[Note]: This diary is the next installment of 10 Stories the World Should Hear More About as identified by the United Nations for 2006, a Booman Tribune Group Project suggested and coordinated by ManEegee. For further information see Group Project: 10 Most Underreported Stories.

I have had a hard time starting this piece - why, I don't know, as I've been thinking about it for weeks. Even this morning I've torn paper after paper out of the typewriter, balling them up and throwing them on the floor. Well, metaphorically... in reality I just clicked delete which, while it may be quicker and cleaner, does not give quite the same satisfaction. This version I will muddle through with, regardless.

Perhaps I felt the problem was too big... taking the vast expanse of desert, the endless horizon of an ocean, the leaves on a thousand trees and trying to capture it all in a teaspoon. And it is that, to be sure. Big, I mean. Huge. Mammoth.

Stand anywhere in the world, and turn in any direction you wish and you'll be facing towards uprooted lives, traumatized children, shoes whose soles have been worn thin from walking, walking, always on the move; bloodied hands that have been shredded by grasping barbed wire - and still they grip, attempting to pull it open; tongues hanging from mouths, white and parched, not even enough moisture left to wet the lips; a slice of bread that is the meal of the day, split among four; labored breathing, wide eyes and backward glances, hearts pounding, shushing the children as they try and hang on with little hands made slick with fear. On the move, on their way, to where some have no idea, but they hope when they get there someone will let them in.

I realized, however, that the problem is also very small, easy to understand, childs play to grasp. Clear, simple, basic and elemental, yet intricate - the percussion of one raindrop hitting the surface of the water.

Sanctuary.

Right wing nationalism. Racism. Xenophobia. Exceptionalism. Paranoia. Militarism. Chicken and egg. Call and response.

Old familiar stories, far too often told, and no less disconcerting when the tales are being woven within the pages of a book labeled "Progressive". In fact, in my case, it is more so. There is that sense of dissonance one feels when you think you are grabbing on to one thing and it turns out to be something else entirely.

I have long been concerned at the coalescing of activists, political factions and so on around being anti-Iraq invasion, war and occupation - in other words, anti this war - with little or no discussion of what else binds them together. As we've seen lately... in some cases, not a lot. Or, at least, not enough. I am not actually adverse to such temporary coalitions - with full knowledge. I've found it best to not only know who you are walking with, but who, in turn, is walking with you.

So. Anti-American.

That's a term that has been bandied about a lot here recently, from the top down. So, I'm wondering... what does that mean to people? To be "Anti-American"? I'll point out some things, but it's far from an exhaustive list.

I think the media is learning a lesson in that.

I'm not really sure why the media decided to hook themselves to the Bush wagon in the run up to the 2000 election - maybe they were bored with Gore (or figured he wouldn't provide nearly as much material as Bush); maybe they were leaning over backwards to show that they really weren't the "Liberal media". Whatever the reason, many seem to have decided to take a pass on real reporting, even before they entered into their post-9/11 prostration. After 9/11... gah! unspeakable.

Still, even then there were some reporters who were going to do their jobs and hold power accountable, even if their corporate bosses weren't too happy about it. Some, such as the New York Times, were perfectly willing to not only acquiesce to publishing total spin, through Judy Miller, but acceded to White House requests that they withhold stories that detailed this administrations illegal operations. (An exception to supine corporate bosses would be the Knight-Ridder corp - one of the few media organizations that pretty consistently did real investigative reporting and asked questions in the run-up to the war - but gosh, darn, for some reason it all of a sudden became imperative to the stockholders that this media organization be sold and broken up. And so it was.)

I have a feeling that some of this was in the form of an attempted inoculation... no doubt the press corps, more than most, knew the type of people who are inhabiting the White House. The stories that have made it through - on Abu Ghraib tortures, "renditions", illegal wiretapping, excessive secrecy, corruption and more, are appalling. One can't help but wonder what things are going on that we don't yet know about. What ever it is... the Bush admin really, really doesn't want us to find out.

So what, in the land of the free and the home of the brave, do you do when the press that you thought you had cowed and compliant, that knew their place, decides to start digging and keep digging?

Why, you threaten to prosecute them as spies, of course, under the Espionage Law.

Adam Liptak reports, in The New York Times:

(more on the other side)

I had a strange, dissonant experience this morning - that led to a thought, a discovery and a question.

I'm on the U.S. west coast, so by the time my day begins the rest of the nation and the world has gotten quite a head start on murder, mayhem and natural disasters. Consequently, I try to avoid watching the news first thing when I get up, as too often I'm staring bleary-eyed at some horrific scene, sipping coffee and trauma and trying to get my sleep fogged brain to absorb whatever it is that is happening on the screen. Much easier to do after second cup of coffee, so even though my old mom already has the network news on in the living room when I wake up, I've been pretty successful at just sitting in the kitchen and tuning it out until I am ready.

This morning, however, as I wandered into the kitchen to get my first cup, out of the corner of my eye I caught the scene on the TV... people being rounded up and herded into buses. My stomach immediately dropped and I moved closer, trying to figure out what was going on. I heard only snippets - "... illegal immigrants... thousands... arrested... managers charged... " because my mom, who was thoroughly appalled, was at the same time trying to tell me what was happening - "It's going on all over the country! They are arresting them!". Oh jeeze, I thought, what fresh hell, etc?

(there's more on the flip)

I've always loved that saying "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Such a simple thing it seems, taking that first step, no matter where you are heading on that thousand mile journey.

Me, I think taking the next step is harder.

It's very easy to get stuck on that first step and think you are done, that you've gone as far as you can, and even to imagine that you've gone farther than you have. In the context of a progressive society, however, we can look around at the renewed push to oppress women worldwide, even where we thought some battles were already won; the never ending siphoning off of some societies resources and the resultant disease, hunger and death; the rise of right wing political groups who trade on fear of Others, and their increased political support; the continuing ravaging of our environment by politicians and governments that speak out of one side of their mouths and do out of the other - we look at all these things and realize... we've not come nearly far enough.

So, my next step (which I've been putting off)... attempting to change the debate at the ground level, as well as at the top. To this end, I (and my friend and business partner, Arin) have started The Progressive Focus Center. It actually came into being last year, but while the framework was there, it was not well thought out enough - instead of phasing, I tried to start everything at once and just wound up confusing everyone ;). So, instead... here is phase one:

First thing to know - it's not a blog. Well... not exactly. While it is in blog format (and does have a community blog) the vast majority of the site is a group of think tanks... people powered, community run. But not a blog in the sense of being concentrated on essays and breaking news - all of which I do love and spend too much time reading - but more of taking what is said, proposed and thought of on various blogs (and elsewhere) and seeing where we can go with that, and what we can accomplish.

I know the format won't be for everyone... for one thing, phase one is internationally focused because establishing that connection first is key. Once there is interest and committment then that will be the time for national and regional centers. Also, it's not done... I've been putting off writing this for just that reason, until I lost that excuse by realizing... it will never be done. In fact, that is the point... growing and changing through the years, with the best strategies to effect change in the political and cultural arenas. Never finished.

Anyway, for anyone interested, I'll put the information on each of the initial think tanks below the fold.

In the midst of some of the brouhaha here lately, I told a story of an childhood incident that left a decided impression on me. I don't tell that story to make anyone feel guilty, or to garner pity or anything... but for the lesson it taught me, that I've since tried to live up to. Ductape mentioned that I should make a diary of out it, but I didn't really want to do that, and wasn't sure how to anyway... but then I remembered... I already had, last year. I'm going to repost this here, even tho it's a bit dated, just because it tells a bit of where I'm coming from. I hope others will also tell some of their experiences and lives and maybe we can reach some of this "convergence" that scribe described so beautifully. Anyway, here goes:

 I think of the era in which I grew up to be the best of times. Others...? Eh, they think of it as the opening of the floodgates of Hell.

Yes... I grew up in the 60's and 70's, in California.  

Born in 1958, I am at the tail end of the Boomer Generation, so I was surrounded, from birth, by discussions of equality, challenging authority, challenging tradition, changing the world.  Although I didn't at the time realize the magnitude of the tragedies that were the deaths of John and Bobby Kennedy, and Martin Luther King, I shared in the sorrow because those around me were sorrowful. But not defeated. No cause depends on just one person, but is built up from the many individuals who decide that now is the time; enough is enough.

[more after the fold]

On the clear, sunny morning of September 11, 2001 two hijacked planes crashed into the World Trade Center towers in New York City. Within hours both towers came crashing down; colossal waves of dust and debris turned the sky to night and hurtled through the streets with such force that even the inside surfaces of sealed buildings were covered with layers of powdery substance.  Rescue workers, those who had escaped from the towers and people on the streets fled for whatever shelter they could find to escape from the onslaught. And when the dust cleared up a bit, some rushed right back to continue to search for survivors.

In all, about 40,000 people from various areas of the country, but mostly New Yorkers, worked search and rescue operations at Ground Zero, hauled debris from the buildings, and did cleanup and recovery work. Many more returned to live and work in the general area.

On September 18, 2001 Christie Todd Whitman, EPA Administrator, announced that:

results from the Agency's air and drinking water monitoring near the World Trade Center and Pentagon disaster sites indicate that these vital resources are safe.

People were a tad skeptical, but anxious to believe, as well as to do anything they could to help out in the first weeks after the tragedy.  To further ease their minds, on October 3, 2001 OSHA and the EPA issued a joint press release saying, among other things:

OSHA Administrator John Henshaw confirmed that workers on the site should take appropriate steps to protect themselves, but there is no threat to public health. "[...] "It is important for workers involved in the recovery and clean-up to wear protective equipment as potential hazards and conditions are constantly changing at the site; however, our samples indicate there is no evidence of significant levels of airborne asbestos or other contaminants beyond the disaster site itself."

I wish I could say that they were just doing a heckuva job... but in reality they were just flat out lying.

Or, as Donald Faeth, an emergency medical technician, put it:  "I think that there are several people who died that day and didn't realize that they died that day. "

[read on...]

"The only kinds of fights worth fighting are those you are going to lose, because somebody has to fight them and lose and lose and lose until someday, somebody who believes as you do wins.

In order for somebody to win an important, major fight 100 years hence, a lot of other people have got to be willing -- for the sheer fun and joy of it -- to go right ahead and fight, knowing you're going to lose. You mustn't feel like a martyr. You've got to enjoy it."
n    I.F. Stone

One of my favorite (and only recently discovered) sayings.  I don't actually have much to add to it.

Except... there are so many amazing people here. I've not been able to participate as much the past few months, but every time I've stopped in I've thought  - wow, how they've grown.   In size, surely... sort of like a family kid that you remember as being just to your midsection, and the next time you see them they are towering over you.

But, not just in size... that's mainly just a function of advertising and good content and so on. A natural progression, so to speak. No, what I noticed most was the growth in... power, I suppose would be the best term. Or rather, the realization of the power we all hold in our hands, in our words, in our voices. People who had to psych themselves out to make a comment in times past are now in full throated roar, prodding and encouraging and demanding that people take a stand, get active, do something.

Some who felt that all they had to offer was maybe addressing envelopes and answering phones (both worthy and needed things at crunch time, don't get me wrong) have found new depths in themselves and now think nothing of hopping on planes and into cars to go march, hold vigils, tell others - and dare to believe that they ... yes, they! can and will make a difference.

And you have. Even if this one vote was lost, much was gained. Experience, determination, cynicism, knowledge of who can be counted on to stand up for what is right, and who cannot.  Bad as things seem right now, nothing need ever go to waste... we use what we've learned this time to build on the next time, is all.

US developers think they have it bad, having to plan around spotted owls and other endangered species. Little do they know what other wee creatures could be in the way...

Fairies stop developers' bulldozers in their tracks

VILLAGERS who protested that a new housing estate would "harm the fairies" living in their midst have forced a property company to scrap its building plans and start again.

Marcus Salter, head of Genesis Properties, estimates that the small colony of fairies believed to live beneath a rock in St Fillans, Perthshire, has cost him £15,000. His first notice of the residential sensibilities of the netherworld came as his diggers moved on to a site on the outskirts of the village, which crowns the easterly shore of Loch Earn.

He said: "A neighbour came over shouting, `Don't move that rock. You'll kill the fairies'." The rock protruded from the centre of a gently shelving field, edged by the steep slopes of Dundurn mountain, where in the sixth century the Celtic missionary St Fillan set up camp and attempted to convert the Picts from the pagan darkness of superstition.

"Then we got a series of phone calls, saying we were disturbing the fairies. I thought they were joking. It didn't go down very well," Mr Salter said.

In fact, even as his firm attempted to work around the rock, they received complaints that the fairies would be "upset". Mr Salter still believed he was dealing with a vocal minority, but the gears of Perthshire's planning process were about to be clogged by something that looked suspiciously like fairy dust.

[...]

"A lot of people think the rock had some Pictish meaning," Mrs Fox said. "It would be extremely unlucky to move it."

Mr Salter did not just want to move the rock. He wanted to dig it up, cart it to the roadside and brand it with the name of his new neighbourhood.

The Planning Inspectorate has no specific guidelines on fairies but a spokesman said: "Planning guidance states that local customs and beliefs must be taken into account when a developer applies for planning permission." Mr Salter said: "We had to redesign the entire thing from scratch."

The new estate will now centre on a small park, in the middle of which stands a curious rock. Work begins next month, if the fairies allow.

This is even better than the Garden Gnome Liberation Front!

I showed this story to a British friend, mainly because I wasn't sure if it was something real or a spoof (British humor is sometimes difficult to get... there you are, laughing away and then you figure out that the joke was on you). Anyway, he said that it seemed real to him... in many rural societies in Britain pixies and elves and fairies are still very much believed in. Or, at least such a part of the thousands of years old (pre-Christianity) traditions that actual belief or disbelief is immaterial.

That makes sense and considering that a number of cultures have `little people' traditions, although by different names, well... who knows?

Whether or not the ancient Chinese actually had such a curse or it is just an urban legend, we are indeed living in interesting times. But "interesting" doesn't have to be all bad.

In quiet moments, which I've taken a lot of lately, I look around at all the things that should by rights be sending me into the depths of despair... and I instead feel a tremendous hope, apparently in defiance of all logic.  I realize that the temptation to ask if I have completely lost my mind must be almost overwhelming, but bear with me, and I will attempt to explain... well... why I haven't.

Never has the fight for justice - social, environmental, economical - been so important... not because victory is so far away, but because it is so close.  Not quite close enough to touch yet, but if you look quickly you can sometimes catch a glimpse of it struggling over the horizon - clumsy, rather unwieldy and prone to falls like a baby just learning to walk, but determined to eventually master the process.

[there's more...]

Hopefully I'm not the only one who drops in at the trib and catches a brief glimpse of this or that happening... while mostly not having any idea at all of what it is about. Probably there are others with even less of an idea than I have (please, say it's so!), because they have less time to peruse the site.

Anyway, I mentioned this in an earlier Alito diary... what do you guys think of having a diary just about goings on? Action projects, special events (boobooks and art fairs) and so on. A running calendar/action items type diary, under a multiple user login with people adding their events (even offsite one's that they may want to coordinate with the trib) in comments and so on? It can just be updated daily (or however often needed) and rerun from time to time. Informational only, with links to the diaries that give details about whatever project, and that contains the discussions.

I thought of naming it the froggyhotaction center... but that may have been because I had read anna's toy diary not too long before... (wowee!). Add your thoughts and stop me before I embarrass us all!

What do you think... good idea? (I would do a poll but I always mess those up).

[From the diaries by susanhu.]

"One hot, dusty day in June, Col. Ted Westhusing was found dead in a trailer at a military base near the Baghdad airport, a single gunshot wound to the head." ...is how the Los Angeles Times article on the death of Col. Westhusing begins. The rest is a sad journey through one man's life and death - from his early idealism about the military  and its conduct, to his quite swift (relatively) disillusionment once he arrived in Iraq.

Westhusing, 44, was no ordinary officer. He was one of the Army's leading scholars of military ethics, a full professor at West Point who volunteered to serve in Iraq to be able to better teach his students. He had a doctorate in philosophy; his dissertation was an extended meditation on the meaning of honor.

So it was only natural that Westhusing acted when he learned of possible corruption by U.S. contractors in Iraq. A few weeks before he died, Westhusing received an anonymous complaint that a private security company he oversaw had cheated the U.S. government and committed human rights violations. Westhusing confronted the contractor and reported the concerns to superiors, who launched an investigation.

In e-mails to his family, Westhusing seemed especially upset by one conclusion he had reached: that traditional military values such as duty, honor and country had been replaced by profit motives in Iraq, where the U.S. had come to rely heavily on contractors for jobs once done by the military.

There are questions about his death, both overt and between the lines of this article... but there seems to be little dispute as to Westhusing's disgust and distress over the changes he saw in the military he obviously loved, faults and all.  In reading the article, you get the impression that, to the last, his concern was for the culture of the military, for the men and women he helped train, the code of honor he obviously believed was more than just words and the ethical considerations involved not only in any war/conflict... but in this one especially.

(more on the flip)

I've asked this question a couple of times in comments of other diaries... I'll get an occasional "4", but no answers. I think people think it's a rhetorical question, but it's not. I'd really like to know the answer, and since this seems to be Democratic Party issues day here, I thought I'd go ahead and ask it in a diary.

Follow me over the flip and I'll explain my reasoning.

I wrote this (slightly edited) during this past winter, and after days of triple digit temperatures here, with no relief in sight, was moved to drag it out again because for some reason it makes me feel cooler, probably because I remember this morning so clearly. As I've had little to say lately, due to other pressures, I figured others may be a bit warm as well, and won't mind a little off season meander.

I opened the door of my apartment this morning to go for a walk, and stepped into a cushion of tiny pink and white petals that had been cast off from the fruit trees during the night.  California `snow'.  

(more)