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  • President Clinton? 4 Big Battle Lines for Pushing Her to the Left

    ImageOn October 6, 2008, an executive with Citigroup sent John Podesta, then co-chair of Barack Obama’s transition team, a list of possible cabinet appointments. There were still 29 days left in the hard-fought campaign. But the list, according to the New Republic, was almost entirely on the money; for who went on to fill senior posts in the Obama Administration, including Rahm Emanuel as chief of staff, Eric Holder as attorney general, Susan Rice as U.N. ambassador, and Janet Napolitano to lead Homeland Security.

    That gem, squirreled away in the Wikileaks dump of emails from Podesta, who now is Hillary Clinton’s campaign chairman, shows how capitalists play the long game with Democratic administrations.

    Many liberals and those on the left are still bickering about whether to vote for Clinton, Jill Stein, or sit out the race. But it’s all moot, even with weeks to go in the 2016 election. By every measure, Donald Trump is in a cataclysmic meltdown.

    Each day brings new signs of his sinking candidacy. Clinton averages an early 9-point lead among “high-quality polls,” and no candidate has ever overcome such a deficit this late in the race. Some veteran political analysts say Clinton has locked up 352 electoral votes, far more than she needs to win, and her cautious campaign is confident enough to extend the battle to red states like Arizona, Indiana, Missouri, and Utah in hopes of a landslide that could possibly flip Congress to the Democrats.

    The time is ripe to envision a truly progressive policy agenda and plan how to organize for it under a potential Clinton administration. Here, leading national activists and thought-leaders have weighed in on Hillary Clinton’s proposals and the battles that lie ahead for progressives.

    Free quality college and debt cancellation

    After Bernie Sander’s powerful insurgent candidacy, the buzz this summer was that Clinton was running on the “most progressive Democratic platform ever.” Sounding like Sanders, Clinton says she “will make debt-free college available to everyone and take on student loan debt.”

    That is precisely the problem, says Ann Larson: “It sounds good.” Larson is co-director of the Debt Collective, which organizes for debt cancellation and free quality education. “When you get into the details, there’s not much to celebrate.” Sanders proposed “tuition-free” higher education, while Clinton’s term is “debt-free.” Larson says that’s misleading. “Clinton is proposing income-based repayment,” she says. “So graduates have a portion of their income deducted. It’s not tuition-free. It’s going straight to garnishment.” Larson claims this fits into Clinton’s neoliberal perspective on education. “They view education as something individuals invest in to improve their competitiveness against peers in the job market.”

    While Clinton does not make repayment from wages mandatory, her plan encourages payroll deductions as the primary means for borrowers to repay student loans. To the degree that former students opt in to Clinton’s payroll deduction program, movements like Debt Collective would lose leverage. Larson says, “The current system allows us to collectivize our struggle through debt strikes, and that option is taken off the table” when payments comes out of debtors’ paychecks automatically.

    But there are bright spots and opportunities. Clinton’s plan would make community colleges tuition-free, for example. Larson cautions that this plan could reinforce “a tracked system where working-class folks go to low-status campuses that are resource-poor.”

    The Debt Collective is seeking transformative change. “The student debt movement is galvanizing around two demands, free quality four-year college for everyone, and real student debt relief, broad cancellation. We need to rectify four decades of failed policy, and we are not going to do it with band-aids or by doubling down on neoliberal policy as Clinton proposes.”

    Congress-proof immigration reform

    Erika Andiola served as national Latino outreach press secretary for Bernie Sanders’ campaign and now conducts political outreach at Our Revolution—a progressive group set up by Sanders to continue the campaign’s work. Andiola, who is undocumented herself, rocketed tonational prominence when immigration officials were in the process of deporting her mother and brother after nabbing them in Arizona, and Andiola’s tearful plea led to their safe return.

    She credits immigrant-rights activists for pushing Clinton to pledge to close private detention centers and “end family detention for parents and children who arrive at our border in desperate situations.” Previously, Clinton had accepted hundreds of thousands of dollars in contributions from private prison interests and lobbyists and advocated for deporting child refugees fleeing violence in Central America.

    Once in office, Clinton says her priority is a bill for “comprehensive immigration reform with a pathway to full and equal citizenship” within her first 100 days in office.

    This is where policy and strategy part ways, explains Andiola. Comprehensive immigration reform is doomed if Republicans retain control of either house of Congress. So activists want Clinton to push for smaller bills like the DREAM Act, which nearly passed in 2010. It would have granted conditional resident status to undocumented immigrants who arrived as children, then permanent status if they fulfilled conditions such as two years of college or military service. Another piece of legislation supported by many immigrant-rights activists is the AgJOBS bill, originally proposed in 2007, which would offer limited amnesty to farmworkers and has bipartisan support. Andiola says Clinton could also exercise her executive and administrative powers to stop enforcing deportation programs that rely on local police and encourage racial profiling, such as the Priority Enforcement Program and the Criminal Alien Program.

    She adds Clinton should appoint officials who know immigration law and think creatively about it. Activists fault the Obama White House for waiting until 2012 to issue an executive order that made 1.5 million undocumented immigrants eligible for protection if they arrived in the United States as children.

    Universal Medicare  

    Margaret Flowers has been fighting for single-payer health care for more than a decade as a pediatrician, adviser to Physicians for a National Health Program, and now as a Green Party candidate for the U.S. Senate. Scouring Clinton’s plan for “universal, quality, affordable health care,” Flowers spots modest improvements, such lowering prescription drug prices and doubling funding for community health centers.

    But at best, she says, Clinton’s proposals are “tweaks to a fundamentally flawed system.”

    “There is no way to make the current system universal or affordable,” she says. “Clinton will continue the private insurance system, which adds more bureaucracy and cost. The insurance companies aren’t going to reduce their costs because that’s their profits.”

    Many progressives are excited Clinton has put a “public option” back on the table, but Flowers is not so sanguine. She calls it “the profiteers option.” Flowers says numerous states have implemented public insurance systems, but each one has failed. She explains, “Insurance companies cherry-pick the healthy, the sick end up in the public program,” which is then subjected to financial stress from spiraling costs. One study found that in the eight states that have implemented a public option since 1988, the number of uninsured increased or stayed flat because the programs lacked “effective cost-control measures.”

    “The only thing that will turn this system around is to expand traditional Medicare,” Flowers says. “Everyone is in it. All the health care providers are in it. Everyone pays through a progressive tax. Then we can get the cost savings that we need to provide high-quality universal care.”

    Only popular power can push Hillary to take this position, she says. “People need to stand up and say this is no longer tolerable, like the climate crisis.”

    Climate justice

    When it comes to global warming, climate justice activists will say we dodged a planet-heating bullet in Donald Trump. But Ananda Lee Tan works with EDGE Funders Alliance to support movements and communities battling the fossil-fuel industry, and he points out that Hillary Clinton “is beholden to the biggest and most-powerful polluting and carbon-intensive industries.”

    To be fair, Clinton supports some policies opposed by the dirty energy industry. She pledges to meet U.S. commitments made at the 2015 Paris climate conference by reducing “greenhouse gas emissions by up to 30 percent in 2025 relative to 2005 levels.” Since most Republicans are dead set against taking action on climate change, Clinton aims to bypass lawmakers through executive actions.

    But that goal is less impressive than it sounds, says Tan, because emissions are already trending downward. In the power sector, which accounts for nearly a third of U.S. emissions, the industry is phasing out many coal-fired power plants and turning to natural gas instead. The EPA estimates that cars, trucks, and SUVs will average more than 50 miles per gallon by 2025, a substantial increase over today’s levels. And the U.S. Energy Information Administration forecasts that production from the most sustainable types of renewables will more than double over the next decade. That means the United States can meet most of the promised reductions without making deep changes to the current system.

    What’s more, the 30 percent target doesn’t go far enough. Tan says we’d fall far short of what’s needed to keep temperatures below catastrophic levels even if every nation in the world adopted such a plan.

    Nonetheless, Tan sees potential after the election. For him, the top agenda items include distributed generation—creating electricity at the point of consumption instead of at big power plants. A related goal is energy democracy—making sure residents who use energy have a say in how it’s generated and distributed. A third is a “just transition,” a complex idea that includes ensuring good jobs for workers and communities who currently depend on the dirty-energy industry.

    Climate justice activists, Tan says, will also need to fight the Clinton administration to close loopholes and eliminate incentives for liquefied natural gas, fracking, and nuclear power plants.

    Tan says the “real bright spots” are the movements, which have increasingly been taking leadership from the communities most affected by climate change. “We need to build the scale of power that allows us to take on the Koch brothers and the big energy companies destroying the planet.”

    Arun Gupta wrote this article for YES! Magazine. Arun is an investigative reporter who contributes to YES! Magazine, The Nation, Telesur, The Progressive, Raw Story, and The Washington Post. He is a graduate of the French Culinary Institute in New York City and author of the upcoming Bacon as a Weapon of Mass Destruction: A Junk-Food-Loving Chef’s Inquiry into Taste (The New Press). Follow him on Twitter @arunindy.

  • Trump’s Temerism

    ImageThe night of the penultimate presidential debate I was at a screening of the Brazilian film Aquarius, which tells the story of a woman fighting a corrupt development company to remain in her apartment building. During the Q&A session with the director and force-of-nature actress Sonia Braga, a handful of demonstrators stood up, silently, holding “Fora Temer” signs to protest the government that has illegally installed itself in Brazil. Within sixty seconds Lincoln Center had the NYPD to escort them out, against Braga’s objections, and the Q&A continued with police watching from the edges of aisles.

    Brazil’s illegal government, led by interim president Michel Temer, was able to impose itself on the country through a wave of discontent stemming from two things: 1) legitimate anger about the massive corruption of the ruling parties, which is endemic, but for which the Workers Party and its leader Dilma Rousseff was especially scapegoated; and 2) the racist conflation of official corruption with perceived “special benefits” given to black people, the poor, and the marginal under Workers Party governments. The media and judicial system helped oil the putchists’ plot by using their respective powers to investigate, jail, and denounce wrongdoers along baldly partisan lines.

    Scandalously, President Temer has admitted that he and his cronies impeached Rousseff because they disagreed with her economic program; this is entirely separate from the formal charges for which she was removed, but apparently this thin veneer of legalism is no longer necessary for the new government to complete its aims.

    Viewers of the debate I skipped for Aquarius witnessed quite a Temer-ism coming from the Republican Party candidate. Donald Trump, speaking on national television, promised to jail Hillary Clinton if elected, throwing a juicy piece of red meat to his most hardcore supporters. In the next debate he pushed this line, asserting that the election is “rigged” and refusing to say whether he would accept the results if he loses.

    There is one key difference between Trump and Temer: Temer has the unanimous backing of domestic and international capitalists. Trump has their near-unanimous revulsion.

    Yet the narratives of corruption they peddle and the antidotes they prescribe are strikingly similar.

    In Brazil, members of the self-installed government are themselves implicated in corruption and are using their newfound power to push legislation that would protect them from the serious charges that could be leveled against them. If they had only mobilized anger against official corruption they would have made themselves into victims. But very wisely they managed to tie grievances around corruption and economic dysfunction to the “threat” posed by the lower and browner sections of Brazilian society. Policies like affirmative action for Brazil’s black and indigenous populations instituted under the Workers Party were sold in the right-wing narrative as a symptom of the PT’s corruption and clientelism, in the same family as vote buying. The Right took an anxious middle class, worried about Brazil’s status in a globalized economy, and turned their ire towards the PT as the official representative of the working class. Racial resentment, and misogyny toward the easier target of Dilma Rousseff, was helpful for creating the political and social frenzy needed to unseat a democratically elected president who has never been convicted of corruption.

    In the United States, there is some kernel of (distorted) truth to Trump’s charges.   

    It’s clear that Hillary Clinton, like the PT, has behaved unethically and without transparency. It’s possible that she’s abused her and her husband’s office to further private ends, especially related to their foundation. She is unapologetically linked to some most notoriously shady foreign policy ventures of the United States. And she’s a standard-bearer for a bipartisan political establishment that’s used decades of dirty tricks, from gerrymandering to voter disenfranchisement to ballot restrictions, to effectively remove average voters from decision-making and create mafia-like one-party strangleholds on local politics from district to district.

    But the “Jail Hillary” movement isn’t just about that. It’s nearly inextricable from the Birther movement; it’s been nourished on years of paranoia about creeping Sharia law and Obama’s secret ISIS ties; and, like a dog who refuses to let go of the stray chicken bone it found in the gutter, still cultivates resentful fantasies about Reagan’s “welfare queens” eating lobster dinners, having too many children, and shucking-and-jiving their way into Harvard under the Democratic Party’s largesse.

    As Charlie Post writes, “The Bush and Obama administrations’ bailouts of banks, the auto industry, and some homeowners was the catalyst for the radicalization of the Republican electorate. The Tea Party began as an alliance between a grassroots rebellion of older, white, suburban small businesspeople, professionals and managers, and elements of the capitalist class. The middle-class ranks of the Tea Party railed against ‘corporate welfare’ and ‘bailouts for undeserving’ homeowners, in particular people of color who held sub-prime mortgages.”

    That groundswell, led by Koch-funded politicians all too happy to redirect anger over the bailouts towards black people attempting to keep their homes, became the basis for the Trump campaign.

    This politics gestures to the real corruption and indifference to ordinary peoples’ lives that characterizes the political establishment, while suggesting that that establishment’s strings are held by the poorest and most marginalized of society.

    The reason why Temer is now in charge of the fifth largest economy in the world while Trump is undergoing the most fantastic political implosion in the world is because Trump veered off the Koch brothers’ script. He spoke against free trade. He advocated a radical anti-immigrant stance that would endanger capitalists’ access to a precarious low-wage workforce. He displayed a general irreverence for the foreign-policy priorities of every major section of capital.

    The GOP establishment is invested in Trump’s meltdown and it’s likely we’ll see a raft of apologetics and platitudes about preserving American democracy from conservative figures in the coming days, just as we’ve been subjected to vales of crocodile tears over Trumpian “hate.” But they don’t actually want to banish either the racial resentment or authoritarian tendencies of his base. They just want them as junior partners to a more skilled, and loyal, leadership, just as Temer maintains the fascist demagogue Jair Bolsonaro as a junior partner of his project.

    The Democratic Party, on the other hand, is incapable of responding to this politics. It will continue to insist that all the charges against HRC are baseless, strawmen for the GOP’s misogyny. This is half true; some of the accusations are substantive, though the misogyny is inescapable. But denial will only feed voters’ perceptions that a powerful establishment is lined up to protect their own and that the system is rigged against them. When Hillary Clinton enters the Oval Office, the conspiracy theorists well get to work disseminating narratives about how the election was stolen. The politics of “Jail Hillary” are one of resentment that thrive, rather than subside, under conditions of rejection and defeat.

    What they dissolve under is serious class-based politics; one that invests the white working class in a social-democratic platform that addresses their needs alongside those of people of color and immigrants. Many people argue that poor whites are so irrational that they would pass this up to preserve the racial status quo. This is based on little evidence since no one, save Bernie Sanders, and especially not the Democratic Party, has actually tried to reach red-state whites with such a program in over half a decade. Such people have given up on politics at the ground level; they are terrified to mount a grassroots counter-insurgency against the Right’s claim on this constituency and deferential to a wonkish Beltway mode of winning elections that involves lots of redistricting, narrowing of voting bases, and polling predictions.

    The Left needs to make this intervention not to protect Hillary Rodham Clinton or because we care so much about white workers’ feelings, but because this election has awakened a section of the radical right to the idea of using the levers of state power to exact political revenge. At the moment this sentiment is in the hands of an incompetent, and doomed, campaign. But it could be in the hands of an American Temer.  

  • The End of Lulism and the Palace Coup in Brazil

     

    Image

    In general, analyses of Brazil’s current political and economic crisis emphasize the economic policy “errors” of the government, inherited by President Dilma Rousseff of the Workers’ Party (PT) from her predecessor, Luíz Inácio Lula da Silva. While it is true that certain federal policy decisions have interfered with the dynamics of the Brazilian distributive conflict, this focus on political regulation is far too narrow to illuminate the complexity of the current crisis. These explanations tend to obscure the changes in class structure that took place during the Lula era (2002-2010), and to overlook the impact of the international economic crisis. Indeed, such analyses fail to explain how the relationship between political regulation and economic accumulation not only failed to pacify class conflict but radicalized it.

    Strike Cycles

    In the world of work, the collapse of any armistice between subordinate and dominant classes often comes in the form of a strike wave. According to the latest data from the Strike Tracking System of the Inter-Union Department of Statistics and Socioeconomic Studies (SAG-DIEESE), Brazilian workers staged an historically-unprecedented strike wave in 2013, totaling 2,050 strikes – a 134% increase over the previous year, setting a historical record. Thus, the country reversed the steep decline in strikes during the previous two decades and the trade union movement regained at least a part of its political momentum. In several capital cities, bank workers’ strikes have become routine. Teachers, civil servants, steelworkers, construction workers, bus and train drivers and fare collectors also increased their union mobilization between 2013 and 2015. Equally, strikes by private sector workers have increased significantly since 2012.

    In 2013, private sector strikes represented 54% of the total. Here, it is especially worth noting an explosion of job actions in the service sector involving unskilled or semi-skilled workers – many of whom are outsourced and underpaid, subject to precarious work contracts and lacking conventional labor rights. In addition to eight national strikes by bank employees, workers in tourism, cleaning, private health, safety, education and communication were especially active, as were transport workers.

    In general, union activity expanded outside the categories of employees who have traditionally been seen as central to labor militancy. Even in the public sector, strike activity rose among municipal workers, who tend to be among the more precarious workers in public administration. Overall, in both private and public spheres, strike activity moved from the “center to the periphery” of the union movement, involving increased mobilization by an urban precariat.

    Given the magnitude of this strike cycle, perhaps this is the most underestimated explanation for the current political crisis: the ruling classes simply do not need a union bureaucracy that has proven itself unable to control its rank and file. From this perspective, the only credible ruling class project would involve the restoration of capitalist accumulation, by deepening social dispossession through attacks on workers’ rights.

    The current strike cycle and the vicissitudes faced by Brazil’s subaltern classes in their precarious way of life both reveal the limits and ambiguities inherent in the Lulista project. To understand the contradictions of this project involves analyzing the limits of the PT’s precarious hegemony over the past thirteen years.

    Precarious Hegemony

    Understood as a mode of regulation of class conflict, Lulism as a hegemonic social relation was based on the articulation of two different, but complementary, forms of consent, which together produced a decade of relative social peace in the country. Brazil’s subaltern classes gave passive consent to a government project led by the trade union bureaucracy, which ensured modest but effective concessions to workers – for the duration of a period of economic expansion.

    The semi-rural subproletariat benefited from the Bolsa Família Program (Family Fund), rising from extreme poverty to the official poverty line. The urban precariat was also seduced by minimum wage increases beyond the rate of inflation, as well as formalization of the labor market and employment creation. Workers who belonged to unions benefited from a booming labor market, achieving new pay and benefits gains through collective bargaining.[1]

    At least until the 2014 presidential election, the PT combined redistributive policies, formal job creation and popular access to credit, promoting a slight deconcentration of national income distribution. In a country famous for social inequalities, this small advance was enough to secure the consent of subaltern classes to the politics of Lulista regulation.

    At the same time, the PT government managed to combine the interests of trade union bureaucrats, leaders of social movements and an intellectualized middle class, creating the foundation for anactive consent to Lulism organized around the state apparatus. Thousands of union members were absorbed into parliamentary advisory functions, positions in ministries and in state companies; some trade union bureaucrats assumed strategic positions on the boards of large pension funds, managed by the state as investment funds. PT members and supporters were also nominated to management positions in the three main national banks: the National Development Bank (BNDES), the Bank of Brazil and the Caixa Econômica Federal.

    Thus, Lulista unionism has become not only an active administrator of the bourgeois state, but a key actor in directing capitalist investment in the country. Since this political-administrative power does not involve private ownership of capital, the privileged social position of the trade union bureaucracy depended on control of the political apparatus. And to reproduce this control, both the interests of its historic allies – the middle levels of the bureaucracy and the small intellectualized bourgeoisie – and its historic enemies – hostile bureaucratic layers and sectarian groups with corporatist interests – must be accommodated within the state apparatus.

    Although this strategy was complicated by the PT government’s acceptance of the anti-democratic rules of the Brazilian electoral game – including an effort during the first Lula government to directly purchase parliamentary support – by 2014, Lulista hegemony had achieved notable success in reproducing both the passive consent of the masses and the active consent of union and social movement leaders.

    The Contradictions of Lulism

    Nevertheless, social contradictions were already evident during the economic expansion between 2003 and 2014, foreshadowing the current crisis. Despite an impressive increase in formal wage work, about 94% of the jobs created during the PT’s first decade in power paid only 1.5 minimum monthly wages (roughly about $US 250 per month) or less. By 2014, as the economy slowed, about 97.5% of new jobs were in this category, and were occupied mostly by women, young people and blacks – that is, by workers who have traditionally earned less and are more discriminated against.

    At the same time, year after year, the number of accidents and deaths at work increased, as did rates of job turnover, with both patterns clearly indicating some deterioration in the quality of work. A deepening economic crisis and a shift towards a policy of austerity during the second government of Dilma Rousseff, installed in 2014, strengthened these regressive tendencies, prompting unionized workers to take strike action.

    Although it was already beginning to falter, support from the precarious proletariat ensured Dilma Rousseff’s victory in the second round of the 2014 presidential election; but this support assumed the PT government would maintain formal (albeit low-quality and poorly-paid) employment. But the cyclical contraction driven by federal spending cuts has led to increased unemployment among both the urban precariat and the organized working class: according to the latest research, Brazil’s unemployment rate rose from 7.9% to 10.2% in the last twelve months.

    On the other hand, the traditional middle class has evolved towards a markedly right-wing economic agenda and politics – including those who had been allied with the PT and the main trade union federation, CUT, at least until the 2005 bribes-for-votes scandal known as the “Mensalão.” It is not hard to imagine why. Progress in the formalization of employment among domestic workers led to higher salaries for maids, while the heated labor market boosted the cost of services in general – with immediate impact on middle-class lifestyles. And the increase in mass consumption linked to higher wages for Brazil’s poorer households meant that workers “invaded” spaces previously reserved for the traditional middle classes, such as shopping malls and airports.

    Finally, increasing vacancies in low-quality private universities for the children of workers increased the competition for jobs previously available only to the children of the middle class. When the “Petrolão” scandal, linked to kickbacks and money laundering in the state petroleum company Petrobras, broke into the open, middle class dissatisfaction exploded into a huge wave of protest, driven by a reactionary political agenda.

    Thus the collapse of the Rousseff government’s support in Congress is only the most visible face of an organic crisis whose roots lie in the social structure of a country mired in a deep recession. Based on the creation of precarious jobs and the deconcentration of income distribution, Brazil’s development model is no longer able to guarantee corporate profits, let alone attract the consent of subaltern classes.

    The Palace Coup

    Faced with a worsening international crisis, the main representatives of Brazilian business, led by private banks, began to demand that the federal government deepen austerity. For large companies, policies that would deepen the recessionary adjustment, increase unemployment and contain the current strike cycle seem a necessary step toward enacting a series of unpopular reforms, such as cuts to social security and labor rights.

    This project has been fed by the current PT government’s retreat. The fiscal adjustment applied at the beginning of Dilma’s second mandate betrayed the expectations of 53 million voters who had been seduced by her campaign promises to maintain jobs, social programs and labor rights. The resulting unpopularity of the second Rousseff government was then further fueled by the middle class discontent over the reduction of inequalities between social classes. When Operation Lava Jato of the Federal Police decided to focus exclusively on PT politicians involved in Petrobras’ corruption schemes, Brazilians took to the streets demanding that the government fall.

    This mobilization prompted the political parties which had been defeated in 2014 to embark on the impeachment process. Negotiations between the Party of Brazilian Social Democracy (PSDB) and the Brazilian Democratic Movement Party (PMDB) intensified, converging on the latter’s political manifesto “A bridge to the future” – essentially, a promise to ensure the payment of the public debt to the banks at the expense of spending on education, health and social programs.

    Most significantly, conservative political forces took to overthrowing Brazil’s government not because of what Rousseff gave to the popular sectors, but because of what she failed to deliver to entrepreneurs: an even more radical fiscal adjustment, which would have required changing the Constitution, reforming social security and withdrawing key labor protections. Yet on the other side, the trade unions, mostly controlled by PT, are still engaged in a historic strike cycle.

    Thus Brazil is currently in a position of deadlock: the coup has encountered strong popular resistance which promises to intensify, even as regressive measures undertaken by an illegitimate government are adopted by Congress, and a period of unprecedented social struggles seems inevitable.

    *Ruy Braga, University of São Paulo, Brazil and Member of ISA Research Committee on Labor Movements (RC44). Direct all correspondence to Ruy Braga <ruy.braga@uol.com.br>

    Originally published in Global Dialogue.

    [1] On the activities of these three fractions of the Brazilian subaltern classes in the last decade see: André Singer, Os sentidos do lulismo: reforma gradual e pacto conservador (São Paulo, Companhia das Letras, 2012); Ruy Braga, A política do precariado: do populismo à hegemonia lulista (São Paulo: Boitempo, 2012); and Roberto Véras de Oliveira, Maria Aparecida Bridi and Marcos Ferraz, O sindicalismo na Era Lula: paradoxos, perspectivas e olhares (Belo Horizonte, Fino Traço, 2014).

  • The 'War' against Islamic State: A Military Strategy Doomed to Political Failure

    ImageThe last terrible terrorist attack by the so-called “Islamic State” (also known as Daech) killed at least 300 people in Baghdad’s central shopping district of Karrada on July 2. It was the worst single car bomb attack in Iraq since U.S. and British led forces toppled the dictator Saddam Hussein 13 years ago and deepened the anger of many Iraqis over the weak performance of the security apparatus. This followed other terrorist attacks in the region and elsewhere. This put forward once more the question on how to answer and end the threat that represents Daech. The Western states led by the USA have shown that they consider Daech as the main enemy for the region of the Middle East and North Africa. Daech constitutes in the opinion of Western officials a source of regional and international instability, particularly with the terrorist attacks in West. However they propose to use the same elements that fueled the development of Daech to try to stop it militarily. This is therefore a recipe for defeat.

    In Syria, the United States, as well as other Western states, have been concentrating their military actions against Daech, while a change of the authoritarian Assad regime is not at all on the agenda, and actually never was.  In addition to this, on June 30, the Obama administration proposed a new agreement on Syria with the Russian government that would deepen military cooperation between the two countries against Daech and Jabhat al-Nusra, al-Qaeda’s branch in Syria, in exchange for Russia getting the Assad regime to stop bombing groups of the FSA with contacts with the USA. The allies (Russia, Iran, Hezbollah and Iraqi Shi’a fundamentalist militias) of the regime continue on their sides their military assistance to Damascus to eliminate all forms of armed opposition, democratic (Free Syrian Army) and reactionary (Jabhat al-Nusra and Daech) while continuing their crimes and abuses against Syrian civilians. The raids of the Russian aviation on June 25 against the town of al-Kouriyé, southeast of the city of Deir Ezzor, for example, have killed 31 civilians, while 16 others died without anyone knowing if they were civilians or jihadists.

    The only political groups that will benefit from these bombings are effectively the two sides of the counter revolutions: the Assad regimes on one side and the reactionary Islamic and Jihadist political forces. The Assad regime as we have seen since Russian intervention in October 2015 benefited from these bombings militarily with the weakening of various armed groups, but more particularly FSA groups in various regions, which were the real targets of the Russian intervention rather than Daech or Jabhat al-Nusra, while civilians also suffered enormously from these bombings. At the same time, Assad forces have actually continued its attacks on various areas of the country, especially on the besieged liberated areas of Aleppo, but moreover the regime sees another opportunity to regain “legitimacy” with the West as part of an alliance in the War against Terrorism. On the other side, if the bombing really target Daech and Jabhat al Nusra, it will probably weaken them on the short term military, but will also most likely to prove counterproductive for the Syrian revolutionaries upholding the objectives of the revolution by increasing the popular support for Daech and Jabhat al-Nusra and other reactionary forces, driving even more recruits to their ranks, by describing themselves as the only serious group fighting the “infidel” Assad regime and Russia and Western “Crusaders”. These bombings also occur while the various Western international powers did and are not envisaging any action against the Assad regime, which continues its murderous war against the Free Syrian people. We have seen as soon that the truce, even partial, was implemented, the democratic popular movement started once again its demonstrations against the regime, but also challenged jihadist forces such as Jabhat al-Nusra. The people of the city of Maaret al-Nuuman have been resisting Jabhat al-Nusra for more than 100 days now. The only solution to put an end to both the Assad regime and Islamic fundamentalist forces is to empower the democratic popular movement and FSA democratic groups upholding the objectives of the revolution and uniting the various components of the Syrian people to challenge sectarianism and racism.

    In Iraq, the fight against Daech is led by the Iraqi army and its elite groups, but also by Shi’a fundamentalist militias supported politically, economically and militarily by the Islamic Republic of Iran and especially hated by large sections Sunni populations in Iraq because of their crimes and abuses against them and their sectarian discourses and practices. Some Pasdaran’s senior officials of the Iranian regime and senior commanders of Iraqi Shi’a fundamentalist militias have actually appeared often on the front lines of fighting and participate in military elaborations with the generals of the Iraqi army in the offensive against Daech. At the End of May 2016, the head of the Revolutionary Guards’ elite Quds Force, Iranian General Qassem Soleimani, was spotted visiting Shi’a fundamentalist paramilitary forces fighting alongside the Iraqi army to drive Daech out of the Sunni city of Falluja, prompting harsh criticisms from various Iraqi Sunni political forces in the country. In the beginning of June 2016, it was reported that a 17-month U.S. effort to retrain and reunify Iraq’s regular army has failed to create a large number of effective Iraqi combat units or limit the power of sectarian militias, according to current and former U.S. military and civilian officials. The Iraqi military operations command of Salahuddin province, north of Baghdad, is dominated by a Shi’a fundamentalist militia leader, Abu Mehdi Mohandis, Mohandis who serves as the chief state administrator for Shi’a fundamentalist paramilitary forces. The U.S. Treasury sanctioned him in 2009 for allegedly attacking U.S. forces in Iraq. He was also convicted in absentia by Kuwaiti courts for the 1983 bombings of the U.S. and French embassies in Kuwait. The Fifth Iraqi Army Division in eastern Diyala province is considered to be under the command of the Badr group, a powerful Shi’a fundamentalist militia and political party with strong ties to Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps. In Baghdad, U.S. military officers estimate that 10 percent to 20 percent of the 300 officers who run the Iraqi military’s Operations Command have an affinity or association with either the Badr militia or the Shi’a religious leader Muqtada al Sadr.

    The solution to end the jihadist reactionary forces of Daech cannot only be military and especially not with forces such as the Shi’a Fundamentalist sectarian forces supported by the IRI [Iran] and with a government led by the Dawa Party, which has been characterised under the former Prime Minister Maliki between 2006 and 2014 by sectarian [ism] and authoritarian [ism] that alienated the great majority of the Iraqi Sunni population, while repressing democratic popular movements challenging the whole sectarian and bourgeois regime. The new Prime Minister Abadi from the same party, Dawa, despite rhetorical propaganda, has not made any radical changes regarding this situation. These are all elements that played an important role in fuelling the development of Daech in Iraq. These two actors, Shi’a fundamentalist sectarian forces and Daech, feed each other and have to be overthrown and defeated in order of hoping to build a social and progressive popular movement opposing sectarianism enabling Iraq to end a nightmare that has lasted too long. This has actually been expressed by large sections of the democratic popular movement that erupted in Iraq in the summer 2015 challenging the Iraqi sectarian political regime with slogans such as “the parliament and the Islamic State are two sides of the same coin”, “Daech was born out of your corruption”.

    In Libya, the Western states supported the formation of a unity government, who are trying to bring together the various Libyan parties, with two priorities as stated by them: the fight against Daech and “illegal immigration”. The political and socio-economic issues are virtually ignored, while the unity government is hardly able to extend its authority throughout the whole territory, particularly in the east, in Cyrenaica, where  four ministers of the unity government resigned on July 1st. In this eastern part of Libya, militias and units of the Libyan army remain loyal to unrecognized authorities, under the command of the controversial General Khalifa Haftar. Several European countries have already pledged tens of millions of euros in support for the unity government.

    This is not to mention the support of Western states, to the Egyptian regime headed by the dictator Sissi who continues its violent crackdown against all forms of opposition, from leftist movements to the Muslim Brotherhoods. The massive repression of the Egyptian regime has indeed created new numerous Daech members in the country. Similar support for other dictators and authoritarian governments in the region has similar consequences such as in the case of Saudi Arabia and other Gulf monarchies. On this issue, the war between on one side the Saudi kingdom and the other side Al-Qaeda and Daech must not however make us believe that their fundamentalist and reactionary ideologies would fundamentally be different. A number of Saudi jihadists takes as references the earlier texts of Wahabism, which are the sources of official Islam in the country, and other authors of Wahabi references, but with different interpretations.

    In all these cases, it is simply not enough to put an end military [a military end] to all capacities for violence of Daech, only to see its reappearance in the future as was the case in the past, but to address the socio-economic and political conditions that enable and enabled its development. We have to remember that Daech is a fundamental element of the counter revolution in the Middle East that has experienced unprecedented growth as a result of the crushing of popular movements by the authoritarian regimes. The interventions of regional and international states have greatly contributed and continue with their policies to the development of Daech. Finally, neo-liberal policies impoverishing the popular class together with the repression of democratic and trade union forces are of course also a key element in the development of Daech, which has been able in some cases to capture the frustrations of certain parts of the popular classes.

    Western regimes will not change their strategies regarding the region, our duty as international solidarity movement is to oppose these policies and to support democratic and non sectarian popular movements, which continue across the region despite significant setbacks, defying both authoritarian regimes and fundamentalist religious movements such as Daech or Jabhat al-Nusra. It is these means that can stop these two forms of barbarism, instead of repeating the same mistakes of the past contributing to their rebirths.

    Originally published July 5, 2016. 

    *Dr. Joseph Daher is an assistant teacher in the university of Lausanne, Switzerland and has a PhD in Development of the university of (School of Oriental and African Studies), SOAS, London, UK. He is the founder of the blog Syria Freedom Forever. He is a Swiss/Syrian leftist activist.

  • Daniel Ortega, Nicaragua’s Nov. 6 Election, and the Betrayal of a Revolution

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    For many years now Nicaraguans on both the right and the left have referred to Daniel Ortega, a leader of the Sandinista Revolution of 1979, as a “dictator.” Now it appears that when country votes on November 6, he may succeed in becoming the country’s virtual monarch. Dan La Botz, author of the new book What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis, asks here how the Nicaraguan revolution was betrayed and what ideas and decisions of the Sandinistas themselves were responsible for the betrayal.

    In late July 2016 President Daniel Ortega, running for his third consecutive term as president—his fourth term altogether—succeeded in having sixteen members of the opposition expelled from the legislature. Also removed were their 12 alternates, 28 legislators altogether. Those who were removed belonged to both the conservative Independent Liberal Party (PLI) led by banker Eduardo Montealegre and to the Movement for Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), originally a leftist breakaway from Ortega’s own FSLN. The legislators’ removal ended any semblance of political pluralism and gave Ortega absolute control over the parliament, making Nicaragua effectively a one-party state on the eve of the November 2016 election.

    Then at the beginning of August, Ortega announced that his running mate for vice-president would be his wife Rosario Murillo, now the Minister of Communications and in practice already the country’s co-president. The Nicaraguan Constitution once forbid anyone from holding the office of president for two consecutive terms or from holding more than two non-consecutive terms as president, as well as forbidding a spouse from being a candidate. Ortega’s control of the Supreme Court, the legislature and the Supreme Electoral Council made it possible for him to create a new constitution in 2014 that allowed him to run for president for a third term. To make sure that there is no questioning of the election procedure, Ortega has forbidden international election observers. Ortega and his wife, who have placed their children in positions in government, appear to have insured that, like the Somozas before them, they will hand power on to their children and establish another dynastic dictatorship.

    Nicaragua’s National Coalition for Democracy called the coming elections to be carried out under these conditions “a farce,” while the Bishops of the Catholic Church condemned Ortega’s attempt to impose a one-party regime. Faced with the closing off of democratic options important figures on both the right and the left have suggested that a revolt may be the only option. On the right, Carlos Fernando Chamorro, the son of former president Violeta Chamorro, told the Nicaraguans that the situation had “legitimized the right to rebel.” Vilma Núñez, a longtime FSLN activist who had challenged Ortega for the FSLN presidential nomination in 1996 and who today heads the Nicaraguan Human Rights Center (CENIDH), went even further, calling upon the Nicaraguan people to exercise their “right to rebellion.”[1] Creating a new dictatorship, Ortega may also be creating the conditions for a future revolution, though at the moment neither the forces nor the leadership for a rebellion exist.

    Daniel and Danielismo

    Ortega has ruled Nicaragua intermittently since the Nicaraguan Revolution of 1979. He headed the revolutionary government from 1979 to 1990, first as head of the revolutionary Junta that ruled the country from 1979-1985 and then as elected president from 1985-1990. He ran unsuccessfully for president in 1996 and 2001, but even out of office, he generally controlled the legislature, working as a partner with the conservative Liberal Party governments. Then in the 2006 elections he won the presidency with a plurality of 38 percent of the vote and won again in 2011 with 62 percent of vote. Polls show him likely to win this election by 60 percent or more, a testimony not so much to his leadership as to the ruling couple’s control of the government, of the social welfare programs, and of much of the media.

    Ortega’s political domination of the country today is nearly absolute. Since he took office as president for the second time in 2007, Ortega, the former guerrilla fighter and leader of the Sandinista Front for National Liberation (FSLN), has succeeded in concentrating in his hands the control not only of the executive office—which he shares in an irregular and extra-constitutional manner with his wife Rosario Murillo—but also domination of the Supreme Court, of the legislature, and of the Supreme Electoral Council. His political power is reinforced by his personal control over Venezuela’s financial contributions to Nicaragua, and until recently by an alliance with the Catholic Church constructed around opposition to abortion and feminism, as well as by his association with the country’s largest corporations and wealthiest families, not to mention his shrewd buying up of radio and TV stations.

    The FSLN, better known as the Sandinistas, once a revolutionary party, functions today as a typical political machine, winning votes through fear and favors. The party is constructed around “Daniel” and a system and ideology of social welfare that has come to be called Danielismo. The FSLN has created a cult of personality around Ortega that rivals any, with huge portraits of Ortega and Murillo appearing on billboards throughout Managua year in and year out, while crowds are brought out to public places to chant, “Daniel! Daniel!” To enhance his image, periodically Ortega stands beside foreign heads of state with left-wing credentials—Hugo Chávez before he died, Nicolás Maduro since then; Fidel and later Raúl Castro; and also Evo Morales of Bolivia—maintaining the illusion that his government has something to do with some sort of socialism. In fact what he shares with those leaders is not socialism but rather his stature as a populist caudillo, though now one with right-wing politics.

    Regrettably and shamefully, much of the Latin American and U.S. left continues to support Ortega and the Sandinista government, largely because of its alliance with the Cuban Communist regime and Venezuelan Bolivarian government. The Foro de São Paulo, the conference of Latin America’s left parties, continues to treat the FSLN as if it were a genuine left party, while TeleSUR, the TV station and news service supported by Venezuela, Cuba, and several other Latin American governments, brushes off any criticism of Ortega as right-wing and authoritarian. Some on the U.S. and European left suggest that any criticism of Ortega and the FSLN is either directed by or serves the interest of the U.S. State Department.[2] Yet for decades some of the strongest criticism of Ortega has come from Nicaraguans, many of them former Sandinista leaders who argue that Ortega long ago abandoned any socialist principles.

    Some American and other foreign leftists, such as Roger Burbach or more recently Jennifer Goett and Courtney Desiree Morris have criticized Daniel Ortega, placing responsibility on U.S. imperialism and on Ortega personally for the betrayal of the revolution, but denying that the Sandinistas’ political values and particular leftist ideals had anything to do with the revolution’s degeneration. In fact, the core beliefs of the Sandinistas—the political vision and theory of Carlos Fonseca, Tomás Borge, and Daniel Ortega—not only contributed to the revolution’s deterioration but lie at its root.

    The Nicaraguan situation must be appraised not only in terms of U.S. imperialism and of Ortega as a leader, but also by making an analysis of the country’s history and of its political and economic regime. Analyzing Nicaragua’s supposedly “socialist” regime, we must ask the same questions we would if we were analyzing any other nation: What is the nature of the political system? Who rules? Whose voice is not heard? What is the nature of the economic system? Who profits? Who works for low wages? Who must emigrate to find work?

    While Ortega and his party govern, a handful of extremely wealthy families dominate the economy, enriching themselves at the expense of the country’s people. Nicaragua remains the poorest nation in Latin America, excepting Haiti, with 12 percent of the population unemployed and over 30 percent of the population living in poverty and 8 percent in extreme poverty. Nicaragua ranked 125th out of 188 nations on the United Nations Human Development Index in 2015.[3]

    In 1979 Nicaragua experienced a genuine revolution, one that utterly destroyed the Somoza dictatorship, swept away the state, and created a new political system. At the time there was talk of a mixed economy, political, pluralism, and democratic socialism. National literacy and health campaigns improved the lives of much of the country’s rural population. The U.S.-backed Contra War in Nicaragua kept the Sandinista government of the 1980s from carrying out much of its reform program, while the 1990 election and subsequent elections brought right-wing governments to power. When Daniel Ortega and the Sandinistas returned to power in 2006, they were no longer the revolutionary party with the socialist program of the past. Rather Ortega and the Sandinistas allied with big business, the Catholic Church, and right-wing parties lead a government with neoliberal economic programs combined with social welfare programs, what has been called “social liberalism.” We examine here exactly how this transformation took place, as explained in much greater detail in my book What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis.

    The Imperialist Background

    Imperial powers—the Aztecs, the Spanish, the British, and the Americans—all took advantage of the fact that Nicaragua was a small territory, sparsely populated, and easily penetrated. While the Aztecs never fully controlled the country, Spain conquered and ruled Nicaragua for 300 years, establishing the domination of the conquerors’ descendants over the indigenous and over the African people who had been brought as slaves.

    When thanks to revolutions in Mexico and South America between 1810 and 1821 all of Spanish America became independent, Nicaragua did as well, but while the Conservatives in the city of Granada and Liberals in León fought for control of the Pacific coast, the British entered into a treaty with indigenous Miskito people on the Caribbean coast, establishing a protectorate.

    Later, with the discovery of gold in California, New York shipping magnate Cornelius “Commodore” Vanderbilt established a shipping line to Nicaragua, together with overland and overwater service across the isthmus to the Pacific coast and from there to California and the goldfields. The American businessman’s involvement in Nicaragua perturbed the British who dominated Latin American banking and ran the import-export houses, leading to rising tensions between the two Anglo-Saxon imperial powers.

    Then suddenly William Walker, an American filibuster— a politically ambitious pirate, with a small army of a couple of hundred men—inserted himself into the Conservative-Liberal conflict and quickly took control of the country, making himself president. Walker made English an official language, instituted slavery, and made it clear that he had broader ambitions in Central America and the Caribbean. Seeing the threat to their own existence, the surrounding nations—Costa Rica, Honduras, and El Salvador—raised an army, and, with the support of Vanderbilt and the British, defeated and expelled Walker, who during a later attempted invasion was captured and executed.

    Vanderbilt and Walker had brought Nicaragua to the attention of the United States, and the American eagle now had its eyes on the little country to the south, waiting for his chance.

    Following the Central American war against Walker, a joint Conservative-Liberal government came to power in Nicaragua and established its authority in the Pacific region—the “Thirty-Year Regime” it was called. But the country languished until the late nineteenth century sugar boom when José Santos Zelaya, a Liberal leader from Managua, center of the new sugar industry, took power in a coup.

    Zelaya was determined to make Nicaragua a modern state, to create a United States of Central America, and to establish a degree of independence from the United States of America, which had meanwhile invested heavily in lumber, mining, and agriculture. Zelaya’s national project, however, coincided with the rise of the United States to Great Power status through foreign wars, the taking of colonies, and the building of an empire.

    Under President McKinley, the United States fought and won the Spanish American War of 1898 taking Cuba and Puerto Rico, while in 1903, with the subterfuge of support for independence movement, President Roosevelt took Panama from Colombia. With the United States becoming the dominant power in the region, Zelaya’s plans for a stronger Nicaragua and a united Central America were doomed.

    With the pretext of supporting a supposed democracy movement in Nicaragua that opposed Zelaya’s tyranny, President Taft ordered the U.S. Marines to invade and occupy the country in 1909, an occupation that in several phases that would last until 1933. The U.S. took control of the political system through a puppet president, while also managing the national finances, and running much of the economy. Nicaragua became a colony in all but name.

    The Nicaraguan Liberals, however, continued to fight against the Conservatives who under U.S. tutelage now ran the country, leading to a civil war from 1926 to 1927. But when the Liberals finally gave up the fight, one man, Augusto César Sandino, refused to lay down his arms.

     

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    Sandino, a mystic and a radical, organized what he called the Army in Defense of the National Sovereignty of Nicaragua, in reality a ragged band of a few hundred workers and peasants who fought a guerrilla war against the U.S. Marines from 1927 until 1933 when the Marines finally left. But it was not Sandino who had driven them away.

    President Franklin D. Roosevelt, fearing a war in Europe, called for a “Good Neighbor Policy.” FDR withdrew the U.S. Marines from Nicaragua and other nations in the region, but in their stead the United States worked with friendly governments, often dictatorships, establish U.S. Marine-trained “National Guards,” armed forces that could be counted on to protect pro-American governments and American interests.

    In Nicaragua, as the U.S. Marines left, Anastasio “Tacho” Somoza García became head of the new National Guard. When the new Nicaraguan Liberal president, Juan Bautista Sacasa, took power in January 1933, he called for peace negotiations between himself, Somoza, and Sandino. Somoza took advantage of one of the meetings to kidnap and assassinate Sandino; from that moment Somoza effectively became the ruler of Nicaragua, winning election to the presidency in 1937.

    Somoza, his sons Luis and Antonio Somoza Debayle, backed by the United States, would rule the country from 1937 to 1979, maintaining their power through a series of pacts with the opposition political parties combined with whatever repression as needed. They modernized the country, building highways and improving the agricultural economy, while enriching the property-owning class and themselves; the majority of Nicaraguans remained poor, often hungry, unhealthy, and illiterate.

    Virtually a monarchy, the Somoza family was for two generations all-powerful in Nicaragua. The Somoza dictatorship led to opposition: various attempts at armed rebellion by the Conservatives, including the assassination of Tacho Somoza in 1956 (succeeded immediately by one of his sons), were followed by the rise in the 1960s of a revolutionary movement taking its name from Sandino and calling itself the Sandinista Front for National Liberation or FSLN.

    The Origins of the Sandinistas

    Earlier, in the 1930s, pro-Soviet Communists had organized the Nicaraguan Socialist Party (PSN), which, following the Communist International’s line, supported a Popular Front against fascism. In practice this meant supporting Tacho Somoza while simultaneously attempting to expand democratic rights and organize labor unions. This was a virtually impossible task, but this remained the Communist PSN’s position until the 1970s.

    It was in this pro-Soviet Communist Party that the founders of the Sandinistas—Carlos Fonseca, Tomás Borge, and others—received their early political education, an experience that made them life-long supporters of the “Communist camp” and believers in a Communist-style of party organization.

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    In 1957 the PSN chose the young Fonseca to visit the Soviet Union, a year after Nikita Khrushchev’s revelation of Stalin’s crimes at the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and not long after the Soviet’s crushing of the Hungarian Revolution. Yet Fonseca, future founder and leader of the Sandinistas until his death in 1976, remained a staunch supporter of Stalin and praised the Soviet Union for crushing the Hungarian Revolution of 1956.

    The Cuban Revolution of 1959 changed everything for leftists throughout Latin American, including the Sandinistas. Fidel Castro’s “26 of July” guerrilla movement’s overthrow of the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista established an alternative leftist strategy, one not based on peaceful, gradual, electoral politics, but predicated upon armed revolution led by a dedicated guerrilla band.

    Latin American revolutionaries in many countries turned away from the Communist Popular Front and took up armed struggle, believing it was possible to struggle not simply for a bourgeois-democratic state but for socialism. Fonseca justified the strategic change of direction in Nicaragua arguing that Augusto César Sandino had used just such a guerrilla war strategy in his struggle against the U.S. Marines in the 1920s.

    Convinced by Castro’s model and Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s theory of the guerrilla foco, Fonseca and his co-thinkers left the Communist PSN, breaking with its Popular Front politics, and took up the Cuban example, but they never paused to reflect uponand never  criticized Stalin, Communist Party organization, or the Soviet Union. While becoming guerrilla warriors in the Cuban model, they would remain lifelong supporters of the Soviet Union and the Communist camp.

    Founded in 1962, the Sandinistas courageously pursued a guerrilla strategy for more than 15 years, fighting and dying in the mountains of Nicaragua, but their strategy proved unsuccessful and by 1977 they had been virtually wiped out by Somoza’s National Guard. The FSLN’s guerrilla foco established two things: their heroism and their absolute and uncompromised determination to overthrow Somoza, but it also proved that their strategy was an utter failure.

    The failure of their approach led the FSLN to split into three rival tendencies. Tomás Borge headed the Prolonged Peoples’ War tendency, which modified the Cuban model by adopting Mao Tse-Tung’s Peoples’ War theory, based on the notion of building up a peasant army in the countryside. Jaime Wheelock led the Proletarian Tendency, with the more traditional Marxist notion of organizing agricultural laborers and other workers.

    Daniel Ortega was the leader of the Third or Insurrectionary Tendency that called for an alliance with other political organizations and with all Nicaraguan social classes, while at the same time seeking support from foreign governments in Europe and Latin America, and building a real army to invade Nicaragua from Costa Rica. By 1978, partly under pressure from Cuba, the three tendencies had reconciled, all of them supporting the Third Tendency position.

    Dictator Anastasio Somoza Debayle had selfishly enriched himself until he dominated so many industries that by the mid-1970s he had alienated and angered many in the Nicaraguan bourgeoisie. Nicaragua’s capitalists and Liberal and Conservative politicians organized the Democratic Union of Liberation in 1974 to oppose Somoza and the FSLN began to work with this bourgeois opposition. In 1978 the Sandinistas and its coalition partners presented to the world a new face of the revolution: Los Doce, the Twelve, a group of intellectuals, businessmen, and religious leaders—not one Sandinista revolutionary among them, apparently—who called upon Somoza to resign.

    The country seethed with protest and rebellion as the newly formed Sandinista Army began its offensive. The Somoza government appeared about to collapse, and U.S. President Jimmy Carter, having concluded that it was impossible to save Somoza, worked through the Organization of American States to negotiate the dictator’s exit while preserving the government and the murderous National Guard, in order to prevent the FSLN from coming to power. The Broad Opposition Front (FAO), dominated by moderates, accepted the idea, but, when Somoza called for a plebiscite on his resignation, negotiations broke down. Carter then called for elections to create a “constitutional” successor government.

    With that the FSLN left the FAO and with the United Peoples Movement created a new coalition the National Patriot Front. When National Guardsmen murdered ABC reporter Bill Stewart, a murder caught on camera and broadcast to the American public, Carter could no longer prevent the revolution from bringing down not only Somoza but the Guard and the government as well.

    The FSLN had meanwhile built up its army under the shield of a friendly government in Costa Rica, strengthened by hundreds of Latin American volunteers. As the FSLN launched its attacks, supported by uprising in cities and towns throughout the country, Somoza’s National Guard tortured and murdered many young people while his air force bombed working class neighborhoods in the major cities.

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    The revolutionary movement could not b suppressed. The FSLN, now supported by the entire country, pushed on to Managua in the midst of a popular national uprising, taking power on July 17, 1979. The revolution was greeted with jubilation by virtually the entire Nicaraguan population.

     

    The FSLN in Power

    The Sandinistas came to power with extremely widespread support and surprisingly with no competitors for power. The FSLN hurriedly a convened a three-day meeting of 400 members (virtually its entire membership in a nation of almost three million people) and adopted the “72-Hour Document.” The document stated that the FSLN planned to consolidate itself as a Marxist-Leninist Party; that its goal was the “dictatorship of the proletariat”; that it should become part of the Communist camp with the Soviet Union, Eastern European Bloc, Vietnam and Cuba; and that it would work through temporary alliances with other classes and political groups until it achieved those goals. As many of them said, their goal was to create another Cuba.

    Publicly, however, the FSLN stated that it wanted to have a mixed economy, a pluralistic government, and a non-aligned foreign policy. That is, while planning to create a Cuban-style, one-party, Communist state that would become part of the Communist camp, the Sandinistas presented themselves as social democrats. Their duplicitous position confused and confounded both their enemies and their allies.

    Always until then a clandestine “military-political organization,” now that the Revolution had been won, the FSLN was in a position to call a democratic convention of its members, to adopt a constitution, to ratify a program, and to elect a leadership—but the FSLN did none of those things. In fact, the FSLN would call no convention until after it lost power in 1990. The FSLN’s nine-man directorate would continue to lead the party through top-down commands to the country’s regions and zones as it had since its founding. Democracy in the party was not a core value of the Sandinistas; on the contrary, an authoritarian, quasi-military organization remained in place.

    To rule the country, the FSLN created two bodies: la Junta de gobierno (the Governing Committee) and el Consejo del Estado (Council of State). The Consejo, was presented as a kind of popular parliament, though the member organizations were chosen by the Junta and were overwhelmingly FSLN controlled mass organizations: labor unions, women’s groups, and farmers. In reality, the Consejo took no initiatives on its own.

    The real decisions were made by the Junta, made up of five members, two moderate business people and two Sandinistas, and a fifth supposedly neutral person. But the fifth person, author Sergio Ramírez, was actually a secret FSLN member, allowing the FSLN to dominate. When the two non-FSLN members realized that they were being lied to and manipulated, naturally they resigned. The FSLN National Directorate headed by Daniel Ortega thus became the country’s government. While other parties existed, they had no role in government.

    Democracy wasn’t an important Sandinista value, but equality was. The FSLN launched a remarkable national literacy campaign involving tens of thousands of young people who went to every region of the country teaching people to read and write.

    The new revolutionary government also made health care a priority, educating new doctors and nurses, creating a public health system with clinics and hospitals that brought health care to hundreds of thousands of people who had never in their lives seen a doctor.

    Once in power, the FSLN leaders and party members took over virtually all of the government’s most important offices, making themselves the heads of ministries that had thousands of employees and managed important resources. In this way the FSLN began to fuse with the state, much like the Communist Party in Cuba or the Institutional Revolutionary Party in Mexico.

    The Sandinistas nationalized the country’s banks and the U.S.-owned mines and lumber industry, but avoided confrontation with the largest U.S. corporations such as Caterpillar, Exxon, IBM, and Texaco. Understandably and quite reasonably, the FSLN nationalized the properties of Somoza and of other capitalists who had left the country and supported the armed opposition.

    The FSLN did not nationalize the properties of all Nicaraguan businesspeople, however. Those who stayed in the country and continued to produce could keep their property and produce their goods, though the only market for them was the Sandinista government. Still, many of the Nicaraguan capitalists who stayed in the country were hostile to the government, even if not involved in the armed resistance, and worked to undermine it.

    The Sandinistas now ran the country’s government, managed national finances and controlled much of the economy. Suddenly, the men who had lived such dangerous and precarious lives in the mountains had salaries, automobiles and homes. Somozas’ fleet of Mercedes-Benz autos passed into the hand of FSLN comandantes. The FSLN took over the mansions of the bourgeoisie and used them for offices and in many cases for residences for the leaders. Even if most at first lived modestly, the slender edge of the wedge of privilege began to separate the leadership from the regular party members.

    The Sandinistas developed plans for the management of the economy, but the execution of the plans proved difficult for a variety of reasons. To begin with, the country was poor and suffering from Somoza’s destructive bombing of the cities. Somoza and other wealthy people had carried their money off to Miami or to other Central American or Caribbean countries. The comandantes, each ensconced in his own ministry, worked to strengthen their respective positions within the state, some developing mega-projects that absorbed tremendous resources without necessarily producing many benefits. The capitalists who remained in Nicaragua often resisted the government’s proposals, sabotaging national plans, while the mass of the population raised its own demands for economic improvements, demands that the FSLN administration could not meet.

    The FSLN organized and controlled a range of mass organizations in Nicaraguan society to provide the party with a social base of power and to resist the capitalist class and the conservative parties. After more than forty years of dictatorship, the Nicaraguans were anxious to organize themselves and use their collective power to right the wrongs that they had endured.

    The farmers wanted land while the working class wanted higher wages, but these groups would find it hard to fulfill their desires. The Sandinistas, who believed in state ownership of the farmland and collectivized agriculture, declined to give farmers titles to their land, and many became disgruntled, some joining the armed opposition.

    Workers wanted higher wages, but the Sandinista government, which controlled the largest labor unions, worked to restrain workers’ wages in what the Sandinistas saw as the interests of the whole society. Especially after the U.S. backed Contra War began the Sandinistas cracked down on the independent labor unions. When independent left-wing unions or right-wing unions struck, the government crushed their strikes.

    The Contra War

    Republican Ronald Reagan was elected president in 1980 on a campaign platform that included support for “the efforts of the Nicaraguan people to establish a free and independent government.” The meaning of this phrase was clear: he would work to overthrow the Sandinistas. In January of 1981, Reagan, operating through the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, successfully pressured the more moderate Nicaraguan opposition to unite with the more right-wing elements including the former National Guard officers. They formed the Contras, or counterrevolutionaries. By March 1982 the Contra War began with the bombing of bridges in northern Nicaragua.

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    The CIA helped the new Contra movement, armed by the United States, to establish a headquarters in Honduras from which it launched sorties, principally attacks on civilian Sandinista institutions such as schools, health clinics, and agricultural cooperatives, killing many. The U.S. would spend hundreds of millions of dollars in support of the Contras in an attempt to bring down the Sandinista government by force. The CIA’s support for the Contras was supplemented by an economic embargo that strangled the economy and brought tremendous hardship to the Nicaraguan people.

    The Sandinistas, however, also made mistakes that deepened what became not simply a foreign military intervention on the side of the old regime, but a genuine civil war with working people fighting and dying on both sides. Many small farmers, disappointed in not receiving title to their land, went off in significant numbers to join the Contras.

    The Sandinistas’ dealings with the indigenous Miskito peoples on the Caribbean coast, at first insensitive and then aggressive—aggravated by CIA and U.S. State Department intervention—led some of the Miskitos to join the Contras as well. Finally, fighting not only the old National Guard but also Nicaraguan peasants and indigenous people, and with its back to the wall, the Sandinista government instituted military conscription, a tremendously unpopular policy that led many young Nicaraguans to dodge the draft by fleeing to Contra held territory.

    Because Reagan’s principal charge against the Sandinistas and a point of leverage with other governments was the fact that the FSLN had never been elected to power, it was decided to hold national elections to a genuine legislature and to a new set of offices that included a president. Daniel Ortega was the FSLN presidential candidate running against Arturo Cruz, one of Los Doce, who had gone into the legal opposition. Though secretly subsidized by the CIA, the U.S. government came to the conclusion that Cruz could not win and pressured him to withdraw at the last minute, making Ortega’s election with 67 percent of the vote appear to be illegitimate because there was no opposition candidate.

    The FSLN government, now based on a national election, and still controlling the country’s mass organizations, was more powerful than ever, though it was a government that less resembled Communist Cuba and more and more resembled Mexico.

    ImageBy the mid-1980s, under pressure from the Central American solidarity movement, which had a great deal of support from U.S. churches, the United States Congress was beginning to turn against the war. The Boland Amendment to the 1985 budget cut off funding to the war. But Ronald Reagan, not to be stopped, arranged for the secret and illegal sale of weapons to Iran via Israel, the proceeds of the sale to be used to continue to support the Contras. The story of the unlawful Iran-Contra deal came to light in 1986, further discrediting the Reagan administration and leading to the end of U.S. support for the Contras, while at about the same time the Soviet Union began to phase out support to the Sandinistas.

    The U.S.-backed Contra War had a devastating impact on Nicaragua, making it virtually impossible for the Sandinistas to pursue their ambitious program of economic and social reforms. In fact, by the mid-1980s the Sandinistas had been forced by the war and embargo to impose neoliberal policies, reducing taxes on businesses and cutting the budget for social programs.

    The U.S. intervention in Nicaragua—taking place at the same time as civil wars in both El Salvador and Guatemala, where the U.S. backed right-wing governments against left-wing guerrilla movements—represented a threat to the entire region. Faced with that reality, Costa Rican President Oscar Arias courageously, in defiance of Reagan, called for peace negotiations between the Sandinistas and the Contras, and finally in March of 1988 the war ended.

    The war’s impact had been devastating: 30,865 Nicaraguans had been killed, 30,000 or more wounded and maimed; the war had cost $1.9 billion, while the embargo represented another $1 billion loss. The Nicaraguan government sued the United States for damages at the World Court, which ordered the U.S. to pay Nicaragua $17 billion in war reparations. The U.S. government refused, still intent on destroying the Nicaraguan economy and driving the Sandinistas from power.

    From Revolution to Reaction

    A year after the war ended, preparations began for the 1990 presidential and legislative elections. Daniel Ortega put himself forward as the FSLN candidate, campaigning in his military uniform as a leader of the revolution and of the war against the Contras. The FSLN, which had still never held a convention, was transformed from a military-political organization into an electoral party aimed at getting out the vote.

    Opposing Ortega and the FSLN was “The National Union of Opposition” (UNO), an unwieldy coalition of all the opposition parties, from the Conservatives on the right to the Communists on the left. Encouraged by the CIA, UNO chose as its president Violeta Chamorro, widow of the famous Conservative leader and opposition journalist Pedro Joaquín Chamorro, widely believed to have been assassinated by Somoza shortly before the Revolution.

    Violeta Chamorro had revolutionary credentials herself since she had been a member of the Junta, though now she presented herself as a housewife, mother and grandmother who would reunite the nation in peace. The CIA and the U.S. National Endowment for Democracy largely funded her campaign, while the U.S. Republican and Democratic Party, principally the latter, provided political consultants. U.S. President George H.W. Bush also did everything he could to help her, frequently posing with her in photos.

    Ortega and the FSLN were convinced they would win the election, but to the Nicaraguan people, a vote for the revolutionary Ortega appeared to be a vote for war and the draft, while a vote for Chamorro seemed to be a vote for peace and a return to civilian life. Exhausted by a decade of revolution and war, not surprisingly, the country chose the latter. Some 86 percent of the population voted and to the shock of the Sandinistas, Chamorro garnered 55 percent of the vote, while Ortega received 41 percent. Her coalition won 51 seats in the legislature, while the Sandinistas won 39 out of a total of 93.

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    Immediately upon her election Chamorro’s UNO coalition split into two parts: a right-wing led by her vice-president Virgilio Godoy that wanted to return to the glory days of the Somoza era, and the moderate wing led by her son-in-law Antonio Lacayo, who simply wished to establish a modern capitalist state that could create the conditions for the making of profit and the accumulation of capital. With their electoral coalition collapsing, Chamorro and Lacayo realized that they could only govern with the cooperation of the FSLN.

    The FSLN, after all, held not only the largest disciplined block of votes in the National Assembly, but also commanded all of the mass organizations, most importantly the labor unions, which could paralyze Chamorro’s government. And, most significant of all, Humberto Ortega, brother of Daniel Ortega, headed the Sandinista Army.

    Lacayo and the Ortega brothers met and negotiated a transition pact that demobilized the Contras that: 1) reduced the size of the Sandinista Army and made it a politically neutral, professional organization; 2) respected titles of land distributed to the people; and 3) promised no reprisals against public employees. At the same time, a secret deal was made. Antonio Lacayo, Daniel Ortega, and his brother Humberto Ortega became—in the words of former Sandinista leader Moïses Hassan—the “triumvirs,” the real rulers of Nicaragua during the Chamorro administration.

    The three men agreed that they would marginalize “the radicals” in both of their parties, the Somoza element in UNO and the radical, militant leftists in the FSLN, in order to create a center bloc that had a majority in the National Assembly. This was the Popular Front the Sandinistas had rejected twenty years before, but now with a vengeance. This was a kind of government of national unity formed by right and left. Ortega and the FSLN, intent on keeping as much political power as possible, declined to go into opposition and fight the right-wing government, but rather took responsibility for the government and its policies.

    The policies would be neoliberal. Nicaragua in 1990 owed $4 billion to the Soviet Union and about $7 billion to western nations. Working together, the triumvirs would make arrangements with the International Monetary Fund to deal with its debt, accepting a program of structural adjustments in exchange for approval for new loans. The banks and industries that had been nationalized by the Sandinistas would be privatized; property that had been expropriated from Nicaraguans who had gone abroad would be returned to them.

    Life for the working class deteriorated at once. Soldiers were demobilized; public employees were laid off, and unemployment mounted. When public employees struck, they were granted big wage gains, but inflation then wiped out those increases almost immediately. Free trade zones were reestablished, maquiladoras opened up, with a special tax regime to attract foreign investment, while maquiladora workers were discouraged from organizing unions or striking. Health care and some other social programs survived, if on reduced budgets, but the standard of living of working people declined drastically.

    In the last days before Chamorro took office, the FSLN government had passed a series of laws transferring nationalized lands, public buildings, and homes from the government to top Sandinista leaders. The ostensible justification for those laws was that the FSLN would protect social property from being seized by a right, and to a large extent that was what happened. But it was also the case that Sandinista leaders took advantage of the laws to acquire homes and other real estate and to enrich themselves. The laws were often referred to as the piñata, after the papier maché figures that children at birthday parties break open spilling the candy inside, then scramble to gather up and put in their pockets. Many Nicaraguans now viewed the Sandinistas as greedy.

    During the changeover from the Ortega to the Chamorro government, FSLN leaders also took over various programs and resources that they had managed, transforming them into non-governmental organizations. The new NGOs, some supported by funds from foreign governments, provided the Sandinistas with jobs, titles, incomes, cars and new careers. The wedge of privilege began to drive more deeply into Nicaraguan society and the divide between the FSLN leaders and the members grew.

    Faced with entirely new circumstances and demands for a voice from the party’s rank-and-file, in 1991, the FSLN held its first ever convention attended by 581 delegates, the majority of them democratically elected. While some delegates criticized the FSLN’s lack of democracy, and while the convention divided into two factions, there was no strong alternative leadership. Daniel Ortega managed to put himself at the center of the party and to hold on to power.

    With the Soviet Union having collapsed, and Cuba economically desperate, the convention voted to affiliate with the Socialist International, the historic organization of social democracy led by the European socialist parties. This development resembled the Eurocommunist movement of the 1970s and 1980s when the formerly Stalinist Communist parties of Western Europe began to transform themselves into social democratic parties. At about the same time, the social democratic parties in government managed capitalism by adopting neoliberal policies.

    While the 1991 convention represented the FSLN’s first experience with democracy in almost thirty years, it focused principally on internal party questions and dealt with none of the actual political issues facing the party. The Sandinista members did not seriously discuss and debate the FSLN-UNO coalition, or the secret role of the Ortegas in cahoots with Lacayo (the triumvirs), or the fact that their party was jointly responsible for the government’s neoliberal policies.

    So despite the apparently democratic convention, the former comandantes of the National Directorate continued to control the party in a top-down fashion, in the way they had learned from the Communist PSN and the Cuban Communists decades before. Daniel Ortega was not solely responsible for the FSLN’s rightward movement; he had the support of the National Directorate, of many historic FSLN leaders, and the tacit support of the party’s rank-and-file. He had after all been a key leader of the revolution and many still trusted him. The plan was that at the end of Chamorro’s term, the FSLN would be elected to office again and return to the struggle for socialism. Trained in the Soviet and Cuban top-down organizational tradition, the ranks by and large followed their leaders loyally, though there were some important exceptions.

    During the years of the Chamorro administration, the difference that had surfaced at the 1991 convention would lead to a split at the top of the party. Novelist Sergio Ramírez, comandante Dora María Téllez, FSLN Barricada editor Carlos Fernando Chamorro, and priest-poet Ernesto Cardenal wrote a document, “Return to the Majorities” calling upon the FSLN to make a full transition to a European-style social democratic party. Daniel Ortega, Tomás Borge and other members of the Sandinista National Directorate wrote a rival document, misleadingly titled “The Democratic Left,” though in fact they defended their historic Soviet- and Cuban-inspired politics. The political divisions in the party were widening.

    In a struggle shortly afterwards over amendments to the Nicaraguan constitution, Ramírez led virtually the entire FSLN parliamentary delegation into opposition to Daniel Ortega. Thirty FSLN delegates left and created a new party, the Sandinista Renovation Movement (MRS), though the intellectuals and politicians of the MRS proved no match for the Sandinista organization and were later badly beatenin their bids for reelection to the National Assembly.

    Still, for the first time ever, Nicaragua had in the 1994-1997 period a democratic legislature, though the politics were a combination of conservative economic measures and democratic reforms. At the same time, in Nicaraguan society new independent NGOs and social movements appeared, most importantly a dynamic new feminist movement and some activist environmental organizations. The economic situation also improved somewhat at the end of the Chamorro years, though about 75 percent of the population remained poor.

    The Somocistas Returns to Power

    Violeta Chamorro and Antonio Lacayo—working with Ortega and the FSLN—had aligned Nicaragua with the “Washington Consensus”; that is, with the neoliberal policies of the era, but they had not been arch-reactionaries, nor were they fundamentally corrupt. Worse was yet to come.

    From 1997 to 2007 Nicaragua would be led by two presidents, Arnoldo Alemán and Enrique Bolaños, who came out of the Somoza political milieu and who would combine profoundly right-wing politics with widespread corruption. But like Chamorro, in order to run the country, they too found that they had either to enter into partnership with Ortega and the Sandinistas or face political paralysis. The Sandinistas were not the principal instigators of the conservatism and corruption that flourished in those years, but they shared political power with the culprits.

    ImageArnoldo Alemán, known as El Gordo, the Fat Man, had lived briefly in exile in Miami but then returned to Nicaragua to become leader of the somocista Liberal Constitutionalist Party (PLC). During Chamorro’s presidency he won election to the Managua city council, which then chose him to be mayor. Alemán encouraged public works like street paving, traffic circles, and fountains, and he promoted the development of gas stations, fast food restaurants, and shopping malls, all very popular with the public. Alemán had the Sandinistas’ revolutionary murals painted over and put up billboards proclaiming, “The Mayor gets things done.” People mostly seemed to agree.

    Backed by wealthy Nicaraguans at home and by those still living abroad, Alemán created the Liberal Alliance coalition and built grassroots organizations much like those of the Sandinistas. Unlike the historic Liberal party, which was anti-clerical, Aléman talked religion and won the backing of Cardinal Obando y Bravo, the spiritual leader of the rightwing, who gave a sermon referring to Ortega as a snake. Running on the slogan “War against unemployment and poverty,” Alemán traveled around the country distributing t-shirts and caps bearing his name. An attempt on Alemán’s life, presumed by the public to have been carried out by the Sandinistas, won him the sympathy of some voters.

    Daniel Ortega was challenged for the FSLN’s party nomination by comandante Vilma Nuñez, one of the few women comandantes and a leader of the democratic dissidents still within the party. Ortega easily defeated her democratic and feminist challenge, becoming the party’s nominee for the third time.

    For this campaign he transformed himself completely, dressing in civilian clothes, appearing as a respectable family man with his wife Rosario Murillo and their children. He talked about the United States as Nicaragua’s “great neighbor,” not its implacable enemy. Ortega advocated a politics of “Neither extreme right nor extreme left” and called for a “United Front.” While accepting neoliberal economic realities, Ortega continued to advocate social programs for working people and the poor. Nevertheless, Alemán won by a landslide, defeating Ortega 51 percent to 38 percent while his Liberal party took 42 of the 93 seats in the National Assembly.

    Alemán’s political practice in power was simple: use the public treasury to enrich himself and his Liberal Alliance allies, understanding that every government contract for infrastructure or services provided opportunities for graft. Everything, even a disaster, was an opportunity for larceny. Hurricane Mitch of 1998 led to massive destruction in Nicaragua and then to considerable economic aid from Europe and the United States, which created even more opportunities for embezzlement. When Comptroller General Agustín Jarquín discovered and revealed many of Alemán’s swindles, the president had him jailed, leading to protest demonstrations. The corruption scandal raised the possibility of prison for Alemán

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    By 1999, Aléman was in serious trouble—but so was Daniel Ortega. Ortega’s step-daughter Zoilamérica Nervaez, 30-year old FSLN member and sociologist, filed detailed charges her step-father, first in a Nicaraguan court and then in the Inter-American Court, accusing Ortega of having sexually molested her since she was 11 years old. Both Alemán and Ortega feared being hauled into court, tried, and possibly convicted and imprisoned, almost surely putting an end to their political careers.

    Their common fear of prosecution led them to forge the Pact of 1999. The FSLN and PLC leaders agreed to revise the Constitution and the Electoral Law, and to carve up the government so as to equally distribute positions in the Supreme Court, the Electoral Council, the Controller, the Attorney General’s Office, and the Superintendent of Banks to both parties.

    Key to the deal was that Aléman like Ortega would, without an election, become a member of the National Assembly, so that both men would enjoy legislative immunity and could not be brought into court. The number of votes needed to overturn legislative immunity was increased to make it virtually impossible. Thus Ortega and the FSLN now not only participated in a bourgeois political system, but in the most undemocratic and corrupt version of such parliamentary politics.

    His reputation destroyed by the revelations of his administration’s corruption, Aléman had no chance as an incumbent candidate, and so he chose as his party’s standard bearer for the 2002 election his vice-president Enrique Bolaños Geyer whom Alemán thought he could control. Bolaños was a cotton farmer, director of the High Council of Private Enterprise, and a member of the somocista PLC. He would prove, however, to be more independent that Alemán expected.

    Humberto Ortega suggested that Daniel Ortega sit out the 2002 election so that he would appear to be more democratic, but the ever-ambitious Daniel went ahead with his fourth national presidential campaign, once again in civilian clothes, with his wife beside him, now talking social democracy and religion. Despite Ortega’s new spiritual conversion, Bolaños won by 56 to 43 percent. While Bolaños became the president, Aléman and Ortega together controlled the National Assembly.

    Bolaños quickly went to war with Aléman. His Attorney General indicted Alemán for embezzling $96.7 million and using his government credit card to pay for $1.8 million in personal bills: jewels, carpets, hotels in Bali, Paris nightclubs. Aléman responded by revealing that while serving as his vice-president, Bolaños had received from the National Democratic Front—that is, from the Contras—some $7,000 per month in salary and $40,100 per month in expenses, that is $564,000 a year, ostensibly to train election watchers.

    Bolaños, unfazed by those revelations, had Aléman arrested, tried, and convicted of corruption, embezzlement, and money laundering. Alemán should have spent years in prison, but, ostensibly because he was ill, the court—controlled by Ortega—allowed him to serve his sentence at first at home and later anywhere in the country he liked. At the same time Ortega and Aléman renewed their pact in 2004, making it virtually impossible for Bolaños, who had no party and little parliamentary support, to govern.

    While the government was paralyzed by the feud between Bolaños and Aléman, the Nicaraguan capitalist class continued the process of reconstituting itself that had begun under Chamorro. Large banks—Grupo Proamérica, Bancentro (Lafise); Grupo BAC, Grupo Pellas, and Grupo Uno, which were owned by the McGregor, Montealegre, Pellas and other extremely rich families—dominated Nicaraguan finances. And large landlords grew wealthy in agriculture. Foreign buyers and domestic investors in the maquiladoras prospered. Most Nicaraguans, however, lived in poverty as small farmers, agricultural day laborers, industrial workers or maquiladora laborers. Poverty and hunger remained widespread.

    Throughout the period from 1990 to 2006, the Sandinistas entered into political pacts first with Chamorro and then with Aléman—utterly undemocratic political arrangements, corrupt and conservative. Still Ortega and the FSLN continued to use a Marxist-Leninist (that is, Stalinist) discourse within the party while in society they adopted a populist language, promising to improve the lives of the people. On the international stage, Ortega attended conferences and meetings with Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez, thus identifying himself and the FSLN with the far left of the Latin American pink tide.

    “Left” politics of the Soviet-Cuban variety, once sincerely held but now opportunistically deployed, served as a political cover for Ortega and the FSLN, and as an illusory motivation for longtime Sandinista militants. “Marxist-Leninist” politics were not irrelevant, but were absolutely essential to Ortega’s project, a project for which he was not solely responsible, but to which much of the historic leadership of the party and many militants contributed.

    The 2006 Election—Ortega to Power

    In 2004 Ortega called a quite irregular meeting of FSLN leaders and militants at which he announced that he would be the FSLN candidate. Victor Tinoco, a longtime Sandinista leader and former FSLN Minister of Foreign Affairs, who later joined the MRS, wrote in the Jesuit magazine Envío:

    Nearly two years before the 2006 elections, in a final anti-democratic spasm, Daniel Ortega announced the suspension of the FSLN’s primary elections and [declared] that he would be the sole candidate. He made this announcement in Matagalpa, with the “support” and “approval” of some 400 previously selected people, 95% of whom are party or municipal workers, and all of whom have salaries of $2,000-$3,000 a month and are not going to dare to dissent and risk their personal economic prospects. In this way, Daniel Ortega and 400 others decided that the other 600,000 Sandinistas do not have the right to an opinion or to elect their chosen candidate.[4]

    The Movement for Sandinista Renovation (MRS) and the Christian Alternative put forward as their candidate the former FSLN leader Henry Lewites. Lewites, who was quite popular and whose campaign began very well, died of a heart attack in July 2006. His running mate Carlos Mejía Godoy, the enormously popular singer, carried on, but the campaign had lost its momentum and fizzled out.

    Split by the Bolaños-Aléman feud, there were two rival Liberal Party candidates. Eduardo Montealegre, a former banker who had held cabinet positions in both the Aléman and Bolaños governments, organized the Nicaraguan Liberal Alliance (later the Independent Liberal Party). George W. Bush did everything possible to support Montealegre, sending several national Republican figures, such as Jeanne Kirkpatrick and Otto Reich, both of whom had organized U.S. support for the Contras, to assist him, as well as providing millions of dollars for his campaign. Aléman’s wing of the Liberal Party put forward José Rizo, lawyer, businessman, and politician, but one with fewer resources. Alemán’s backing of Rizo’s candidacy served the interests of his partner Ortega.

    Ortega’s campaign in 2006 was more conservative and more religious than any he had run so far. All was sweetness and light. For the 2006 campaign, the Sandinistas got rid of their revolutionary red and black flags and replaced them with pink and turquoise regalia and bunting. The campaign theme song was a Spanish language version of John Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance.” Ortega and his wife Rosario Murillo, married for more than twenty years, had a Catholic wedding performed by Cardinal Miguel Obando y Bravo. Ortega made a public “confession” to Obando for the Sandinistas’ sins during the Revolution, and in return Obando gave Catholics permission to vote for Ortega.

    As Wikileaks has revealed, U.S. Ambassador Paul A. Trivelli informed Secretary of State Condolezza Rice that rumor had it that Ortega had blackmailed Obando with the threat that he would reveal that the Cardinal had had children with his secretary. One of those children was Roberto Rivas, who could also be blackmailed; he would become the future head of the Supreme Electoral Council. To make good on his side of the bargain with Obando, Ortega led the FSLN representatives in a 52-0 vote to make all abortions illegal, without previous exceptions for rape, malformation of the fetus, or risk to the life or health of the mother.

    With the Church behind him, Ortega also wanted to reassure the domestic and international capitalist class that the Sandinista government was no threat. So Ortega chose as his running mate Jaime Morales Carazo, banker and former Contra, a choice that nauseated many Sandinistas. He met with foreign investors, assuring them that their investments in Nicaragua would be safe, saying, “Confiscations are not even being considered.” Ortega did not reject the Central American Free Trade Agreement, but rather called for its renegotiation. Yet, by the same token, Ortega had no problem in May of 2006 attending the Third Alba Summit in Havana, joining Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez, and newly elected Evo Morales.

    When the votes were counted, Ortega had received 38 percent—just enough to be elected without a second ballot—Montealegre, 28 percent, and José Rizo, 7 percent, while MRS candidate Edmundo Jarquín won just 6 percent. Finally, after three unsuccessful presidential campaigns, Ortega had won the presidency, returning to the office he first occupied in 1984. Then, he had been a Marxist-Leninist revolutionary who admired Cuba, the Soviet Union, and the Communist camp. Now he was…well, what was he now?

    Ortega began his presidency by announcing that he would share power equally with his wife Rosario Murillo, saying that people want 50 percent women in the government, so he was giving her half of the presidency. He and Rosario chose a cabinet made up of a congeries of veteran Sandinistas, businessmen, one self-described anarchist, and a New Age reflexologist (whose patients were Daniel and Rosario), as well as several not-very-political professionals. While there were several women, none were feminists in this government that had defined itself as anti-abortion. Ortega and Murillo appointed Cardinal Obando y Bravo to head up the Commission of Verification, Peace, Reconciliation and Justice. Obando also became Ortega’s personal spiritual advisor,

    Early in his presidency, Ortega traveled to Venezuela to meet with Chávez and returned to tell a May Day workers meeting that Venezuelan oil money being delivered through the Latin American Bolivarian Alliance (ALBA) would soon lift Nicaragua out of poverty. Over the next five years Chávez sent Ortega over $2.2 billion in loans and oil credits. These funds went to Albanisa, a private company, and from there principally to poverty programs aimed at providing housing, ending hunger, assisting farmers, and providing scholarships to low-income students.

    Daniel Ortega, unsupervised by either the FSLN or the Nicaraguan government, personally controlled these Venezuelan funds—as much as $200 million per month—which he could use at his discretion: to suborn legislators, to buy the support of NGOs, or to win over church officials. Most famously he gave public employees a $30 per month bonus “a gift of thanks from comandante Ortega.”

    At the same time, Ortega worked with the IMF and the World Bank to have some of the country’s more than $1 billion in debts to them cancelled in return for adopting neoliberal structural reforms. With the United States, Ortega arranged a Millennium Challenge Account $175 million to combat poverty in certain regions. Ortega also cooperated with the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) that provided equipment to the Nicaraguan police. While he railed against U.S. imperialism, year after year he accepted anywhere between $25 and $50 million dollars from the American government.

    Ortega and Murillo worked to rebuild and reorganize the FSLN. After all, Nicaragua was an altogether different country than it had been when the revolution took place. The population had doubled from 2.4 to more than 5 million inhabitants. Those born the year of “The Triumph” of 1979 were now 25 years old and had had no experience of the revolutionary struggle whatsoever and had grown up under the right-wing Chamorro, Aléman, and Bolaños governments.

    Once a party of Marxist-Leninist cadres, the FSLN had become an electoral party that handed out membership cards to hundreds of thousands of people, many of whom had only the vaguest idea of what party membership meant. Yet the party was still led by a handful of Sandinista leaders, the Ortega brothers, Bayardo Arce, and a few others who had been trained in Soviet and Cuban political theory and organizational methods. Now that training and their experience was used to maintain political power in a liberal capitalist state that implemented austerity policies accompanied by social welfare programs.

    Rosario Murillo undertook to replace the largely defunct Sandinista Defense Committees (CSSs) with the new Citizens Power Councils (CPCs), claiming to have organized thousands of them with nearly one million members. The CPCs became vehicles to channel aid, scholarships, and, wrote Envío, “other vote-buying goodies.”

    At the same time Murillo was largely responsible for creating a cult of personality around Daniel Ortega, giant portraits of whom were erected in Managua. Ortega and Murillo, firmly allied with the Catholic Church, led the FSLN in defining itself in the public mind as an anti-feminist organization. Murillo spoke and wrote pamphlets in which she labeled women who worked for abortion rights as upper-class agents of imperialism.

    The FSLN faced challenges—from the independent feminist movement that fought for abortion rights; occasionally from workers’ strikes, such as those of the truck, bus, and taxi drivers strikes of 2008; and from the political opposition left, right, and center which demanded genuine democratic elections. But none of these movements had the leadership, social weight, or strategy to challenge the FSLN successfully.

    A Second Consecutive Term…and a Third

    Ortega, having finally returned to the presidency after more than twenty years, was not about to give it up. The problem was that the Nicaraguan Constitution prohibited anyone from holding the presidency for a consecutive term or for more than two terms, doubly disqualifying Ortega from running for office. Unable to pass a constitutional change through the legislature, in 2009 Ortega reorganized the Supreme Court and had it overturn the constitutional language, making him eligible to run. As the 2012 election approached Ortega also began to buy up TV and radio stations, the country’s principal source of news and information, installing his children as the managers.

    The Liberals, divided amongst themselves and unable to agree on a candidate, found themselves faced with a fait accompli when Fabio Gadea Mantillo threw his hat in the ring. He was an unlikely candidate. A 79-year old pioneer in radio broadcasting and a famous and beloved radio storyteller who held extremely reactionary views on both economic and social issues, Gadea succeeded in winning the Liberal nomination.

    Gadea, backed by Montealegre’s wing of the Liberal Party, held rallies of tens of thousands and appeared to have a real chance of winning the election. In the end, however, Ortega was proclaimed the winner with 62 percent of the vote, while Gadea received 31 percent and Arnold Aléman, the other Liberal candidate got 6 percent. European observers suggested that the victory could be attributed to Roberto Rivas, head of the Supreme Electoral Council, who had overseen an utterly fraudulent election.

    Contemporary Capitalist Nicaragua

    Under Ortega, Nicaragua has become a typical capitalist country with an authoritarian populist political regime. The Nicaraguan government works to promote foreign and domestic investment and to insure that it is profitable. Daniel Ortega, for example, has formed a political and economic alliance with Carlos Pellas, one of the wealthiest men in the country. Nicaragua typically receives nearly $1 billion in foreign direct investment each year in a variety of sectors such as mining, communications, and maquiladoras, the investment coming mainly from countries like Venezuela, Panama, the United States, Spain, and Mexico.

    The Nicaraguan capitalist class, some of which had stayed in the country during the revolution and some of which had gone into exile in Miami, other Central American nations, or the Caribbean, returned wealthier and better-connected internationally than ever before. Some of the Sandinistas who enriched themselves with the piñata became very junior partners in the capitalist world, though most remained socially unacceptable there.

    Today about a dozen families who run the nation’s largest banks and control its most important industries control Nicaragua’s economy. Each of the dozen wealthiest families controls financial institutions or companies with earnings of about $1 billion. In addition, according to banker and scholar Francisco J. Mayorga, the country has another 1,500 families in the millionaire range, and beyond them a stunted middle class of small merchants and professionals who are not very well-off. Teachers, for example, earn about $200 per month.

    Most Nicaraguans remain farmers or factory workers who earn low wages, and many of them live in poverty. Among those low-wage workers are thousands in the multi-billion dollar maquiladora sector that produces for companies such as the Gap, Levi’s Target, Walmart and JC Penny. Unions have complained that they have difficulty organizing, negotiating contracts, and face unfair treatment. Unable to find decent work and wages in Nicaragua, about one million workers migrate to work abroad in Central America or the United States, and many stay there. Such is Daniel Ortega’s Nicaragua.

    Conclusion

    The argument has been made in several recent articles that criticism of the Nicaraguan government is either a product of imperialism or benefits imperialism. These assertions are belied by the fact that many of the most incisive critiques of the FSLN and the Nicaraguan government have been made over the years by former comandantes who argue that the FSLN had become authoritarian and abandoned the struggle for socialism. (Their words can be found in many issues of the Jesuit Envío magazine published from 1981 to today as well as in a number of Sandinista memoirs.)

    Others are willing to criticize Daniel Ortega and the FSLN of today for betraying the Nicaraguan Revolution, but they deny that the left has any responsibility for what happened. In fact, at the root of the degeneration of Ortega and the leadership of the FSLN were the Stalinist politics in which they had been trained by the Communist PSN in the 1950s as well as the Cuban version of Communism that they later adopted. While they rejected the Soviet Union’s Popular Front politics based on building a reformist electoral party and trade unions, they never questioned the nature of the Soviet Union or the Communist Party model of organization.

    The force of U.S. imperialism was enormous throughout the original Sandinista period. The U.S.-backed Contra War and the embargo, followed by the U.S. support for rightwing candidates, had a tremendous negative impact on the Nicaraguan Revolution. U.S. imperialism was the principal external force working to drive Nicaragua to the right. Still, the Sandinistas themselves must also take responsibility for the political choices the made within those highly unfavorable circumstances. Their Soviet-Cuban politics meant that democracy had no central role in the Sandinistas’ conception of socialism. The idea that the working class and the farmers should have a voice and vote in deciding their own fate was simply beyond the ken of the Sandinistas.

    Ortega and the FSLN comandantes believed that they were the leaders of the vanguard of the working class and that they knew what was best for the working people of Nicaragua. At the beginning, they sincerely believed that they would create an egalitarian society, uplifting the workers and farmers, but they never believed that those workers and farmers should actually control the party, the government, the society, or their workplaces. While Ortega and the FSLN leadership gradually gave up on their condescending version of the socialist ideal and became simply ordinary politicians in a capitalist state and society they continued to see themselves as the nation’s necessary leaders.

    Today in Nicaragua there still exist intellectuals who speak out and criticize the government from the left. And feminists continue to organize against domestic abuse and for abortion rights. Workers organize and fight for a living wage. And farmers and environmentalists march together to oppose Ortega’s transoceanic canal project. Perhaps these movements can coalesce one day into a new political movement for a democratic socialism to be constructed from below by the Nicaraguan people themselves.

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    *Dan La Botz is the author of What Went Wrong? The Nicaraguan Revolution: A Marxist Analysis, Historical Materialism Book Series (Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2016). He is also an editor of New Politics: A Journal of Socialist Thought.

    Notes:

    [1] Envío Team, “No Bridge Over These Troubled Waters,” No. 429, July 2016.

    [2] Chuck Kaufman, “Political Turmoil on the Right Gives a Pretext for the US to Question Upcoming Election” Nicanotes, Alliance for Global Justice, email, August 3,

    2016.

    [3] UN World Food Programme, Republic of Nicaragua, at: https://www.wfp.org/countries/nicaragua

     

  • On Scott Ritter’s Attack on the White Helmets

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    It’s painful to read Scott Ritter’s “The ‘White Helmets’ and the Inherent Contradiction of America’s Syria Policy” and see him joining the ranks of the conspiracists on Syria.

    As a weapons inspector for the United Nations Special Commission charged with finding Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction, he was perhaps the most aggressive and outspoken inspector claiming that Saddam was hindering inspections and could be hiding weapons caches. However, after he left UNSCOM in 1998 he gradually had a political conversion and by 2002 was telling the media that the UN had in fact forced Saddam to destroy his weapons of mass destruction in the ‘90’s. He was given some national coverage, but Senator Kerry refused to allow Ritter to appear at crucial hearings on Iraq before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. After Bush’s “Shock and Awe” invasion of Iraq Ritter did admirable work fighting the hysterical charges that Iran was amassing nuclear weapons. I interviewed him on the subject in 2005.

    But with this article he takes a conspiracist view, denying the obvious motivations of tens of hundreds of thousands of Syrian people in trying to remove the Assad dynasty and instead seeing only manipulation by U.S. intelligence and terrorists. He’s a former intelligence officer and like a number of former government officials has a predilection to see political affairs as geopolitical plots and conspiracies, but that doesn’t make them so. 

    I want to refute some of his allegations (none of which are sourced with links or footnotes).

    Ritter: “moderate opposition to Assad that existed only in the minds of Washington politicians, the reality was that what Power called the ‘Syrian opposition’ was, in fact, largely composed of Islamist fundamentalists…”

    My response: For months in 2011 tens of thousands of Syrians marched peacefully against the regime in city after city. Their slogans were democratic and non-sectarian. These demonstrations ended only after so many were shot down or taken to Assad’s torture-to-death prisons and “hospitals.” Even then the non-violent Local Coordinating Committees continued their work and communities set up local governing bodies in areas liberated from the tyrant.  Read Burning Country.

    Ritter: “And yet, when Islamic State launched a major offensive against Syrian government forces in and around the ancient city of Palmyra, in May 2015, the U.S. responded with a single airstrike that targeted Islamic State antiaircraft artillery.”

    My response: Assad has an air force busy blowing up civilians. He could have defended Palmyra himself. I don’t want the U.S. doing bombing, but the idea that the U.S. is at fault for not doing his job for Assad in Palmyra is bosh.

    Ritter: “White Helmets are very partisan.”

    My response: They never claimed to be apolitical. They have openly opposed the regime from the start as all decent people should. They do claim to rescue anyone who needs rescue and as far as I can tell that is true.

    Ritter: “the organizational underpinnings of the White Helmets can be sourced to a March 2013 meeting in Istanbul between a retired British military officer, James Le Mesurier—who had experience in the murky world of private security companies and the shadowy confluence between national security and intelligence operations and international organizations.”

    My response: It’s kind of ironic that Scott Ritter, a former aide to General Schwartzkopf, should dismiss Le Mesurier because of his military background. I don’t know about the man, but he doesn’t seem to be hiding. Here’s his website. Maybe it’s all nefarious, but that requires proof, not innuendo.

    Ritter: The White Helmets have “120 teams located throughout rebel-held Syria—including areas under the exclusive control of Al Nusra Front and Islamic State.”

    My response: This is crap. The Islamic State doesn’t let any independent force like the White Helmets operate in its areas. Al Nusra is different. From what I understand they don’t have totalitarian control of areas in which they operate. They are in and around Free Syrian Army military units usually fighting against them, but sometimes cooperating with them like in the break out attempt from Aleppo a month ago.

    Ritter: “video clips of known White Helmet members, in their distinctive uniform, openly celebrating with Al Nusra fighters in the aftermath of Syrian government defeats, and even carrying weapons.”

    My response: Show us the proof that this happened in any systematic way. I understand that there were a couple of instances of this and that the people involved were dismissed from the White Helmets.

    Ritter: “for all of their heroic rescue work, the White Helmets function as an effective propaganda arm of the anti-Assad movement.”

    My response: No, they function as a rescue squad that have saved tens of thousands from the rubble. Of course, they try to sway world public opinion. Syrians are being bombed day and night and they want it to stop.

    Ritter: “The images and videos depicting the work of the White Helmets inside Syria are exclusively self-produced and distributed.”

    My response: Who else but Syrians are in the besieged and bombed out areas. Assad has killed off independent journalists who’ve tried to report on Syria.

    Ritter: “the United States is the No. 1 funder and facilitator of one of the most effective recruiting tools used by terrorists inside Syria today—the White Helmets.”

    My response: This is revolting. First he uses the term the “anti-Assad movement,” but now they’re all “terrorists” — exactly mimicking Assad’s “analysis.”

    Ritter: In remarking on the decision to give the Right Livelihood Award to the White Helmets he writes, “No mention was made of the murky role played by the White Helmets in fabricating a narrative about a Russian-Syrian airstrike against the Urem al Kubra aid convoy in a way that diverted attention away from Al Nusra Front.

    My response: So Al Nusra has a secret air force that bombed a relief convoy that was sending in material that would be helping people in its area? This is beneath contempt, like the conspiracies seen by some other misguided ex-intelligence professionals who think Syrian oppositionists sarin gassed their own children to gain sympathy from the West and intervention from Obama. The credibility of the Russian-Syrian claims regarding the aid convoy have been convincingly debunked.

    Ritter: Since the White Helmets are “operating side by side, and often in cooperation with, Al Nusra Front (and even Islamic State) on the other—the ability to distinguish hero from villain becomes a challenge.”

    My response: Again he repeats the claim that the WH operate in Islamic State areas. I’ve never heard that claim before. Prove it.

    Conclusion, I’m very glad to see the White Helmets get the Right Livelihood Award along with these other human rights heroes and that Democracy Now! had a favorable report on them on October 13. There is more to the world than great powers and their machinations. Sure, the world’s intelligence agencies are looking for allies and stooges. Popular forces don’t have a lot of choices. They have to seek aid where they can, hoping not to get ensnared. So far the White Helmets have done so. Good luck to them.

     

    Stanley Heller is Administrator of Promoting Enduring Peace and host of “The Struggle” Video News, stanley.heller@pepeace.org.

     

     

  • Trump’s Sexual Assaults Spark Revival of Women’s Movement

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    Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump’s bragging about his sexual assaults on women appears to be sparking a revival of the women’s movement.

    Trump’s remark that he could “grab women by the pussy”—followed by more women coming forward to describe his sexual assault on them over many years—has led to social media protests and to demonstrations in New York City and Washington, D.C.

    Trump’s outrageous remarks prompted women of all ages, races, and ethnicities who had been silent for years and even decades to speak out, sit-in, and protest. We seem to be at a “Women’s Lives Matter” moment and perhaps at the beginning of a new women’s movement.

    While this is taking place in the context of a political campaign where Trump is challenging Democratic Party presidential nominee Hillary Clinton, women’s comments have generally ignored politics as they have spoken up for full equality, for respect for women, and for an end to men’s sexual accosting and assaulting of women.

    After writer Kelly Oxford responded to Trump’s remarks by describing her own first experience of sexual assault and invited others to describe theirs, thousands of women responded with their stories. As NPR described the responses, they told of being: “Groped. Penetrated. Rubbed against. Exposed. Masturbated on. Stalked. Slapped. Raped. Forcibly kissed.”

    The National Organization for Women (NOW) and an ad hoc group with the slogan “Pussy Strikes Back” held a small demonstration at Trump Tower and other Trump properties in New York. So too did a group of women survivors of sexual assault. Another group of 20 women sat in at the Republican National Committee headquarters in Washington, D.C. 

    Women-led protests against Trump are not brand new. A demonstration led by women in New Jersey last August protested against Trump’s remarks and actions against women, but also criticized his denigration of immigrants, Muslims, and the disabled. But these latest protests, while not unconcerned about others, are all about women.

    Donald Trump claims that while he made in appropriate claims about kissing and touching women, that he never did such things, but with more women coming forward everyday with their stories his credibility—which was never great—has been destroyed.

    Republican leaders around the country have said that he should step down, or that they can’t support him, or that they won’t vote for him. Some 160 Republican leaders have abandoned their party’s candidate, whose campaign appears to be crashing and burning—though in this wildly unusual campaign season it would not be wise to make predictions of his defeat and Hillary’s victory.

  • Black Liberation and the Abolition of the Prison Industrial Complex

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    Rachel Herzing lives and works in Oakland, CA, where she fights the violence of policing and imprisonment. She is a co-founder of Critical Resistance, a national grassroots organization dedicated to abolishing the prison industrial complex and the Co-Director of the StoryTelling & Organizing Project, a community resource sharing stories of interventions to interpersonal harm that do not rely on policing, imprisonment, or traditional social services. The following interview was conducted by the True Leap Publishing Collective.

    True Leap Press (TLP): Hi Rachel, thank you so much for taking the time to do this interview. We are excited to have you as a contributor in this inaugural edition of Propter Nos. Our publishing collective thinks the specific timing of this issue is important to highlight, as it is set to be released in the closing days of Black August. Could you possibly explain what Black August is for our readers, and why it is so important for people to recognize today?

    Rachel: Black August is a call for reflection, study, and action to promote Black liberation. Its roots go back to California prisons in the 1970s, during a period of sustained struggle and resistance against racialized violence against Black imprisoned people, especially those calling for Black liberation and challenging state power. Ignited by the deaths of Jonathan and George Jackson in August 1970 and August 1971, and honoring others who gave their lives including Khatari Gualden, William Christmas and James McClain, a group of imprisoned people came together to develop a means of honoring that sacrifice and promoting Black liberation. While August is significant because of the deaths of the Jackson brothers, it is also a month with many other significant moments in Black history in the United States including the formation of the Underground Railroad, Nat Turner’s rebellion, the March on Washington, and the Watts uprising, to name just a few. So there was an idea that this could be a time that imprisoned people in the California prison system could use for reflection, study, and to think about how to strengthen their struggles. During the month, people wouldn’t use radios or television, would fast between sun up and sun down, and practice other measures of self-discipline. Eventually the commemorations during that month were taken up outside of prisons, too. Malcolm X Grassroots Movement became the stewards of the commemoration outside prisons, although many people honor and celebrate this legacy and the roots of the practice. Black August is important to commemorate (and I hope that the variety of ways that people commemorate that legacy can be nurtured and encouraged), in part, because it connects imprisoned organizers and revolutionaries with communities outside of prisons that are struggling for similar things. It’s often the case that imprisoned communities are meant to be invisible, and essentially cut off from non-imprisoned communities, especially communities of struggle. I think that is an important reason to reflect, as well as to study and honor the sacrifices Black revolutionaries have made over centuries and recommit ourselves to the struggle. Black August provides one important vehicle for doing that.

    TLP: On this note, how did the contemporary prison and policing abolition movement emerge? What are some of the major theoretical and historical connections existing between abolitionism in its current iterations and these earlier articulations of the Black/Prisoner liberation struggle just mentioned?

    Rachel: Well I think the periodization probably depends on who you talk to. So since you’re talking to me, you’re going to get something pretty specific [laughter]. I think it also depends on what you mean by “contemporary.” In my mind, there is a long through line of people fighting particularly for the abolition of imprisonment that goes back to Eastern State Penitentiary, which was the first modern day US prison. That was in Philadelphia, 1829. Almost immediately, the Quakers, who played a role in building this institution to encourage reflection, understood that this was a mistake. And Quakers ever since that time have been on the frontline of advocating for the abolition of imprisonment. So there is that old-timey version of it, which links back to the development and the build up of penitentiaries as institutions of containment and human control.

    If you jump ahead to the 1970s and 1980s, you begin to see organizations that are fighting for a moratorium on prison construction, but also groups advocating actively for the abolition of imprisonment. For instance, there is a book that came out during this period called Instead of Prisons, originally published in 1976, by a group called Prison Research Education Action Project (PREAP). At that time, they were looking at a national prison population that was 250,000. They thought surely this is a tipping point, we need to take action now. And so, as we know, the imprisoned population in the US is now nearly 2.3 million. So this struggle dates back, then, to the seventies and eighties, and became somewhat quieter in certain periods, but never completely went away.

    1998 is another important year: the founding Critical Resistance (CR) conference was held in Berkeley that year. That conference did some work to reinvigorate the concept of abolition, and not just as a thing to organize around intellectually, but to organize campaigns and projects around, as well. It also introduced the concept of the prison industrial complex (PIC) into a more popular consciousness. While that conference didn’t form some kind of modern abolitionist movement, it did reignite an energy that may have been less prominent or less active just prior to it. That conference was still very focused on imprisonment and it wasn’t until 2001, when Critical Resistance East happened that there was a really strong attention toward thinking about the abolition of the prison industrial complex as a whole. That was kind of at the forefront of what that conference was all about.

    I think today, and since becoming an organization in 2001, CR plays a particular role in advocating for the abolition of the entire system—of the entire prison industrial complex—rather than just being a prison abolition organization. CR was really at the forefront in the early 2000s as an organization advocating for the abolition of policing, too. Nowadays you hear a lot more people talking about policing itself as something to fight, as opposed to resisting its function within the PIC or even just its relation to imprisonment. It is more common these days for people to think about ways to live without some idea that law enforcement is a kind of natural feature of our world.

    So I think there is a through line there from early Quaker opposition to imprisonment to the contemporary movement for PIC abolition. And like all movements, there are some ebbs and flows to it, but those are some of the key markers that I would use to talk about its development.

    TLP: What exactly brought you into the abolitionist movement? Do you identify as an abolitionist, or is this one aspect of a larger, overarching framework which informs your praxis?

    Rachel: I think it is both. I definitely identify as a prison industrial complex abolitionist. I do that work because I believe in the liberation of Black people and I think that it is one of the foremost ways to see that broader goal fulfilled. Without the abolitionist movement and without a commitment to ending mass criminalization, containment, and death of Black people, I don’t think Black liberation is possible in the United States—or elsewhere, frankly. So I come to this work as a survivor of sexual harm and law enforcement harm who doesn’t believe the PIC makes me any safer, and as somebody who is committed to the liberation of Black people.

    TLP: You alluded earlier to the differences between a politics of gradualist police and prison reform and a prison-industrial-complex abolitionist praxis. What are your thoughts on framing political struggle in terms of either “abolition” or “reform”? Are there not limitations to framing the conversation in this way?

    Rachel: I don’t think it’s very useful to position those as binaries. I think it’s more about different end games. Back in the early 2000s, Critical Resistance started using a framework that a lot of people are using now, and almost never credit CR by the way (which I hope just means it has permeated the common sense and not that people simply don’t credit CR [laughter]). We started saying that the distinction between abolitionists and reformers (or people who either have abolition as their end goal or reform as their end goal) is that reformers tend to see the system as broken— something that can be fixed with some tweaks or some changes. Whereas abolitionists think that the system works really well. They think that the PIC is completely efficient in containing, controlling, killing, and disappearing the people that it is meant to. Even if it might sweep up additional people in its wake, it is very, very effective at doing the work it’s meant to do. So rather than improving a killing machine, an abolitionist goal would be to try and figure out how to take incremental steps—a screw here, a cog there—and make it so the system cannot continue—so it ceases to exist—rather than improving its efficiency. Whereas reformers, with criminal justice reform being their end goal, believe there is something worth improving there. So the groups have different end games.

    I have never understood or participated in moves toward abolition that didn’t take steps of some sort. A reform is just a change, right? So there can be negative reforms and there can be positive reforms. You can make a change that entrenches the system, improves its ability to function, increases its legitimacy, so: a non- abolitionist goal. Or, you can take an incremental step that steals some of the PIC’s power, makes it more difficult to function in the future, or decreases its legitimacy in the eyes of the people.

    I think the false distinction between reform and abolition assumes that there is some kind of pure vision that doesn’t require strategy or incremental moves. If it is possible to get everybody to open all prison doors wide today, fantastic! If it is not, then what can we do to chip away, chip away, chip away so that the PIC doesn’t have the ability to continually increase its power or deepen its reach and hold on our lives?

    TLP: What do you see being the most significant overlaps between: the past two decades of abolitionist organizing, “Black Lives Matter,” and the movement for Black lives in its current phase? I know it’s a messy question, because there are folks at the forefront who are situated both ideologically and physically at the intersections between each. Maybe a better way to phrase it is: do you see any tensions or contradictions between the abolitionist work that has unfolded over the past two decades and the emergent Black-led political forms taking shape today?

    Rachel: First off, I want to be very clear: I cannot speak for Black Lives Matter. I’m not a member of Black Lives Matter, I’m not involved in that organization, and do not have the ability to speak on their strategy or form. But I know there is a distinction between them and the Movement for Black Lives, which is a network of nearly sixty Black-led organizations across the US that came together to meet first in Cleveland, and then out of that, have continued to work together. And Black Lives Matter is one of those organizations. The Movement for Black Lives recently released this policy platform, titled A Vision for Black Lives, with more than thirty policy pieces in it.

    I guess I would say a few things to this question: First, I think that what we are seeing emerge today—what I would loosely call a Black protest movement, which includes a lot of these organizations and formations just mentioned—would have actually been impossible to come out in the way that is has (to have the foundation to stand on and to have people move in the way that they have) if there hadn’t been growing movements against imprisonment and policing in the United States over the previous two decades. I don’t know if there is a single set of politics within Black Lives Matter (and I know it’s not true within the Movement for Black Lives) that compels an abolitionist orientation towards their work. I think there are some people who lean that way and I think there are some people who lean other ways and I think there are a variety of political perspectives and orientations that I’ve seen emerge from this broader network. I guess, at various points, I’ve been surprised that so little attention has been paid to the decades of work (well actually centuries of work, but recent decades in particular) done by Black people and Black organizations to fight the violence of policing in the United States; especially when the protest movement jumped off. I understand that people participating in that protest were fueled in no small part by outrage and in just complete disbelief at the scale and scope of the violence, and that people are being activated and drawn out for the first time. There are some who felt compelled to action right away and weren’t necessarily connected to those other organizations or movements.

    I think as the past two years have unfolded I’ve seen, particularly in the Movement for Black Lives, some of that leadership and some of those organizations doing good study, thinking about other Black liberationist platforms, thinking about the histories of Black struggle around a variety of other issues and really broadening their understanding of the violence facing Black people. That is, not only issues surrounding the prison industrial complex, but also the economic, social, and political features of it. I don’t know that there is a direct relationship between the previous decades of work—and again, I mean prior work along the spectrum from abolitionist to moderate reform—and these new Black protest formations. I think there is probably overlap of people, probably some overlap of thinking, and probably some overlap of strategy. But I don’t know if they are in direct relationship to each other. I would say that while there can be no doubt that Black Lives Matter has had unprecedented cultural significance and impact on US popular culture (on US media and the cultural life of people in the states and globally), it is less clear to me what the organizing impact will be. And in a place like Oakland where I live, there are strong organizations with decades of strong organizing going back to the Panthers and before that set the stage differently than what might be true for other places that have a different history. So I think the longer term impacts of this most recent activism on the power of the prison industrial complex over Black lives (and the lives of people of color and Indigenous people more generally) has yet to be seen. That said, I think there has been a change in the conversation. I think there is no doubt that there is a really significant cultural impact, even though some of it is still in the making.

    TLP: How do you understand the prisoner hunger strikes and other prisoner-led activisms that have occurred over the past decade in relationship to such mobilizations against policing and criminalization in the so-called “free world”?

    Rachel: I think it depends on how you define mobilizations in the free world. I think there is a strong movement outside of prisons and jails. Sometimes it gets more attention and sometimes it gets less attention, but I think it has sustained. I don’t necessarily think that is the same thing as this Black protest strain. Again, there are overlapping people and overlapping players and that sort of thing, but I have yet to see (which again, isn’t to say that it couldn’t happen) an engagement or activism beyond direct action that has meaningfully connected to more sustained organizing around imprisonment.

    So I’m not sure that it’s fair necessarily to say “they’re not doing a good job,” because I’m not sure that’s their goal, right? I think the goal is a much more media focused one. With that being said, I think there is what I would call (and this is me showing my age and crabbiness about social media) an overreliance on social media which has meant that a lot of people are just left out. I personally have the luxury to make choices about being on social media or not and the choice to opt out of certain types of feeds of information and conversations. But there are many people who are living in cages who don’t have access to social media. And even for those who do, they might not have access to it in the same real-time that people living outside of cages do. A lot of that organizing, a lot of that conversation happens over Twitter, happens via Facebook, happens via Instagram. So there are potentially millions of people who don’t have a voice in the conversation. Which is not to say that all imprisoned people are not finding ways to participate. There are many who are finding ways to engage. It’s complicated to organize with imprisoned people and there are all kinds of structural and institutional barriers to doing that. Like I was saying, the system is set up to make people who live in cages invisible and disappeared. So it’s not without all kinds of challenges. And again, I don’t know necessarily if that’s their intention or that’s what the mobilizations against policing are set up to do.

    But to return to the movement that is meant to do that and is engaged in all of that: the 2011 and 2013 prisoner-led hunger strikes in California really re-energized the movement outside of prisons and jails and activated a lot of people. The strikes gave an injection of energy. Part of that was the inspiration of the leadership of people who are imprisoned in solitary confinement, living under the most excruciating conditions that human beings can imagine. They managed to study together, build bridges across the racial divides that are perpetually stoked by the prison regimes, and were able to engage people outside of cages to take up this call to end indefinite solitary confinement—to get people in conditions that they could actually live and fight from. The work of people imprisoned inside of Pelican Bay, Corcoran, High Desert, Folsom . . . wherever they are living and working, really, was a shot in the arm for the outside movement. And I think that’s sustained and spread. California isn’t the only place, and California wasn’t the first place. You also see Alabama, Wisconsin, West Virginia, Washington, and others. In these places you see imprisoned people using this last resort, their own bodies, to highlight just how excruciating and torturous these conditions actually are.

    Pieces like the agreement to End Hostilities that came out of the California prison system and was then taken up by other communities across the state and nationally is an important organizing tool. It refocuses attention to the fact that people are always struggling inside. There are also imprisoned people who are behind the elimination of the use of sterilization on people in women’s prisons, working to increase visitation or organizing against prison and jail expansion or construction. Imprisoned organizers are important players in all of these campaigns and many more.

    TLP: So, to shift gears a bit, how do you suggest we think about the relationship between struggles against the aforementioned aspects of state-condoned racist domestic warfare within US borders and the numerous declared and undeclared imperialist wars abroad?

    Rachel: There can be no doubt that there is a direct relationship between war- making at home and war-making abroad. While I do not use the word “war” lightly in the domestic context (and I know its articulations are different here than in theaters of combat in places like Afghanistan or Iraq), I do think that it is an appropriate term to use regarding the genocidal practices at home—going back to the first attempts to exterminate Indigenous people from this land, to the ongoing structural and actual physical violence used to eliminate peoples’ access and opportunity to have meaningful, healthy lives. There are some concrete overlaps. There are overlapping technologies, for instance. The weaponized drone that was recently used to kill Micah Johnson in Dallas has been used in Iraq; surveillance technologies once tested out in such theaters of war are used regularly by domestic law enforcement; data collection methods used there are also used here; etc.

    I think it is oversimplified to just say: “Oh, well did you know the military is giving extra equipment to law enforcement?” That’s true and that’s a scandal. But that is merely a sliver of where the overlap of interests and warfare practices is happening. The people who are designing war to take place in spaces outside of the United States are influencing the tactics of law enforcement here in the United States. I think you can look at the borders as one of those places where that stuff coalesces strongly. However this is also happening in cities, in counties, and rural areas across the country. There’s also a way that the logic of law enforcement in the United States is taking on an increasingly explicit war-making tenor. There are very clear examples of this such as the declared War on Drugs or War on Gangs. The enforcement of these wars uses a lot of the same tactics and technologies, but also is premised on a sense that there is an enemy that needs to be targeted and eliminated here at home.

    One way this has played out dramatically is with the creation and growth of the Department of Homeland Security since September 11th and the fear-mongering around terrorism that’s used to clamp down on the domestic setting. One small example of this that we have been fighting in Oakland is a program called Urban Shield. It is 48 hours of war games simulations and trainings for SWAT and other special law enforcement forces. The scenarios are incredibly racist, really sensationalized, and millions upon millions of dollars of my county’s money go into these war game competitions. Simultaneously, they hold a trade expo, so you can go and get the latest night-vision goggles, the newest guns, the latest tracking softwares or stingray technology, or robots and drones. In terms of its cultural impact, in this period of increased public attention on the policing of protest you’ll also see things like t-shirts with things like images of protesters in cross-hairs for sale at these tradeshows.

    TLP: While we are on this topic of repression, counterinsurgency warfare, and police spying, could you speak a little bit on the politics of movement security? I don’t mean this as a reiteration of criminological notions of security and securitization. I simply mean, are there certain principles, organizing strategies, or ways of collectivizing political labor that you suggest be embraced, at both organizational and larger popular levels, which can stave off intrusion from the state or the counterrevolutionary aspirations of liberal civil society?

    Rachel: This is definitely not my area of expertise [laughter], but I’ll tell you what I think [more laughter]. I think organizers should always operate on the assumption that they’re being watched, that their communication is being monitored, and that they likely will encounter people intent on provoking people and sharing information to discredit and disrupt organizing, particularly organizing that challenges state power. That said, I think being smart and cognizant of that is different than being paralyzed and paranoid.

    My sense is that strong organizations are a good line of self-defense. Strong organizations, strong coalitions, and strong networks. Trying to go it alone, as individuals or as a handful of people is always more risky than being connected to an organizing infrastructure and a base. But people make different choices about what their tactics require and what they think is strategic. I feel quite certain that when things get more powerful they get more closely monitored. That balance between moving forward toward political goals and using common sense caution is really important. I think calling out and not cooperating with law enforcement always makes really good sense to me [laughter]. Calling out visits by law enforcement, not cooperating, and then letting people know that it’s happening—those kinds of things are extremely important. Having consistency in how people get to enter spaces, when people get to participate in decision-making, those basic organizing guidelines used by many organizations for a long time, is also important.

    TLP: So in the spirit of Black August, we have pulled three quotes from Assata Shakur’s autobiography that we hope to get your opinion on. The first is as follows:

    I have never really understood exactly what a “liberal” is, though, since i have heard “liberals” express every conceivable opinion on every conceivable subject. As far as i can tell, you have extreme right, who are fascist, racist capitalist dogs like Ronald Reagan, who come right out and let you know where they’re coming from. And on the opposite end, you have the left, who are supposed to be committed to justice, equality, and human rights. And somewhere in between these two points is the liberal. As far as i’m concerned, “liberal” is the most meaningless word in the dictionary. History has shown me that as long as some white middle-class people can live high on the hog, take vacations to Europe, send their children to private schools, and reap the benefits of their white skin privileges, then they are “liberals.” But when times get hard and money gets tight they pull off that liberal mask and you think you’re talking to Adolph Hitler. They feel sorry for the so-called underprivileged just as along as they can maintain their own privileges.

    What comes to mind after hearing this quote?

    Rachel: I think it’s an interesting point. In the movement against the prison industrial complex we have struggled a lot with . . . umm . . . liberals [laughter]— some of the most stalwart reformers where reform is their end game. I also think there is some interesting wiggle room there. What is necessary to fulfill their commitment to justice, and equality, and human rights? I mean, if there is a kernel of that there, then part of our work as organizers is to amplify our shared interests, to compel them in that direction, and also to make that compelling. That doesn’t mean we always succeed or that their class interests, racial benefits, gender benefits or other sources of power they want to protect might not ultimately play them one way or the other. But thinking about where can we exploit that kernel of shared interest is interesting to me here, rather than just giving up and writing them off entirely. Of course we need to be cautious of what they are recommending and what they think is “practical” or “pragmatic.” But it’s our job now to push on that and to make other suggestions.

    TLP: Here is the second quote:

    Constructive criticism and self-criticism are extremely important for any revolutionary organization. Without them, people tend to drown in their mistakes, and not learn from them.

    Rachel: Yes. I couldn’t agree more [laughter]. So yes, what Assata said [more laughter]. I worry a little bit, in this period, about a lack of intellectual rigor and lack of discipline, as well as accusations of working “too slowly” or “not understanding” the sense of urgency. You know, we saw this similarly around the rise of the anti- globalization movement which I also think is a direct antecedent of what we are seeing in terms of Black protest today. Similarly, I would say that about Occupy. I would call that a direct antecedent. I don’t think we would be seeing what we are seeing now without those previous movements.

    TLP: Like a tactical antecedent? Or something more ideological?

    Rachel: I think both. But I don’t mean a one-to-one overlap, or like: this led directly to this. But more in terms of some of the orientations towards organizing and the ideological parallels. So definitely not a one-to-one, but I think influenced by quite certainly.

    I think in these moments where there is a heightened investment in direct action as the primary way to move, the pacing and the urgency and all that is required to keep up the pace sometimes makes it challenging to engage people in longer term planning, or study, or assessment. Because people are really feeling like there is no time to do that. That said, if you don’t engage with decades of previous organizing, if you don’t engage with where you are falling down, then you will make the same mistakes over and over. You will make mistakes made a month ago. You will make mistakes that were made ten years ago. You might make those anyways, but they might be more productive mistakes if you’ve made a commitment to studying movement history. The last thing I’ll say about this is that it’s also fucking hard. Nobody wants to confront the stuff they’ve messed up on, or the things they think they’ve done wrong, not to mention talk about their vulnerabilities. I think that also what Assata is describing is very different than a callout culture that’s like “you’re fucked” or “let me just describe all the ways that you’ve messed up.” I think what she’s talking about is a disciplined assessment and reflection within organizational settings on where we need to improve, where we need to tighten up, and where we need to be stronger and smarter.

    TLP: This point on the pace and tempo of struggle is so crucial! I am glad you mention it. There truly is, as you say, this kind of militant presentism (and ahistoricity) unique to the so-called “Left” that is as troubling for movement-builders as the gradualist impulse of liberal antiracist reform. This point also makes for a good transition into our final quote from Shakur, which goes as follows:

    Just because you believe in self-defense doesn’t mean you let yourself be sucked into defending yourself on the enemy’s terms. One of the [Black Panther] party’s major weaknesses, i thought, was the failure to clearly differentiate between aboveground political struggle and underground, clandestine military struggle.

    Rachel: I believe in self-defense. I think that self-defense and self-determination are really key concepts if Black people want to get free. But also for all people who want to be free. In my mind, there is a certain romanticism of a very fixed and narrow conception of self-defense that I think actually comes from, well . . . actually . . . reading Assata, for instance [laughter]. And that is not to criticize her or people who read her. It’s more to say, what does self-defense look like in 2016, versus in 1969 or 1973? In my mind, self-defense requires an understanding of shared fate. It requires an understanding of how what happens in El Salvador or what happens in Palestine or what happens in the Philippines impacts my ability to fight for my own liberation. Some of that has to do with the nature of US imperialism. Some of that also has to do with what we have learned, over many decades, about the power of internationalism generally, and Third World solidarity in particular.

    What is required from our organizations or movements in relationship with these sectors internationally needs to be a determining force in how we shift power. Building a sense of how we defend our own abilities to live healthy, meaningful, powerful lives in relationship to people in similar conditions around the globe is a way of thinking about self-defense that I am interested in exploring further. That includes how we fight US imperialism, or how we fight for food security, or how we fight against large-scale gentrification and the march of capitalism. Toward that end, I think this idea of not being sucked into defending ourselves on the enemy’s terms is important. Building these networks I’ve been describing is one way of determining our own course. It allows us to be proactive instead of only defensive. It allows us to say: “this is what we want to build.” In a lot of ways an abolitionist vision is an example of this kind of proactive vision. It’s not just: “I want to eliminate imprisonment” or “I want to eliminate the cops.” It really is an affirmative ideology and practice. Affirmatively, this is the world I want to live in, therefore I need to take these steps to create the conditions that make that world possible.

    Originally published here

  • Nicaragua’s Authoritarian Turn is Not a Product of Leftist Politics

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    On July 29th, Sandinista President Daniel Ortega unseated 16 opposition members and 12 alternates from Nicaragua’s legislature, eliminating one of the few remaining obstacles to one-party rule. Days later, Ortega named his wife, Rosario Murillo, as his vice presidential running mate for the November elections. Political analysts inside and outside of the country see the move as an attempt to secure a line of family succession, as Ortega, 70, enters the final years of his political career.

    Both Ortega and Murillo are members of the Sandinista National Liberation Front (FSLN), which overthrew the U.S.–backed Somoza family dictatorship in 1979. Ortega led the country from 1985 until the Sandinista electoral defeat in 1990, returning to power after a long hiatus in 2007. After successfully backing a constitutional reform to remove term limits, he won the presidency for a third time in 2011.

    The recent events in Nicaragua have garnered attention from mainstream media outlets in the U.S., decades after international press corps flocked to the country to cover the Sandinista Revolution and the Contra War that followed. While Nicaragua has faded from public consciousness, old political narratives about the country and the Latin American Left die hard. Nowhere is this more evident than the recent New York Times editorial, ‘Dynasty,’ The Nicaragua Version.

    Authored by the Times editorial board, the piece tells a story that reflects U.S. political interests as well as a good deal of amnesia about our country’s history of intervention in Nicaragua. Focusing on the corruption of the Latin American Left as an explanation for rising authoritarianism, the board laments the democratic deficit that now exists in the country. The analysis, steeped in a heady dose of American exceptionalism, omits U.S. efforts to squelch democratic aspirations in Nicaragua and misses the true tragedy of events: Ortega’s betrayal of the revolutionary Left and the vision of a more just society it represented.

    U.S. intervention in Nicaragua began in the 19th century, setting the stage for political instability and violence in the 20th century. Aspirations for an interoceanic canal route in Central America drove early U.S. interests in the region. After the U.S. opted for the more favorable Panamanian route, the Marines occupied Nicaragua from 1912 to 1933, in part to avert competing canal proposals that might weaken their monopoly to the south. Nicaragua’s Augusto César Sandino mounted a guerrilla opposition to the occupation in 1927. To help quash the rebellion, the U.S. armed, trained, and expanded the Nicaraguan National Guard. Anastasio Somoza García headed the organization and used its coercive power to establish one of the most enduring family dynasties in Latin America. After orchestrating Sandino’s assassination, Somoza established an expansive system of political patronage, isolating opponents and maintaining firm control over Nicaraguan civil society. His sons, Luis and Anastasio Somoza Debayle, took the reins of power after their father’s assassination in 1956.

    U.S. occupation and support for the Somoza regime bestowed on Nicaragua a deep and enduring experience of political repression. It is no wonder that FSLN founder Carlos Fonseca identified U.S. imperialism as the driving force behind authoritarianism in the country. Inspired by Sandino’s struggle for national sovereignty in the 1920s, the FSLN emerged in the 1960s as a homegrown response to dictatorship and imperialism. The improbable success of the Sandinista Revolution initiated a period of political transformation, as Nicaragua attempted to forge a new society, grounded in political pluralism and democratic participation, which served the interests of its most vulnerable sectors. Sandinista state policy reflected these commitments with agrarian reform, expansions in health services, and a national literacy campaign that brought a generation of youth to the countryside to teach rural families to read. The revolution infused new social and democratic energies into political life, and popular participation in revolutionary organizations burgeoned.

    The New York Times covered the destabilization campaign extensively, making the editorial board’s claim that “allegations of corruption” led to the Sandinista electoral defeat appear myopic at best.No single factor explains the 1990 electoral defeat that brought the Sandinista Revolution to a close. Certainly, the fledgling Sandinista state made significant errors as it sought to remake the highly unequal society it inherited from the Somoza regime. The Sandinista’s early approach to governing indigenous and Afro-descendant communities on the Caribbean coast was one of the most serious. But these missteps are overshadowed by the tremendous resources and energy the U.S. dedicated to sabotaging the revolution. As Nicaraguan poet and former Sandinista Gioconda Belli writes in her memoir of the revolutionary years, “I will never cease to be appalled at the utterly venomous, unwarranted manner in which the United States acted toward a tiny country that simply tried to do things its own way, even if this meant making its own mistakes.” A massive propaganda campaign against the revolutionary state paired with diplomatic pressures to isolate the country were followed by $400 million USD in aid to the Contra insurgency, the mining of Nicaraguan harbors, and a debilitating U.S. trade embargo. The New York Times covered the destabilization campaign extensively, making the editorial board’s claim that “allegations of corruption” led to the Sandinista electoral defeat appear myopic at best.

    War weary and suffering scarcity and economic crisis by the late 1980s, the Nicaraguan people sought relief in the democratic process. But beyond the respite from war, the average Nicaraguan did not fare well after the revolution. U.S. intervention persisted, now through the mechanism of development and “Washington Consensus” reforms. The Sandinista government inherited $1.6 billion USD in debt from the Somoza regime. Burdened by economic sanctions and defense spending during the war, the country’s debt had grown to $10.8 billion USD by the end of the revolution. The economy stabilized with International Monetary Fund oversight, but poverty and unemployment rates remained high and popular sectors bore the brunt of austerity, privatization, and economic adjustment policies. Meanwhile, the national economy staggered under a growing debt burden that necessitated debt relief through the Heavily Indebted Poor Countries (HIPC) program in the mid-2000s. This period of free market reform, sociologist William Robinson contends, resulted in a process of class restructuring that concentrated wealth in the hands of the Nicaraguan elite and multinational corporations.

    It was during these difficult years that Ortega’s betrayal of the revolutionary Left began in earnest, as he molded the Sandinista Party into a vehicle to advance his own interests. The transfer of power from the revolutionary state to the center-right coalition led by President Violeta Chamorro was marred by the appropriation of public funds and properties by outgoing officials, Ortega included. These acts of plunder, popularly referred to as the Piñata, paved the way for the development of a powerful Sandinista business class. Another key moment of alienation occurred in 1998 when Murillo’s daughter, Zoilamérica Narváez, accused Ortega of sexually abusing her as an adolescent. The feminist Left rallied in support of Narváez, but Murillo chose to side with Ortega, cementing her position as his second-in-command. Once it became clear that the popular vote alone would not be a viable strategy to regain the presidency, Ortega engineered his return to power by changing electoral laws, aided by quid pro quo pacts with right-wing caudillo Arnoldo Alemán. The coup de grace was Sandinista support for a total abortion ban, which established Ortega’s alliance with the Christian Right in the run up to the 2006 elections that returned him to power.

    Despite their alliances with the Right, Ortega and Murillo, who is currently communications director for her husband’s administration, continue to characterize their political project as one of popular revolutionary democracy, now rebranded with the slogan “Christian, Socialist, and in Solidarity.” Their vision of direct democracy or “the presidency of the people” is administered through local Citizen Power Councils (CPCs), which have become a conduit for redistributive programs that focus on reducing hunger, poverty, and infant mortality. But even with a growing economy and some success with poverty reduction, Nicaragua continues to be one of the poorest countries in Latin America and many citizens remain dependent on remittances from family living outside of the country. Moreover, critics suggest that the decision to funnel social services through party-based organizations like CPCs is part and parcel of Ortega’s effort to consolidate power. The result is the politicization of redistributive programs, as CPCs become vehicles for new systems of party patronage.

    Civil society, which emerged as a vibrant political sphere in the 1990s, has suffered under the Ortega administration. For instance, Ortega has targeted feminist non-governmental organizations, many of them founded by onetime Sandinistas, with policies that monitor and limit their outside funding. These efforts have been accompanied by a vitriolic campaign in FSLN-controlled media, accusing Nicaraguan feminists of money laundering, CIA collusion, pornography, and promoting illegal abortions. Attempts by former Sandinistas to develop opposition parties like the Sandinista Renovation Movement have been met with similar responses. A cursory review of Ortega’s policy positions shows that his administration no longer enacts the values that once defined the Sandinista Revolution. As Sandinista Vice President of Nicaragua from 1985 to 1990, Sergio Ramírez, writes in his memoir Adiós Muchachos, the party has been “entirely replaced by the personal will of Daniel himself and his wife, Rosario Murillo.” What we are witnessing today is not the return of Sandinismo but the rise of Orteguismo.

    Nowhere is the betrayal of the revolution more apparent than in Ortega’s efforts to construct an Interoceanic Grand Canal for Nicaragua. This $50 billion USD megaproject led by the Chinese-owned Hong Kong Nicaragua Development Group represents a high-risk bid to integrate the country into the global economy. Detractors argue that the canal would strip Nicaragua of its national sovereignty, damage the environment, increase vulnerability to climate change, displace tens of thousands of people, violate the rights of indigenous and Afro-descendant peoples, and bring scant economic benefit to popular sectors. Pushed through the Sandinista controlled-legislature with little debate and no public consultation, the canal concession, Law 840, grants extraordinary power to the concessionaire. Once in operation, the state will receive a mere 1 percent of the profit share with an increase of 10 percent each decade of operation. Law 840 further grants the concessionaire the right to expropriate lands for subprojects, including a petroleum pipeline, an interoceanic railway, free trade zones, an international airport, and any other infrastructure deemed necessary.

    In a stark departure from the ethos of revolutionary socialism, the canal project shifts risk from corporate backers to some of the most vulnerable sectors of Nicaraguan society. The move reflects Ortega’s embrace of foreign direct investment and his close working relationship with the Nicaraguan business class, represented by the Superior Council for Private Enterprise (COSEP). If built, the canal and its subprojects would effect land reform in reverse by transferring lands held by smallholders and indigenous and Afro-descendant communities to private capitalist interests. In response, mestizo communities in the path of the canal have organized mass protests, and indigenous and Afro-descendant leaders have denounced the state’s violation of their right to free, prior, and informed consent at the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.

    Popular resistance to the canal project reflects new and unprecedented solidarities that defy traditional political rivalries between Left and Right. Revolutionary figures from the 1970s and 1980s have come out in support of rural communities populated by former Contra combatants, while mestizo, indigenous, and Afro-descendant people living along the canal route have found new grounds for solidarity. These coalitions represent the real face of progressive politics in the region, which harbors a healthy distrust of electoral politics and politicians on both the Left and Right. As the vanguard of participatory democracy in Nicaragua, canal opponents offer a critical take on how capitalist intensification and creeping authoritarianism undermine the interests of popular sectors and the pursuit of a more just society.

    What the New York Times editorial board misses is that the corruption and authoritarianism unfolding in Nicaragua is not a failure exclusive to the contemporary FSLN. Ortega’s efforts to establish a family dynasty are distressing, but he is hardly unique. The revival of the strongman role reflects a political tradition of caudillismo in Nicaragua. The Sandinista Revolution offered a short-lived challenge to that tradition. Even with the mistakes made by its leadership, the revolution’s vision of popular democracy and embrace of liberation theology’s preferential option for the poor created a democratic opening in the 1980s that was once unimaginable. U.S. efforts to crush this opening are a shameful product of our interventionist policy in the region.

    The editorial board closes by noting dire conditions in Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala, which have led citizens of these countries to flee their homes for an uncertain future in the U.S. Nicaragua has been spared the worst of the violence that plagues postwar Central America, but all four countries share a crippling legacy of U.S. intervention. After the Cold War, the focus shifted to counternarcotics, and the U.S. helped to remilitarize the region to fight the drug war. At home, border militarization and the criminalization of immigration has added another layer of violence to our historical entanglement with our neighbors to the south. For the rest of the world, our interference in Latin America has had similarly destructive consequences. Historian Greg Grandin writes that the region, as a workshop for U.S. empire, has served as a testing ground for interventionist strategies and counter-insurgency tactics used in Southeast Asia, Africa, and the Middle East.

    There is no mistake that we are witnessing an authoritarian turn in Nicaragua. But if we are to understand how and why this happened we cannot ignore the role of U.S. intervention. Rather than chiding the Latin American Left for its corruption or anti-democratic tendencies, we would do well to consider how the U.S. presence in the region has diminished democracy and promoted violence and suffering. Any effort to understand contemporary Central America demands an honest reckoning with this history. And while we too lament the growing authoritarianism of the Sandinista state, a critical reexamination of U.S. policy in Central America is long overdue.

    Originally posted at NACLA

  • Organizing Prisons in the 1960s and 1970s

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    On the 45th anniversary of the Attica Prison rebellion in 1971, Process speaks with seven scholars of the carceral state about prisoners’ organizing in the 1960s and 1970s and movements protesting mass incarceration today. This is the first of a three-part series, guest edited for Process by Jessie Kindig. Check out parts two and three.

    Part I: Building Movements

    Process: What kinds of demands and visions did activist-prisoners from the 1960s and 1970s propose? What was won, and what goals were not realized?

    Heather Ann Thompson: Prisoners have been treated inhumanely throughout American history and in every region of the country and they have always resisted. With increasing determination after World War II, and in conjunction with the rise of the black freedom struggle nationally, prisoners became particularly active in the 1960s and 1970s. On the one hand their demands very much mirrored those of activists on city streets—they spoke out against racism, against the violence directed at them by officers of the state, for better living and working conditions, for greater access to education, and for better medical care. On the other hand, as people under the full control of the state, their demands often and most pointedly focused on fundamental human rights—they demanded time and again to be treated like people.

    Garrett Felber: The Ruffin v. Commonwealth ruling of 1871 established that a prisoner, “as a consequence of his crime, not only forfeited his liberty, but all his personal rights except those which the law in its humanity accords to him. He is for the time being the slave of the State.” This meant that nearly a century later prisoners were still denied basic constitutional rights and had little access to the courts. But the demands to basic constitutional rights of the early 1960s expanded dramatically alongside broader transformations within the black freedom struggle by the latter part of the decade. This included anti-colonial critiques of the Vietnam War, labor demands such as unions, a minimum wage, and workmen’s compensation for prison labor, as well as intersectional analyses drawn from women of color feminists. Most importantly, the movement asserted prisoners’ humanity and demanded dignity. For example, the Attica Liberation Faction ended its manifesto in 1971: “We are firm in our resolve and we demand, as human beings, the dignity and justice that is due to us by our right of birth.”

    Lydia Pelot-Hobbs: In the first half of the 1970s, prisoners at Louisiana State Penitentiary (Angola) were primarily pushing for an end to dehumanizing conditions. For example, in 1971, four Black prisoners, Arthur Mitchell, Hayes Williams, Lee Stevenson, and Lazarus Joseph, filed a lawsuit (which became known as “Hayes Williams”) against cruel and unusual punishment and civil rights violations at Angola. Their lawsuit charged that Angola was guilty of ongoing racial segregation of Black and white prisoners, religious discrimination against Muslims, woefully inadequate medical care, unsanitary living and dining quarters, censorship of legal mail, over-reliance on solitary confinement, and that prison officials fostered a violent environment through practices such as the use of “trusty guards.” The Fifth Circuit ended up finding in favor of the prisoners in 1975 and mandated a slew of reforms to the conditions at Angola.

    As the decade wore on the emphasis of prisoner activism shifted from conditions to sentencing and opportunities for release. For many incarcerated people, the goal was never to make prison more comfortable but to get out of the prison all together. As we know, the 1970s was the beginning of the U.S. prison boom. One of the major factors for the growth of the Louisiana prison population, for example, was the lengthening of sentences and curtailment of parole. With scores and scores of prisoners finding themselves unable to attain the freedom they had anticipated, a new wave of jailhouse lawyering emerged. The knowledge gained about the Louisiana legislature and the connections built through fighting for parole laws ended up being important building blocks for later collective prisoner organizing.

    Tony Platt: The prison movement of the 1960s–1970s was actually several movements: liberal campaigns to humanize conditions inside and implement the post–World War II “rehabilitative ideal”; civil rights activism and civil disobedience practiced in Southern jails and prisons; left campaigns to “tear down the walls,” drastically reduce the prison population, and expose the malevolent abuses of rehabilitation policies; the revolutionary politics of prisoners incarcerated for non-political crimes who followed Malcolm X’s example as he transformed himself from a “ghetto-created Negro” to a leader who offered the “black man something worthwhile”; and feminist organizing in women’s prisons, carving out a space in the hyper-masculinist world of the struggle inside. One important legacy was the successful effort to make the prison cell into an outpost of a broader agenda for social and economic equality.

    Thompson: From the demand for basic necessities such a toilet paper and light to the more abstract demand that they be allowed to organize politically, prisoners more than any other group kept the state in check in this period.

    Toussaint Losier: It’s striking to look back and see the variety of demands that the prison movement put forward nearly a half century ago. At the most basic level, prison organizers wanted to be considered citizens, with the freedom to observe their religion, organize themselves, and hold controversial political beliefs as well as to enjoy the freedom from physical torture and sexual violence. They sought due process of law, a standardization of policies, access to the public, the courts, and the press. They wanted adequate medical care, fair compensation for their labor and worker’s compensation, as well as humane living and working conditions.

    Beyond this, they had a more expansive vision, calling for prisoners to educate themselves politically, to organize themselves into labor unions, and exert control over their own lives. They called for more democracy in prison management and an end to the reliance on racism and patriarchy to manage prisons. At their most imaginative, organizers believed they could build genuine solidarity amongst prisoners and that as comrades, prisoners could contribute to the construction of a socialist society, particularly one that did not compulsively rely on putting people in cages.

    Dan Berger: Someone like George Jackson, a California prisoner who was arguably the intellectual figurehead of prisoner activism in the 1970s, cared less about prison reform and more about socialist revolution—a goal far from realized.

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    Change did come, though. As a result of lawsuits, strikes, exposés, and rebellions, the prison movement changed several things about American prisons. Prisons outlawed formal racial segregation, hired more black and Latino/a officers, provided more First Amendment protections in what prisoners sent and received through the mail, safeguarded religious expressions and diet, made it easier for prisoners to seek redress for grievances, secured equal programming across women’s and men’s facilities, and ended some egregious forms of abuse.

    Alan Eladio Gómez: The demands and visions of imprisoned people imagined new worlds, different social institutions and economic policies, and a transformation of people’s relationship to the state. The prison rebellion years were a total re-imagination of what was possible in society.

    Inspired by and taking the lead from imprisoned activists organizing strikes and legal challenges, study groups and newspapers, prisoner support organizations, family members, lawyers, academics, psychologists, psychiatrists, and journalists contributed to these movements in a variety of ways. Progressive legal organizations developed prison legal projects; universities organized law clinics; psychologists and “street lawyers” intervened in the use of prisons’ Behavior Modification programs; journalists investigated wardens, litigated with institutions, and exposed the violences behind prison walls.

    Berger: However, the situation on balance remains rather bleak. Prison activists often lost even when they won: in California, for instance, activists won an end to indeterminate sentencing, but the state responded with mandatory minimums and increasingly tough, if determinate, sentences. Other victories were stripped away by the 1996 Prison Litigation Reform Act, which limited a prisoner’s ability to sue the state, or the conservatism of the Rehnquist court. And as prisons grew more modern and technologically sophisticated, they became more atomized and restrictive. The widespread use of solitary confinement, among other things, has limited prisoners’ ability to organize. And the most far-reaching demands, a total reorganization of the criminal justice system, remain unheeded.

    Losier: Very little of what prisoners sought was attained, and over the past several decades, much of what was attained has been lost. True, few prisoners today live in the almost medieval circumstances that were prevalent a half-century ago. Not only have living and working conditions entered the twentieth century, but most prisoners also have greater access to their loved ones and the public in general. In a sense, prisoners won a limited legal standing and a modicum of procedural justice. Yet even these gains have been rolled back with laws that have significantly limited their access to the courts and channeled their concerns into a dead-end complaint process. One could even say that officials have turned the benefits of limited procedural justice against them, demonstrated by the elaborate set of rules governing how a prisoner transferred to long-term solitary confinement might be released from conditions properly defined as torture. In the worst instance, however, the most significant loss has been the disciplining of the movement’s imaginative vision, of prison organizers’ horizon of possibility.

    Platt: Forty years later, we are trying to figure out what went so wrong, what it will take to revitalize the movements.

    Process: How would you describe the historical trajectory of prison organizing in the 1960s and 70s? Is it best understood as a history of dramatic moments or as a slow transformation wrought through everyday organizing?

    Thompson: It is both. Every day of every decade saw acts of organizing and resistance and periodically those coalesced and became a historic or iconic act of collective activism. The misunderstanding that many scholars have about prisoner rights is that the times between the iconic uprisings were, somehow, apolitical or quiescent. The other misunderstanding is that acts of prisoner resistance—either episodic or iconic—either moved prisons, inevitably, to become more humane, or always touched off backlash. The outcome of these rebellions was always mixed. In key instances, the prisoner activism of the 1960s and 1970s brought fundamental improvements to institutions of punishment around the country, and in other respects they indeed fueled a hostility that served to net them even more unconscionable abuse. To write the history of this period fully, scholars must wade into this complexity.

    Felber: The Attica rebellion in 1971 is the most dramatic moment in the history of the prisoners’ rights movement, one which ushered in significant transformations in prison conditions. As such, it is one of the most important stories. But accounts of prison uprisings cannot alone explain the prisoners’ rights movement. We cannot hope to understand a social movement through only its most visible and violent manifestations.

    As scholars have importantly pointed out, one of the central obstacles to the prisoners’ rights movement was visibility. While prison uprisings such as Attica certainly publicized prison conditions, there were also much slower labors which brought about greater visibility, such as prison litigation. So-called “jailhouse lawyers,” who prepared writs to be copied by other prisoners and signed under their own names, flooded the courts and brought prison conditions under the auspices of the judicial branch. We also have records of smaller, everyday acts of political resistance that I describe in my work, such as refusing to shave or submit to rectal examinations, or throwing away pork and speaking in Arabic. All of these make up the larger mosaic of prisoners’ activism which inflect and inform a dramatic moment such as the Attica rebellion.

    Berger: Here too I think the prison movement is not unlike other social movements, including the other social movements it formed through and alongside. The modern black freedom struggle is unimaginable without the 1963 March on Washington, the passage of landmark civil rights legislation between 1964 and 1968, or the urban rebellions in those years. Yet each of those phenomena took a lot of patient organizing to make possible, and produced a lot of grassroots endeavors in response. Looking at any of them in isolation misses the larger social field of how they happened and what they produced. There are times when history moves faster—generating massive demonstrations or uprisings—and times when only the slow-and-steady organizing creates change.

    Losier: Rather than one or the other, it might be best to understand this history as a product of the tension between the two. When we look at the sources, it is clear that this was a period in which prison activists labored to build radical organizations behind bars. They struggled to do so in spite of the conditions of their confinement, from the hostility of the guards and treatment staff to the deprivations of triple-celling and repeated lockdowns. And in doing so, they also had to prepare for and respond to rebellions that occurred spontaneously and attempt to bend them to their advantage. It’s important to remember that in the histories of San Quentin and the Tombs, Leavenworth and Marion, Stateville and Pontiac, Attica and Walpole, a regular theme is that while prison organizers might have laid the foundation for a revolt to break out, they did not dictate how this might occur and had to contend with the dramatic moments as they unfolded.

    Pelot-Hobbs: At Angola, prison organizing during the seventies could be best characterized as a collectivizing process. Prisoners had long been fighting for their freedom through individual legal cases, escapes, and the occasional protest. However, during the 1970s as prisoners were increasingly confronting the combination of dehumanizing conditions and long sentences, they began to utilize the prison club system to ask questions about how they ended up in this predicament to begin with and, in the words of formerly incarcerated activist Norris Henderson, “what we can do to change not necessarily our conditions, but our circumstances” of being incarcerated. These conversations and the leadership that developed proved to be important building blocks for significant organizing campaigns in the 1980s.

    Berger: The scores of labor strikes and uprisings that took place in prisons during the 1960s and 1970s did a lot to focus attention on the abusive conditions of prisons. Yet those rebellions were only possible as a result of a number of steady organizing initiatives. Rebellions and other forms of activism often concretized multiracial solidarity within the notoriously divided landscape of prison, which proved necessary in surviving the typically brutal reprisals people faced for participating in dramatic conflicts. At the same time, it is important to remember the crowded field of political activity: prisoners, prison guard and police unions, prison officials, prosecutors, and politicians were all pursuing competing and contradictory approaches to criminal justice issues. Prisons were being dramatically transformed throughout (and since) the 1970s, but reforms were hardly going in one cogent direction.

    Platt: Organizing of any kind is usually a slow, steady, un-dramatic process, much like preparing and planting a field. And then, if you’re lucky, a spark will light a prairie fire: Martin Luther King’s letter from Birmingham jail, the murder of Fred Hampton in Chicago, the death of George Jackson, the trial of Angela Davis, and the Attica rebellion in 1971 (so well known that we only have to say Attica to evoke the historical moment). And then, after the fire is extinguished, it’s back to the everyday work of unglamorous organizing, while hoping that a hunger strike by prisoners in solitary or local Black Lives Matters protests will reignite the movement.

    Participants:

    Dan Berger is an assistant professor of comparative ethnic studies at the University of Washington Bothell and adjunct affiliate assistant professor of history at the University of Washington Seattle. His book Captive Nation: Black Prison Organizing in the Civil Rights Era won the 2015 James A. Rawley Prize from the OAH. With Toussaint Losier, he is coauthor of the forthcoming Rethinking the American Prison Movement (Routledge).

    Garrett Felber is a scholar of twentieth-century African American history at the University of Michigan and co-author of The Portable Malcolm X Reader with Manning Marable. He currently leads a racial justice community reading group at the Columbia River Correctional Institution (CRCI) in Portland, OR, where he helped establish a Freedom Library with books on social justice and the African diaspora.

    Alan Eladio Gómez is an Associate Professor in the School of Justice and Social Inquiry at Arizona State University. He is the author of The Revolutionary Imaginations of Greater Mexico: Chicana/o Radicalism, Solidarity Politics, and Social Movements in Latin America in the 1970s (University of Texas Press, 2016), and ‘With Dignity Intact’: Cycles of Struggle in the Post-WWII U.S. Federal Prison System (University of Nebraska Press).

    Jessie Kindig is a writer, editor, and literary agent based in New York and a visiting scholar at the Center for the Study of Ethnicity and Race at Columbia University. She is at work on a book analyzing wartime violence and U.S. culture during the Korean War, and her writing has appeared in Radical History ReviewAmerican Quarterly, and in the forthcoming Opposition to War: An Encyclopedia of Peace and Antiwar Movements (ABC-CLIO). Kindig is a former assistant editor at the Journal of American History and Process.

    Toussaint Losier is an Assistant Professor of Afro-American Studies at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. He is currently working on a book tentatively titled War for the Cities: Mass Incarceration, Black Liberation, and the Remaking of the Carceral StateWith Dan Berger, he is coauthor of the forthcoming Rethinking the American Prison Movement (Routledge).

    Lydia Pelot-Hobbs is a doctoral candidate in Geography at the The Graduate Center, CUNY where she is writing her dissertation on the dialectical relationship between the formation and contestation of the Louisiana carceral state from the 1970s to the present. Her writing has been published in academic and activist venues including The Abolitionist, Southern Spaces, Souls: A Critical Journal of Black Politics, Culture, and Society, and in the anthology Unfathomable City: A New Orleans Atlas.

    Tony Platt is a Distinguished Affiliated Scholar at the Center for the Study of Law and Society, UC Berkeley, and a founding member of the journal Social Justice. He is currently working on a book for St. Martin’s Press, tentatively titled Something That Has A History To It: A Genealogy of American Injustice.

    Heather Ann Thompson is a historian at the University of Michigan in the Departments of African American Studies, the Residential College, and the Department of History. She has written on the history and impact of mass incarceration for The New York Times, Time, The Atlantic, SalonDissentNew Labor Forum, and The Huffington Post. She served on a National Academy of Sciences blue-ribbon panel that studied the causes and consequences of mass incarceration in the United States and has given Congressional staff briefings on this subject. Her latest book is Blood in the Water: The Attica Prison Uprising of 1971 and its Legacy (Pantheon). Thompson is also the author of Whose Detroit? Politics, Labor, and Race in a Modern American City and editor of Speaking Out: Activism and Protest in the 1960s and 1970s.

    Originally posted here

  • Working Class Power & Feminism: An Interview with Alia Amirali

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    Writer and labor organizer, Sara Jaffri, and left-wing political worker and the Punjab Deputy General Secretary of the Awami Workers Party, Alia Amirali talk organizing, feminism and class in Pakistan.

    Sara Jaffri (SJ): How did you get involved in political work, and with what sort of organizing have you been involved?

    Alia Amirali (AA): I grew up with very politically conscious parents, and we often attended demonstrations and rallies. It was unusual to be brought up in that way in this society. When I got a bit older and started to come into my own, I got involved in organizing in the local anti-war effort in 2001 during the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan.

    I went abroad for college between 2002 and 2006, and returned to Pakistan in between during the climax of the Okara peasants’ movement, which has again resurfaced recently. Later on I worked with the Katchi Abadi Alliance and People’s Rights Movement, both collectives involved with people’s struggles for land, livelihood, shelter, and so on. So these were the various avenues through which I moved beyond the activism that I participated in with my parents, and which allowed me to get involved with other movements, cities and struggles.

    SJ: You have been organizing with the Awami Workers Party for some time now. In your experience, to what extent can or has the AWP worked with an intersectional understanding of gender and class struggles?

    AA: What forms the actual day-to-day agenda of our organizing work is quite separate from intersectional theory that is almost mainstream in certain parts of the world, especially amongst activist and academic circles. Within the party, there isn’t a homogenous understanding that class and gender and ethnicity are all linked. Building that understanding within the party is something we are doing as we go along– and we are also learning how to do it without facing a backlash. Because if you don’t advance an analysis of class and gender strategically, you can actually end up having people against your agenda, which is much worse than not having them support it at all.

    Although there are common values held by party members, in terms of the gender question there are variations in the ways people conceive of its position in our larger political project. What has helped to bring feminism on the agenda is the fact that there are now many more women in the party than there were a few years back.

    I feel that is the case in any organization and with any kind of oppression- the more people there are within the party who belong to marginalized groups, the stronger the struggle against that very marginalization becomes, both within and outside the party.

    SJ: Moving away from the discussion on the role of women in the Party, can you share your view on the role of women in various katchi abadis you have worked in?

    AA: Katchi abadis are not a monolith; different abadis have different dynamics and histories. Not all katchi abadis are equally vulnerable, either. For example those which are officially registered are better off and more secure than those that are considered ‘illegal’ and constantly face the threat of eviction.

    When it comes to organizing women in particular, the difference in dynamics between the Muslim majority and Christian majority abadis is significant. In the Christian abadis, we see a lot more women coming out and participating, because the daily lives of these women involve more work outside of home. There are many more women [in the Christian community], who go out and work as maids, cleaners and cooks in rich peoples homes. The fact that they also earn and are much more mobile than a lot of Muslim women makes it easier for them to be motivated to join the movement in a public realm and to participate in mixed gatherings.

    There are differences within Muslim communities as well, with Pashtuns historically being the most resistant to letting women participate in public affairs. But that is precisely the reason why we work in those places. We are not just service delivery people, and we don’t and cannot afford to romanticize the people we work with. Politics is always about leading and following at the same time, and how to do both together. So for instance, at one of our May Day events which we held in one of the largest Pashtun abadis of Islamabad (which has since been razed to the ground), after a great deal of cajoling and insisting and arguing with the men of the abadi, we were able to set up a separate enclosure for women to enable them to participate in the event. It was not very many women, and they were all very shy and hesitant, but it was a first. It is only through little things like this that can we start to change the culture of public participation for women.

    SJ: You brought up struggling with men to enable women’s participation. In what ways do you think men can be or have been allies to women in the movement?

    AA: That’s a very complex question, because there are all types of men.  Right now, a very small minority of men are allies. Most men are on the other side of the fence (i.e. hostile and/or dismissive), and there are some who have an opportunist approach but are not ‘harmful’ as such.

    As women, there is no point in shouting blue in the face to men from the working class communities we work in, where the number of allies is close to nil. They basically have to be bludgeoned into engaging with the idea of women’s participation and gender equity at this point; there is no pretense about that. So much for romanticising working class movements!

    As women in the party, we push the work (of organizing on feminist lines) also through our male allies in the party, both because this (feminism, and the Party) is a collective project and also because as women, we are often socially disadvantaged in our relations with male leaders in working-class communities, and we need men in the Party to be able to promote the feminist agenda in our day-to-day politics. It’s really lovely to see the few men in the party who see the need to do this and who don’t have to be forced to recognize its necessity by women. Though still few and far between, such men didn’t exist in the Party at the outset (just as there were very few women then too), and their presence in the party brings a lot of relief to me.

     SJ: Can you speak about sexism within the left? Have their been such issues within the AWP and how have they been dealt with?

    AA: Yes there have been issues related to sexism within the AWP. It is hardly surprising that such issues have arisen within the party, given the deeply sexist and patriarchal society we come from. But the fact that these issues are emerging– as issues— and not just as ‘occurrences’ which happen and then ebb away but are actually flagged as a problem that needs to be addressed, dealt with, and punished– this is a new development for us and a positive one. However, what makes dealing with sexism within the Party more complicated than it is anyway (given the deeply personal nature of sexism-related issues) is the fact that we did not have mechanisms in place within the organization to know how to deal with such matters when they come up. The recognition – both of sexism as a problem, as well as the lack of (and hence, an acceptance of the need for) a mechanism to deal with these issues – has led to a process whereby these mechanisms are being created and put in place. There is still a long way to go in terms of having everyone in the party on the same page on sexism – but there is a difference between maintaining healthy differences within the party and seeing any kind of difference as a threat. Some of the differences in the party on how to deal with sexism (both within and outside the organization) are about strategy and method, while others are connected to larger differences about what feminism means, what Marxism means, or what it means to be a party or a party member. Needless to say, these debates are not light or frivolous ones. It was important for us to recognize that these debates do not require a ‘resolution’ in order to begin putting mechanisms in place that could tackle sexism within the party. The debates must continue, alongside the work, and I am glad that there was enough maturity within the party to make this happen.

    As for sexism within the left in general- it is certainly there. I hope that other left organizations and movements too will accept the need and develop the capacity to fight it within their ranks. But at the same time, this should not turn into mud-slinging in which ‘sexism’ merely becomes an accusation flung by feminists onto the left, only to be met with ‘liberal/bourgeois’ being flung back onto feminists in response. This kind of exchange only leads to defensiveness and blindness on both sides, and erodes the possibilities for meaningful and productive exchange– an exchange which I believe is possible and necessary.

    I also think that while it certainly is important to tackle sexism within the party and within the Left generally- and admittedly we are coming around to it very late –we should refrain from making this only about ‘ourselves’ to the point of becoming detached from the fight against sexism that is taking place around us in society, and that is in this respect ‘external’ to the party. I feel that we as a party get as much perspective on ourselves from internal self-criticism as we do from moving out into our deeply patriarchal society which we are a part of and engaging with people- those who are fighting sexism as well as with those who are not—thereby deepening our understanding of the problem(s) and enabling us to build movements to end exploitation—of women but not of women alone.

    SJ: In a public lecture at Habib University, you spoke of these very movements, as well as the lack of representation of the largest and most exploited section of labour-women. What do you see as some of the more significant barriers to working class women (i.e. those who have to work for wages, and often also do unpaid home work) self-organizing in Pakistan specifically?

    AA: I think in some respects, women and men both face similar difficulties in organizing because of social and workplace isolation and alienation.

    But it so happens that women get the lowest paid jobs and often the most flexible and precarious ones as well, putting them at a further disadvantage than men, especially in the informal and agricultural sectors.

    As far as organizing goes, the starting point to grapple with is the perception of women’s participation in public life, and the idea that a woman is forced to be outside working exclusively because of economic hardship. The fundamental assumption is that she should really be in the home, so she if she has to go out, she should just work and come back. This is not at all the assumption on which men go out to seek work.

    So the whole idea that women would organize to change something in the public sphere is less than straightforward. Women themselves are changing now, as we see with the lady health workers movement and many other examples. But many women themselves conceive of politics and organizing as work reserved for men. That’s very much the signal that they get from within their homes too, as well as from the male-dominated public sphere. Their primary responsibility is still considered to be home making, even if they actually spend a great deal of time outside the home working.

    Even with the changes that we are witnessing in this age, there is a class pattern at work. Somewhere in the lower middle class for instance, women workers—most notably lady health workers, teachers, and nurses– are organizing because they have to, but they are not the poorest of the poor either. So on the one hand women are much more visible in politics than they were a decade or so ago, but the stronger and more vocal women’s organizing is still not happening in the most proletarian or destitute sections of the working class.

    SJ: Within the context that you describe, how far can the discussion on a woman’s right to her body, her own sexual expression and reproductive rights go?

    AA: We live in a society in which just to talk about women is sort of an anomaly. Even in left wing discourse, discourses of resistance, or the more radical nationalist discourses, the discussion is either silent or downright patriarchal.

    On the other hand, imperialism, multinational capital and non-governmental organizations have used feminism, or at least the slogan of it, to pave the way for their neoliberal imperialist agendas. This includes a discourse on reproductive rights, popularly packaged as ‘family planning’.

    Within the party, it’s still a long shot to even conceive of mainstreaming the issue of sexuality. Reproductive rights is still a term that might be more palatable for men for instance, because the language of rights itself has this acceptability now. I am ambivalent about this though- I feel we could and should use the rights discourse strategically when it helps us to further an agenda that we think needs to be pushed, but at the same time we must be careful about not falling into politically problematic mainstream discourses, of which the rights discourse is certainly one.

    What is certain though is that sexuality, sexual freedom, and autonomy are all areas which we cannot side-step, ignore, or wish away if we are working towards collective freedom and re-humanization of society and our selves. However, while recognizing the centrality of these issues to the attainment of freedom, it is equally important to be cognizant of the environment in which that struggle is unfolding, The last thing I would want would be to make that struggle even more difficult than it already is, or to lose or fragment the handful of people who have been united through years of hard work and organization-building. We must be patient and loving in our efforts to educate those— including those who are “comrades”– who don’t see eye to eye with us on such fundamental matters. But while educating others, we must also remain open to being educated; to acknowledging that we all carry our own blind spots, that we carry the oppressor within us too, and that an agenda for freedom cannot be thrust upon anyone or anything.

    SJ: What do you see as the level of progress on inclusion of those who do not identify with the hetero-normative man/woman gender binaries?

    AA: There has been an emergence of a more active queer politics in recent years, which is great. As a party, we have recently reached out to a group that a section of the local transgender community has made for themselves- obviously their agenda is pretty broad but part of what we want to support is that no sexual orientation or gender identity can be discarded. Every worker has a common cause and transgendered people in particular have a really hard time making a living.

    In my experience, there has been a greater acknowledgement (historically) of the existence of diverse sexualities in smaller towns and village settings; on the other hand, some of the most gruesome and frequent instances of gender-based violence (particularly in recent times) have taken place in these very settings. I don’t mean to romanticize rural life at all, but I do think that a lot of the patriarchal backlash that is being witnessed in the small towns and villages currently does not have very deep historical roots (which should not be confused with patriarchy itself, which has very deep historical roots). It seems to me to be a sharp and sudden response to a lot of other rapid changes in social conditions, coupled with women’s growing refusal to simply accept their status as slaves. I find the cities are in certain respects more conservative than rural areas- the murder of transgender activist Alisha in Peshawar is just one recent example- and one will encounter a very real rejection of and disdain for queerness. But the flip-side is that it is the cities which have been the site for the emergence of transgender politics. In the cities, there are now organizations that openly claim a queer identity and do public actions (protests, campaigns, etc.), even though they are often met with a harsh patriarchal backlash. And then there is the possibility of finding individual freedom through anonymity which the cities provide- these are ‘liberal’ freedoms, yes, but ones that are criticized largely by those who take these freedoms for granted (and hence are already beneficiaries of the system), and ironically, criticize those who don’t [have these freedoms] for claiming them…

    SJ: Speaking of liberalism, in a podcast interview with Christopher Lyndon, you raised the point that life was hell before the Taliban ever came about, and that mainstream liberalism claims that all our problems developed exclusively in the wake of religious militancy. How has patriarchy and feminist organizing been affected by the rise of this militancy?

    AA: There are two separate aspects to this. One is the growing impact of Taliban and its influence on women, which is very detrimental and violent. The other aspect is a whole ‘discourse’ which presents the Taliban as this barbaric disease that needs to be done away with by the secular rational liberal forces of reason. The fact that in this discourse the saviours are the United States and the military, and that the means are military operations, makes that political position (which is basically a liberal feminist position) extremely problematic and untenable.

    Military operations have doubled and quadrupled and disrupted the lives of the very women whose name they are supposedly being launched in. This military kills indiscriminately, is answerable to no one, and is extremely patriarchal and masculinist in its very constitution as well as openly in its ideology.

    So this is like the U.S. invading Afghanistan with the pretext of liberating Afghan women, which is a joke but also a cruel joke, which feeds off of really existing problems in those societies. The so-called solution is a very serious exacerbation of the problem.

    In Pakistan, the war on terror has lead to an extreme polarization between the civil society/liberal crowd and those who are left-wing, and obviously between feminists on both sides. It has become a very charged environment and one in which it is very difficult for us to find common ground again, at least for the time being.

    SJ: What is your response to the commonly held view proposed by imperialists and their allies that the oppression of women is inherent to Islam?

    AA: A lot can be said on this but to be brief: imperialists- who use people’s oppression as a pretext to invade, ravage, extract and then dump- have no legitimacy in their claims to defend human rights or dignity. Imperialism has always needed an enemy, and now Islam (embedded in a larger civilizational discourse) has replaced Communism as that enemy. That does not mean, however, that we throw the baby out with the bathwater.

    What I mean to say is that being opposed to imperialism does not mean automatically throwing away one’s position on secularism. My own upbringing has been extremely secular (despite growing up in a religious society). This coupled with the blatant subjugation of women in the name of Islam we witness on a daily basis- whether within the realm of ‘culture’ or with direct reference to religious doctrine – has only cemented my secular position over the years. If someone were to make a strong and believable case for why and how Islam (as a doctrine) can be liberating for women, I would hear them out sure, but my own position is a sceptical one. The more interesting question to me is about why this conversation has begun in the first place and what the contours of this debate are in Pakistan.

    The ‘wearing-secularism-on-your-sleeve’ kind of secularism seems to emanate from those haven’t actually gotten out of their particular class environment and interacted with and organized women of the working or even middle classes, who- whether we like it or not- do identify with religion. A lack of engagement with religious beliefs of people is impossible when organizing. That would mean lack of engagement with the very people whose freedom we as leftists or others as secularists claim to be dedicated to. We in the party are not analysts or academics; we are political workers. For us on the ground, religion is an idiom that cannot be wished away; it comes up often and has to be dealt with – it’s not something that can be so simplistically sidelined.

    SJ: You mentioned the character of social attitudes held by those who haven’t ‘gotten out of their particular class environment’. What is your view then on acts of women reclaiming public space such as the Girls at Dhabas project?

    AA: I think it’s a good initiative. There is no doubt about the fact that women, regardless of whether they are elite or non elite, need to struggle in a country like Pakistan where patriarchy is so entrenched and public space is so male dominated.

    With initiatives such as these though, one has to be careful about not just being jazbaati and doing what you feel like in the name of your freedom. I mean that’s valuable in and of itself, but politically it can also be quite damaging at times, and I am not sure whether they really care about that or think about that.

    Social engagement requires political sensitivity or maturity or just even the sense that what you do impacts people other than yourself. I fear that something like Girls at Dhabas could be just a continuation of claiming more and more, of claiming what’s ‘mine’ and within ‘my’ right.

    In my view, it’s not just a question of being able to express yourself and re-claim public space- which in this case is a claim coming from a class which already has more (collective and individual) freedoms and privileges and claims than the vast majority of men and women in this society.

    It is about being able to understand- or at least be willing to learn in the process of your struggle- that freedom is something that can only be really known through giving up of certain freedoms; through challenging the very ‘self’ that it is presently being glorified in the struggle.

    The kind of relationship that we as a socialist feminist party could have with a group like Girls at Dhabas really depends on whether they are willing to engage with the fact that there are many issues other than the particular ones they are interested in. I don’t really see any inclinations towards that kind of politics there, unfortunately, but we have not interacted with them too closely so I do not know how much potential there is (or not) to have a fruitful relationship.

    However, if through this initiative, a larger number of elite women are willing and able to recognize and support acts of self expression and ‘re-claiming’ when such acts emanate from the working class or other marginalized groups who have been invisibilized, and who need very much to re-claim a lot more than just public space, then I would have a much more sympathetic approach towards such initiatives.

    SJ: What gives you the inspiration and excitement to continue struggling?

    AA: Over the last decade we have grown in number, and in the last five to six years more women have joined. There has been an emboldening and strengthening of not just feminist politics within the party, but also what I consider to be very healthy culture of debate about what feminism is, about what Marxism is, about what liberation is. The ability to disagree and yet see nuances of various situations, and to consider disagreement neither as a problem to be done away with nor a mantra to exhaustingly emulate for the sake of difference, is something I feel can and does enrich us, and it is encouraging.

    That kind of a culture is just slowly starting to emerge here. It’s such a new plant or bud that it’s not possible to say whether it’s going to survive or not. Even if the party survives, this particular ethos is something that will have to be very carefully nurtured, and strangely enough militantly protected. But if there are more people who are interested in saving this, nurturing it, creating it, then I think that there is definitely a lot to look forward to.

    Sara Jaffri is a labour union worker and community news writer based in Toronto, Canada.
    Alia Amirali is the Punjab Deputy General Secretary of the Awami Workers Party. She is also a lecturer in Gender Studies at the Quaid-e-Azam University in Islamabad.

    Originally posted here

  • Why Is Oscar López Rivera Still A Political Prisoner?

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    Oscar López Rivera is the longest-held Puerto Rican political prisoner in U.S. history. He has now served 35 years in U.S. federal prisons, including 12 in solitary confinement. The movement calling for his release has intensified, broadened and strengthened in the last few years.

    For example, on June 20, 2016, solidarity events with Oscar López took place on all six continents, and in 39 countries, including Chile, Cuba, Eritrea, France, Kenya, Mauritius, Mexico, Syria, Switzerland and Venezuela. In addition, five Nobel prize winners, Archbishop Desmond Tutu (South Africa); Jose Ramos-Horta (East Timor), Adolfo Pérez Esquivel (Argentina), Jodi Williams (United States) and Mairead Corrigan Maguire (Ireland) took part that day in actions urging President Obama to release López. Who is Oscar and why is he still imprisoned? Why is the movement for his freedom growing, and how does it relate to the current economic crisis in Puerto Rico?

    Oscar López was born in Puerto Rico but grew up in Chicago, after his father migrated here for work. When he returned from Vietnam in 1967, he worked against the substandard housing conditions, the skyrocketing dropout rate and the lack of jobs or well-paying employment that plagued the Puerto Rican community of Chicago. Along with several other community activists, he founded an alternative high school for 16 Puerto Rican youth in 1972. Since that time, hundreds of kids have graduated from the high school now known as Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos High School. It enrolls roughly 180 students a year.

    In 1976, the Chicago police and FBI announced they had found a FALN (Fuerzas Armadas de Liberación Nacional) bomb factory in a garage owned by Chicagoan Carlos Alberto Torres. From that date until his arrest in 1981, López’s whereabouts were unknown.

    Between 1974 and 1980 the FALN carried out 120 bombings against U.S. military facilities, banks and government and corporate offices. The goal of the bombings was to inform people in the United States about, and to mobilize them against, U.S. colonialism in Puerto Rico, the imprisonment of the five Nationalist Party political prisoners and the abject conditions in which most Puerto Ricans lived, both on the mainland and the island.* Five people died as a result of the FALN bombings, one because he was not evacuated from the Mobil Oil building in New York City, despite the FALN warning that an explosion would soon occur. The other four were killed in 1975 when the FALN bombed the upscale restaurant Fraunces Tavern in lower Manhattan in retaliation for the murder of independentistas in Puerto Rico.

    Members of the FALN eluded capture until 1980, when 11 Puerto Ricans were arrested in Evanston, Illinois, and accused of being members of the FALN. They, and Oscar López, who was arrested on May 1981 in a Chicago suburb, declared themselves prisoners of war and refused to participate in their trials. They were all convicted of a variety of state charges and of the federal charge of seditious conspiracy, conspiring to overthrow the U.S. government through the use of force or violence; in other words fighting to end U.S. colonial rule in Puerto Rico. Although no evidence tied him to any of the bombings, Oscar López received a sentence of 55 years, to which 15 years were later added after he was convicted of attempting to escape the prison.

    President Bill Clinton granted López and ten other Puerto Rican political prisoners clemency in 1999. López refused the offer since it did not include two of the prisoners, Carlos Alberto Torres and Haydeé Beltran, who have since been released. Thus, as of this writing, López has served an additional 17 years beyond the date he had been granted clemency. One reason for this is that when he goes before the parole board, the FBI and family members of those killed in Fraunces Tavern mobilize against his release. Because the FBI has failed to pin the bombing of Fraunces Tavern on anyone, they want to make sure that the last remaining accused member of the FALN remains in prison.

    Puerto Ricans who have marched, signed petitions, made phone calls, written letters or engaged in any of the numerous activities that have been held calling for López’s freedom cover the entire political spectrum. They range from politicians who support statehood for Puerto Rico, to the current mayor of San Juan, who supports the Commonwealth (Puerto Rico’s current status), to religious leaders, to major cultural figures such as the Grammy award winning rapper Calle 13. The otherwise disunited independence movement is united in its support for Oscar’s release.

    This support for Oscar’s release, galvanized by organizations in the United States and on the island under the slogan “It’s time to bring Oscar home,” reflects the strong sense of Puerto Rican identity that defines Puerto Ricans wherever they live. The sense that Oscar is in jail, suffering a disproportionately long sentence, despite the fact that President Clinton offered him clemency, also mirrors the fairly widespread feeling that the U.S. government does not care about Puerto Ricans and ignores their needs, interests and demands.

    The U.S. government’s failure to adequately or even partially address the economic crisis that has swept Puerto Rico and resulted in the underfunding or elimination of hospitals and schools and cutbacks in jobs and wages is both a continuation and an intensification of U.S. colonialism. The situation and expectations are so dismal that thousands of Puerto Ricans have abandoned their homeland, seeking jobs, better salaries or education in the United States. In response to the crisis, the U.S. government has imposed PROMESA, the Puerto Rico Oversight, Management and Economic Stability Act, on Puerto Rico. The board that oversees the implementation of this act, staffed by capitalists, does not have the best interests of Puerto Rico at heart. Instead, much as Naomi Klein spelled out in The Shock Doctrine, the managers of hedge funds, some of whom are part of the board that oversees PROMESA, view the dismal state of affairs as an opportunity to profit from Puerto Rico’s economic woes.

    There is not a direct link between the breadth of support Puerto Ricans have expressed for the release of Oscar López and the growing opposition to PROMESA, since the former predated the latter. Yet, in the eyes of many Puerto Ricans and those who oppose U.S. colonialism, there is an obvious and nefarious tie. The U.S. government views Puerto Rico and Puerto Ricans through the eyes of a colonial master. It disregards their needs and ignores their wishes. It has not released the longest-held political prisoner in Puerto Rican history, and it has not taken the necessary steps to overcome the devastating economic crisis that promises only increased privations for Puerto Ricans.

    For information on how to support the release of Oscar López, see the National Boricua Human Rights Network, http://boricuahumanrights.org/.

    Originally posted here.

  • Rage for Aleppo and Syria

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    They say that generals usually prepare for the last war.  This has happened to the peace movement, too.  The anti-war coalitions in the U.S. and UK are acting as if this was 2003 and everyone need to focus on Western imperial adventures.  Instead circumstances are quite different. The main carnage right now has little to do with “the Empire”. A dictator from a family dynasty is using his entire military, every weapon the country owns, to bring a nation to heel.  He’s assisted (and in some ways commanded) by foreign powers, one semi-fascist, the other a theocracy. The larger anti-war organizations and coalitions have nothing to say or bleat “Our main responsibility is to criticize our own government’s abuses” or airily call for all foreign forces to stop intervening. (There are also the unspeakable organizations licking the dictator’s boot in the name of  “anti-imperialism”.)

    Half a million people have died because the Assad gang is determined to hold on no matter what. The Russians are blowing up whole blocks in Aleppo, systematically destroying medical facilities and White Helmet rescue facilities. Assad has hundreds of thousands of people under siege. Palestinians refugees from camps like Yarmouk are exiled once again. The “world community” has fed refugees, but is paralyzed about action within Syria.  The UN airdrops food to only one city, the Assad-run Deir al-Zour surrounded by ISIS.  Worse, they’ve been sending aid money right into the pockets of members of the regime.

    It has the feel of the late ‘30s, Spain to be exact. In 1938 the Spanish democratic forces were being drowned in blood by the internal and foreign fascists. That by and large is the situation in Syria today (that in Syria the fascists are the “government” and the rebels the progressive forces is immaterial). Yes, the rebels are not pure. After years of neglect religious based armed groups predominate. Some ally with some very nasty Islamic supremacist groups.  Before anyone points fingers remember that in Spain in 1936-8 the democratic and revolutionary forces were allied with and armed by the Soviet Union.  That land was led by a dictator who had just killed millions in Ukraine and purged immense numbers of Soviet communists. He was a monster, but few today say the Spanish republic should have spurned that alliance.

    No-fly Zone?

    Syrians have called for a no-fly zone for years. In October 2011 the BBC reported 170 demonstrations calling for a no-fly zone in a single day. The Left was dubious. The history of those zones was not encouraging. In Iraq a no-fly zone was established in 1991 over the north of the country, supposedly to protect the Iraqi Kurds. It did stop Saddam Hussein from ravaging them (and Shia in the south), but it was seen as a step in the full scale “Shock and Awe” invasion and occupying of Iraq by the West. In Libya in 2011 France, Italy, Britain and the U.S. set up a non-fly zone supposedly to protect the civilian population from threats of immense violence from Omar Gaddafi. They got UN support for it but used it as an excuse to assist rebels to oust and kill Gaddafi. Today Libya looks like a mess. On the other hand in the light of what happened in Syria those who warned that Gaddafi very well could have committed a bloodbath seem on solid ground. Clay Claiborne recently wrote a piece about Libya and pointed to a 2012 Gallop poll of Libyans which he says shows that Libyans “overwhelmingly” supported NATO airstrikes.

    I heard Jill Stein speak in New Britain, CT last week to mostly students at a local college. She said virtually nothing about foreign policy, but she did take time out to bash Hillary Clinton for comments she’s made supposedly supporting a no-fly zone. Stein said it was risking war with a nuclear armed power. And that was all she has to say about Syria. If she had an alternative or even expressed horror about what Assad/Russia/Iran were doing I could respect what she was saying. But what I heard really deflated respect I had for her (and I’ve written in support of her candidacy even with neo-fascist Trump making his run).

    You may be surprised but there actually is a no-fly zone in Syria. It’s one small area where Assad troops attacked the Kurdish YPD force that’s getting U.S. military aid.  After it happened the U.S. sent up jets and buzzed Assad planes and said in no uncertain terms that no air force was to touch the YPD. And that was that.  There was no repetition.  A portion of northeast Syria was made a no-fly zone and World War III did not break out.

    I’m not saying that the peace movement should call for a no-fly zone, but I respect desperate Syrians who do and am repulsed by the “anti-imperialist” left who demonize as an "agent of the Pentagon" anyone who demand a NFZ.

    Ideas for Action

    A number of us on the RPM network have come up with a letter with a few ideas.  Basically it amounts to 1) denouncing the Lavrov-Kerry plan for a temporary ceasefire and then joint expansion of the bombing to anti-Assad forces; 2) demanding airdrops of food and supplies to break every siege in Syria, and; 3) open denunciation of Russian and Iranian participation and support for Assad war crimes.

    As Russia proceeds to use bunker busters inside of Aleppo and have produced scenes of unparalleled horror, activists have called for days of protest this weekend, especially on Saturday, October 1 for a “Global Day of Rage for Aleppo”.

    Other ideas: Urge the media to interview some of the 150 Syrian secular intellectuals featured in a Nation article this week. Urge them to  talk about the Right Livelihood Award (co-)Winner of 2016, the White Helmets. Have them investigate why the World Food Program can airdrop food to Deir al-Zour and nowhere else.

    In 1943 hundreds of rabbis marched from the Lincoln Memorial in DC to demand action against what we now call the Holocaust.  Couldn’t a large of groups of imams and other clergy lead something similar?

    Put pressure on the candidates for president. Only Hillary Clinton expresses any sentiments about doing something to protect Syrian civilians (though she didn’t do much as Secretary of State). She talked about a no-fly zone before the Democratic Convention, but neither Clinton or Trump have talked about Syria since August. A number of Syrians are campaigning for Hillary, but if she wins she doesn’t even take office until January.  By then Aleppo may go the way of Darayya, or worse.  Why not a major demonstration in front of one of the remaining debates with a messages, #DropFoodNotBombs #BreaktheSieges #SaveAleppo?

    Stanley Heller is a longtime activist and writer on the Middle East and is webmaster for www.rpm.world.

  • Some Left Arguments on the Election

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    Several left arguments on the U.S. election frankly leave me baffled.

    For example, James Robertson writes in Jacobin that “It’s better to think of the choice in November as one not between a greater and a lesser evil, but between two different threats.” I don’t get it. Just because threats are different doesn’t mean that one is not more dangerous than the other. If someone is ill and is considering risky surgery, there is no doubt that the threats are different — dying of the disease versus dying on the operating table — but a rational person will want to determine whether one of the threats is worse than the other and choose the lesser threat.

    Robertson's survey of the positions of Trump and Clinton is odd because he doesn't actually compare the two. So he's right of course that Clinton will continue her support for the Israeli occupation, but he ignores Trump’s call for the construction of more Israeli settlements, a position well to the right of any previous president. He's right also that Clinton will oppose BDS, but he ignores the more malignant language on BDS — and Palestine more generally — in the Republican platform. Clinton, Robertson tells us, favored intervention in Libya — but he doesn’t tell us that so did Trump, who also wanted to take Libya’s oil. Robertson says Clinton would favor deeper involvement in Iraq and Syria, but doesn’t mention that Trump like Clinton initially supported the 2003 Iraq war, or that Trump called for 20,000-30,000 troops, promised to “bomb the hell” out of ISIS, urged the targeting of ISIS family members, refused to rule out nuclear weapons against ISIS, denounced Obama for not having announced that “we’re never leaving” Iraq, denounced Obama for lacking courage for not going in with “tremendous force” when Assad used chemical weapons, or asserted that the United States should have taken Iraq’s oil. (Ever wonder how one can take a country’s oil without long-term occupation? Ever wonder how this might promote peace in the Middle East?) Relations with Iran will get worse under Clinton, says Robertson — probably true, but Robertson ignores Trump’s call to abrogate the Iran nuclear deal, which will certainly do more to poison relations with Tehran than anything Clinton might do.

    Trump’s connections to Russia and admiration for Putin may slow down the new Cold War with Moscow, but other aspects of his foreign policy are incredibly dangerous: his refusal to rule out war with China because he wants to maintain unpredictability, his opposition to nuclear non-proliferation, his charge that Obama has allowed the U.S. military to “atrophy,” and his explanation that the “Trump doctrine is simple. … It’s strength. Nobody is going to mess with us. Our military will be made stronger.”

    Robertson argues that “we should expect the national-security state — built up under George W. Bush and significantly expanded under Obama — to be further strengthened with Clinton as commander in chief.” True enough. But Robertson says nothing about Trump in this regard — even though the article he links to (also from Jacobin) understands that while Trump is not different in kind from past policies, he is worse, “his national security proposals are horrifying — worse than anything we’ve seen since the Cold War.”

    Yes, Clinton has “vocally condemned” whistleblower Edward Snowden, but Robertson doesn’t mention that Trump called for executing the “traitor.”

    Robertson sums up that while Trump may be worse on immigration, Islamophobia, and police violence (though, we are told, he may not succeed in any of these), Clinton “would likely” be worse on wars and the national security state. This calculation is based, as noted above, on failing to address Trump’s positions on these issues, but in any event it overlooks many other crucial policy areas, such as the environment, reproductive rights, tax policy, minimum wage, and college tuition.

    Left critics of strategic lesser-evil voting often claim that those who point out the dangers of a Trump presidency are fear-mongering. It’s hard to understand this objection. It is the left that has identified the catastrophic risks the world faces in terms of climate change and how short our time is to address this problem before global warming becomes irreversible. Has the climate movement been fear-mongering? If not, then isn’t the huge gap between Trump and Clinton, between Republicans and Democrats, between climate deniers and those committed to increasing the use of renewable energy, worthy of our attention? Leading scientists have warned that Trump’s call to abrogate the Paris Climate Agreement could be catastrophic. Were they fear-mongering? Are they wrong? To be sure, Clinton’s position could be much better than it is. But to deny that the difference here is significant is to either believe that the human species is surely doomed (because there is no chance that we’re going to have eco-socialism in the short term) or that our warnings about the environmental dangers we face have been exaggerated.

    Jill Stein was asked “Is the prospect of a Trump presidency equal in your view to that of a Clinton one?” She replied:

    I think they both lead to the same place. The lesser evil, the Democrats, certainly have a better public relations campaign, they have better spin. The dangers are less evident, but they’re catastrophic as well. Just look at the policies under Obama on climate change.

    So Obama’s climate policies are just better spin than Trump’s would be, better public relations? They lead to the same place? But doesn’t the time frame matter? Trump’s climate denialism will propel us towards disaster while Obama’s and Clinton’s inadequate reforms may give us time to build the movement necessary for our long-term environmental survivability.

    Some ask why we should vote our fears, rather than our hopes. For the same reason it generally makes sense to prioritize our fears over our hopes in other realms of life. I hope selling off my life savings to bet on the lottery will make me rich; but my fears of the odds of losing leads me to reject that strategy. Shouldn't we always vote for the candidate we like best? Sometimes, yes.

    But faced with a choice between two different cancer therapies, the choice I like best is being cured by eating a lot of ice cream. But this would be a foolish choice. Moreover, if I were really voting for the candidate whose views most closely coincided with my own, I'd write-in myself, and other leftists would write-in themselves. But no one does that because we care about consequences; it's not just a matter of feeling good.

    Other differences between Trump and Clinton are not as highly consequential as climate change, where the stakes are truly enormous. But if one argues that the other differences are too small to matter, then this means that almost all left activity of the past decade has been irrelevant. For example, the left has pushed $15 minimum wage campaigns around the country. Were these meaningless? If not, then the difference between the Republican and Democratic platforms in this regard is not meaningless either. Clinton will appoint pro-choice justices to the Supreme Court, while Trump has pledged to select justices in the mold of Antonin Scalia. Is the difference this will mean for reproductive rights trivial? If so, then abortion rights groups have been wasting their time fighting restrictive laws and policies. We’ve fought to oppose stop-and-frisk policies, which Trump endorses. Is this just a cosmetic change?

    Clearly, Clinton and the Democrats will do nothing without continuing popular pressure, and popular pressure can be (and must be) applied to both Democrats and Republicans. But is there no difference in the susceptibility of Democrats and Republicans to progressive pressure? Let's stipulate that neither Trump nor Clinton personally cares about progressive values. But politics is not a question of the personal whims of individuals, even when they’re president. Social forces matter.

    Consider the Dakota Access Pipeline that has been opposed by large protests of Native American tribes and environmentalists. Obama’s surprise intervention to suspend construction on the project following a court decision that declined to block the pipeline was an important, though limited victory for the social movements. Jill Stein was there at Standing Rock, and that’s one of the many reasons that people should vote for her in safe states. But Stein is not going to become president. So the question is which of the only possible people who might actually be elected president this November will be more responsive to movement pressure on this issue going forward? Trump, who dismisses environmental concerns, whose party platform declares: “The Keystone Pipeline has become a symbol of everything wrong with the current Administration’s ideological approach. After years of delay, the President killed it to satisfy environmental extremists. We intend to finish that pipeline and others as part of our commitment to North American energy security,” and whose chief energy adviser (and likely Energy Secretary) has a major financial stake in the Dakota pipeline? Or Clinton, who — under pressure to be sure — came out against Keystone, who is on record committed to combating climate change, whose party includes Dakota pipeline opponents like Bernie Sanders and one of Clinton’s earliest Congressional supporters, Bonnie Watson-Coleman, and whose party platform has as one of its longest sections “Honoring Indigenous Tribal Nations.” The labor movement is split on the question, with the AFL-CIO officially favoring construction (the same split as on Keystone). So we can’t predict what will happen on the Dakota pipeline, but it would be astounding if a Trump presidency were more conducive to a future Standing Rock victory than a Clinton presidency.

    And the same is true across numerous issue areas. Clinton and the Democrats will be bad, but progressive pressure is more likely to get results when aimed at them than when aimed at Trump and the Republicans. It’s easier to press someone to do what they promised than to go against their promises. And while the lesson of a campaign against far right policies is that we need liberal policies, the lesson of a campaign against centrist Democrats is that left alternatives are needed.

    Some leftists have argued that Clinton is scarier than Trump because her chances of winning are greater: “I am much more afraid of her than Donald Trump if for no other reason that she is certain to be the next president while he is destined to continue building luxury condos and stiffing small businesses.” Certain? This was written the day that the 538 website gave Clinton a 68-69% chance of winning — a good chance, but far from certain. Has any pundit’s predictions — including left pundits — in this election cycle been so accurate that we can speak in certainties? Another leftist tells us not to worry because “Trump’s not going to win. For all Hillary Clinton’s obvious terrible flaws as a candidate, the big insider cash, the national electoral demographics, and the Electoral College map (just ask Nate Silver and his team of multivariate election predictors at FiveThirtyEight.com) strongly favor her.” — even though the Nate Silver estimate the day before this line was published gave Clinton only a 61% chance.

    I have no crystal ball, but if one pursues strategic lesser evil voting we don’t need to assume omniscience. If the day before the election, it seems Clinton is a shoo-in to win, by all means vote for Stein. But if it’s close and if your vote can make a difference to the outcome, then to be more afraid of Clinton than Trump doesn’t make any sense.

    Voting for Clinton only if and where it makes a difference doesn’t mean “endorsing” her or “supporting” her. It doesn’t mean rejecting the left or embracing neoliberalism. It means that one ought to weigh the consequences of one’s actions — taking account of the harm that fewer votes would mean for the Green Party and its future prospects versus the harm of allowing a Trump presidency and all that would mean for his many victims — and vote accordingly, while working to oppose repugnant policies and build alternatives.

  • Correction – Mexico’s Teachers Movement Facing Violence but Not Death Squads

    Dear Readers,

    On September 18, I wrote, and the New Politics website of which I am an editor, published an article titled “Mexico’s Teachers Movement; From Class War to Death Squads” that argued that three recent killing appeared to be the result of death squads targeting teachers. While the fact that the three killings took place is not in question, well informed readers in Mexico who have been involved in the teachers movement or in solidarity with it suggest these killings do not seem to be the result of death squads.

    These readers argue that while the teacher who was killed may have been targeted for union activity, the other two killings may have had other motives having nothing to do with the union. These readers suggest that while some teachers have been murdered because of their involvement in the teachers movement, many killings that have taken place in Oaxaca, Chiapas, and in other states may have political motives, may be related to the drug cartel violence, or to other violence in the region. I have come to the conclusion that my readers are right and that this article should be corrected: death squads do not appear to be a trend at this time. 

    I welcome and appreciate your comments and criticisms on the original article, on this correction and the issues raised.

    In solidarity, Dan La Botz

  • In Putin’s Head: Book Review

    ImageMichel Eltchaninoff. Dans la tête de Vladimir Poutine. Arles: Solin/Actes Sud, 2015. 171pp.

    Michel Eltchaninoff’s prize-winning Dans la tête de Vladimir PoutineIn the Head of Vladimir Putin—is a fascinating examination of the development of the Russian president’s ultra-conservative and nationalist ideology from assuming the presidency in 2000 until today.[1] Eltchaninoff, the author of two books about Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoyevsky and many essays, might seem like an unlikely candidate to write an intellectual biography of the twenty-first century president Putin, but as it turns out, Eltchaninoff’s knowledge of nineteenth and twentieth century Russian philosophers makes him the ideal author, because that is where Putin’s ideas come from, Russia’s conservative, religious past.

    Putin, as he has himself has said, was never a believer in Communism and the classless society, but rather, serving as a KGB spy, a dedicated servant of the Soviet Union. Appalled by the collapse of the Soviet state, which he viewed as a tragedy, he has as president sought to preserve Russia—and to expand it. With the fall of Communism, Putin initially adopted the liberal rhetoric then popular in the United States and the European Union, though how sincere he was in those views is unclear. In any case, writes Eltchaninoff, he gradually began to move to the right until with the “conservative turn” of 2013 he adopted profoundly reactionary religious and political views, becoming “an imperialist the following year” with the taking of Crimea. Putin’s quest for a worldview was not simply a personal intellectual odyssey, but rather the search by Putin and the political class he led for an ideology that could serve as the intellectual and political foundation of Russia and of a new empire.

    At each stage of this rightward-moving evolution, Putin would in his political speeches, public lectures, and articles quote from Russian philosophers, some of them from the nineteenth century, others émigré intellectuals exiled to Paris or to Berlin after the Russian Revolution of October 1917. His interest in these thinkers is not unique. During the 1990s, after the fall of the Soviet Union and the end of Communism, its official Marxist-Leninist philosophy, “dialectical materialism” or diamat as it was called, also collapsed. Consequently many Russian intellectuals and political leaders began to look to the past for a new ideology for the new post-Soviet society.

    There were a boatload of philosopher to choose from. In fact, there were two boatloads, the “ships of philosophers,” who had been expelled from the Soviet Russia by Lenin.[2] One of the first in whom the post-Soviet intellectual society became interested was Ivan Ilyin (1883-1954), a Hegel specialist, an opponent of the Soviet Union, and the author in 1925 of On the Resistance to Evil by Force. Always close to the whites, that is, the counter-revolutionaries attempting to overthrow the Soviet government, his thinking provided an ideology for the General Wrangel’s army. Ilyin not only opposed Soviet Communism, but also Leo Tolstoy’s Christian pacifism, arguing that passive resistane would fail and that genuine Christianity demanded a struggle, forceful and violent if necessary, against evil.

    Living in exile in Berlin, in 1933 Ilyin became enthused about the “new National-Socialist [i.e. Nazi] spirit,” though he soon gave up on Hitler, turning instead to admire the fascist Christian dictators Francisco Franco in Spain and Antonio de Oliveira Salazar in Portugal. Ilyin was a believer in a “national democracy” and a “democratic dictatorship”—not a democracy based on things like elections, but rather on the rule of the natural elite. He believed in “freedom,” but the freedom through belief in the Orthodox religion, the Russian nationality, and in the fulfillment of one’s station in life.

    Ilyin’s writings caught the interest to post-Soviet intellectuals and thus entered into the intellectual atmosphere that Putin and others breathed. Putin first cited Ilyin in a speech to a joint session of the Russian legislature on April 25, 2005, in reference to the “consolidation of the institutions of a real democracy.” “Real democracy” was Putin’s term for what he called the “dictatorship of law” and the “verticality of power.”

    During this period, Putin was deeply disturbed by the revolutions of colors taking place in neighboring states: Revolution of the Roses in Georgia that brought to power the young, pro-American reformer Mikhail Saakashvili and the Orange Revolution of pro-Western Viktor Yanukovych in Ukraine. Putin saw these revolutions as the work of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, and was infuriated by the idea of a foreign power controlling elections in nearby states, states that were once and by all rights should be part of Russia. One of his advisors, Vladislav Sourkov proposed a new term to describe the Russian point of view: “sovereign democracy,” meaning democracy without foreign intervention. This became a theoretical pillar and a central term of Putin’s political vocabulary.

    A turning point event in Putin’s political career was the Beslan school hostage crisis of September 2004 when an ethnic Ingush and Chechen Islamic group occupied a school taking 1,100 hostages, 777 of them school children. The group, led by Shamil Besayev, demanded recognition of Chechnya’s independence and the withdrawal of all Russian troops. Using tanks and rockets, Russian security forces stormed the school, killing an estimated 330 hostages, some 186 of them school children. This horrifying event became a catalyst for Putin’s thinking. Putin reacted to Beslan by further consolidating power in his own hands, but also by turning further to the right.

    In Putin’s mind, Islam was not the greatest threat to Russia. Europe was. NATO and the European Union threatened to expand, absorbing more formerly Russian territories, as they already had the Baltic nations. By 2007, Putin had become preoccupied, one could say obsessed by the idea of protecting Russia from the evils of Western life: the Internet, pornography, and homosexuality. In the “Munich discourse” of 2007 he spoke out violently against the United States and the European Union for attempting to create a unipolar world that threatened Russian culture and morality. What was needed, Putin saw, was a political and philosophical defense against the West.

    Putin’s protégé Dmitry Medvedev served as president from 2008-2012, a brief interregnum, and in 2013 Putin returned to the presidency. That year he made what Eltchaninoff calls “the conservative turn.” This turn against what was perceived as the decadent West and everything it represented required a new intellectual foundation and Putin found one source in the philosophy of Konstantin Leontiev (1831-1891), sometimes called the “Russian Nietzsche.” Leontiev’s aristocratic and religious philosophy challenged the West’s democracy, liberty, and equality as well as its secularism and hedonism. Leontiev was an admirer of the Byzantine Church, not for its Christian morality, but for its hierarchy. Prophetically it must have seemed to Putin, Leontiev warned that one day a “federal Europe” would threaten to absorb Russia. Influenced by thinkers like Ilyin and Leontiev, Putin’s ideology was becoming more and more nationalist and religious.

    On March 18, 2014, Putin ordered the Russian Federation to seize Crimea; as Eltchaninoff writes, for “the first time since the Second World War that a European state annexed part of another state.” How could this act—condemned by most of the world—be justified? Putin now turned to other thinkers, the slovophiles, to argue that there’s “a Russian Way.” Putin made the argument that Russia, “holy Russia,” as it was often called, was the guardian of authentic Christian values against Western decadence. And the Ukraine was not only part of Russia, it was the very heart of Russia, for it was in Kievan Rus that in 988 Russia first adopted Christianity; and joined the Orthodox Church is the very soul of the Russian culture. It was the people, the narod, imbued with this faith that had always fought for and defended Russia at every step, against Napoleon, against Hitler, and now against the United States and Western Europe. This was what was now called “the Russian Way.”

    Slavophiles such as Alexis Khomiakov (1804-1860) and Ivan Kireivsky (1806-1856), Konstantin Aksakov (1817-1860), and Youri Samarine (1819-1876) had argued in the mid-nineteenth century that it was a mistake to follow the West, but rather Russians should turn to their own nation, religion, and culture and build a future on those. The problem was, that many of the slavophiles were themselves cosmopolitan figures influenced by the West, and in any case they were not sufficiently political, nationalist, or imperialist to provide an ideology for Putin. Eltchaninoff writes a separate chapter to argue that Slavophiles such as Nikolai Berdyaev and Fyodor Dostoyevsky could never provide a Putin with the nationalist ideology he sought.

    However, Nicolas Danilevski (1822-1875), author in 1871 of Russia and Europe, provided an ideological foundation that was both powerfully nationalistic and dynamically expansionist. He argued that Russia’s backwardness was in fact its strength; its mountains, forests, and steppes harboring a population that was always silently growing, a people filled with “tribal ethnographic energy.” These were the people who would “by osmosis” follow a Russian leader in a struggle against the West that would galvanize the surrounding Slavic nations and peoples. These Slavophile ideas became the foundation for Putin’s “Russian Way.”

    The Russian Way was all very good as an approach to the Slavic nations, in many of which there were both Russians and many Russian speakers, but what about the East? At the end of 2013 Putin had announced that Siberia and the Far East would be the “national priority for the twenty-first century.” How could Putin justify his desire to create there some new version of the Russian empire among the Turkic speaking nations and other Asian peoples? The key idea here was the notion of Russia’s unique role as the pivot of “Eurasia,” not simply a term of physical geography but the notion that Russia had always been at the center of a vast cosmopolitan world, nationally, ethnically, and religiously diverse.

    The philosopher who provided ideas for this “International Eurasian Movement” was Piotr Savitsky (1895-1968), who argued that Eurasia—with Russia at the center—represented a “third continent,” neither Europe nor Asia, “a geographic world apart.” Eurasian Russia, Savitsky claimed, was really the “center of the Old World,” of which Europe, the Near East, India, Indonesia, China, and Japan were merely extensions. It is Eurasian Russia that is destined once again to reassert its centrality of this entire region.

    There was also Lev Gumilev (1912-1992), another important influence on Putin. In fact Putin participated in a Gumilev study group in the 1990s. Gumilev argued that the English, French, and Germans would always be enemies of the Russians, but that Russia could find fast friends among the Turks and Mongols. Gumilev believed that a cosmic force had influenced the Russian people—one could say their DNA—and given them something he called “passionate power.”[3] Putin quotes Gumilev in a speech to the Federal Assembly in December 2012, saying that one of the great resources of the world—beyond coal and oil, for example—is intellect, “and as Lev Gumilev says, passionate power, the capacity to go forward and to change.”

    Among currently active Eurasianists, Alexander Dugin who has sometimes been mistakenly called the guru of Putin, is the best known. Dugin melds the ideas of the Russian Old Believers with Nazi intellectual Carl Schmitt and the French “new right,” among many other extreme rightwing currents. Dugin sees Eurasia as part of what will become a rightwing “new world order,” with Russia at the center.

    Eltchaninoff asks whether or not the theories that Putin has adopted can provide the ideology needed for the construction of a new Russian empire. Clearly, he notes, the old Soviet empire based on Marxism-Leninism is an impossibility, while the Slavophile and the Eurasian ideologies stand in conflict with each other. Eltchaninoff states that, “Putin practices an imperialism a la carte. He invokes nostalgia for the USSR, common religious principles, Russianness and the Russian language, and the Eurasian project according to the situation at the moment…The only common basis of all of the president’s imperialist whims is the market economy.” When Putin took Crimea he referred to the project of Novorossia, a new Russia—yet it looks very much like the old Russia, the old Czarist Russia and the old Soviet Russia.

    Dans la tête de Vladimir Poutine concludes with a discussion of Putin’s adoption of the old term the “Russian world,” to refer to his attempt to promote Russian culture abroad, especially in Europe. This is his government’s projection of the Russian state, the Orthodox Church, the Russian language through a variety of government programs, from attempts to unify the Easter Rite churches to the promotion of the Russian language abroad. It is also an attempt to influence and establish good relations with groups abroad from the far right party of Hungary to the leftwing Front de Gauche in France.

    Putin has had surprising success in winning support from leftists in the Western countries—including in the United States—for his imperial adventures Crimea and  the eastern Ukraine and for his backing of al-Assad in Syria. These leftists see his struggle against the United States and the European Union as aiding other nations in their fight for political sovereignty and economic independence. Perhaps after reading this book, the left will learn that Putin has adopted the most reactionary philosophies not only to support his authoritarian state at home, but also to justify his expansion abroad.


    [1] Winner of the Prix de la Revue de Deux Mondes in 2015.

    [2] The only book available in English about the boatloads of philosophers is written by the very conservative Lesley Chamberlain, Lenin’s Private War: The Voyage of the Philosophy Steamer and the Exile of the Intelligentsia (New York: St. Martin’s, 2007).

    [3] The word in Russian is passionarnost. Elchaninoff’s French neologism is passionarité. See Charles Clover, “Lev Gumilev: passion, Putin and power,” Financial Times, at: https://www.ft.comede1e5c6-e0c5-11e5-8d9b-e88a2a889797

     

     

  • Fighting for Our Lives: #NoDAPL in Historical Context

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    Little has been written about the historical relationship between the movement against the Dakota Access Pipeline and the longer histories of Oceti Sakowin (The Great Sioux Nation) resistance against the trespass of settlers, dams, and pipelines across the Mni Sose, the Missouri River. This is a short analysis of the historical and political context of the #NoDAPL movement and the transformative possibilities of the current struggle.

    Thousands have camped along the banks of the Missouri River at Cannon Ball in the Standing Rock Sioux Indian Reservation to halt the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline (DAPL), which promises to carry half a million barrels of heavy crude oil a day across four states, under the Missouri River twice, and under the Mississippi River toward the Gulf of Mexico for global export. Camp Oceti Sakowin, Red Warrior Camp, and Sacred Stone Camp, the various Native-led groups standing in unity against DAPL, have brought together the largest, mass-gathering of Natives and allies in more than a century, all on land and along a river the Army Corps of Engineers claims sole jurisdiction and authority over.

    How and why did this happen?

    In 1803 the wasicu — the fat-takers, the settlers, the capitalists — claimed this stretch of the river as part of what became the largest real estate transaction in world history. The fledgling U.S. settler state “bought” 827 million acres from the French Crown in the Louisiana Purchase and sent two white explorers, Lewis and Clark, to claim and map the newly acquired territory. None of the Native Nations west of the Mississippi consented to the sale of their lands to a sovereign they neither recognized nor viewed as superior. It was only after we rebuffed Lewis and Clark for failing to pay tribute for their passage on our river that they labeled the Oceti Sakowin “the vilest miscreants of the savage race.” Thus began one of the longest and most hotly contested struggles in the history of the world.

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    The Louisiana Purchase

    For the next hundred years, the U.S. led various unsuccessful military campaigns to suppress, annihilate, and dispossess us of our rightful claim to the river and our lands. Despite popular belief, we were never militarily defeated. Red Cloud’s War and the War for the Black Hills led to the military defeat of the U.S. Calvary, most famously the annihilation of General George Armstrong Custer’s forces at the Battle of Greasy Grass in 1876. These wars, for our part, were entirely defensive. The Oceti Sakowin signed peace treaties with the invading settler government. The 1854 and 1868 Fort Laramie treaties provided temporary reprieve and defined the vast 25-million-acre territory of what became the Great Sioux Reservation, which stretched from the eastern shore of the Missouri River to the Bighorn Mountains. Four decades of intense warfare, however, took its toll. More than ten million buffalo were slaughtered to starve us out. Settler hordes invaded and pillaged our Black Hills for its gold. Our vast land base diminished and the treaties were nullified when Congress passed the Indian Appropriations Act of 1876, which abolished treaty-making with Native Nations, and the Black Hills Act of 1877, which illegally ceded the Black Hills and created the present-day reservation system.

    The Oceti Sakowin has vigorously opposed these bald imperialistic maneuvers to usurp our self-determining authority over our lives and lands. Settler society entreated the Oceti Sakowin for the 1854 and 1868 agreements, not the other way around. We entered these relationships with the understanding that both parties respected a common humanity with the people and the lands. In our view, the settler state lost its humanity when it violated the treaties. Every act on our part to recover and reclaim our lives and land and to resist elimination is an attempt to recuperate that lost humanity — humanity this settler state refuses and denies even to its own.

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    1868 Fort Laramie Treaty Territory

    South Dakota and North Dakota statehood also played a major role in suppressing the Oceti Sakowin. Although we have never signed any treaties with these states, they lay claim to the destinies of our lands, our river, and our people. To do so, they have always used violence and hatred. In 1890, a year after statehood, these two states drummed up anti-Indian sentiment to further break up and open reservation lands for settlement. As a result, they fabricated the Ghost Dance crisis; called for federal troops to intervene to protect white property that resulted in the assassination of our military and political leaders such as Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull; and resulted in the killing of over 300 mostly unarmed women, children, and elders at Wounded Knee in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation.

    Outright murder was never enough. The Dawes Allotment Act of 1887 and the creation of five smaller reservations attempted to factionalize the Oceti Sakowin and opened up “surplus” lands to white homesteaders. From 1907 to 1934, millions of acres of the remaining Great Sioux Reservation were lost. In the early 1900s, Missouri River Basin states began organizing to usurp Native water rights for large-scale irrigation projects. These states envisioned a dam system that would create large reservoirs that would primarily flood Native lands. But there was a major problem. In 1908, a U.S. Supreme Court decision held that tribes maintained access and control of water within original treaty territory, even if that territory was diminished. This became known as the Winters Doctrine. For the Missouri River, the Oceti Sakowin possessed the prior claim to both the river and its shorelines as spelled out in the 1851 and 1868 Fort Laramie Treaties.

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    Historic and present day treaty lands

    An opportunity for the states arose. After unseasonal mass flooding, Congress passed the Flood Control Act in 1944 — or what became known as the Pick-Sloan Plan authorizing the Army Corps of Engineers and the Bureau of Reclamation to erect five dams on the mainstem of the river. All of which targeted and disproportionately destroyed Native lands and lives. Of the five Pick-Sloan dams, four flooded the lands of seven nations of the Oceti Sakowin: the Santee Sioux Tribe, the Yankton Sioux Tribe, the Sicangu Oyate, the Lower Brule Sioux Tribe, the Crow Creek Sioux Tribe, the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe, and the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe. Of the 611,642 condemned acres through eminent domain in what was called the “taking area,” these nations lost 309,584 acres of vital bottomlands. Inundation also forced more than a thousand Native families, in patent violation of treaties and without their consent, to relocate. Entire communities were removed to marginal reservation lands, and many were forced to leave the reservation entirely. As a result of condemnation, the Army Corps of Engineers claims sole jurisdiction over the river and its shoreline.

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    Pick-Sloan Dams

    The dams, which promised and delivered wholesale destruction, coincided and worked in tandem with the federal policies of termination and relocation. In 1953, Congress passed House Concurrent Resolution 108 (HCR 108) that inaugurated termination policy, and called for the immediate termination or ended federal recognition of the Flathead, Klamath, Menominee, Potawatomi, and Turtle Mountain Chippewa tribes. That same year, Congress passed Public Law 280 (PL 280) that authorized states to assume criminal and civil jurisdiction over Native lands. The Bureau of Indian Affairs supported these programs and carried out the Indian Relocation Act of 1956 that relocated thousands from the reservation to far-off urban centers. HCR 108, PL 280, relocation, and the Pick-Sloan dams did not just promote assimilation — they enforced genocide and elimination.

    Through termination, relocation, and massive flooding, however, colonialism created its own gravediggers. The Oceti Sakowin unified to thwart the state of South Dakota’s attempts to implement PL 280 to overthrow Native governments and assume control over their lands. Natives on relocation also began to organize. Groups such as the National Indian Youth Council and the American Indian Movement (AIM) formed in the urban centers to combat the wholesale destruction of Native life on- and off-reservation. In 1973, AIM occupied Wounded Knee in the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation, which was a culmination of more than a decade of Red Power organizing. The occupation was the catalyst for a mass gathering of thousands at Standing Rock in 1974, which resulted in the founding of the International Indian Treaty Council. At Standing Rock, more than 90 Native Nations from around the world built the foundations of what would become four decades of work at the United Nations and the basis for the 2007 Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples.

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    The International Indian Treaty Council, the international arm of the American Indian Movement, was founded at Standing Rock in 1974.

    The anti-colonial uprising taking place in Oceti Sakowin treaty territory and spilling onto the world stage was met with violent state repression. AIM leaders were assassinated and many were imprisoned. For example, Native leader Leonard Peltier, who participated in this movement for the life and dignity of his people, to this day sits behind bars as one of the longest serving political prisoners in United States history. From 1977 to 2012 South Dakota’s prison population increased 500 percent. One-third of its prison population is Native, although Natives make up only nine percent of the total population.

    With the advent of tarsands extraction and heavy crude pipelines destroying water supplies and scorching the earth, Natives and the Oceti Sakowin have once again reunited. This unification first targeted tarsands and pipeline construction in so-called Canada in First Nations’ territory. Successful blockades have halted pipelines. In 2014, the Oceti Sakowin began a massive organizing effort, with help from allies, against the Keystone XL (KXL) pipeline that, too, threatened to cross the Missouri River. Our Nation is made up of some of the poorest people in the Western hemisphere organizing to oppose a fossil fuel industry made up of some of the most powerful and wealthiest people on the planet. Despite these odds KXL was defeated on November 6, 2015. After mass protests, the Obama administration denied the pipeline’s permit.

    Two important lessons were drawn from the KXL struggle that were carried into #NoDAPL. The power of multinational unity between Natives and non-Natives was one of the movement’s successes. The other proved the transformative power and potential of anti-colonial resistance to successfully mobilize poor people against the rich and powerful — and win!

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    The Red Nation riders at the #NoDAPL camp.

    Like our ancestors’ wars of the nineteenth century, our current war is also defensive — it is to protect water and land from inevitable spoliation in the name of profit. The #NoDAPL movement is explicitly nonviolent, which accounts for its mass appeal to Native and non-Native communities. In spite of this, political violence as a tactic of state repression has emerged against water protectors who engage in nonviolent direct action to disrupt the construction of the pipeline as well as those not engaged in direct actions. Natives at or near camp — whether involved in direct actions or not — are also targets for surveillance and repression. The camp and the Standing Rock reservation are under constant surveillance. The reason: Native bodies stand between corporations and their money. Halting the accumulation of capital, which in this context is the exploitation of our river and lands, has piqued settler ire and spite.

    The prolonged peaceful encampment practices an unsettling counter-sovereignty. It has drawn the support and solidarity of more than 200 Native Nations and countless thousands of allied forces sending a clear message to corporate interests: North Dakota cannot manage its Indians and the “Indian Problem” is out of control. After all, controlling the “Indian Problem” has always meant maintaining unrestricted access to Native lands and resources and keeping Indians silent, out of view, and factionalized. At Standing Rock, an unarmed, nonviolent prayer camp poses such a serious threat to settler proprietary claims that North Dakota Governor Jack Dalrymple, who has direct ties to the oil and gas industry, has deployed the full force of the Highway Patrol and the National Guards. These forces are not there to service an impoverished Native community or protect the integrity of the land and river. They are there to carry out the will of DAPL backers Energy Transfer Partners, some of the richest and most powerful people in the world who have used attack dogs against unarmed, nonviolent water protectors. More than 60 have been arrested, including journalists. Violent state repression has not ceased.

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    The #NoDAPL “United Nations” of Native Nation flags

    The Army Corps of Engineers, who maintains jurisdiction over the river in violation of the 1854 and 1868 Fort Laramie Treaties, claims it holds the final say about whether the DAPL can cross the Missouri River. The #NoDAPL encampment, in an exercise in Native sovereignty, sits atop lands claimed by the Corps, who only recently “permitted” the camp’s presence. On September 9, the Department of Interior, the Department of Justice, and the Corps also issued a joint statement halting — for now — the construction of the pipeline under the Missouri River as the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe’s case against DAPL will be considered and reviewed. This was a victory — a temporary halt of construction at a key site — and proof that this enemy, no matter how powerful, violent, or spiteful, too, can be defeated if Native people refuse to back down and continue to act in unity and cooperation. While construction halted under the river, it continues everywhere else. So too do direct actions. So too does the peaceful encampment. And so too must our focus and support on #NoDAPL. The encampment will remain until the pipeline is completely defeated.

    Oceti Sakowin and Native resistance, as it has for centuries, will also continue until our common enemy is defeated.

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    The Red Nation delegation at the #NoDAPL camp

    Early lessons from this ongoing struggle can be drawn to help strategize future possibilities:

    • The colonial state does not possess, and never has possessed, the moral high ground. It defends corporate access to Native lands and uses violence as a political tactic to maintain its contested authority over the land. The North Dakota National Guard has never in its history been deployed in force against an unarmed “domestic” population– until now. The National Guard and the Highway Patrol protect corporate interests and enforce the colonial state’s monopoly on violence against the most vulnerable and marginalized populations – Native people.
    • The prayer camp has galvanized multinational unity, primarily mobilizing everyday people in defense of Native sovereignty, self-determination, and treaty rights.
    • Treaty rights, and by default Native sovereignty, protect everyone’s rights. In this case, they protect a vital fresh water source for millions – the Missouri River.
    • #NoDAPL anti-colonial struggle is profoundly anti-capitalist. It is the frontline. It is the future.
    • The profits that corporations like Energy Transfer Corporation reap from colonial projects like the DAPL should be seized and used to repair damage to the land and river. With this also comes a long-term goal to restore the Missouri River to its rightful protectors – the Oceti Sakowin – and its natural path. This means the Army Corps of Engineers must relinquish its claim to the river and begin to demolish the Pick-Sloan dams so that the river and its people may once again live.

    Originally posted here

  • The End of an Era: From Dependence to Self-Propelled Development

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    In 2006, the University of North Carolina Press published Puerto Rico in the American Century, a history of Puerto Rico since 1898, written by César J. Ayala and I.

    In our conclusion we wrote the following:

    “At the time of writing, the decrease in manufacturing employment continues, public debt has reached unprecedented levels and Wall Street rating agencies are close to reducing Puerto Rico’s government financial instruments to the level of junk bonds. More critically, government agencies have run out of funds two months before the end of fiscal year 2005-2006. An impasse between the Popular Democratic Party-controlled Executive and a New Progressive Party-led Legislature forced a two-week layoff of close to 100,000 public employees. Coinciding with this, Congress is conducting hearings on possible mechanisms of dealing with the status question. Erosion of the prestige of the major political parties, fiscal crisis and growing exasperation on the island, on Wall Street and in Washington with Puerto Rico’s overall situation: Puerto Rican society is at the end of an era.”

    The least that can be said is that these words were prophetic: manufacturing employment continued to decrease, public debt spiraled upward, Puerto Rico’s bonds were downgraded to junk-bond rating in 2014 and most analysts eventually recognized that Puerto Rico’s debt is unsustainable and must be restructured (how and on what terms is another matter). Puerto Rico, as we pointed out a decade ago, is at the end of an era.

    The provisions of the Puerto Rico Oversight, Management & Economic Stability Act (Promesa) in their own way are a recognition that Puerto Rico’s crisis cannot be addressed through existing legal and institutional structures. Whether the changes pursued by Promesa are in the best interest of Puerto Rico is again quite a different question. Precisely because I felt in 2006 that Puerto Rico was at the end of an era, I joined the efforts to launch the Partido del Pueblo Trabajador: not unlike the Great Depression of the 1930s, to open a new chapter in our social and economic history we need new political vehicles.

    And we need new political parties. Puerto Rico has many complex problems (economic, administrative, environmental, health, etc.). We need proposals to address them in a coherent fashion. That is to say: we need an integrated program. But a program does not execute itself: we need people to support and move it forward. And we need candidates that represent it. This is what a party is, or should be: a program, people organized democratically to promote it and candidates who seek to legislate and execute it. I feel that we need new options, beyond the two parties that have brought us to the present impasse and that those options should be participatory, collective options.

    Back in 2006, we indicated the root problem of Puerto Rico’s growing crisis: the exhaustion of a development policy centered on tax exemptions and an almost absolute dependence on external investment. We were not the first to point this out. For example, in 1975, in his report on government finances, economist James Tobin warned against the growing outflow of profits. Regarding Tobin’s report, we wrote in 2006: Tobin “pointed out that the outflow of profits resulting from external control…was statistically reflected in the widening gap between the gross domestic product (GDP) and the gross national product (GNP)…. The less the expansion of the GDP was reflected in the growth of the GNP, the less the island’s economic expansion would translate into the welfare of its inhabitants. The report predicted that ‘growing dependence on external resources’…would tend to widen the gap.”

    This is the gap we need to reduce: we must ensure that much more of the wealth generated in Puerto Rico is reinvested here. We are trapped in the vicious circle of dependence: we lack investment funds, we invite external capital to invest, but most of the profits generated leave the island and we are back at the starting point. Our objective should be a transition to a virtuous circle of self-sustained development wherein income generated here is reinvested here, generating a self-propelling expansion. This is why a new version of Section 936 will not do the trick: it would be another ride in the circle of dependence. While Section 936 coincided with moderate growth, we should not forget that it was never able to reduce unemployment below 10% or poverty levels below 40%. It was irresponsible to eliminate it without anything to replace it, but that does not make it an adequate alternative to the present crisis.

    There are, briefly stated, two paths before us. One favors reductions in government spending and employment, minimum pay and welfare programs, erosion of labor rights, regressive tax reform reliant on consumer taxes and new tax exemption measures. At best, this path would turn Puerto Rico into an impoverished export platform. It would insert us in the global economy, not through higher productivity but through higher exploitation of our labor force. The other path insists that we should not confuse productivity with exploitation: this path favors a radical revision of tax exemption measures, a progressive tax reform combined with anti-evasion measures and the active promotion of industrial and agricultural initiatives committed to reinvestment. Our structural problem is an economy that does not retain a considerable portion of the wealth generated within it. If we do not address this structural problem, we will continue to perpetuate the consequences of the dependent development that have plagued us for decades.

    Rafael Bernabe is the candidate for governor from the Working People’s Party (PPT by its Spanish initials), of which he is one of the founders. A historian and sociologist, Bernabe has been a professor at the University of Puerto Rico for more than 20 years and has served as the president of the Puerto Rican Association of University Professors. He has been active in many social causes, including the rights of workers, women, immigrants, the LGBTTIQ community and the environment.

    Originally posted here.

  • Labour, anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism

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    Last April a row engulfed Ken Livingstone, former Labour mayor of London, and Naz Shah, Labour MP for Bradford West, following remarks they made about Israel and Zionism. They were suspended from the Labour Party, with Naz Shah having the parliamentary whip withdrawn. Shah has been reinstated, and though Livingstone has demanded that he too be reinstated, a decision has yet to be made by Labour’s National Constitutional Committee.

    The row prompted Jeremy Corbyn to set up an enquiry into anti-Semitism in the Labour Party headed by human rights lawyer Shami Chakrabarti. She produced a report at the end of June. After Livingstone’s and Shah’s remarks a wave of accusations of anti-Semitism swept across the media and the Parliamentary Labour Party. But attempts to smear Corbyn with the tag of anti-Semitism were made even before he was elected Labour leader in September 2015.

    The establishment media, led by the liberal Guardian, worked itself into a frenzy of hysteria against Corbyn, focusing on his long-standing commitment to Palestinian rights. The implication was that he was a closet anti-Semite or least that he had a close association with such alleged anti-Semites as the leaders of the Palestinian Hamas or the Lebanese Hizbollah organisations. Corbyn responded by saying that in order to reach a peaceful settlement, one had to talk to everyone, including leaders one didn’t wholly agree with.

    Chakrabarti’s report makes clear, as she puts it in the foreword, that “the Labour Party is not overrun by anti-Semitism, Islamophobia or other forms of racism”. However, she adds, “there is much clear evidence…of minority hateful or ignorant attitudes and behaviours festering within a sometimes bitter incivility of discourse.” She also refers to “an occasionally toxic atmosphere” which “is in danger of shutting down free speech”.

    Last February the co-chair of the Oxford University Labour Club resigned, citing instances of anti-Semitism. An internal Labour inquiry conducted by Baroness Royall concluded that OULC did not have an institutional issue of anti-Semitism, though also claiming that the student body has a “clear cultural problem” around this topic meaning that “some Jews do not feel welcome”. She highlights what she describes as the racist epithet “Zio”, an abbreviation of Zionist, recommending that it should have no place in Labour Party discourse.

    Condemns

    She also condemns the use of ethnic stereotypes whereby individuals or whole groups are said to think or act in a particular way due to their race or religion. She stresses that this kind of thinking is not prevalent in the Labour Party “but nor is it completely absent”. She cites the example of a Labour councillor who was told he would be particularly good at a finance role simply because he was Jewish. Rumours circulated around a Jewish MP that she was a Mossad agent.

    Ken Livingstone was suspended from the Labour Party following his claim that Hitler had supported Zionism “before he went mad and ended up killing six million Jews”. His comments were probably referring to the Haavara agreement of 1933 whereby German Jews emigrating to Palestine as a result of Nazi persecution were allowed to take some of their wealth out of Germany in order to buy German goods for the Yishuv (the Zionist settlements in British Mandate Palestine). This was in violation of the boycott of Nazi Germany supported by most Diaspora Jews and the international left.

    Tragically, Zionism also became the ideology justifying the ethnic cleansing of the majority of Palestinians in 1948-9. And it did so by emphasising a racial definition of Jewishness, one which is embodied in Israel’s Law of Return. As Joachim Prinz, a prominent German Zionist leader, declared in 1934, “The theory of assimilation has collapsed… A state, built according to the principle of purity of the nation and race [ie the Third Reich], can only be honoured and respected by a Jew who declares his belonging to his own kind.”

    Indeed, Zionism accepts anti-Semitism as the normal attitude of the Gentile world. It responds to it by self-exclusion and the creation of a state where Jews are a majority. Theodore Herzl, the founder of Zionism, was a journalist in Paris covering the Dreyfus affair in the 1890s, when a wave of anti-Semitism swept across French society. He wrote, “I achieved a freer attitude towards anti-Semitism, which I now began to understand historically and to pardon.”

    However, as John Rose argued in his reply to Norman Finkelstein in Open Democracy: “Even in its most reactionary form, Zionism, before the Second World War, which had no guarantee for its claims on Palestine, was one of the voices of oppressed Jews facing the growth of violent anti-Semitism as a mass movement everywhere, though of course in widely differing degrees of intensity. That strand of Zionism which tried to grovel with its tormentor, camouflaged as ‘negotiation’, even to the point of mimicry, remained always at its mercy” (8 May 2016).

    Zionists were also at the forefront of the fight against Nazism in Eastern Europe, displaying extraordinary courage under appalling circumstances. Moreover, according to Francis Nicosia, by 1937 the Nazis had become opposed to the idea of a Jewish state in Palestine as it would become a universally-recognised power base for international Jewry, with the Nazis’ anti-Semitic policies making Germany a natural enemy.

    Livingstone’s comments missed out half the story and as such gave a misleading, and wrong, picture of historical events. However, the notion that anti-Zionism is automatically anti-Jewish must be challenged.

    The conflation of anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism by Zionists suggests that all Jews must inevitably support Israel simply by virtue of being Jews. This implies that Jews have no independent mind of their own, no ability to stand back and criticise Israel or the idea of Zionism, that they are simply part of a mass of uncritical pro-Israel supporters.

    Institutional

    Of course, Israeli leaders have always claimed to speak in the name of all Jews as they carried out barbarous policies against the Palestinians. Tragically, the majority of Israelis, and the institutional representatives of world Jewry, have failed to dissociate themselves from these crimes, even if many individual Jews have. It is not surprising that some pro-Palestinian militants take the Israeli and Zionist leaders at their word and accept that “Jew” and “Zionist” are the same.

    This is a far cry from the pre Second World War days when a majority of Jews were on the left and were anti- or at least non-Zionist. Before the Second World War Zionism was a movement supported by a small minority of Jews. In municipal elections in Warsaw in 1936 Zionists polled 22 percent of the Jewish vote compared to 30 percent for the socialist anti-Zionist Bund. It was mainly the Holocaust, but also Stalinist anti-Semitism post-World War Two, that enabled Zionism to win the allegiance of a majority of the world’s Jews.

    Chakrabarti also highlights the way in which “the word ‘Zionist’ has been used personally, abusively or as a euphemism for ‘Jew’, even in relation to some people with no stated position or even a critical position on…modern Israel”. This is a mirror image of the manner in which Zionists seek to brand criticisms of Israel as anti-Semitic. This identification of anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism is a key method used by Zionists to de-legitimise criticisms of Israel, as a way of deflecting attention away from the brutality of the Israeli occupation and the violence by means of which Israel was created. But supporters of Palestine have always roundly rejected any attempt by Zionists to smear them as anti-Semitic or in the case of Jewish supporters of Palestine as “self-hating Jews”.

    However, allegations of anti-Semitism against Jeremy Corbyn continue, perhaps unsurprisingly in the light of the right’s renewed challenge to his leadership. At the launch of Chakrabarti’s inquiry Corbyn affirmed that Jews were no more responsible for Israel’s actions, such as the continuing theft of Palestinian land and natural resources, or the siege of Gaza, than Muslims were for “those self-styled Islamic states”. The Chief Rabbi accused him of making “offensive comments” and former Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks called it “demonisation of the highest order, an outrage and unacceptable”.

    But last May, Jeremy Corbyn issued a code of conduct covering political meetings, social and mainstream media, which outlawed heckling and personal abuse, and celebrating the diversity of the Labour Party “as a place where sexist, racist, anti-Semitic, Islamophobic, homophobic, or other discriminatory or offensive abuse has no place”.

    Attacks

    This is to be greatly welcomed given that there has been a rise in anti-Semitism across Europe. In Britain, according to the Community Security Trust — a pro-Zionist charity whose figures need to be taken with caution — anti-Semitic incidents rose by 11 percent in the first six months of this year. The most common type of incident was public verbal abuse. Other manifestations included graffiti, abuse via social media, damage and desecration of Jewish property. However, the 41 violent assaults represented a fall of 13 percent on 2015. And according to the Metropolitan Police, anti-Semitic attacks in London rose by 61 percent in 2015. In 2014, Israel’s assault on Gaza also led to a big rise in anti-Semitic incidents.

    In conclusion, it is untrue that real anti-Semitism is a serious problem in the Labour Party. Moreover, while anti-Semitic attacks are on the rise in Europe and less so in the UK, it remains on a significantly smaller scale than Islamophobia. All anti-racists and socialists must, as Corbyn states, oppose any and all manifestations of racism and other forms of oppression. But we should also stand firm in our opposition to the crimes of the state of Israel and continue to build up campaigns in support of Palestinian rights, such as the boycott, divestment and sanctions movement, which has seen real success in colleges across Britain.

    Originally posted here

  • Aiding and Abetting Apartheid

    Image

    [Susan Rice visiting Arrow missile base in Palmachim, 2014. U.S. Embassy Tel Aviv / Flickr]

    On Wednesday, the United States and Israel signed a memorandum of understanding promising Israel $38 billion in military aid over the next ten years. This represents, as National Security Advisor Susan Rice declared, “the single largest pledge of military assistance to any country in U.S. history.”

    Israel has already been the world’s largest cumulative recipient of US foreign aid since World War II, having received more than $125 billion, mostly in military assistance. Rice noted that the new aid commitment comes at a time of belt-tightening across the board, with mandatory sequestrations set to return in a few years, meaning further cutbacks in needed social programs. But this is worth it, said Rice, because of the “unbreakable bond,” the “ironclad bond,” “the unshakable commitment” between the United States and Israel. Israel will become the first foreign country in the world to receive the new, fifth-generation stealth aircraft, the F-35, and more generally the United States will continue to guarantee Israel a qualitative military edge over all its adversaries.

    Wednesday’s signing ceremony was clearly a play to the Israel lobby, with American Jewish leaders prominently in attendance and Rice mentioning that the deal was also in the interests of the United States only at the very end of her remarks (“Our security is linked,” and “the deal will support American jobs.”)

    Actually, though, Rice was right. The deal is not just an election year gift to AIPAC. For decades, Israel has served as one of the key pillars of US policy in the Middle East, along with Iran (before 1979), Saudi Arabia, and Egypt (after 1979). These have been the means by which Washington has been able to challenge radical nationalism and threats to US oil interests. Israel’s counterterrorism and intelligence cooperation, its prepositioning of US military materiel, and its periodic interventions in neighboring countries, have served Washington well, and arming Israel generates weapons sales to Gulf allies anxious about Iran’s influence and the general tensions in the region.

    In Jerusalem, Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu also hailed the historic deal, trying to undercut his political opponents who claimed that his brazen interference in US politics last year (accepting a Republican invitation to denounce Obama’s Iran nuclear deal before Congress) had weakened US-Israeli relations.

    In fact, Netanyahu’s critics were probably right that the prime minister’s antics had undermined the Israeli position. Obama promised at the time of the Iran nuclear deal that he would increase military support to Israel and the Gulf States. Under the current ten-year agreement, which runs until 2018, Israel gets $31 billion in military aid and another $4.4 billion in congressional allocations for missile defense. Under the new accord, Israel will get $38 billion, but this includes the $5 billion in missile defense funds ($500 million per year).

    The totals are not very different. But given the inflation in the cost of advanced weapons systems, the new MOU actually offers Israel less per year in real dollars than it has been receiving under the existing ten-year agreement. Moreover, under the new agreement Israel is required to agree that it will not ask Congress for, nor accept, any additional aid in the next two years except in the event of war. The memorandum also discontinues a provision of the current agreement that permits Israel, alone among US aid recipients, to use up to a quarter of its US military aid for purchases from its own manufacturers — thereby subsidizing its domestic weapons industry, making Israel one of the top ten arms exporters in the world.

    US military aid and technology will enable Israel to react more recklessly towards its neighbors, and this will invariably have a severely destabilizing impact on the region. (Recall how alarming the situation was in the Middle East when Israeli officials were constantly threatening to attack Iran.) As far as the Palestinians are concerned, however, the new weaponry won’t have much direct effect. After all, you don’t need fifth-generation stealth technology to blow up civilian houses in the Gaza Strip. Even the missile defense technology is basically irrelevant with respect to Palestinians since, as Norman Finkelstein has shown, it was not Iron Dome that led to such minimal Israeli casualties during Operation Protective Edge — it was the primitiveness of Palestinian rockets.

    But the MOU will unfortunately have a profoundly negative impact on the prospects of achieving justice in Palestine. Washington did not just promise Israel $38 billion in aid after Netanyahu personally intruded into US politics. The $38 billion came after Israel has done many things — any one of which should have disqualified Israel as a recipient of US aid. Consider:

    • The Leahy laws — two laws named after their sponsor, Senator Patrick Leahy — prohibit US military aid to any foreign military unit that has engaged in gross violations of human rights. In 2012 fifteen faith leaders called on Congress to condition military aid to Israel on its human rights compliance. In 2015, eleven US faith groups presented evidence of probable gross violations of human rights violations against Palestinians by Israeli security and military units. In 2016, Leahy and several Congressional colleagues asked the State Department to look into whether Israel and Egypt were in compliance with the law.
    • In 2009, Amnesty International called for a cutoff of weapons to Israel because of its attacks on civilians during Operation Cast Lead. In early 2014, Amnesty urged the United States and other states to suspend weapons transfer to Israel, given that the “‘Trigger-happy’ Israeli army and police use reckless force in the West Bank.”
    • In 2004, all fifteen judges of the International Court of Justice, including the American judge, declared the Israeli settlements in the West Bank and East Jerusalem to be illegal, and fourteen of the judges found the wall illegal. The Court held that “all States are under an obligation not to recognize the illegal situation resulting from the construction of the wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including in and around East Jerusalem. They are also under an obligation not to render aid or assistance in maintaining the situation created by such construction. It is also for all States, while respecting the United Nations Charter and international law, to see to it that any impediment, resulting from the construction of the wall, to the exercise by the Palestinian people of its right to self-determination is brought to an end.”
    • Human Rights Watch, in its 2016 report “Occupation, Inc.,” called on states to “Avoid offsetting the costs of Israeli government expenditures on settlements by withholding funding given to the Israeli government in an amount equivalent to its expenditures on settlements and related infrastructure in the West Bank.”

    So by signing a memorandum of understanding with Israel to provide it with $38 billion in military aid, beyond the harm of the weapons themselves, Washington was giving its financial support to Israeli behavior: to its war crimes, to its human rights violations, to its occupation, and to its settlements. It is essentially declaring that it will not hold Israel to account, that it will prevent (through its veto) the United Nations from holding Israel to account, and that it will use its economic clout to block any attempt to put economic pressure on Israel to get it to comply with international law.

    These, more than any specific military transfers, ensure Israeli freedom to crush Palestinian self-determination. Obama and his administration can repeat their commitment to a two-state solution all they want, but promising Netanyahu $38 billion just days after he announces that anyone who wants the removal of the settlements (to comply with international law) is an advocate of ethnic cleansing (offending even the Anti-Defamation League) makes clear that Washington will do nothing to actually encourage an end to the occupation.

    There’s some talk that Obama might now make one last push to get Netanyahu and the Palestinian Authority to the negotiating table. But what possible leverage would Obama have? Commit war crimes, use excessive force against peaceful demonstrators, continue dispossessing Palestinians and expanding settlements: you still get $38 billion in military aid. The message will be lost on no one.


     

    After Israel’s horrendous bombardment of Gaza in August 2014, a detailed needs assessment concluded that it would take $3.875 billion for reconstruction and recovery. Donor nations pledged $3.4 billion, but less than half of that amount has been received to date.

    The World Bank estimates that discriminatory Israeli restrictions in Area C of the West Bank, most of which are directly linked to Israel’s settlement and land policies, cost the Palestinian economy $3.4 billion a year. So under the new memorandum every year Washington will be giving Israel military aid equivalent in value to what Israeli bombs and missiles have destroyed in Gaza and to the annual cost of Israeli settlement policy to the Palestinian economy. The irony is palpable, and the consequences for Palestinians appear grim indeed.

     

    Stephen R. Shalom is on the editorial board of New Politics. This article was originally published by Jacobin.

     

  • Mexico’s Teachers Movement; From Class War to Death Squads

    ImageMexico’s dissident teachers have been engaged in a strike against the Education Reform Law since May 16 of this year–four months! Their strikes of tens of thousands, led by the National Coordinating Committee (la CNTE), a caucus within the Mexican Teachers Union (el SNTE), have also engaged in protest marches, the blocking of highways and railroads, the commandeering of government vehicles, and the occupation of government buildings.

    The government has responded by docking teachers’ pay, firing them, sending the police to beat them, and issuing warrants and arresting teacher leaders. One can only call what has gone on in Chiapas and Oaxaca and to a lesser extent in Guerrero and Michoacán class war.

    Now there also appear to be death squads carrying out executions of teachers and their allies. So far at least three assassinations have taken place: a teacher, a parent, and a lawyer for the union. This is an ominous and very dangerous escalation of political violence.

           * One teacher, Jorge Vela Díaz, was shot and killed and his wife Lorena Antonio Sánchez, was wounded on Sept. 14 when two armed men men on motorcycles attacked them at a public school in the town of Ocotlán, Morelos. Both were teachers and members of Local 22 of the Mexican Teachers Union (el SNTE) of Oaxaca.

          * At the same time, another man, 19 year old Eder Zuriel Gonzen Mosqueda, a parent, was shot and killed in front of the “Juan Enrique Pestalozzi” primary school in San Juan Bautista Textepec, near the border of Veracruz. His relationship to the union is unknown, but the fact that he was shot in front of a school suggests this is related to the union.

           * On Sept. 15, Agustín Pavia Pavia, a founder and leader of the MORENA party and  defender of the teachers movement in Oaxaca was shot and killed in front of his house in Oaxaca City, the state capital. He was the fifth member of the Oaxaca MORENA party to be assassinated in 2016; no one has been charged with any of the deaths.

    These are only the latest killings of teachers and their supporters. On June 19, in the town of Nochixtlán, during a confrontation between teachers and police, the state or federal police killed nine teachers or supporters, while 100 people were wounded (half teachers, half police). Nochixtlán, which should be described as a police massacre of teachers and community activists, did not represent the kind of assassinations we are now seeing.

    Unfortunately, given the 200,000 people killed in the drug war from 2006-2016—many of them assassinated—together with the 30,000 kidnapped, many may simply see a few dead teachers as trifling casualties in another war, the war against the unions that has also gone on since 2006. (On drug war casualties see PBS Frontline.)

    Such assassinations of teachers are not new. During the strike of Local 22 in Oaxaca in 2006, a strike accompanied by a broad civic uprising sometimes referred to as the “Commune of Oaxaca,” death squads killed at least 20 and perhaps as many as 27 teachers and their supporters. We seem to be witnessing a return to those tactics by the teachers’ political opponents, presumably the government, the Institutional Revolutionary Party, or Oaxaca business interests.

    Ayotzinapa Investigator Resigns, Promoted

    All of this is taking place as the Mexican Attorney General’s chief investigator Tomás Zerón—responsible for solving the the murder of six people, wounding of 25 others, and kidnapping of 43 students in the City of Iguala, Mexico on Sept. 26, 2014—resigned. After two years, the government has not been able to solve the case and has indicted no one for the murders.

    Despite Zerón’s failure at that job, Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto immediately promoted him to be Technical Secretary of the country’s National Security Council. Or perhaps the president rewarded Zerón because he believed that by failing to solve the case the investigator had protected the interests of the government and the ruling party.

    Teacher Protests Continue

    Despite the rising tide of violence, teacher protests continue in Oaxaca, Chiapas, Guerrero, and Michoacán, joined at the moment by teachers in Sinaloa, Chihuahua, and Jalisco. Chiapas Locals 7 and 40 called their teachers back from Mexico City, where they had been sitting-in at the Ciudadela, and launched new protests in their home state.

    With the strike having gone on so long, it is not surprising that there are rising tensions among the teachers. In Chiapas the attempt to discuss the state of negotiations in Local 7 led to a conflict between teachers who seek to find a way to end the strike short of overturning the Education Reform Law and those who demand to continue the strike until they attain a complete victory. Hundreds of teachers and interrupted the Local 7 meeting, demanding that there be no discussion of the state of negotiations and the struggle continue unabated.