called The Little Flower School, which made the news not too long ago as the grade school alma mater of Brett Kavanaugh. I was eight and my sister was seven when we learned that the in-laws of one of the teachers at Little Flower—“Mrs. Yablonski”—had all been mowed down in their Pennsylvania home: Chip Yablonski, the President of the United Mine Workers Union, his wife Margaret, and their daughter Charlotte Yablonski.

I imagine this was around the time I came home one day from school to find myself locked out of the house, and when I banged on the window and peered inside, I found my two older siblings had staged their own murder, knives lying on the floor, a theatrical flourish of ketchup here and there. Perhaps I’ve coped with my third-grade trauma by picturing myself as a stony-faced critic who found the scene unconvincing, their characters lacking in development.

The field of Epigenetics assumes that stress is genetically transmitted. I don’t need to know that my genetic fibers are somehow entangled in my parents’ to understand that I’ve carried some of their trauma into my own life. I grew up listening to—and, at times taking notes on—my parents’ stories of trauma. My mother’s stories were about growing up the child of a working-class single mother too poor to raise her. She told stories about kids who accidentally jumped off trains onto chainsaws, and about her experience dressing dead bodies as a young student nurse on a deserted ward.

My father’s trauma centered around the May 10, 1940, Nazi invasion of the Netherlands. Barely a month short of his fourteenth birthday, he ended up lying in a ditch next to his eighty-year-old grandmother, mortars flying, trees bursting into flames overhead. His family narrowly made it across the border before it closed. My father had four brothers, including twins, one of whom, my Uncle Pierre, had suffered brain damage from oxygen deprivation during delivery. My father lived with the knowledge throughout his life that something as small as a hand visibly shaking as a man pockets his papers, and they might have landed in Westerbork or Auschwitz rather than in England, and his brothers might have been medically tortured and dissected.

I know exactly where I was when my father’s life ended on May 8, V.E. Day, 1979, just outside Amsterdam. I was accompanying him on his lecture tour, the chance to see Europe a high school graduation present. I was at my uncle’s house, my father’s body still warm on the couch before me, where he’d reclined after diagnosing his own heart attack. He died just two days before the thirty-ninth anniversary of the Nazi invasion of the Netherlands in 1940. The last destination I visited with my father was Anne Frank’s “Secret Annex.” War, as I learned on that trip, throws out shockwaves and unexploded ordinance—both physical and emotional—that explode across generations, and can shave decades off a single life.

While the “Neoliberal Experiment” began in Chile in 1973 with tanks and guns—and on a smaller scale in New York City with the manufactured financial crisis of 1975—Reagan would become its American figurehead, its presidential mad social scientist. I was in my second year at Georgetown when Reagan was inaugurated, and I can remember exactly where I was when Reagan was elected 40 years ago, on November 4, 1980. I was at the Republican election watch party at some tony D.C. hotel, the details documented somewhere in a newspaper article buried deep in my office closet.

In the fall of 1980, I was in my second-year writing for the more liberal of Georgetown’s two student newspapers, The Voice. Whether the story was assigned to me or I chose it out of some perverse curiosity or out of an unshakeable conviction that Republicans had better hors d’oeuvres, I can’t quite remember. While I wasn’t the most savvy reporter at the time, I can say that voting for Reagan was as unthinkable to me then as now. And if memory serves, I covered the election party with all the rhetorical gravitas of a monkey throwing shit at their new zookeepers.

I would go on to attend the inauguration in D.C., again out of the kind of curiosity that one might feel toward newlylanded Martians walking the red carpet from their space capsule. I was a sophomore and busy running from one panicked deadline to the other, but Reagan’s inaugural speech got my attention. “[A]mong all the nations of the earth,” as Reagan would have it, “[The U.S. was] special…The freedom and the dignity of the individual have been more available and assured” in the U.S. “than in any other place on Earth,” Reagan claimed.

What I missed the first time around, though, was his distillation of neoliberal principles: The one barrier to the “individual liberty” of citizen/workers in a country “without ethnic or racial divisions” was government itself. “It is time,” Reagan proclaimed, “to check and reverse the growth of government which shows signs of having grown beyond the consent of the governed.” While Reagan deftly tipped his hat to working people—to “men and women who raise our food, patrol our streets, man our mines and our factories, teach our children,” and on and on—for Reagan, as for Trump, the joke was on working people.

The years I spent at Georgetown in the wake of my father’s death provided a crash course in the importance of the social safety net that Ronald Reagan was hell bent on gutting. At the time, if I was somewhat oblivious to the nuances of Reagan’s political agenda, it was likely because I was occupied a good bit of the time with trying not to have a nervous breakdown. My personal social safety net at the time consisted of Social Security Survivor’s Benefits, four years of free tuition to Georgetown–where my father had taught for more than a decade–and something I never thought very much about having: white skin. My father’s death sent my mother off her fragile rails, and within six months of Reagan’s inauguration, during the summer of 1981, my sister and I were homeless.

My sister and I learned that summer that with white skin, student I.D.’s, and a keen eye out for security guards, there are ways of getting by on a college campus rent-free. At the time, I didn’t think much about the role that whiteness played in stopping us from falling any further. I was oblivious to the fact that the safety net we found in sleeping in vacant dorms would not have been available to us had we been Black or brown. As it was, there would be no cops, no Karens staring skeptically at our student I.D.’s, no guns pointed in our faces, no one asking if we were enrolled or if we’d paid summer rent for the dorm rooms. That experience, together with my father’s death, would radically remap my life for decades to come.

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When neoliberalism arrived in Chile, Victor Jara and working class supporters of Socialist President Salvador Allende were under no illusions about whose benefits the coup would serve.

If neoliberalism was brought into Chile with guns and tanks, in the U.S., it was done with smoke and mirrors. Reagan was inaugurated forty years ago this January on a platform based on the self-interested lies and deceptions crafted by the so-called “Chicago Boys”­­­­­––the architects of neoliberalism. Reagan greased his personal path to the White House on the neoliberal snake oil of “Trickle Down Economics” and Free Market Fundamentalism. And while Jimmy Carter had already gotten the ball rolling, Reagan would jump start the neoliberal bait and switch transfer of funds from public housing, education, and welfare, to policing, prisons, and endless war.

Ronald Reagan was as eager to shill for trickle-down economics and gutting the social safety net as he’d been for the House Unamerican Activities Committee and the warmongers at General Electric. Meanwhile, in the UK, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher was happily breaking the glass ceiling for women intent on dropping bombs on babies and exploiting working families. On opposite sides of the pond, Thatcher and Reagan were simultaneously slashing corporate taxes, deregulating the financial industry—and setting the stage for waves of future financial crises. And both of them were intent on breaking labor.

Though my siblings and I were all given four years of free tuition, in the 1980s, you didn’t have to have a scholarship—or a parent who was a professor—to walk away from a four-year degree debt-free or close to it. In 1983, the year I graduated, tuition at a public university barely topped a thousand a year.But public universities had already been on Reagan’s hit list in the 1960s when he was governor of California, and students at Berkeley were busy mobilizing for free speech, civil rights, and an end to the Vietnam War.

To Reagan, Berkeley students were nothing more than unruly “welfare bums”; free tuition was their dole, and Reagan was hell bent on sending them “back to work.”

Defunding higher education and slapping students with debt was, Reagan understood, a path to reign in “beatniks, radicals and filthy speech advocates….” Today California spends more money incarcerating people than it does educating them—from K-12 through university. In the U.S. today, tuition at public universities is ten times higher than it was when I graduated in 1983. Inflation counts for less than a third of the increase.

Over the past forty years, public universities have been steadily transformed into student debt delivery machines operated on the backs of debt-strapped adjuncts. University presidents, who routinely make five times more than governors, sell students—as “customers”—on the fiction that History–along with Literature, Women’s Studies, Comparative Ethnic Studies, Philosophy, and the Arts–are frivolous luxuries we can no longer afford to fully fund. The Gipper might be pleased today to see 18-22-year-olds signing off on documents they’d need MBAs in finance to understand and then emerging as desperate and pliable indentured servants for corporations. Even pre-COVID, 48% of university students in the U.S. were at risk of, or already, experiencing houselessness.

Historian Howard Zinn observed, “If you don’t know history, it’s as if you were born yesterday,” and that lack of knowledge is convenient for corporate interests intent on red-baiting and enlisting workers to rail against social programs and benefits that their own grandparents struggled mightily for. I may have learned nothing while I was at Georgetown about the U.S.’s role in the Chilean coup that killed Victor Jara, but I did learn a few things about what can happen to white American nuns who are labeled Communist sympathizers for getting too cozy with Indigenous farmworkers in Central America struggling for some very basic forms of justice.

In 1981, I stumbled across a talk Daniel Berrigan was giving on campus. Berrigan, I’ve long since learned was a rock star of the American peace movement. By the early 1970s, Berrigan, a Jesuit priest, poet, playwright, and professor, had made the FBI’s Most Wanted List for burning draft files in the parking lot of the Catonsville, MD draft board with homemade napalm in 1968, and then going underground to dodge the charges so he could keep organizing other actions.

Apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children,” Berrigan famously said of the action. The American banality of evil in a nutshell.

On this particular day in 1981, though, I knew nothing about Berrigan, who quickly surrendered the floor anyway to a middle-aged Catholic couple, the parents of one Jeanne Donovan, a “Maryknoll lay missioner.” And the story the couple told went something like this: on December 2, 1980, this nice, idealistic young Catholic woman was raped and murdered, executed at close range—along with three nuns, Ita Ford, Maura Clarke, and Dorothy Kazel. And suddenly Donovan’s parents had a chilling political awakening, as they began to understand the role that U.S. military advisors and U.S.-funded and -trained death squads played throughout Central–and much of Latin–America in repressing labor organizing and movements for social justice. Donovan’s parents were extremely convincing. I couldn’t come up with any plausible communist plot that would explain these two straight-laced Catholic squares having to talk about the rape and murder of their daughter.

If the 1980 crimes against the nuns and Donovan occurred in the final month of Carter’s administration, the perpetrators knew that it would be left to Reagan to answer for it. It would be Reagan’s job to rationalize the rape and murder of nuns as acceptable collateral damage in the U.S.’s holy war against Communists. The chief spinner of malevolent tall tales about Donovan and the nuns would be a professor of political science at Georgetown, Reagan’s newly appointed ambassador to the U.N.: Jeane Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick is remembered as a “principal architect” of the bloodbath the U.S. helped fund and unleash throughout Central America.

Questioned by reporters, Kirkpatrick was eager to put the matter to rest, to drive rhetorical nails into coffins that held the bodies of Donovan and nuns that had been dragged out of the ground by ropes around their ankles. The nuns, Kirkpatrick told The Tampa Tribune, “were not just nuns. The nuns were also political activists.” They were aligned, she claimed, with guerillas of the Farabundo Marti National Liberation Front—the FMLN.

I have another somewhat fonder Kirkpatrick-related memory from that same Spring semester at Georgetown, one in which Kirkpatrick is standing at a podium delivering a commencement address and, slowly graduating seniors begin to rise and quietly turn their backs on her. Their message was clear, impressive, and unapologetic: Kirkpatrick didn’t deserve an honorary degree, and Georgetown had done them a disservice by pretending otherwise. What Kirkpatrick did, in fact, deserve–the student action clearly conveyed–was to be tried as a war criminal at the Hague.

There’s a famous quote from a Brazilian archbishop named Dom Helder Camara that encapsulates the distinction between charity and social justice: “When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint; when I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a Communist.” Union organizing, demands for the redistribution of stolen Indigenous lands, and anything else that threatened the profits of U.S. corporations would be labelled—and battled– under Reagan as part of an international Communist threat orchestrated by Cuba and the Soviet Union.

By the Fall of ‘81, having had my own brief and very privileged run-in with houselessness, I started volunteering at shelters in D.C. That experience gave me a small window into the

ways in which poverty served up daily reminders to D.C.’s Black residents of just how disposable they were to the city’s white elite and any god they might construct in their own image. Forty years of neoliberalism and gentrification have only intensified Black poverty in D.C. And poverty, coupled with the daily toll of racism in the U.S., can shave years–or decades­­–off a life. Today white privilege in Washington, D.C. translates into seventeen additional years of living. Seventeen years.

In 1981, the “Great Communicator” was busy cranking up his racist propaganda machine to rally low income white voters against their own best interests. Reagan managed to sell a sizable portion of the white working class on the patently obvious lie that the majority of welfare recipients were not only Black but living as “queens.” It turns out that all kinds of white folks would happily collaborate in slashing benefits they were desperately going to need in the future that Reagan’s administration was setting in motion–one in which jobs would become the U.S’s main global export.

The Gipper” happily picked up the mantle of Nixon’s War on Drugs and ran with it. He stoked terror at the prospect of Black crack “fiends” running amok in inner city war zones, and SWAT teams began invading and terrorizing Black neighborhoods. As Michelle Alexander explains in The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Color Blindness, Reagan put the U.S. squarely on the path to becoming the global leader in locking people up. Prisons and militarized policing at home and abroad would begin sucking up enormous amounts of money that could have gone to housing, health care, and public education.

As expensive as in-state college tuition is these days, the annual cost of a prison bed in most states is equivalent to four years of in-state college tuition. In 2017 in California, the cost of a single prison bed exceeded the cost of a year’s tuition and living expenses at Harvard.

Prisons and immigrant detention facilities generate huge profits for a tiny elite, while brutalizing everyone else, including the people who work there.  But Nixon, Kissinger, and Pinochet were all well aware that once people caught on to the swindle, the bait and switch trickle-down-free-market government-for-the-corporations game, there was a good chance they would need guns, tanks, and plenty of tear gas to hold back the rebellion.

Predictably one of the first casualties of the “neoliberal Experiment” would be people living in public housing. They would increasingly land on city streets and sidewalks, and the lucky ones in shelters like the ones I worked at in Seattle in the mid ‘80s. Between 1978–midway through the Carter administration–and 1983, midway through Reagan’s first term, the HUD budget was slashed by nearly three quarters. It went from “$83 billion to a little more than $18 billion (in 2004 constant dollars) and shelters opened throughout the United States.”

No administration to date­–Democrat or Republican–has made a serious move to restore the budget to its level in 1978, which is why today, prisons—along with military bases—are now by far the country’s largest supplier of public housing.

And so, decades into the U.S.’s “neoliberal experiment,” it’s not unusual in Portland, LA. or Seattle to see walkers and wheelchairs next to tents on the street. And the real human misery—the economic and housing fallout–from COVID-19 has yet to fully register. In 2019, 117 people shuffled off their mortal coils on the streets and sidewalks of D.C.  In L.A., 1039 died on the street, no bed to cushion their aching bones, no roof overhead, no privacy, no sanitation, no dignity.

If speeches by Martin Luther King, Jr. were high school seniors, hands down, the one voted least likely to be read by American school children would be his 1967 sermon “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break the Silence.”

As radical as the “military industrial complex” might sound the first time Americans hear it, the term wasn’t the demon spawn of Karl Marx, or the Weather Underground. President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s speech writer coined the term in the farewell speech he wrote for him.

This was in 1961, back when the orderly succession of putatively democratically elected presidents was a given in the U.S., no matter how many coups Eisenhower and the Dulles Brothers had busied themselves orchestrating in Guatemala, Iran, Indonesia, the Philippines, and God–and historians–only know where else.  Jack and Jackie and their Camelot myth-making press machine were about to sweep into the White House, followed by more military advisors and troops into Vietnam.

MLK would paint the consequences of the military industrial complex in far starker, more vivid, human and urgent terms than Eisenhower. The U.S., Dr. King seems to have suggested, was a war junkie–and it was a given that war and racism went hand in hand. The Vietnam War, King argued, was poisoning the country with racism and hatred:

This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation’s homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice, and love.

The sniper fire that cut King down exactly a year later to the day—on April 4, 1968 in Memphis—likely said as much about his 1967 speech as it did his support for Memphis Sanitation workers. In his 1967 speech King famously compared the war in Vietnam to a “Demonic destructive suction tube” that vacuumed up funds that might have otherwise gone to LBJ’s “War on Poverty.”

If you want to get a really good idea of how much war just cost the U.S. in the time it took you to read this article, check out the National Priorities Project. The military budget for 2020 alone at $738 billion, , would be enough to provide “24.6 million [year-long] Hospital Stays for COVID-19 Patients,” “20.96 million [four year ] Scholarships for University Students,” or “23.65 million People receiving $600 weekly unemployment insurance payments for 1 Year.” There’s plenty of money. It’s just helping the super-rich, who are profiting at all our expenses.

King condemned in no uncertain terms the massive aerial spraying of the defoliant Agent Orange as akin to Nazi medical experimentation. “What do [the Vietnamese] think as we test out our latest weapons on them,” asked King, “just as Germans tested out new medicine and new tortures in the concentration camps of Europe?” Today in the U.S., the test subjects are the kids in Detroit drinking water contaminated with lead, while Nestles is pumping, bottling, and profiting to the tune of 400 gallons a minute of fresh Michigan water; the Water Protectors at Standing Rock drenched for months with pepper spray, tear gas, and reportedly other chemical agents, along with water in freezing and subzero temperatures; the Black Lives Matter activists sprayed—sprayed along with hundreds of houseless people—all summer on the streets of Portland with chemical weapons banned for use in war; the BIPOC, elderly, and people with disabilities, dying at vastly higher rates of COVID-19.

And meanwhile, Vietnam is witnessing the third generation born with Agent Orange-related health effects, from missing eyes and limbs to spinal bifida and severe intellectual disabilities. The Middle East is littered with depleted uranium, cancer rates are soaring, and babies are born with a wide range of “congenital anomalies.”

By 1967, King had struck up a friendship with the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. And by ‘67, King, like every other major organizer in the Civil Rights Movement, had been pegged by the FBI as a Communist. Make of it what you will, it seems likely to me that given enough time on earth, King and Jara might have had long talks, written songs together, formed a fast and deep friendship. In his song “Derecho De Vivir En Paz”–or “The Right to Live in Peace”–released on his 1971 album, Jara wrote of “Indochina… the place/beyond the wide sea,/where they ruin the flower/ with genocide and napalm.”


He and King were definitely on the same page about the Vietnam War and so much more.

Feminists, in particular, have aptly spoken of our collective relationship to Trump as akin to domestic or intimate partner violence, with Trump a gaslighting batterer. But as metaphors go, battering and gaslighting are also fitting descriptions of the Chicago Boys’ neoliberal Magic Trick— brought into Chile, and later the Middle East, with guns and tanks. It’s the magic trick ordinary Americans have watched this year, as we’ve been fleeced of taxes that have gone to fatten the unimaginable wealth of a handful of billionaires, and to endless weapons and wars that have made the U.S. the hands down leader of the global arms trade. Martin Luther King, Jr. warned us in 1967 that “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.” Fifty years later, at the end of the Trump presidency, we seem to be rapidly approaching garlic and wooden stake territory.

Still too many Democrats are breathing a sigh of relief now that the Batterer-in-Chief has been handed his eviction papers, and they are looking to Biden as our collective white knight, our national pater familias. But anyone who knows anything about the dynamics of battering will tell you that the myth of the White Knight is a racist and patriarchal set up for repeating the cycle of abuse. We’re sitting now on the razor’s edge of fascism, and fascism isn’t interested in electoral cycles. We can’t count on having another four years to sort the situation out.

The RootsAction “No Honeymoon for Biden” campaign, embraced by Nina Turner, recognizes the urgency of the situation and would go a long way toward undoing the damage done by fifty years of neoliberalism.  It would shift funds from militarism and mass incarceration to universal healthcare and a more inclusive, multi-racial “Green New Deal” that would fund free higher education. The campaign also calls for a $15 federal minimum wage and for Biden to cancel student debt across the board. Research has shown that wiping out existing student debt would be shot in the arm for the economy. We need to pull back from our domestic and global cycle of battering and make government work for working people if we are going to stop a free fall into fascism and climate chaos.

Finally, there are a lot of lessons the U.S. could draw from the Chilean fight against fascism and the legacy of Pinochet. The global spark that Las Tesis set off this past year with street performances that drew thousands of women to witness collectively to their shared experience of sexual harassment and assault is a testimony to the power of art to mobilize resistance and speak truth to power. And the immortal life of Victor Jara–his presence this past year on the streets of Santiago­, where thousands of hands fluttered across guitars­­–testifies to the power of art to preserve history even in the face of guns, tanks and bullets bent on wiping it out.

Now, more than ever, we need to demand reinvestment in the arts—from K-12 to higher education. To paraphrase the quote Woody Guthrie famously scrawled across his guitar: we need art to kill fascism. What better reminder than the hollow man in the White House of the frustration life without art generates? We need art to foster empathy, to remind us of our collective humanity, to preserve in our national memory records of those who stood for justice, and those who collaborated to undermine it. We need art to preserve history, to sustain and energize us, to give us courage for the long struggle ahead.

Dedicated to the memory of Roxane Elizabeth Roberts (November 5, 1952-December 24, 2018).

Desiree Hellegers is a co-founder and affiliated faculty of the Collective for Social and Environmental Justice at Washington State University Vancouver. and a member of the Socialist-Feminist Old Mole Variety Hour Collective on KBOO, Portland, Oregon’s community-supported radio station.

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* 'Beetje dom' om te geloven dat de situatie in de VS en haar buitenlandbeleid zal veranderen met oorlogsmisdadiger en mensenrechtenschender Biden...... Bovendien zit Biden in de zak van de financiële maffia en daarmee in die van de oliemaatschappijen, het militair-industrieel complex, de farmaceutische maffia en andere grote misdadige bedrijven >> hoe kan je ook maar enige verandering verwachten van zo'n figuur??!!! Toevallig werd vanmorgen op de BBC gemeld dat een aantal grote bedrijven en banken hun steun stoppen aan republikeinen die achter Trump blijven staan, ofwel deze bedrijven kopen de politiek niet alleen voorafgaand aan de verkiezingen, maar doen dat doorlopend, hoe kan je dan nog spreken van een democratie, als de politici volledig in de zak zitten van bedrijven....?? (om nog maar te zwijgen over het belemmeren van de stembusgang voor een groot aantal VS burgers)

Zie ook: 'Met de winst van Biden is het fascisme in de VS bepaald niet weggestemd' (en zie zeker de links in dat bericht over de 'geweldige' of beter gezegd gewelddadige oorlogsmisdadiger Joe Biden)

'Feest in Chili: fascistische grondwet verdwijnt voor een nieuwe!!'

'Chili groot aantal (zwaar) gewonden bij voortdurende protesten

'Protesten Chili en Ecuador: geweld tegen demonstranten gesteund door massamedia' (en zie de links in dat bericht)

'Chili, de protesten en de verslaggeving' (en zie de links in dat bericht, o.a. over het Amazonewoud en de strijd van burgers tegen oliemaatschappijen, maar ook over de situatie in Brazilië en Venezuela)

'Chili en de gestolen baby's, alweer met een 'mooie rol' van de rk kerk

'Venezuela is nog lang niet verslagen door de VS'

'Pinochet (ex-dictator Chili) werd 20 jaar geleden gearresteerd in Londen'

'9/11: de VS heeft niets geleerd......'

'VS buitenlandbeleid sinds WOII: een lange lijst van staatsgrepen en oorlogen..........'

'List of wars involving the United States'

'VS: openlijke militaire oefening met terreurgroep in Syrië......'

'NAVO gaat VS helpen in Zuid-Amerika terreur uit te oefenen: Colombia lid van de NAVO.........'

'VS commando's vechten o.a. in Midden- en Zuid-Amerika, aldus het VS ministerie van oorlog.........'

'Chileense fascisten vragen rk kerk om vergeving voor vreselijke misdaden begaan onder Pinochet bewind......'

'De VS, een duivels imperium, dat achter haar psychopathisch moordende troepen staat??'

'De war on drugs is veel dodelijker dan over het algemeen gedacht'

'Chili 11 september 1973'

'VS vermoordde meer dan 20 miljoen mensen sinds het einde van WOII........'

'CIA 70 jaar: 70 jaar moorden, martelen, coups plegen, nazi's beschermen, media manipulatie enz. enz.........'

'CIA en 70 jaar desinformatie in Europese opiniebladen............'

Voor meer berichten over de steenkoolcentrale in de Sundarbans, vul deze naam in op het zoekvlak rechts bovenin deze pagina. Dat geldt ook voor andere namen en instanties die genoemd woorden in het artikel van Hellegers (de ruimte voor labels is wat mij betreft te klein, t.w. 140 tekens)