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Today's Stories December 27, 2006 Nikolas Kozloff December 26, 2006 Peter Stone
Brown Tito Tricot Gary Leupp John V. Walsh Reza Fiyouzat Ron Jacobs Website of
the Day
Saul Landau Lang / McGovern Michael Dickinson Website of
the Day
Marjorie Cohn Jeffrey L.
Gould Diane Christian William Loren
Katz Greg Moses M. Shahid Alam Fred Gardner Dave Lindorff Azmi Bishara Ralph Nader Seth Sandronsky William Hughes Ron Jacobs Jeffrey St.
Clair
December 22, 2006 David Rosen Christopher
Brauchli John Ross J.L. Chestnut,
Jr. Rahul Mahajan Arthur Neslen Peter Rost, MD Website of
the Day
Rosa Mariam
Elizalde Arundhati Roy Brian Cloughley Daniel White John V. Whitbeck Sam Smith Paris Reidhead Kevin Wehr Website of the Day
Gabriel Kolko Winslow T.
Wheeler Tariq Ali Saree Makdisi Bruce Jackson Dave Lindorff Leslie Radford Dave Jansson Johnny Barber Website of
the Day
Alexander Cockburn Jonathan Cook Greg Moses Sean Penn Dave Lindorff Ralph Nader Laura Carlsen Carlos Villarreal Website of
the Day
Luis J. Rodriguez Norman Solomon Uri Avnery Ron Jacobs Phil Gasper Behrooz Ghamari-Tabrizi William Blum Jim Goodman James Brooks Maria C. Khoury Website of the Day
Vijay Prashad Saul Landau Anthony Arnove Paul Cantor Annie Nocenti Nicole Colson Stephen Gowans Jordan Flaherty Fred Gardner P. Sainath Seth Sandronsky Nadia Hijab Deb Reich Susie Day Albert Wan Missy Beattie Martha Rosenberg Lee Ballinger Michael Dickinson Jeffrey St.
Clair Poets' Basement Website of
the Weekend
December 15, 2006 Eliza Ernshire Virginia Tilley Mike Ferner John Ross Fred Wilhelms Kevin Zeese David Severn Dave Lindorff Sunsara Taylor Website of
the Day
December 14, 2006 Jonathan Cook Riz Khan Jason Hribal Pennick / Gray Richard Levins Pat Williams Peter Rost, MD Website of
the Day
December 13, 2006 Patrick Cockburn Greg Moses Elizabeth Schulte Joshua Frank Debra Eschmeyer Leon Hadar Peter Rost, MD Margaret Knapke Reza Fiyouzat Fred Wilhelms Website of
the Day
Fernando A.
Torres Paul Craig
Roberts Stephen Soldz Uri Avnery William S. Lind Missy Beattie Dave Lindorff George Pyle Norman Solomon Website of
the Day
December 11, 2006 Virginia Tilley Roger Burbach Col. Douglas MacGregor Fawwas Traboulsi Ron Jacobs Gideon Levy Mary McGrane Bernardo Ruiz Website of the Day Video of the
Day
December 9
/ 10, 2006 Alexander Cockburn Sen. Gordon Smith Greg Grandin
Paul Craig Roberts Col. Dan Smith Ralph Nader Behrooz Ghamari Rev. Willliam Alberts James T. Phillips Bennis / Leaver Dave Lindorff Nikolas Kozloff Seth Sandronsky Lucinda Marshall Mike Whitney John V. Whitbeck Faisal Kutty Hugh Sansom Robert Gold Boots Riley Jeffrey St.
Clair Poets' Basement Website of
the Weekend
Patrick Cockburn Leutisha Stills Norman Finkelstein Will Youmans Peter Rost, MD Jonathan Demme Ray McGovern Lucinda Marshall Tariq Ali / Robin Blackburn Website of
the Day
December 7, 2006 Alex Friedman Maureen Webb Paul Craig Roberts Dave Lindorff Matt Vidal Yifat Susskind Rodriguez / Jones Website of
the Day
Robert Bryce
William S. Lind Zoe Blunt Corporate Crime Reporter Amira Hass Richard W. Behan Sophie McNeill
Virginia Tilley Sharon Smith Joe Bageant Ron Jacobs Norman Solomon Mike Whitney Derrick O'Keefe Julian Assange Missy Beattie Website of
the Day
December 4, 2006 Alexander Cockburn George Ciccariello-Maher Ray McGovern John Ross Walden Bello Peter Rost,
MD Stephen Lendman Gideon Levy Website of the Day
December 2
/ 3, 2006 Barucha Calamity
Peller Paul Craig
Roberts Ralph Nader Winslow T.
Wheeler Amira Hass Maymanah Farhat Dave Lindorff Fred Gardner Col. Dan Smith Raed Jarrar Seth Sandronsky K.-Y. Taylor Yifat Susskind David Rosen Ron Jacobs Nikolas Kozloff Talli Nauman Alan Gregory Joe Allen St. Clair /
D'Antoni Poets' Basement Website of
the Day
December 1, 2006 Greg Grandin Linn Washington,
Jr. George Ciccariello-Maher Brian J. Foley Dave Zirin Joshua Frank Chris Floyd Ingmar Lee Manuel Garcia,
Jr. Website of the Day Video of the
Day
Jonathan Cook Tariq Ali Winslow T.
Wheeler Manuel Garcia,
Jr William S. Lind Ray McGovern Fidel Castro Agustin Velloso CP News Service Website of
the Day
Glen Ford Chris Sands Rochelle Gause Manuel Garcia,
Jr. Norman Finkelstein Peter Rost,
MD Gary Leupp Joe DeRaymond Christopher Fons Sibel Edmonds Website of the Day
November 28, 2006 Patrick Cockburn Winslow T.
Wheeler Michael Ratner John Ross Molly Secours Peter Rost,
MD Lucinda Marshall Website of
the Day
November 27, 2006 Kathleen and
Bill Christison Uri Avnery Nikolas Kozloff Michael Donnelly Ben Terrall / John Miller Robert Jensen Sol Littman Website of
the Day
November 25 / 26, 2006 Gabriel Kolko Saul Landau William Blum Ralph Nader Fred Gardner Daniel Wolff M. Shahid Alam James J. Brittain George Ciccariello-Maher Contingency and Counter-Contingency in Venezuela Aseem Shrivastava Seth Sandronsky Julian Assange Christopher Brauchli Michele Naar-Obed Ramzy Baroud Christiane
Passevant / Adam Engel Jeffrey St.
Clair / Poets' Basement Website of
the Weekend
November 24, 2006 Charles Glass Gideon Levy Jonathan Cook Ron Jacobs Brian McKenna Kim Ives
November 23, 2006 Alexander Cockburn
Kathleen Christison Paul Craig
Roberts Mike Roselle Dave Lindorff Greg Moses Dave Zirin Nadia Martinez Sherwood Ross David Kalbfeisch Gilad Atzmon Website of the Day
November 21, 2006 Robert Bryce John V. Walsh Luis Hernandez Navarro Kevin Zeese Peter Rost, MD Evelyn Pringle Roger Morris Don Monkerud Website of the Day
November 20, 2006 David H. Price Col. Dan Smith Katherine Hughes Dave Himmelstein Robert Jensen Joe Mowrey Mike Whitney Carl N. McDaniel Robert Fisk Ramzy Baroud Website of the Day
November 18
/ 19, 2006 Alexander Cockburn Ralph Nader Barucha Calamity Peller John Ross Dave Lindorff Fred Gardner Ron Jacobs Larry Portis Frida Berrigan Wes Enzinna Elizabeth Schulte Peter Rost,
MD Martha Rosenberg Seth Sandronsky Missy Beattie Adam Engel Jeffrey St. Clair Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend
November 17, 2006 Greg Grandin Joseph Massad Kevin Zeese Gideon Levy Bill Quigley David Swanson Sherry Wolf Jerry Beisler Website of the Day
November 16, 2006 Kathy Kelly Col. Douglas
MacGregor Norman Solomon Nikki Thanos Cindy Sheehan Lena Khalaf
Tuffaha Gloria La Riva Pat Williams Kerry Joyce CP News Service David Letterman James Ridgeway Website of
the Day
November 15, 2006 Jennifer Loewenstein David Rosen Ashley Smith Landau / Hassen Walden Bello Sibel Edmonds Austin / Bernstein Yitzhak Laor James Rothenberg Gail Dines Website of the Day
Werther Ray McGovern John Walsh David MacMichael William S.
Lind Sharon Smith Laura Carlsen Ron Jacobs Peter Rost,
MD Carol Norris Website of
the Day
November 13, 2006 Kathleen and
Bill Christison Bill Quigley Paul Craig Roberts Uri Avnery Joe DeRaymond Norman Finkelstein Col. Dan Smith Shepherd Bliss Dave Lindorff Missy Beattie Trenticosta / Fleming
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December 27, 2006 Dare We Not Say Genocide?Journey to VietnamBy MICHAEL ORTIZ HILL How to speak of Vietnam--merely two weeks back and still its radiance lingers. I can begin with the relentlessness preparation; my legs begin giving away with multiple sclerosis and the artificial transgressive mania of steroid "therapy." Second time in a year and a half. I call the spirit of MS "the Guest" and see it through my training as a medicine man in Africa: a sacred illness to which I apprentice to teach me about healing. The gift of illness is that it makes one real and one is made real by being stripped and stripped again to what is most elemental, most uncertain. Will I be paralyzed in this life? Is that my fate? I wrote a week before flying to Vietnam:
Thus was the heart rendered naked. How else to meet the exigencies of this pilgrimage but with a naked heart? How else to see Vietnam but with an observant heart cut down to simple presence? I asked my mother when I was ten if it was mine to go to war. "Probably," she said. As a teenager, as I approached draftable age, the recurring nightmare: a firefight. Gripping my gun. Paralyzed. To kill or be killed. Or kill and be killed. I'd wake up in a cold sweat. Vietnam was always an imaginary geography running parallel to the ordinary violence of America, the extraordinary and redundant violence of American foreign policy. Watching the vultures watch El Salvador at Parque Balboa where the death squads dumped the dead: I was as much in Vietnam as Central America. Or so I imagined. What I actually found astonished me. Not only is the Vietnamese soul intact but it is overflowing in its generosity. I will merely tell a couple of illustrative stories. It was the sixth time Dr. Ed Tick had brought American vets and "fellow travelers" to Vietnam for reconciliation and healing. Ed is a psychotherapist who has worked with vets since the late 70's. In his superb War and the Soul he challenges the medicalized fantasy of PTSD recognizing the wounds of war to be spiritual. We all met in LAX to fly after midnight across the Pacific. In the country as we passed a rice paddy with a dozen water buffalo browsing, Lance told the story of his arrival in Vietnam in 1967. "I wish I had never acquired the knowledge of my capacity to kill," said Lance. This is how he saw the necessary initiation from being a FNG--a new guy--to being a gunship pilot: "There were three things that tested the FNG. Could I take the chaos, insanity and fear? Could I fly the machine in this place and kill? And finally--could I kill humans? "Until these things were established the FNG was certainly endangered but more importantly a danger to fellow GI's who depended on him." Lances "cherry was popped" with the buffalo. The logic was inarguable. It was a "free fire zone," Vietnamese were enemies by virtue of being there ergo the buffalo also were enemy. "You mean were going to kill a herd of buffalo?" I asked. "War is hell, GI, relax. You re going to love it." Lance didn't believe he would ever enjoy killing but perhaps he could accept it. " I had the strangest vision that I was one of them , of the herd. I felt every animals fear and surprise as the looked to the helicopter in fear and confusion." He was twenty one years old and proven himself willing to kill. While Lance and the others were down below laying to rest old ghosts I visited the Nui Ba Den monastery on the side of Lady Black Mountain in Tay Ninh province. It was mine to meditate and pray on behalf of the fallen, Vietnamese and American but also the animals. All wars are against the natural world whatever the geopolitics of this or that enemy. It was here I could enter into the "ritual mind" of a peacemaker. A young nun, perhaps ten years old brought me bread and a couple of oranges. I had been folded into the monastic day for several hours. Was this for me to eat? Or was it an offering to Buddha? I took it to be an offering and left it on the altar and continued my meditation. I thought of the mourning feast ceremonies that the NGO everyday ghandis supports in Liberia. In the mourning feast former enemies eat out of a common bowl. This is the offering to the dead so they can find the way "across the river" to the village of the ancestors. The civil war had disrupted these essential rites and so in the spirit world, war continued to rage. The feast makes it possible for a people to be reconciled with themselves. Throughout this pilgrimage it was an extraordinary honor to be with former enemies sharing food. American vets with Viet Cong, North Vietnamese vets. The perpetuity of war in my life had me live with the delusion that it never stopped. At one point I went I went off to the bush surrounding the monastery for a final ritual--an offering to the Nameless One as I call the Origin of All Healing. The voice came, almost verbal: "The offering is accepted." I knew this to be peace. The female Buddha, whom the Vietnamese call Quan Nam, smiled. Soon an old man, toothless, came down the trail bearing a huge burden of gladiolas. He talked to me exuberantly and I exuberantly assured him I hadn't a clue to what he was saying. So he broke out a cigarette for each of us and we smoked quietly. Then he took my day pack and had me follow ten minutes down the trail to a cave shrine looked over by a monk. I lit incense there and prostrated and prayed before Quan Nam, she, now, of the thousand arms. The monk noted my cane and my gimpy walk. "VC?", he asked. I soon realized my age, my gimp, my American self-I was clearly a vet, clearly wounded in the war. I tried to say with no common language that it wasn't the VC who wounded me. Soon a young man and his girlfriend arrived. The first English speaking Vietnamese I'd seen all day. "Are you a vet?' "Oh yes, I'm a veteran of the efforts to stop the war." "Were you the only one?" "No. There were millions of us. " I said. I returned to the monastery and folded myself back into meditation and prayer. Ed had arranged for the monks and nuns to chant on behalf of the dead. For an hour we floated in the unearthly layered beauty, call and response between the male and female voices. The next morning I asked the I Ching how the dead were and it was confirmed. Great Accumulates: "Your offering has been received. Blessings will flow." In America the way war wounds the soul is called PTSD. In Zimbabwe we say it's a matter of ngozi. It has been ten years since Mandaza Kandemwa initiated me into the medicine tradition of central African people. Because of the war of independence that ended apartheid much of Mandazas' medical practice is about ngozi. In Africa the health and vibrant sanity of the living is dependent on the welfare of the dead, The ngozi are are those who fall by violence and can afflict your grandchild with nightmares even after you yourself are dead. PTSD, from the angle of Bantu psychology, is a cross-generational affair. The dead are restless until we free them and from their restlessness, often, comes more violence. It was this next morning that I saw the full circle of ritual activity. My trembling before Quan Nam. And the monks and nuns. My newAmerican friends. How then, again, to speak of Vietnam? In Saigon at the War Remnants Museum I stood daft before a photograph I knew from my boyhood, one of many casting me into exile in my native country: a VC suspect dragged to death by an American tank after interrogation. At My Lai our young guide (like the majority of Vietnamese born after the war) wept as she told us the story of the massacre, of Hugh Thompson, the GI who intervened, landed his helicopter between Calley's platoon and the villagers, threatening to fire on American soldiers if they did not stop. We prayed along the ditch where 104 of the 504 total deaths took place, and then went across the grass past where a disemboweled pig that lay as dull cement sculpture to the monument to the dead: Communist social "realism" casting heroic light and shadow to those cut down by a large and stupid country. "Nammo Quan Nam Bodat", I chanted under my breath. "Holy bodhisattva Kwan Yin." I accompanied Lance as he wept and I think of what I wrote in Twin from Another Tribe: I will live in exile in America until America begins grieving about the violence we visited on Vietnam. Lance assures me that vets know what I mean by internal exile and I begin to see how profoundly these brothers have grieved Vietnam. The grief that America refuses is the grief that has undone so many vets. The amnesia that makes Iraq possible coupled with vets afflicted with the incapacity to forget-such guarantees exile in one's own country. Of such nightmares are made. To be thrown as a warrior into America's shadow, to return with a knowledge of the tragic to a culture that forever seeks victory, seeks happy endings. Vet after vet told a variation of that story and it was in this that I recognized common ground. A generation exiled by the Vietnam War from what we imagined America to be. No more will I add a dollop of "superiority" as a pacifist to the unbearable weight so many vets carry. I will not be a gatekeeper of their exile as they return, multiply betrayed, from Iraq. I followed the news on the BBC the day before we went to My Lai. John Hopkins University study: 655,000 Iraqi dead, as always almost all civilians: by my estimation the equivalent of about 7,000,000 Americans, given that Iraq is an eleventh the size of the U.S. This after 1,200,000 Iraqi dead from ten years of sanctions, half of them children. Does one dare say genocide? Does one dare not? Shortly before we left Vietnam we all visited the Dinh in a village outside of Hanoi. "Dinh" is quite untranslatable but suffice it to say it is the house of the village god and place of council for the elders. We were received by eight old men, all veterans of the wars against the Japanese, French, and Americans. One of the men was missing his right arm below the elbow, the stump resting quietly on his thigh. Lance had the good fortune of being medivaced out of Vietnam in 1967. Long hospitalization, a third of the muscle mass of his calf torn away in a persistent wound. He asked the elder whether he had lost his arm in the war. "Oh, yes." "You were honorable adversaries", said Lance, rolling up his pants and showing the roseate wound with which his time as a GI had marked him. "How beautiful your wound," said the elder. At Eds' suggestion the North Vietnamese vets and Americans showed their wounds. Some merely placed hand over heart. The elders called us to light incence before the village god and pray for peace. Then we shared tea and fruit blessed by the village god. It would be the last food shared with the "enemy" before we returned to America. It is the essence of the sacred when former enemies break bread together: As in Liberia so between Vietnamese and American and we veterans of war and antiwar. In the light of that. indeed, how beautiful our wounds. Michael Ortiz Hill is the author of Dreaming
the End of the World: Apocalypse as a Rite of Passage (Spring
Publications, Fall 2003) and with Augustine Kandemwa, Gathering
in the Names: a Journey Into the Land of African Gods. (Spring
Audio and Journal, 2002). ). His
essays on peacemaking and healing are posted at www.gatheringin.com.
He can be emailed at Michaelortizhill@earthlink.ent.
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