Wednesday, January 14, 2015

"Selma" a must-see

"Selma" is one of the best films about the US Civil Rights Movement.  The lyrics of Common and John Legend's song, "Glory" are well-deserving of their Golden Globe award.  See the film!


Solid advice from an Army Ranger

Very good article published yesterday in In These Times:

An Open Letter to a Young Army Ranger, From an Old One: Why the War On Terror Isn’t Your Battle

“I’m writing this letter in the hope that offering you a little of my own story might help frame the bigger picture for you.”
BY RORY FANNING
Dear Aspiring Ranger,
You’ve probably just graduated from high school and you’ve undoubtedly already signed an Option 40 contract guaranteeing you a shot at the Ranger indoctrination program (R.I.P.). If you make it through R.I.P., you’ll surely be sent off to fight in the Global War on Terror. You’ll be part of what I often heard called “the tip of the spear.”
The war you’re heading into has been going on for a remarkably long time. Imagine this: you were five years old when I was first deployed to Afghanistan in 2002. Now I’m graying a bit, losing a little up top and I have a family. Believe me, it goes faster than you expect.
Once you get to a certain age, you can’t help thinking about the decisions you made (or that, in a sense, were made for you) when you were younger. I do that and someday you will, too.  Reflecting on my own years in the 75th Ranger regiment, at a moment when the war you’ll find yourself immersed in was just beginning, I’ve tried to jot down a few of the things they don’t tell you at the recruiting office or in the pro-military Hollywood movies that may have influenced your decision to join. Maybe my experience will give you a perspective you haven’t considered.
I imagine you’re entering the military for the same reason just about everyone volunteers: It felt like your only option. Maybe it was money, or a judge, or a need for a rite of passage, or the end of athletic stardom. Maybe you still believe that the U.S. is fighting for freedom and democracy around the world and in existential danger from “the terrorists.” Maybe it seems like the only reasonable thing to do: defend our country against terrorism.
The media has been a powerful propaganda tool when it comes to promoting that image, despite the fact that, as a civilian, you were more likely to be killed by a toddler than a terrorist. I trust you don’t want regrets when you’re older and that you commendably want to do something meaningful with your life. I’m sure you hope to be the best at something. That’s why you signed up to be a Ranger.
Make no mistake: whatever the news may say about the changing cast of characters the U.S. is fighting and the changing motivations behind the changing names of our military “operations” around the world, you and I will have fought in the same war. It’s hard to believe that you will be taking us into the 14th year of the Global War on Terror (whatever they may be calling it now). I wonder which one of the 668 U.S. military bases worldwide you’ll be sent to.
In its basics, our global war is less complicated to understand than you might think, despite the difficult-to-keep-track-of enemies you will be sent after—whether al-Qaeda (“central,” al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula, in the Magreb, etc.), or the Taliban, or al-Shabab in Somalia, or ISIS (a.k.a. ISIL, or the Islamic State), or Iran, or the al-Nusra Front, or Bashar al-Assad’s regime in Syria. Admittedly, it’s a little hard to keep a reasonable scorecard. Are the Shia or the Sunnis our allies? Is it Islam we’re at war with? Are we against ISIS or the Assad regime or both of them?
Just who these groups are matters, but there’s an underlying point that it’s been too easy to overlook in recent years: Ever since this country’s first Afghan War in the 1980s (that spurred the formation of the original al-Qaeda), our foreign and military policies have played a crucial role in creating those you will be sent to fight.
Once you are in one of the three battalions of the 75th Ranger Regiment, the chain-of-command will do its best to reduce global politics and the long-term good of the planet to the smallest of matters and replace them with the largest of tasks: boot polishing, perfectly made beds, tight shot groupings at the firing range, and your bonds with the Rangers to your right and left. In such circumstances, it’s difficult—I know that well—but not impossible to keep in mind that your actions in the military involve far more than whatever’s in front of you or in your gun sights at any given moment. Our military operations around the world—and soon that will mean you—have produced all kinds of blowback. Thought about a certain way, I was being sent out in 2002 to respond to the blowback created by the first Afghan War and you’re about to be sent out to deal with the blowback created by my version of the second one.
I’m writing this letter in the hope that offering you a little of my own story might help frame the bigger picture for you.
Let me start with my first day “on the job.” I remember dropping my canvas duffle bag at the foot of my bunk in Charlie Company, and almost immediately being called into my platoon sergeant's office. I sprinted down a well-buffed hallway, shadowed by the platoon’s “mascot”: a Grim-Reaper-style figure with the battalion’s red and black scroll beneath it. It hovered like something you’d see in a haunted house on the cinder block wall adjoining the sergeant’s office. It seemed to be watching me as I snapped to attention in his doorway, beads of sweat on my forehead.
“At ease… Why are you here, Fanning? Why do you think you should be a Ranger?” All this he said with an air of suspicion.
Shaken, after being screamed out of a bus with all my gear, across an expansive lawn in front of the company’s barracks and up three flights of stairs to my new home, I responded hesitantly, “Umm, I want to help prevent another 9/11, First Sergeant.” It must have sounded almost like a question.
“There is only one answer to what I just asked you, son. That is: you want to feel the warm red blood of your enemy run down your knife blade.”
Taking in his military awards, the multiple tall stacks of manila folders on his desk, and the photos of what turned out to be his platoon in Afghanistan, I said in a loud voice that rang remarkably hollowly, at least to me, “Roger, First Sergeant!”
He dropped his head and started filling out a form. “We’re done here,” he said without even bothering to look up again.
The platoon sergeant’s answer had a distinct hint of lust in it but, surrounded by all those folders, he also looked to me like a bureaucrat. Surely such a question deserved something more than the few impersonal and sociopathic seconds I spent in that doorway.
Nonetheless, I spun around and ran back to my bunk to unpack, not just my gear but also his disturbing answer to his own question and my sheepish, “Roger, First Sergeant!” reply. Until that moment, I hadn’t thought of killing in such an intimate way. I had indeed signed on with the idea of preventing another 9/11. Killing was still an abstract idea to me, something I didn’t look forward to. 
He undoubtedly knew this. So what was he doing?
As you head into your new life, let me try to unpack his answer and my experience as a Ranger for you.
Let’s start that unpacking process with racism: That was the first and one of the last times I heard the word “enemy” in battalion. The usual word in my unit was “Hajji.”  Now, Hajji is a word of honor among Muslims, referring to someone who has successfully completed a pilgrimage to the Holy Site of Mecca in Saudi Arabia. In the U.S. military, however, it was a slur that implied something so much bigger.
The soldiers in my unit just assumed that the mission of the small band of people who took down the Twin Towers and put a hole in the Pentagon could be applied to any religious person among the more than 1.6 billion Muslims on this planet. The platoon sergeant would soon help usher me into group-blame mode with that “enemy.” I was to be taught instrumental aggression. The pain caused by 9/11 was to be tied to the everyday group dynamics of our unit. This is how they would get me to fight effectively. I was about to be cut off from my previous life and psychological manipulation of a radical sort would be involved. This is something you should prepare yourself for.
When you start hearing the same type of language from your chain-of-command in its attempt to dehumanize the people you are off to fight, remember that 93% of all Muslims condemned the attacks on 9/11. And those who sympathized claimed they feared a U.S. occupation and cited political, not religious, reasons for their support.
But, to be blunt, as George W. Bush said early on (and then never repeated), the war on terror was indeed imagined in the highest of places as a “crusade.” When I was in the Rangers, that was a given. The formula was simple enough: al-Qaeda and the Taliban represented all of Islam, which was our enemy. Now, in that group-blame game, ISIS, with its mini-terror state in Iraq and Syria, has taken over the role. Be clear again that nearly all Muslims reject its tactics. Even Sunnis in the region where ISIS is operating are increasingly rejecting the group. And it is those Sunnis who may indeed take down ISIS when the time is right.
If you want to be true to yourself, don’t be swept up in the racism of the moment. Your job should be to end war, not perpetuate it. Never forget that.
The second stop in that unpacking process should be poverty: After a few months, I was finally shipped off to Afghanistan. We landed in the middle of the night. As the doors on our C-5 opened, the smell of dust, clay and old fruit rolled into the belly of that transport plane. I was expecting the bullets to start whizzing by me as I left it, but we were at Bagram Air Base, a largely secure place in 2002.
Jump ahead two weeks and a three-hour helicopter ride and we were at our forward operating base. The morning after we arrived I noticed an Afghan woman pounding at the hard yellow dirt with a shovel, trying to dig up a gaunt little shrub just outside the stone walls of the base. Through the eye-slit of her burqa I could just catch a hint of her aged face. My unit took off from that base, marching along a road, hoping (I suspect) to stir up a little trouble. We were presenting ourselves as bait, but there were no bites.
When we returned a few hours later, that woman was still digging and gathering firewood, undoubtedly to cook her family’s dinner that night. We had our grenade launchers, our M242 machine guns that fired 200 rounds a minute, our night-vision goggles and plenty of food—all vacuum-sealed and all of it tasting the same. We were so much better equipped to deal with the mountains of Afghanistan than that woman—or so it seemed to us then.
But it was, of course, her country, not ours, and its poverty, like that of so many places you may find yourself in, will, I assure you, be unlike anything you have ever seen. You will be part of the most technologically advanced military on Earth and you will be greeted by the poorest of the poor. Your weaponry in such an impoverished society will feel obscene on many levels. Personally, I felt like a bully much of my time in Afghanistan.
Now, it’s the moment to unpack “the enemy”: Most of my time in Afghanistan was quiet and calm. Yes, rockets occasionally landed in our bases, but most of the Taliban had surrendered by the time I entered the country. I didn’t know it then, but as Anand Gopal has reported in his groundbreaking book, No Good Men Among the Living, our War on Terror warriors weren’t satisfied with reports of the unconditional surrender of the Taliban. So units like mine were sent out looking for “the enemy.” Our job was to draw the Taliban—or anyone, really—back into the fight.
Believe me, it was ugly. We were often enough targeting innocent people based on bad intelligence and in some cases even seizing Afghans who had actually pledged allegiance to the U.S. mission. For many former Taliban members, it became an obvious choice: fight or starve, take up arms again or be randomly seized and possibly killed anyway. Eventually the Taliban did regroup and today they are resurgent. I know now that if our country’s leadership had truly had peace on its mind, it could have all been over in Afghanistan in early 2002.
If you are shipped off to Iraq for our latest war there, remember that the Sunni population you will be targeting is reacting to a U.S.-backed Shia regime in Baghdad that’s done them dirty for years. ISIS exists to a significant degree because the largely secular members of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath party were labeled the enemy as they tried to surrender after the U.S. invasion of 2003. Many of them had the urge to be reincorporated into a functioning society, but no such luck; and then, of course, the key official the Bush administration sent to Baghdad simply disbanded Saddam Hussein’s army and tossed its 400,000 troops out onto the streets at a time of mass unemployment.
It was a remarkable formula for creating resistance in another country where surrender wasn’t good enough. The Americans of that moment wanted to control Iraq (and its oil reserves). To this end, in 2006, they backed the Shia autocrat Nouri al-Maliki for prime minister in a situation where Shia militias were increasingly intent on ethnically cleansing the Sunni population of the Iraqi capital.
Given the reign of terror that followed, it’s hardly surprising to find former Baathist army officers in key positions in ISIS and the Sunnis choosing that grim outfit as the lesser of the two evils in its world. Again, the enemy you are being shipped off to fight is, at least in part, a product of your chain-of-command’s meddling in a sovereign country. And remember that, whatever its grim acts, this enemy presents no existential threat to American security, at least so says Vice President Joe Biden.
Let that sink in for a while and then ask yourself whether you really can take your marching orders seriously.
Next, in that unpacking process, consider noncombatants: When unidentified Afghans would shoot at our tents with old Russian rocket launchers, we would guesstimate where the rockets had come from and then call in air strikes. You’re talking 500-pound bombs. And so civilians would die. Believe me, that’s really what’s at the heart of our ongoing war. Any American like you heading into a war zone in any of these years was likely to witness what we call “collateral damage.” That’s dead civilians.
The number of non-combatants killed since 9/11 across the Greater Middle East in our ongoing war has been breathtaking and horrifying. Be prepared, when you fight, to take out more civilians than actual gun-toting or bomb-wielding “militants.” At the least, an estimated 174,000 civilians died violent deaths as a result of U.S. wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan between 2001 and April 2014. In Iraq, over 70% of those who died are estimated to have been civilians.
So get ready to contend with needless deaths and think about all those who have lost friends and family members in these wars, and themselves are now scarred for life. A lot of people who once would never have thought about fighting any type of war or attacking Americans now entertain the idea. In other words, you will be perpetuating war, handing it off to the future.
Finally, there’s freedom and democracy to unpack, if we’re really going to empty that duffel bag: Here’s an interesting fact that you might consider, if spreading freedom and democracy around the world was on your mind. Though records are incomplete on the subject, the police have killed something like 5,000 people in this country since 9/11—more, in other words, than the number of American soldiers killed by “insurgents” in the same period. In those same years, outfits like the Rangers and the rest of the U.S. military have killed countless numbers of people worldwide, targeting the poorest people on the planet. And are there fewer terrorists around? Does all this really make a lot of sense to you?
When I signed up for the military, I was hoping to make a better world. Instead, I helped make it more dangerous. I had recently graduated from college. I was also hoping that, in volunteering, I would get some of my student loans paid for. Like you, I was looking for practical help, but also for meaning. I wanted to do right by my family and my country. Looking back, it’s clear enough to me that my lack of knowledge about the actual mission we were undertaking betrayed me—and you and us.
I’m writing to you especially because I just want you to know that it’s not too late to change your mind. I did. I became a war resister after my second deployment in Afghanistan for all the reasons I mention above. I finally unpacked, so to speak.
Leaving the military was one of the most difficult but rewarding experiences of my life. My own goal is to take what I learned in the military and bring it to high school and college students as a kind of counter-recruiter. There’s so much work to be done, given the 10,000 military recruiters in the U.S. working with an almost $700 million advertising budget. After all, kids do need to hear both sides.
I hope this letter is a jumping off point for you. And if, by any chance, you haven’t signed that Option 40 contract yet, you don’t have to. You can be an effective counter-recruiter without being an ex-military guy. Young people across this country desperately need your energy, your desire to be the best, your pursuit of meaning. Don’t waste it in Iraq or Afghanistan or Yemen or Somalia or anywhere else the Global War on Terror is likely to send you.
As we used to say in the Rangers…
Lead the Way,
Rory Fanning
Rory Fanning is the author of Worth Fighting For, recently released from Haymarket Books. He walked across the United States for the Pat Tillman Foundation in 2008–2009, following two deployments to Afghanistan with the 2nd Army Ranger Battalion.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

SOY in Cougar Country


Today, we had a great lunch tabling at Crockett HS, home of the Cougars.  Because of that, we had added a question to our t-shirt challenge about cougars: where are they native?  None of the students we asked really knew for sure!  In truth, we had to do the research first ourselves...

Also, because tomorrow, December 10, is International Human Rights Day, we asked students to write down the human rights most important to them.

We added #BlackLivesMatter to the Peace Wheel, hoping students are involved and learning about what's happening all around the country.

We really appreciated all the students coming by and taking on the t-shirt challenge.  Penny poll results:

Environment: 30% of the budget
Education: 20%
Military: 18%
Health Care: 16%
Humanitarian Aid: 16%
















SOY tabling at Lanier HS


Last Tuesday, we had a SOY table at Lanier HS and we had a full crew of five!  We had a steady stream of students passing by and becoming curious about the materials and getting interested in the t-shirt challenge.  Penny poll results were:

Education: 42% of the budget
Environment: 24%
Military: 16%
Health Care: 13%
Humanitarian Aid: 5%

I especially liked seeing students clustered around the globe, not only to find the countries we asked them to find, Syria and Afghanistan, but to show us what countries they would like to travel to if they could.  The first countries mentioned were Japan, Spain and Italy.  This made me think about the time in the not-so-distant past when Japan was considered an enemy nation, and it was bombed relentlessly during WWII.  It is the only country to have suffered the horror of two atomic bombings of their civilian population.  Japan has risen from that period of terrible suffering and destruction to become a world economic power and tourist destination.  Today's students are not likely to say that they would like to travel to Afghanistan or Syria.  But, I hold out hope that years down the road, wars there will end and students will name those countries as places they would like to go to witness the beauty and character of the people and the land.




One of the ribbons on the peace sign in the school's lobby

Other ribbons on the peace sign

Monday, December 8, 2014

There is no future in war: a youth manifesto



We, the youth of the United States of America, oppose war. 
We oppose war not because we don’t care about the rest of the world; we oppose war precisely because we do.
We oppose war not because we don’t care about our security; we oppose war precisely because we do. 
We oppose war not because we don’t care about our troops; we oppose war precisely because we do.
We oppose war not because we aren’t concerned with our future; we oppose war precisely because we do. 

There is no future in war.

-- Statement written by Ben Norton, Tyra Walker, Anastasia Taylor, Alli McCracken, Colleen Moore, Jes Grobman and Ashley Lopez

Read the entire statement here

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Mayan Day of the Jaguar at LBJ/LASA High School

We had a great SOY tabling visit today at LBJ/LASA HS.  Students in both schools were interested in doing the t-shirt challenge, which keeps getting more challenging.  We added a jaguar question since we were in Jaguar country.  Most students had to do some research on that one.  As is often the case, students voted for Health Care above all in the Penny Poll (Health Care: 93 pennies, Education: 76, Environment: 62, Military: 61, Humanitarian Aid: 34).

We posted these photos from Ferguson on the chin-up bar, asking students whether police armed to the max or unarmed protesters showed more courage



a school hallway poster

hallway poster about LBJ's Early College program

Our list for the t-shirt challenge

t-shirt designs we made for today

Monday, November 3, 2014

A tribute to Jacob George, by Geoff Millard

From the Huffington Post:

Jacob George, Hillbilly Storyteller, Survives 3 Tours in Afghanistan But Not His Road Back Home

by Geoff Millard


Posted: Updated: 
VETERAN

Jacob George described himself as a "hillbilly storyteller." He told the most beautiful tales as he softly strummed his banjo, tapped his bare foot on the ground, and let his long hair brush his smiling face. He was the last person most of us thought would become one of the 22 veterans each day who commit suicide.
Maybe the thought that it would never be him is part of why the veterans community who knew Jacob is grieving so hard right now. But the reality is that deep down, Jacob carried the wounds of war that so many of us bear after experiencing combat. On September 17, 2014, Jacob, just 32 years old, took his own life. It was not an act of cowardice or selfishness on his part, but a failing on ours. We failed Jacob as a community of veterans and a country as a whole.
Jacob was not an imposing figure from a physical standpoint, but his energy captured the attention of a room, whether he was performing from the stage or he'd just stepped in the door. His presence was electric, and it was hard not to smile when he smiled and sing along when he would transition from a soft whisper to a bellowing boom. Whether he had a microphone, a megaphone or just the night's air, every event he was at turned into a show and a Jacob George show always turned into a sing-a-long.
Jacob told me that he joined the army in 2001 to defend our freedoms and thought that was what he would be doing in Afghanistan. His first tour in Afghanistan began in 2001, just a month after September 11. Having grown up a poor farmer in Arkansas, he saw his reflection in the faces of poor farmers in Afghanistan. He saw the will to live free, the struggle of constant hard work, and felt the pain our occupation was causing the people.
When he finished his third tour in Afghanistan and was discharged from the army, his opposition to the war became very personal. He set out to change the world the only way he knew how: to tell people his stories and to listen to theirs. It was how he did it that made him so special to so many people.
A bike tour was the first introduction Jacob made to the antiwar community. He called it "A Ride Till the End," as he set out with other veterans and friends to ride across the country and tell his stories to anyone who would listen until the war ended. That is where his antiwar activism started but not where it ended.
From the seat of his bike with his banjo across his back he went to Chicago where he joined nearly 50 other veterans and threw his medals back at NATO in protest of its wars in 2012. This act -- he explained in his song "Warrior" -- was part of a "right of passage into warriorhood," which he learned by sharing time and energy with many native and indigenous healers and elders. Singing about the difference between a soldier and a warrior, he road to D.C. and New York, to San Francisco and Denver, to Texas and back again to Arkansas. He understood that as a warrior he would always have issues with following orders, but never in following his conscience, loving and fighting for what he believed in.
Returning to Afghanistan may have been the hardest thing Jacob did as an activist, because he expected to find a public dead set against American occupation and Americans, but what he found was a complicated political landscape and a beautiful people with whom he fell in love. Jacob frequently talked so fondly of his return trip to Afghanistan and the youth he met there while working with Afghan Peace Volunteers. He wore a blue scarf for them -- a symbol of peace, solidarity, and his experiences there -- and many times kept it with him even when not wearing it.
He carried all his experiences in his heart and had empathy for all living beings. Ultimately, it was those experiences that were too heavy for even his tales. Jacob talked often of moral injury, and the complicated relationship he had with his deployments, his trauma and a world of people who did not understand what these wars are doing to soldiers and the people who will still live there long after the war ends.
Jacob was as much a product of his three tours in the Afghanistan War as he was the mountains of Arkansas. In addition to his antiwar and humanitarian work, he adored talking about his love for the mountains; the farms of Arkansas that raised him; and the support and love from his mother Robin, sister Jasmin and brother Jordan. His experiences in life before enlistment ultimately created the empathy and compassion he had for those he could not resolve to call "enemy," as his training demanded. So much of his stories were based on seeing himself and those he grew up with in the faces of the Afghan farmers he met -- both during his tours and on his voluntary trip back to Afghanistan as a civilian.
His practice trying to explain war to anyone who would listen left Jacob feeling conflicted and wounded -- emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. He identified most with the Solider's Heart -- the term for what was PTSD during the Civil War. He talked publicly about his experiences as a member of Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) and how protest and alternate forms of healing did more to treat his soldiers heart then any treatment the VA could offer him. IVAW is a very different organization then it was when Jacob first found us and we partially have him to thank for that.
He challenged our views on "the good war" and held a mirror of song for us to reflect how and why we fought the war. We are better people today because Jacob graced us with his being and he will always be one of us. He will always be carried in our hearts. He will live on in his songs. He will always be part of our family and the loss of that one hillbilly story teller from Arkansas is a loss to the world.
The Music of Jacob George can be downloaded from iTunes and anyone wishing can make a donation to help his family through the Jacob George Celebration of Life Fund.
Photo credit: Ironside Photography.