Day 197- 3 kinds of ironic

Dear Mr. President,

Today you issued a proclamation. I wanted to use today'd letter to comment on this, but I thought I'd let your words speak for themselves. (I think you'll see where I'm going with this.)

For Immediate Release July 16, 2010
Presidential Proclamation--Captive Nations Week

CAPTIVE NATIONS WEEK, 2010

BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

A PROCLAMATION

In 1959, President Eisenhower issued the first Captive Nations Proclamation in solidarity with those living without personal or political autonomy behind the Iron Curtain. Since that time, once-captive nations have broken free to establish civil liberties, open markets, and allow their people access to information. However, even as more nations have embraced self governance and basic human rights, there remain regimes that use violence, threats, and isolation to suppress the aspirations of their people.

The Cold War is over, but its history holds lessons for us today. In the face of cynicism and stifled opportunity, the world saw daring individuals who held fast to the idea that the world can change and walls could come down. Their courageous struggles and ultimate success and the enduring conviction of all who keep the light of freedom alive remind us that human destiny will be what we make of it.

The journey towards worldwide freedom and democracy sought in 1959 remains unfinished. Today, we still observe the profound differences between governments that reflect the will of their people, and those that sustain power by force; between nations striving for equal justice and rule of law, and those that deny their citizens freedom of religion, expression, and peaceful assembly; and between states that are open and accountable, and those that restrict the flow of ideas and information. The United States has a special responsibility to bear witness to those whose voices are silenced, and to stand alongside those who yearn to exercise their universal human rights.

In partnership with like-minded governments, we must reinforce multilateral institutions and international partnerships that safeguard human rights and democratic values. We must empower embattled civil societies and help their people connect with one another and the global community through new technologies. And, with faith in the future, we must always stand with the courageous advocates, organizations, and ordinary citizens around the world who fearlessly fight for limitless opportunity and unfettered freedom.

The Congress, by Joint Resolution, approved July 17, 1959 (73 Stat. 212), has authorized and requested the President to issue a proclamation designating the third week of July of each year as "Captive Nations Week."

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, do hereby proclaim July 18 through July 24, 2010, as Captive Nations Week. I call upon the people of the United States to reaffirm our deep commitment to all those working for human rights and dignity around the globe.

Mr. President, those were some powerful words. I would very much like to live in a country that could live up to these promises.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 191- In the footsteps of ancient giants

Dear Mr. President,

I've heard many times the sentiment Nicholas Kristof expressed today in his column "Waiting for Gandhi." The idea that the Palestinians have not found their Gandhi, their Dr. King; that one man, could save them all. I don't know if things are that simple. I don't know if a Messiah complex (or a waiting for a Messiah complex) is really what will make things all better. I admire Dr. King, and I admire Gandhi, but they were mortal men that achievement, history and personal sacrifice elevated to something higher, something, quite possibly, unattainable. I think that resting the salvation of an entire people on one man's shoulders is a dangerous proposition. For one thing, it discourages those who would walk the paths of these great men, but could never, alone, hope to fill their shoes. I think you might be able to empathize with this, given those who hailed you as the natural heir to Dr. King (or even Jesus) and then turned their backs when miracles did not appear in your first 100 days. How does a man meet such impossible expectations? And, when he cannot, how does he keep his spirit, his sanity, or his integrity when people give up hope? It isn't fair for us (or for Palestinians, or any one) to expect the work of healing our wounds and steering our nations to collective better destinies to belong to one man. We all must be that man.

Kristof naively describes the non-violence practiced by many Palestinian activists as a recent development, something "that some Palestinians are dabbling in." Perhaps Mr. Kristof has only recently witnessed it himself, but nonviolent resistance has been practiced by activists against the occupation for decades. I feel that this is an aspect of resistance that the media deliberately overlooks, but also that the Israeli government and the American government, fail to recognize, praise, and reward as an alternative to violence. The nonviolence is not less effective because it hasn't found a face for T-shirts of the next generation of hipsters yet.

I was reminded by a fellow blogger recently of some wise words from Rachel Corrie's posthumously published writings.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Just want to write to my Mom and tell her that I’m witnessing this chronic, insidious genocide and I’m really scared, and questioning my fundamental belief in the goodness of human nature. This has to stop. I think it is a good idea for us all to drop everything and devote our lives to making this stop. I don’t think it’s an extremist thing to do anymore. I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my coworkers. But I also want this to stop.

When I first read these words I felt, personally, called out by them. I needed to drop everything and devote my life to making this stop. I didn't imagine I could do it myself, and I didn't think Rachel thought she could, either. I don't think that I am special or significant or destined to singlehandedly stop injustice. I have no delusions of these kind, but I do feel that my efforts are needed. All of us, every one of us, is called upon to help. Seeing these words again, and then reading Mr. Kristof's column, his claim that "so far there is no Palestinian version of Martin Luther King Jr," I felt them even more powerfully. No one should wait for Gandhi, or Dr. King, or the next great man. That isn't what they taught, and it isn't how they succeeded. History may have elevated them in isolation, but they did not, and could not, have walked alone. At the risk of invoking a cliche seen on stickers and posters in every dorm in the country, Gandhi called us all to be that change we wish to see in the world. This kind of wisdom, that we all have a role to play, a greater cause to serve, a place on the road to our better future, is something that more of us have to take to heart.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 157- The purity of arms

Dear Mr. President,

Today while reading about several Israeli Naval Officers' objections to the attack on the flotilla, I came across a phrase I had not encountered since I was last in college, the Israeli concept of a "purity of arms." While the idea of rendering a weapon impure by employing it in ignoble ways seems as though it is a principle designed to steer a nation toward using force only for "righteous" causes, it seems to me that this ethos leads only to deception. A people who require that an inherently unethical action, violence, be used only for ethical means, are asking only to be lied to and manipulated. I do not, by any means, feel that Israel is the first or only country to employ such an ethos; the United States often seeks to portray our own military actions as being purely righteous and good. Likewise, the American people ask for this deception; we want to believe that we are allowed to possess the weapons and wield the might of our fighting forces, because our cause is just and, even, pure.

I have never been to war, but I don't imagine there is much purity to be found on a battlefield. I don't believe that objects designed to maim and kill can be in a state of purity or impurity; they are weapons and weapons are just devices with purposes and no morality. The soldiers carrying the weapons, themselves devices with purposes handed down to them by men in much more expensive uniforms. It could be argued that these men are guided by the people who elect, appoint, and generally empower them, that their morality is derived only from ours. The power dynamics that support or contradict this could be examined for ages, with no easy or obvious conclusions to be drawn. It is the people's fault; it is the fault of those in power; it is the fault of the human condition; in the end, it does not matter. If our soldiers and their weapons are deployed to kill and to destroy, than we can claim no purity of purpose, regardless of our enemy. They might oppose the terrorists of al-qaeda, or the Janjaweed soldiers in Sudan; at the most individual level it will still be fathers and sons and brothers (and more than a few mothers and daughters and sisters) who are dying.

I am a believer in the paramount righteousness of non-violence, but I am not entrusted to lead any one, much less the United States of America. I understand that you must exist in the "real world" where violence is threatened and done against America and American interests every day. While some would claim that "weakness always begets aggression" I think this is tantamount to blaming the victims of violence for the violence done to them. Furthermore, I don't believe that the use of force is a show of strength, so much as it is of fear. Does our responsibility to protect the weak, to stand for justice and even freedom for all require that we use violence to these ends? I cannot answer this question to my own satisfaction. I want to believe that we could exist in the world as a nation unwilling to use violence and call it righteous, that, if we must defend ourselves with the horrors of our war machine, we might at least be honest about the toll it takes and the complexity of our enemies and our motives.

But I want to believe a great many things.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 49

Dear Mr. President,

I was sorry to hear about the disturbed man in Texas today. While I often find myself reacting emotionally to such stories, I try to separate myself from the coverage of the story and put myself in the individual's shoes. One thing I never can reconcile is the degree of anger one must feel in order to commit such a violent act. I get angry, I get emotional, I get enraged at the decisions made by this government, and I often feel that I have no means of redressing these mistakes. Voting sometimes feels like an exercise in futility, and certainly running for office myself is not a viable option (nor, as Senator Bayh so eloquently illustrated, always an effective means of changing the system.) I have joined demonstrations against war and occupation; in my indignation at the suppression of basic human rights, I have even wished to march on Washington. I'll admit I admire the nerve and strength of character of Rachel Corrie, the young Washington girl who died at the hands of the IDF defending a home set for demolition in Gaza. I could devote my life, even perhaps my death, to a political cause.

But I could not kill for it.

I could not pick up a weapon, or launch a missile or crash a vehicle into a building. I cannot find the empathy to understand why some one would do this. I understand desperation and I understand self-defense, but I do not understand this kind of attack. Clearly, to some extent, it is by nature incomprehensible. The madness of the perpetrator makes rationalizing his behavior near impossible. But I know that I cannot comfort myself with the simple answer that this man was ill, end of story. This man did not think himself irrational. This clearly took planning and preparation, this clearly took a degree of reasoning. I had never even heard of the tax law that this man found so upsetting it drove him to violence. I'm reluctant to even follow the path of searching for justification too far, because the man may have had some very legitimate points about the problematic nature of this law, but any validity to his arguments is lost, forever, in the burning wreckage of that plane.

I don't know what to think. I don't know what to say. Today, we have no simple answer.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey