Dear Mr. President,
The Cote d'Ivoire is, according to UN ambassador Youssoufou Bamba, on the brink of genocide. Ideally, I would think that the impending social implosion of an African nation a good reason to use US military power to protect civilians caught up in the violence. Of course, as we've overextended ourselves in Afghanistan, Iraq and our forays into Yemen and Pakistan, we simply don't have the military assistance to offer. We can hope that the UN or the African Union are able to keep peace and protect the innocent, but there is little, practically, that the US can do.
Perhaps it is naive of me to think that we should only use our troops to protect civillians, avoid genocide and keep peace. Perhaps chasing Bin Laden & the Taliban through caves is, in fact, a more effective use of our might, but I don't think our current military strategy has made us safer- indeed the number and complexity of our military engagements abroad seem to have left us in a strategically weakened position.
I'll admit that the proximity of The Cote d'Ivoire to Burkina Faso is heightening my anxiety about the crumbling political situation. I might not be so afraid if my best friend wasn't right next door. Still, I think that military force is best used to protect the weak preyed upon by the strong, to prevent the innocent from suffering whenever possible. I would rather see our troops in Cote d'Ivoire and Haiti than in Afghanistan and Iraq, where more stability could be achieved through education and infrastructure investment than any amount of troops and bombs.
I will hope that the Ambassador Bamba is incorrect in his assessment of the outlook for The Cote d'Ivoire, but should he prove correct it will be all the more frustrating to watch, helplessly, while my country is able to do nothing to stop it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Afghanistan. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Day 347-Richard Holbrooke
Dear Mr. President,
Richard Holbrooke's death is a loss for his family and for the international community he spent his life serving. Reports of his final words "You've got to stop this war in Afghanistan" left me wondering who he'd intended them for. Were those words for you, the one person who might be able to do it alone? Or were they for all of us, each person with our own, considerably reduced, ability to bring the conflict to an end. I had to consider the wisdom of this man, his life spent experiencing first hand the international drama I study in classrooms. Was he speaking to me, then? Did he believe that the war even could be stopped?
I may not always trust my own naive beliefs about war, but I don't think that Mr. Holbrooke suffered from naiveté. His call for an end to this war joins a chorus of other well-informed voices demanding that we end this senseless, counter-productive and expensive conflict. I don't imagine that any last words, even those of such a distinguished diplomatic heavyweight, will change your position on the war so dramatically.
If there is one thing that I am saddest about after all of these letters is that I no longer believe you're capable of listening to the anti-war voices in your rush to please the right. Even when those voices come from true American heroes, you seem to have accepted the argument that being anti-war is being anti-American. In the cacophony of discussion about strategic values, public perception and geopolitics I think the simple statement that this war is just wrong will inevitably be lost.
As we mourn the passing of a great man who served his country well, I know that I, at least, won't be mourning just his death but also the sad knowledge his dying words have fallen on deaf ears.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Richard Holbrooke's death is a loss for his family and for the international community he spent his life serving. Reports of his final words "You've got to stop this war in Afghanistan" left me wondering who he'd intended them for. Were those words for you, the one person who might be able to do it alone? Or were they for all of us, each person with our own, considerably reduced, ability to bring the conflict to an end. I had to consider the wisdom of this man, his life spent experiencing first hand the international drama I study in classrooms. Was he speaking to me, then? Did he believe that the war even could be stopped?
I may not always trust my own naive beliefs about war, but I don't think that Mr. Holbrooke suffered from naiveté. His call for an end to this war joins a chorus of other well-informed voices demanding that we end this senseless, counter-productive and expensive conflict. I don't imagine that any last words, even those of such a distinguished diplomatic heavyweight, will change your position on the war so dramatically.
If there is one thing that I am saddest about after all of these letters is that I no longer believe you're capable of listening to the anti-war voices in your rush to please the right. Even when those voices come from true American heroes, you seem to have accepted the argument that being anti-war is being anti-American. In the cacophony of discussion about strategic values, public perception and geopolitics I think the simple statement that this war is just wrong will inevitably be lost.
As we mourn the passing of a great man who served his country well, I know that I, at least, won't be mourning just his death but also the sad knowledge his dying words have fallen on deaf ears.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Day 338-The Moral Lie
Dear Mr. President,
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
While I am generally opposed to lying, and do not tell many lies, there are certain lies I tell all the time. I don't think this makes me much different from most people, and I usually carry on with little notice of this hypocrisy. The polite constraints we expect of one another in most casual conversations compel a certain amount of dishonesty. I think that most of the lies I tell are for the sake of politeness. But, today at least, dishonesty weighs heavily on my conscience.
I have been staring at this page for hours now, wondering if I have the courage to finish this story. I have written before about stigmas surrounding mental illness, the way a frank admission of depression and its effects can change the way people look at you, the way they treat you and the esteem they hold for you. I have experienced both sides of this disdain and am loathe to subject myself to it. To be honest about my struggle, to be honest about my history would be uncomfortable for me and for those who think they want to know about it. And so I lie, for every one's comfort. Or so I tell myself.
When I was very young, and for years after I was old enough to know better I was troubled with compulsive self-injury. It may ring falsely to those who do not understand this, those who see only the stigma, the cliché, to describe myself as passively affected, the direct object of such acts rather than their perpetrator. And I am theirs to judge, I suppose. My history with it is long and complicated and over. I have shut the book on that struggle, on that part of my life and, most importantly, on that behavior. But the evidence of it remains, and will likely remain on my skin for the rest of my life. I don't think it is fair that I should be judged by the mistakes of my younger self, that I should be defined by this aspect of my past, no matter how far it is behind me. When questioned about these old scars, I tell myself that those who ask really do not want to know the story behind them, and it gives my conscience no trouble lying to them. It is, after all, for their own good.
Today I was asked by some one I have slowly come to trust and I lied anyway, almost without realizing I was doing it. I don't imagine he is the type of person to ask questions he does not actually want the answer to. Because I look for his approval the same way I would look for that of a role model or mentor or even a brother, I realized even as I was in the process of lying that I was doing it for my own protection and not for his. I was lying because it is important to me not to be seen as weak or emotionally disturbed. I was lying because of my own ego, my own fear, and I could not pretend that there was any nobility, any honor, in this fiction.
Which brings me, once again, (and rather oddly,) to Wikileaks. As I hear each new story, as each new lie is revealed, I find myself wondering not at the government's dishonesty but at its justification for this dishonesty. The gossipy diplomatic cables I understand. I don't care if a US diplomat thinks Vladimir Putin is Batman and doesn't want the world to know. (Honestly, I'd be more surprised at this point if Vladimir Putin wasn't Batman, but I can see how it might cause some discomfort.) These are polite obfuscations that help every one save face. The body counts in Iraq, the corruption in Afghanistan, the 22 dead children in Yemen, however, are not lied about because they are impolite topics of conversation. These are lies of ego, lies of fear, lies born of the greater self-delusion that they are kept from the American people for our own good. Even the idea that bringing these crimes to light will put American troops in greater danger is, I believe, misguided. The people of Iraq and Afghanistan (and Yemen. And Palestine. And God knows how many other places.) know who is killing their children and empowering their corrupt leaders. This information is only secret to the American people, and it is kept secret from us not to protect us but to protect our government from our reaction to this knowledge. And there is no nobility, no honor, in these fictions.
My past is full of dark things and terrible stories and many people will not want to hear them. But I cannot pretend I hide the past for the protection of others. I hide because I am ashamed and I hide because I am afraid. And so do you. So does this government. Our greatest lie is not when we hide the truth from others but when we tell ourselves that we lie for a greater good.
I did not write this letter to call you out for these lies. Clearly, I have no moral high ground to claim. We are both liars and we are both deceived by our own lies. I wrote this letter because I have been quick to condemn your dishonesty while slow to notice the same tendency in my own life. I understand why you lie, and why you convince yourself it is the moral thing to do. I just don't think that you really believe it any more than I do.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Day 325- Murder and Masculinity
So the question is this: when are we going to start awarding the Medal of Honor once again for soldiers who kill people and break things so our families can sleep safely at night?
Dear Mr. President,
I hope that you have not heard of Bryan Fischer, the moronic right-wing blogger for the American Family Association, but if you have, I'm sure you also heard about his recent lament about "the feminization of the Medal of Honor." Fischer, while acknowledging the heroism of Army Staff Sgt. Salvatore Giunta, cites Giunta's life-saving efforts as proof that we just don't reward killing the way we used to. While I, rather predictably, think this man is out of his mind, I was particularly surprised to see the comments on his original post. Without exception, the responses were negative, ranging from "I'll pray that you stop being such an ignorant person" to "You are actually evil and I hate you." A few even acknowledged the near-uniform blowback, pointing out that rage at Bryan Fischer is the most united the right and the left have been since 9/11. Fischer attempted to clarify his remarks (twice, actually) and seemed to genuinely believe that no one who actually understood what he was saying would be offended. But in all three posts, rewarding life-saving action (or not rewarding aggressive action,) was described as feminine.
The implication that killing is masculine and aversion to killing is feminine is really fine by me. As a woman, I have no problem with the heroic actions of (or the decision to honor) Staff Sgt. Giunta being described as feminine. However, it seems problematic to so closely link masculinity with the taking of life or the celebration of the taking of life. For one thing, most men in America would not qualify as "masculine" under this definition. Most men I know haven't killed any one and don't generally wish to see more of it. Perhaps I surround myself with especially effeminate men? I think some of my loss-prevention colleagues might object to this. I know a number of people (male and female) with really incredible numbers of killed aliens, zombies and other video-game creatures, but I don't know that most of them would meet Fischer's idea of traditional masculinity. Defining masculinity this way just makes it so much harder to feel manly in a world that increasingly frowns upon killing.
I'm not Christian, so when Fischer cites scripture as evidence that Jesus, even in crucifixion, was actually aggressively killing the forces of evil, I really don't have any basis to object. (Though I'm sure my Christian friends could probably find some problems with this argument.) My objection comes at the comparison of Christ vanquishing the forces of evil with US soldiers killing Afghan soldiers. Especially in light of a recent study demonstrating a vast majority of Afghans don't know about 9/11 or America's use of it as justification for war against the Taliban. We've been fighting for nine years against an enemy that has no idea why we invaded their country and killed so many innocent civilians. I just don't quite see the decision to take up arms against an invading army (especially when you have absolutely no idea why they are invading) as equal to the Dark Forces of Evil and Sin.
Which isn't to say I think we should do a better job of explaining to people why we're going to kill them before we kill them, but that maybe, just maybe, killing isn't the most effective way to keep ourselves safe. Maybe we're not only fighting the wrong enemy but fighting it the wrong way. I don't see there being all that much glory in the killing of some of the poorest and least-educated people on the planet by the most fearsome, best-quipped military on the planet. It certainly doesn't seem all that manly. And my family, for one, doesn't sleep any easier knowing it's being done. Would it be too feminine to suggest that maybe building schools and infrastructure and economic development might not have been a more effective way to make the world a little safer? I don't get to make these decisions, and neither do the men and women that you send to do all of the killing and dying that Fischer and his ilk see as so manly and Christlike. In that situation, doing your best to keep your fellow soldiers from getting killed certainly seems like an act of (completely gender-neutral) heroism. So I'll sleep tonight, grateful to Giunta and all of the other soldiers trying to protect their fellows in battle, because any one working for less death and destruction is pretty badass, in my humble opinion. I'll be content with the knowledge that most Christians (at least the ones commenting on the AFA website) think that Fischer is full of it. And I will wish for the promotion American concept masculinity based not on the destruction of life but the protection of it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Day 315-Veteran's Day
Dear Mr. President,
Today we honor those who have fought and died for our country. I'm grateful for more than just the excuse to sleep in and miss class. I'm grateful for those who served in the armed forces, for the sacrifices they have made and the service they have done our country. I say all of this as an unapologetic critic of the wars we currently wage, the conduct of some of our troops therein, and of the military's anti-gay policies. I do not believe that my gratitude and my criticism are mutually exclusive.
On the contrary, I believe that the best way to support our troops is to never ask that they put themselves in harms way unless it is absolutely necessary. Unless our survival or our very humanity compels it. That we never put them at risk of torture by torturing our own enemy prisoners. That we never order them to kill in the name of an unjust war. I believe that we support our troops when we insist on allowing openly gay soldiers to serve. When we fully fund rehabilitation programs, health and especially mental health programs, education and employment opportunities for veterans. This is how we walk the walk of those yellow ribbons we wear.
I hope that today you reflect on the wars you inherited and the way they have been waged. On the kill lists, the interrogation methods, the civilian deaths that put our own troops at risk and destroy so many lives (and so many minds) on both sides. On the mistakes made, the mistakes perpetuated and the lies told to cover them up. I hope that you reflect on these things and conclude, as so many of us have, that our troops deserve better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today we honor those who have fought and died for our country. I'm grateful for more than just the excuse to sleep in and miss class. I'm grateful for those who served in the armed forces, for the sacrifices they have made and the service they have done our country. I say all of this as an unapologetic critic of the wars we currently wage, the conduct of some of our troops therein, and of the military's anti-gay policies. I do not believe that my gratitude and my criticism are mutually exclusive.
On the contrary, I believe that the best way to support our troops is to never ask that they put themselves in harms way unless it is absolutely necessary. Unless our survival or our very humanity compels it. That we never put them at risk of torture by torturing our own enemy prisoners. That we never order them to kill in the name of an unjust war. I believe that we support our troops when we insist on allowing openly gay soldiers to serve. When we fully fund rehabilitation programs, health and especially mental health programs, education and employment opportunities for veterans. This is how we walk the walk of those yellow ribbons we wear.
I hope that today you reflect on the wars you inherited and the way they have been waged. On the kill lists, the interrogation methods, the civilian deaths that put our own troops at risk and destroy so many lives (and so many minds) on both sides. On the mistakes made, the mistakes perpetuated and the lies told to cover them up. I hope that you reflect on these things and conclude, as so many of us have, that our troops deserve better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day 298- Guilty and not guilty
Dear Mr. President,
Omar Khadr pled guilty today. I understand that this plea bargain is his best hope for getting out of Guantanamo Bay and going back home to Canada, but it is still heartbreaking to think about the punishment he will face. You know Khadr's story. I do not need to tell you that he was 15, just three years older than Malia, when he threw a grenade that killed a US soldier. I do not need to tell you that he acted as instructed by his father and the other adults in his life. I do not need to tell you that he was seriously wounded, detained, tortured, and threatened with rape to compel his confession. I don't think I would need to see so many parallels between my own life and Khadr's to be horrified at the way my country has treated him, but while reading about his case I could not help but notice something about the day he was captured.
On July 27th as the 15-year old Khadr was shot, blinded in one eye, and taken in to US custody, I was in a cemetery. Right around noon, before it was late enough to really be called hot, a pickup truck came to a stop on the path near the grave I sat beside. A man I had never seen before got out, and walked over to where I sat. In one hand he had a small handful of vegetables from his garden, I think that they were radishes. He laid them at the gravestone and mumbled something to me about how they had been his nephew's favorite. His nephew, dead more than six months, would have been seventeen that day. I remember there was no accusation in his voice, only sadness. Looking back, I am sure he felt as responsible as I did that Josh would not be celebrating that day, that those of us in his life who were supposed to care for him had failed. I could not, in my own grief, conceive of what was then happening in Ayub Kheyl, Afghanistan.
Omar and I are both 24 now. While the last eight years of his life have been the stuff of nightmares, mine has been fairly average. Perhaps it is our age that makes me wonder so intensely at the very different courses our lives have taken, or the lingering idea that we are both, to varying degrees, responsible for the loss of a life. But I cannot imagine the darkness of his existence, the suffering, the confusion, the fear. I can't begin to put myself in his place. I am no stranger to the harsh reality that there are many my age who are suffering, who have led difficult lives and who will face obstacles and tragedies that I am exempt from because I was born in a place of relative privilege. Is it childlike, then, to wish that Omar had gotten to graduate high school, go to college, to have all of the opportunities I have? To fear that, if he is to spend the rest of his life suffering in payment for his worst mistakes as a fifteen year old child, then I must, as well?
If it is my empathy that disinclines me to believe the charges against Khadr are valid even after he confesses to them, I can accept that. Even if I am entirely wrong, even if Khadr is guilty of every single crime for which he has been accused, I still do not believe that he has been treated fairly or in a manner worthy of the American justice system. While I have no shortage of sympathy and compassion for the soldiers injured by Khadr or the family of the soldier killed, I do not believe that their suffering is eased, or that others like them are made safer, by the harsh treatment suffered by the child responsible. I think we are all just a little guiltier today as we stand by and allow atrocities like this one to continue in our name.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Omar Khadr pled guilty today. I understand that this plea bargain is his best hope for getting out of Guantanamo Bay and going back home to Canada, but it is still heartbreaking to think about the punishment he will face. You know Khadr's story. I do not need to tell you that he was 15, just three years older than Malia, when he threw a grenade that killed a US soldier. I do not need to tell you that he acted as instructed by his father and the other adults in his life. I do not need to tell you that he was seriously wounded, detained, tortured, and threatened with rape to compel his confession. I don't think I would need to see so many parallels between my own life and Khadr's to be horrified at the way my country has treated him, but while reading about his case I could not help but notice something about the day he was captured.
On July 27th as the 15-year old Khadr was shot, blinded in one eye, and taken in to US custody, I was in a cemetery. Right around noon, before it was late enough to really be called hot, a pickup truck came to a stop on the path near the grave I sat beside. A man I had never seen before got out, and walked over to where I sat. In one hand he had a small handful of vegetables from his garden, I think that they were radishes. He laid them at the gravestone and mumbled something to me about how they had been his nephew's favorite. His nephew, dead more than six months, would have been seventeen that day. I remember there was no accusation in his voice, only sadness. Looking back, I am sure he felt as responsible as I did that Josh would not be celebrating that day, that those of us in his life who were supposed to care for him had failed. I could not, in my own grief, conceive of what was then happening in Ayub Kheyl, Afghanistan.
Omar and I are both 24 now. While the last eight years of his life have been the stuff of nightmares, mine has been fairly average. Perhaps it is our age that makes me wonder so intensely at the very different courses our lives have taken, or the lingering idea that we are both, to varying degrees, responsible for the loss of a life. But I cannot imagine the darkness of his existence, the suffering, the confusion, the fear. I can't begin to put myself in his place. I am no stranger to the harsh reality that there are many my age who are suffering, who have led difficult lives and who will face obstacles and tragedies that I am exempt from because I was born in a place of relative privilege. Is it childlike, then, to wish that Omar had gotten to graduate high school, go to college, to have all of the opportunities I have? To fear that, if he is to spend the rest of his life suffering in payment for his worst mistakes as a fifteen year old child, then I must, as well?
If it is my empathy that disinclines me to believe the charges against Khadr are valid even after he confesses to them, I can accept that. Even if I am entirely wrong, even if Khadr is guilty of every single crime for which he has been accused, I still do not believe that he has been treated fairly or in a manner worthy of the American justice system. While I have no shortage of sympathy and compassion for the soldiers injured by Khadr or the family of the soldier killed, I do not believe that their suffering is eased, or that others like them are made safer, by the harsh treatment suffered by the child responsible. I think we are all just a little guiltier today as we stand by and allow atrocities like this one to continue in our name.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Day 293- Hypothetical questions
Dear Mr. President,
You're speaking at my school tomorrow. I don't think you'll be taking any questions from the audience, and, if you are, it is unlikely that I'll be lucky enough to ask one. Still, I thought it might be useful to pose a few, even if they are about as practical as shouting into the darkness and waiting for a response more coherent than another spinning echo.
Mr. President, you say that the Republican partisan minority is holding up the legislative process through the filibuster, when not a single filibuster has been staged during the legislative session. Why have you not directed Democratic leadership to force the Republicans to follow through on their threats and given the American people a clear demonstration of who is responsible for the hold ups?
Mr. President, your political opponents seem determined to paint you as anti-Israeli no matter what you do. If nothing will please them, why not take an actual stand against the brutality and injustice perpetrated by the Netanyahu government? You could increase our credibility as an honest broker in the peace talks and make a stand against human right violations, a seeming win-win, considering the political capital is going to be spent either way. So why not change the tactic that hasn't worked for any past American President trying to help create peace?
Mr. President, you've made the convincing argument that allowing Republican's control of the legislative branch will return our country to the disastrous policies of the bush era. While this "lesser of two evils" tactic might convince a few independents, why have you risked alienating the liberal base of the democratic party by dismissing our legitimate complaints about policy compromises that represent real hardship for real people as "griping and groaning"?
Mr. President, when Republicans lost control of congress and the White House in 2006 and 2008, the party soul-searching that followed led to a dramatic return to the angriest voices of their far-right base, the Tea Party. If liberal Democrats want our elected officials to stand up for our beliefs and interests, will it take the same kind of losses in November and in 2012?
Mr. President, the wars in Iraq, (in all but name,) and Afghanistan continue. Guantanamo bay remains open. How can America lead the world toward peace and a greater respect for human rights while we continue these immoral (and, I would argue, strategically failed) efforts?
Mr. President, at a town hall meeting not long ago, you were told by a woman that she was tired of trying to defend you to those who had lost their faith in you. I, too, am tired of being disappointed and tired of being ignored. I believe that your job is more difficult than any one in this room can possibly fathom, and I am certain you are even more tired and even less prone to complain about it. I will continue defending you, sir, I have not lost my faith. Thank you for all that you've done for our country, and please, don't confuse my constant (and continuing) criticism of your policy for cynicism, apathy, or betrayal. I still have hope that you can do better, that you have the right idea, and that you need a supportive, open-minded and informed electorate. So I guess I don't have a questions as much as I want to say that as disappointed as I am in you, I'm way more disappointed in the rest of us.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
You're speaking at my school tomorrow. I don't think you'll be taking any questions from the audience, and, if you are, it is unlikely that I'll be lucky enough to ask one. Still, I thought it might be useful to pose a few, even if they are about as practical as shouting into the darkness and waiting for a response more coherent than another spinning echo.
Mr. President, you say that the Republican partisan minority is holding up the legislative process through the filibuster, when not a single filibuster has been staged during the legislative session. Why have you not directed Democratic leadership to force the Republicans to follow through on their threats and given the American people a clear demonstration of who is responsible for the hold ups?
Mr. President, your political opponents seem determined to paint you as anti-Israeli no matter what you do. If nothing will please them, why not take an actual stand against the brutality and injustice perpetrated by the Netanyahu government? You could increase our credibility as an honest broker in the peace talks and make a stand against human right violations, a seeming win-win, considering the political capital is going to be spent either way. So why not change the tactic that hasn't worked for any past American President trying to help create peace?
Mr. President, you've made the convincing argument that allowing Republican's control of the legislative branch will return our country to the disastrous policies of the bush era. While this "lesser of two evils" tactic might convince a few independents, why have you risked alienating the liberal base of the democratic party by dismissing our legitimate complaints about policy compromises that represent real hardship for real people as "griping and groaning"?
Mr. President, when Republicans lost control of congress and the White House in 2006 and 2008, the party soul-searching that followed led to a dramatic return to the angriest voices of their far-right base, the Tea Party. If liberal Democrats want our elected officials to stand up for our beliefs and interests, will it take the same kind of losses in November and in 2012?
Mr. President, the wars in Iraq, (in all but name,) and Afghanistan continue. Guantanamo bay remains open. How can America lead the world toward peace and a greater respect for human rights while we continue these immoral (and, I would argue, strategically failed) efforts?
Mr. President, at a town hall meeting not long ago, you were told by a woman that she was tired of trying to defend you to those who had lost their faith in you. I, too, am tired of being disappointed and tired of being ignored. I believe that your job is more difficult than any one in this room can possibly fathom, and I am certain you are even more tired and even less prone to complain about it. I will continue defending you, sir, I have not lost my faith. Thank you for all that you've done for our country, and please, don't confuse my constant (and continuing) criticism of your policy for cynicism, apathy, or betrayal. I still have hope that you can do better, that you have the right idea, and that you need a supportive, open-minded and informed electorate. So I guess I don't have a questions as much as I want to say that as disappointed as I am in you, I'm way more disappointed in the rest of us.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Day 266- 100 days
Update: It turns out due to an error earlier in the year this should actually be called "99 days" oh well. Live and learn, eh?
Dear Mr. President,
The measure of a presidency is often taken by the accomplishments of the first 100 days. I think this is silly. You've got to allow at least a few days to find all the light switches and figure out how to navigate the west wing, right? Not to mention all the the thanking people for their help getting you elected, the waiting for congress to remember that no one in the country knows who they are after election season ends, and, of course, the post-victory poll numbers can't be taken that seriously. But I have 100 days left to write to you this year, and I want to make my last 100 letters count. In 100 days, I want to think that my country will be different. I want to think it will be stronger, economically, and that the Bush-era tax cus will be allowed to expire. I want to think that it will be a freer, and more fair country, where gay and lesbian Americans will be allowed to openly serve in our military and marry whomever they please. I want to think that our image abroad will be improved by the closure of Guantanamo bay, the end of combat in Afghanistan, and that truly fair-minded American leadership in the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks will help create a stable, free and secure Palestinian state. We might also be a greener nation, with an end to harmful agricultural subsidies, a robust new energy policy and heavier federal investment in making our national infrastructure more environmentally friendly. Every single one of these things is possible in 100 days. (I may also wish for socialized health care and higher education, but I recognize those things can't happen in 100 days.) All of this can happen. And while my cynical, realistic side believes that none of these things will be accomplished in so little time, the part of me that still hopes for a better future believes that your next 100 days can be just as important and productive as your first 100 days, or the 100 days that will come after December 31st. And, while I have 100 letters left to write, you can bet that I'm going to bug your more than ever about every single one of these goals.
2010 has been kind of a rough year for you and your presidency. But it's got 100 days left, and that's plenty of time to turn things around and change the way this year and your administration is remembered by history. I hope you make them count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
The measure of a presidency is often taken by the accomplishments of the first 100 days. I think this is silly. You've got to allow at least a few days to find all the light switches and figure out how to navigate the west wing, right? Not to mention all the the thanking people for their help getting you elected, the waiting for congress to remember that no one in the country knows who they are after election season ends, and, of course, the post-victory poll numbers can't be taken that seriously. But I have 100 days left to write to you this year, and I want to make my last 100 letters count. In 100 days, I want to think that my country will be different. I want to think it will be stronger, economically, and that the Bush-era tax cus will be allowed to expire. I want to think that it will be a freer, and more fair country, where gay and lesbian Americans will be allowed to openly serve in our military and marry whomever they please. I want to think that our image abroad will be improved by the closure of Guantanamo bay, the end of combat in Afghanistan, and that truly fair-minded American leadership in the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks will help create a stable, free and secure Palestinian state. We might also be a greener nation, with an end to harmful agricultural subsidies, a robust new energy policy and heavier federal investment in making our national infrastructure more environmentally friendly. Every single one of these things is possible in 100 days. (I may also wish for socialized health care and higher education, but I recognize those things can't happen in 100 days.) All of this can happen. And while my cynical, realistic side believes that none of these things will be accomplished in so little time, the part of me that still hopes for a better future believes that your next 100 days can be just as important and productive as your first 100 days, or the 100 days that will come after December 31st. And, while I have 100 letters left to write, you can bet that I'm going to bug your more than ever about every single one of these goals.
2010 has been kind of a rough year for you and your presidency. But it's got 100 days left, and that's plenty of time to turn things around and change the way this year and your administration is remembered by history. I hope you make them count.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Day 259-Good and Evil
Dear Mr. President,
I have a constant struggle between the parts of me that believe people are basically good and the part that believes people are selfish and amoral. I want the believe the best of people, in general. But my parents were cops, and the people they dealt with daily were murders, rapists and child molesters. People who are difficult, if not impossible, to forgive or to find redemptive goodness in. At work it is my job to catch shoplifters. This is a much smaller scale of badness than what my parents dealt with, but I often encounter individuals who challenge my belief in man's fundamental goodness. Today was one of those days. While it was ultimately a positive outcome, the incident has definitely made me reflect on what I believe.
The process of enforcing the law, on whatever scale it has to be done, requires a sort of reactionary mentality that isn't generally how I see myself. When I'm catching a criminal, I don't have time to think about the circumstances in a person's life that led to their crime. I don't have time to consider the societal problems that have forced them into the situation, or a long-term strategy for their rehabilitation. I have to react to what they do a the time they do it in whatever way I can best minimize the damage. I try to be respectful and always consider the humanity of the people I deal with. A person's humanity does not, of course, exempt them from mankind's more instinctive and animal-like impulses- fight or flight- and anticipating this while respecting the individual's humanity is one of the more challenging aspects of my job. I consider a number of circumstantial factors that combine to make a person desperate, and I don't think I have encountered any one I would actually call evil. Even when choosing fight over flight, I don't believe that a person can be judged by their worst and most desperate behavior. But this does not exempt them from responsibility for their choices, and that is why I have to react to the situation and not to the big picture.
You don't have that luxury, unfortunately. You were, after all, the one who ran for President. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for the job. So while I do the best I can to deal with the situation at hand, to stop criminals without losing my compassion for them, you've got to think about the greater problem. I deal with crimes. You worry about Crime, an abstract, complex concept that affects and is affected by everything from economics to education to social values. I'd be incredibly happy to be put out of a job, to have all crime stopped by some massive national policy that magically makes us a peaceful, crime-free society. Living, as I unfortunately must, in the real world, I'm not too worried about my job security. That being said, budget shortfalls in my state are leading to fewer police officers and certainly also to an increase in crime rates. Today I chased down a shoplifter and was assaulted in the process. That's part of my job. Today the federal government spent more than $410 million on our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. In the year 2011, Seattle taxpayers alone will contribute $36.9 million to these two wars- enough to pay for more than 4,000 police officers, or 48,000 university scholarships. These wars were started- and continue to be waged- under the pretext of fighting "evil". I may not believe in evil the same way that many people seem to, but I think much more good might be done with that money, in my city, in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Making the tough decisions about how this money is spent is your job, Mr. President, and I think it is one area with plenty of room for improvement. You can't make people good, or even ensure that they always make good choices. Mistakes and bad judgement and selfishness are unfortunate realities that no government can solve. However, there is a lot more we could do to make our society healthier and safer, and these wars don't seem to be doing much of either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I have a constant struggle between the parts of me that believe people are basically good and the part that believes people are selfish and amoral. I want the believe the best of people, in general. But my parents were cops, and the people they dealt with daily were murders, rapists and child molesters. People who are difficult, if not impossible, to forgive or to find redemptive goodness in. At work it is my job to catch shoplifters. This is a much smaller scale of badness than what my parents dealt with, but I often encounter individuals who challenge my belief in man's fundamental goodness. Today was one of those days. While it was ultimately a positive outcome, the incident has definitely made me reflect on what I believe.
The process of enforcing the law, on whatever scale it has to be done, requires a sort of reactionary mentality that isn't generally how I see myself. When I'm catching a criminal, I don't have time to think about the circumstances in a person's life that led to their crime. I don't have time to consider the societal problems that have forced them into the situation, or a long-term strategy for their rehabilitation. I have to react to what they do a the time they do it in whatever way I can best minimize the damage. I try to be respectful and always consider the humanity of the people I deal with. A person's humanity does not, of course, exempt them from mankind's more instinctive and animal-like impulses- fight or flight- and anticipating this while respecting the individual's humanity is one of the more challenging aspects of my job. I consider a number of circumstantial factors that combine to make a person desperate, and I don't think I have encountered any one I would actually call evil. Even when choosing fight over flight, I don't believe that a person can be judged by their worst and most desperate behavior. But this does not exempt them from responsibility for their choices, and that is why I have to react to the situation and not to the big picture.
You don't have that luxury, unfortunately. You were, after all, the one who ran for President. You knew what you were getting into when you applied for the job. So while I do the best I can to deal with the situation at hand, to stop criminals without losing my compassion for them, you've got to think about the greater problem. I deal with crimes. You worry about Crime, an abstract, complex concept that affects and is affected by everything from economics to education to social values. I'd be incredibly happy to be put out of a job, to have all crime stopped by some massive national policy that magically makes us a peaceful, crime-free society. Living, as I unfortunately must, in the real world, I'm not too worried about my job security. That being said, budget shortfalls in my state are leading to fewer police officers and certainly also to an increase in crime rates. Today I chased down a shoplifter and was assaulted in the process. That's part of my job. Today the federal government spent more than $410 million on our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. In the year 2011, Seattle taxpayers alone will contribute $36.9 million to these two wars- enough to pay for more than 4,000 police officers, or 48,000 university scholarships. These wars were started- and continue to be waged- under the pretext of fighting "evil". I may not believe in evil the same way that many people seem to, but I think much more good might be done with that money, in my city, in Iraq or in Afghanistan. Making the tough decisions about how this money is spent is your job, Mr. President, and I think it is one area with plenty of room for improvement. You can't make people good, or even ensure that they always make good choices. Mistakes and bad judgement and selfishness are unfortunate realities that no government can solve. However, there is a lot more we could do to make our society healthier and safer, and these wars don't seem to be doing much of either.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Day 224- In praise of Wikileaks
Dear Mr. President,
I have been reluctant to write to you about the recent Wikileaks controversy. I've followed Wikileaks for several months now, and, during the buildup to the release of the secret documents I was certainly anxious to find out what information they would contain, even as I was hesitant about the idea of leaking military secrets. I understand that you can't be expected to be happy about the release of secret documents, no matter how harmless they might seem, but I do think that Wikileaks serves an important purpose.
Our government is meant to be open to public scrutiny. I understand the need for national security and the secrecy that goes along with it, but the American government has become too comfortable misleading or outright lying to the American people. This deception seems especially widespread in military matters, and the kind of information released in the Wikileaks documents demonstrates that often these lies are for the simple purpose of painting military action in a more favorable light. A disturbingly large amount of our tax dollars goes to fund the Defense Department without significant public scrutiny. (Go ahead, Mr. Gibbs, say what you will, but I'm not for eliminating the Pentagon and I'm not using drugs.)
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I would like to know what my tax dollars are buying, and how successful the operations being funded are. Beyond the monetary issues, there is a moral imperative for every American to know how, exactly, our country is representing itself in times of war. By allowing the public to access this information on Afghanistan, (or revealing evidence of US troops targeting civilians in Iraq,) Wikileaks is doing it's part to ensure that this government continues to be of and by and for the people. It's the American public's way of telling our government that we simply can't be cut out of the loop and fed a palatable bedtime story. We will find out the truth.
Perhaps people would rather be told lies, so long as they are safe and aren't asked to think too much? I think that is an incredibly cynical way of looking at the American people. Some of your most eloquent writing is on the need to leave behind our cynicism and do our part to make our country stronger. How can you ask us to do this for a government that lies to us? A government that told us the truth about our military operations, even if that truth was ugly or hard to hear, would not risk this kind of exposure. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been awful, world-changing events that will forever alter the way the world views Americans. It is the responsibility and right of every American to know exactly how and why this war is being waged. I know that you cannot publicly do anything but denounce Wikileaks, but you ought to strive to lead a government that would not engender this kind of necessary mistrust of the stories we're being told. A site like Wikileaks could not exist if the government didn't make it absolutely necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I have been reluctant to write to you about the recent Wikileaks controversy. I've followed Wikileaks for several months now, and, during the buildup to the release of the secret documents I was certainly anxious to find out what information they would contain, even as I was hesitant about the idea of leaking military secrets. I understand that you can't be expected to be happy about the release of secret documents, no matter how harmless they might seem, but I do think that Wikileaks serves an important purpose.
Our government is meant to be open to public scrutiny. I understand the need for national security and the secrecy that goes along with it, but the American government has become too comfortable misleading or outright lying to the American people. This deception seems especially widespread in military matters, and the kind of information released in the Wikileaks documents demonstrates that often these lies are for the simple purpose of painting military action in a more favorable light. A disturbingly large amount of our tax dollars goes to fund the Defense Department without significant public scrutiny. (Go ahead, Mr. Gibbs, say what you will, but I'm not for eliminating the Pentagon and I'm not using drugs.)
Maybe I'm in the minority here, but I would like to know what my tax dollars are buying, and how successful the operations being funded are. Beyond the monetary issues, there is a moral imperative for every American to know how, exactly, our country is representing itself in times of war. By allowing the public to access this information on Afghanistan, (or revealing evidence of US troops targeting civilians in Iraq,) Wikileaks is doing it's part to ensure that this government continues to be of and by and for the people. It's the American public's way of telling our government that we simply can't be cut out of the loop and fed a palatable bedtime story. We will find out the truth.
Perhaps people would rather be told lies, so long as they are safe and aren't asked to think too much? I think that is an incredibly cynical way of looking at the American people. Some of your most eloquent writing is on the need to leave behind our cynicism and do our part to make our country stronger. How can you ask us to do this for a government that lies to us? A government that told us the truth about our military operations, even if that truth was ugly or hard to hear, would not risk this kind of exposure. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have been awful, world-changing events that will forever alter the way the world views Americans. It is the responsibility and right of every American to know exactly how and why this war is being waged. I know that you cannot publicly do anything but denounce Wikileaks, but you ought to strive to lead a government that would not engender this kind of necessary mistrust of the stories we're being told. A site like Wikileaks could not exist if the government didn't make it absolutely necessary.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Day 210- 20 schools
Dear Mr. President,
Sometimes I'm surprised by my own naive certainty that you're always going to make the right call. Before tonight, if any one had asked me about the discrepancy between what we spend on defense and what we spend on all the things that would make defense spending less necessary, I would have suggested it was large. I had no idea how large. 1 soldier or 20 schools? Nicholas Kristof asks in his latest column. I am often skeptical of such scathing criticism of your policies, Mr. President, but it is difficult to deny the facts Kristof cites about the unforgivable cost of this war.
I think it's funny, in that way that things like this are not funny at all, that you can give a speech on education in which you decry the current state of American education as "morally inexcusable" and remind us all that "education is an economic issue -- if not “the” economic issue of our time", and then continue to pretend like the key to Afghanistan's stability is an even bigger Pentagon budget or more US troops. Call me crazy, but if education is important to the future of America, might it not also be a better strategy for a politically and economically stable Afghanistan? Maybe you should have replaced General McChrystal with Greg Mortenson? 20 schools seems like a much better deal than a single soldier, and not just because schools are less likely to kill civilians, but because our military operation can only offer stability while it is present, while the positive effects of an education system will outlast even the schools themselves.
I know, it's more than a bit silly to read a single op-ed and feel like I've got the best plan for how to fix Afghanistan. I guess what surprises me is that I always assumed this was sort of your plan. Fewer guns, more schools. That kind of thing. I don't think I misjudged your values and I don't think your values have changed. I think it's harder to stop an object (or military industrial complex) in motion, and that sending troops and weapons looks a lot better to swing-state voters than building schools. I just hope that you read Mr. Kristof's column, and that, the next time you give a speech about the paramount importance of our own education system, you also consider how that logic might apply to the countries we've invaded, ostensibly for the sake of their own stability.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sometimes I'm surprised by my own naive certainty that you're always going to make the right call. Before tonight, if any one had asked me about the discrepancy between what we spend on defense and what we spend on all the things that would make defense spending less necessary, I would have suggested it was large. I had no idea how large. 1 soldier or 20 schools? Nicholas Kristof asks in his latest column. I am often skeptical of such scathing criticism of your policies, Mr. President, but it is difficult to deny the facts Kristof cites about the unforgivable cost of this war.
I think it's funny, in that way that things like this are not funny at all, that you can give a speech on education in which you decry the current state of American education as "morally inexcusable" and remind us all that "education is an economic issue -- if not “the” economic issue of our time", and then continue to pretend like the key to Afghanistan's stability is an even bigger Pentagon budget or more US troops. Call me crazy, but if education is important to the future of America, might it not also be a better strategy for a politically and economically stable Afghanistan? Maybe you should have replaced General McChrystal with Greg Mortenson? 20 schools seems like a much better deal than a single soldier, and not just because schools are less likely to kill civilians, but because our military operation can only offer stability while it is present, while the positive effects of an education system will outlast even the schools themselves.
I know, it's more than a bit silly to read a single op-ed and feel like I've got the best plan for how to fix Afghanistan. I guess what surprises me is that I always assumed this was sort of your plan. Fewer guns, more schools. That kind of thing. I don't think I misjudged your values and I don't think your values have changed. I think it's harder to stop an object (or military industrial complex) in motion, and that sending troops and weapons looks a lot better to swing-state voters than building schools. I just hope that you read Mr. Kristof's column, and that, the next time you give a speech about the paramount importance of our own education system, you also consider how that logic might apply to the countries we've invaded, ostensibly for the sake of their own stability.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Day 184- Privilege
Just as this day serves as a reminder of the immeasurable bravery of those who have made America what it is today, it also renews in us the solemn duty we share to ensure our Nation lives up to its promise. We must not simply commemorate the work begun over two and a quarter centuries ago; we are called to join together, hoist their mantle upon our shoulders, and carry that spirit of service into tomorrow
President Barack Obama, July 2, 2010, Message regarding Independence Day
Dear Mr. President,
Two years ago, on July 4th, I was not feeling particularly patriotic. The group of travelers I was with had just arrived in a small Palestinian village after a full day of hiking; several people were sick, we were all hot and exhausted, and, while the village offered us the same legendary Palestinian hospitality that we'd received in other villages, there was an undercurrent of tension and sadness. The night before, in the darkness, IDF soldiers had arrested several young boys known to have been friends with another boy, already arrested for throwing rocks at a tank. Some of the boys had been very young, and no one knew when, or even if, they would be returned to their families. It was hard, that night, to feel anything but sadness at the situation my country had helped create and continued to perpetuate for these people.
I don't lie awake at night afraid of the soldiers coming. I don't worry about the door breaking down, or tear gas or bullets or bombs. Even the airport security seems like a breeze, by comparison. I am grateful for this security, these protections, and for the history of those rights we celebrate on Independence day. But I am a lucky one. I live in an America that still recognizes the paramount importance of these rights. Many of my neighbors, because they have dark skin, do not live in this America. Many of my fellow citizens have these rights violated, still. Even more undocumented immigrants in this country are kept from these basic rights because they were not born here. Untold numbers of so-called enemy combatants in Guantanamo bay and in military prisons around the world are denied these rights as a matter of policy. In places like Palestine, and Egypt, and Saudi Arabia the echo of America's foreign policy is the deprivation of these rights by regimes we call allies. Still greater in number are the people living in countries like Iraq and Afghanistan where these rights are a distant dream, a pretense for the wars that have brought them nothing but suffering and destruction.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.
All men. Not just those rich, white and lucky enough to have been born here. All men. Tonight I will lie awake wondering at the possibility of a world that reflects more completely the mighty ambitions of the founding we celebrate tomorrow. I don't think it is a lack of patriotism, on my part, to look at our current state and see all of the promise yet to be fulfilled. I am lucky, and grateful, to be an American citizen of privilege, and I can think of no better use for that privilege than to demand that the same be given to all.
Happy 4th of July, Mr. President.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
President Barack Obama, July 2, 2010, Message regarding Independence Day
Dear Mr. President,
Two years ago, on July 4th, I was not feeling particularly patriotic. The group of travelers I was with had just arrived in a small Palestinian village after a full day of hiking; several people were sick, we were all hot and exhausted, and, while the village offered us the same legendary Palestinian hospitality that we'd received in other villages, there was an undercurrent of tension and sadness. The night before, in the darkness, IDF soldiers had arrested several young boys known to have been friends with another boy, already arrested for throwing rocks at a tank. Some of the boys had been very young, and no one knew when, or even if, they would be returned to their families. It was hard, that night, to feel anything but sadness at the situation my country had helped create and continued to perpetuate for these people.
I don't lie awake at night afraid of the soldiers coming. I don't worry about the door breaking down, or tear gas or bullets or bombs. Even the airport security seems like a breeze, by comparison. I am grateful for this security, these protections, and for the history of those rights we celebrate on Independence day. But I am a lucky one. I live in an America that still recognizes the paramount importance of these rights. Many of my neighbors, because they have dark skin, do not live in this America. Many of my fellow citizens have these rights violated, still. Even more undocumented immigrants in this country are kept from these basic rights because they were not born here. Untold numbers of so-called enemy combatants in Guantanamo bay and in military prisons around the world are denied these rights as a matter of policy. In places like Palestine, and Egypt, and Saudi Arabia the echo of America's foreign policy is the deprivation of these rights by regimes we call allies. Still greater in number are the people living in countries like Iraq and Afghanistan where these rights are a distant dream, a pretense for the wars that have brought them nothing but suffering and destruction.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.
All men. Not just those rich, white and lucky enough to have been born here. All men. Tonight I will lie awake wondering at the possibility of a world that reflects more completely the mighty ambitions of the founding we celebrate tomorrow. I don't think it is a lack of patriotism, on my part, to look at our current state and see all of the promise yet to be fulfilled. I am lucky, and grateful, to be an American citizen of privilege, and I can think of no better use for that privilege than to demand that the same be given to all.
Happy 4th of July, Mr. President.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Day 180- Lions and burgers and fries- Oh my!
Dear Mr. President,
An exotic meat restaurant in Arizona is coming under fire for serving lion burgers in honor of the world cup. I think this discussion highlights an amusing sort of hypocrisy in our culture, the squeamishness people develop when faced with the ugly consequences of behavior we try to tell ourselves is harmless. I suppose food is harder to swallow when it's got the face of cuddly cartoon creatures acting out their own version of Hamlet. But eating Simba, or Nala, or even Mickey and Minnie, is no worse than eating any of the millions of nameless, long-suffering factory farmed cows or chickens or pigs that are sold and consumed every day. I believe there are ways to respectfully and healthily raise animals for food, and that the healthier the animals, the healthier the resulting food. My moral objections to eating animals is because of their mistreatment in the current system, not because of their cuteness. I think any one who can eat a chicken should have no problem eating a lion. Or, for that matter, a dog.
Our belief in the greater value of some life, life we find familiar or attractive, manifests itself in far more sinister ways than objections to certain types of food. I think it is this same sense of differentiated value that makes us believe an American life is worth more than an Iraqi or Afghani or Palestinian life. That allows us to condemn a 15-year old boy to Guantanamo bay for 8 years of torture without a trial on allegations of killing an armed, armored and uniformed soldier of an invading army in the middle of a war. That makes us crow with victory at the hanging of an old man, or to find ways to legalize torture, so long as we don't call it that. Who are we to determine the value of a person's life based on the language they speak, the country they're born in, or the God they pray to? What criteria must a person or animal meet for their death to matter? To be called a crime?
Every living thing will have its share of suffering. I think that our goal ought to be to avoid making more of this, whenever possible. I don't think we can create world peace, or eradicate injustice or suffering for all. But I think that it's a noble end to work toward. The way Americans live, the things we eat and the things we buy and the violence we export, have a terrible cost that most of us will never have to face. I don't know if this is avoidable, and I don't want to tell people how to live, but I think if we start by refusing to hide from reality, either in the guise of meaningless labels like collateral damage or enemy combatant or in the glossed-over realities of the origins of dinner, we'd all make better choices.
These values have to come from those that lead us, as well. Instead of spinning the truth into something more palatable, more acceptable to our sensibilities, our government has to tell us the hard truth about the consequences of our decisions, at the ballot box, in the battlefield, and in the supermarket. I think that real leadership doesn't shy away from reality, even when it's hard to stomach.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
An exotic meat restaurant in Arizona is coming under fire for serving lion burgers in honor of the world cup. I think this discussion highlights an amusing sort of hypocrisy in our culture, the squeamishness people develop when faced with the ugly consequences of behavior we try to tell ourselves is harmless. I suppose food is harder to swallow when it's got the face of cuddly cartoon creatures acting out their own version of Hamlet. But eating Simba, or Nala, or even Mickey and Minnie, is no worse than eating any of the millions of nameless, long-suffering factory farmed cows or chickens or pigs that are sold and consumed every day. I believe there are ways to respectfully and healthily raise animals for food, and that the healthier the animals, the healthier the resulting food. My moral objections to eating animals is because of their mistreatment in the current system, not because of their cuteness. I think any one who can eat a chicken should have no problem eating a lion. Or, for that matter, a dog.
Our belief in the greater value of some life, life we find familiar or attractive, manifests itself in far more sinister ways than objections to certain types of food. I think it is this same sense of differentiated value that makes us believe an American life is worth more than an Iraqi or Afghani or Palestinian life. That allows us to condemn a 15-year old boy to Guantanamo bay for 8 years of torture without a trial on allegations of killing an armed, armored and uniformed soldier of an invading army in the middle of a war. That makes us crow with victory at the hanging of an old man, or to find ways to legalize torture, so long as we don't call it that. Who are we to determine the value of a person's life based on the language they speak, the country they're born in, or the God they pray to? What criteria must a person or animal meet for their death to matter? To be called a crime?
Every living thing will have its share of suffering. I think that our goal ought to be to avoid making more of this, whenever possible. I don't think we can create world peace, or eradicate injustice or suffering for all. But I think that it's a noble end to work toward. The way Americans live, the things we eat and the things we buy and the violence we export, have a terrible cost that most of us will never have to face. I don't know if this is avoidable, and I don't want to tell people how to live, but I think if we start by refusing to hide from reality, either in the guise of meaningless labels like collateral damage or enemy combatant or in the glossed-over realities of the origins of dinner, we'd all make better choices.
These values have to come from those that lead us, as well. Instead of spinning the truth into something more palatable, more acceptable to our sensibilities, our government has to tell us the hard truth about the consequences of our decisions, at the ballot box, in the battlefield, and in the supermarket. I think that real leadership doesn't shy away from reality, even when it's hard to stomach.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, June 25, 2010
Day 176-Choice as a human right
Dear Mr. President,
Today I read about the impending G8 discussion of global access to abortion services. While the Canadian PM has tacitly made his opposition to this clear, there is hope that the US will come out forcefully in support of safe and legal access to contraception and abortion as a global woman's right. I'm not so hopeful; I think that, for all of your administration's talk about the importance of education and equal rights for women and girls, the health care debate clearly demonstrated that reproductive rights are not enough of a priority to warrant any real political risks. This depressing thought reminded me of a news story I'd read several months back, about a nun in Arizona. Sister Margaret McBride, the administrator of St. Joseph's hospital in Phoenix, approved an abortion for a patient who would have died without terminating her pregnancy. Sister McBride was excommunicated for this, and condemned by many anti-choice organizations.
What struck me about this story is the obvious disdain the church has for the woman's life, and also the contrast in their reaction to this Nun's actions and those of the countless Priests accused of child molestation. This same hypocrisy is apparent in the Helms amendment, and, domestically, the demands that insurance plans covering abortion use no federal funds. Taxpayers fund death and torture and extrajudicial incarceration in Afghanistan every day, but the idea that an organization allowing Afghan women to make their own reproductive decisions would get a dime of American money is too controversial? Surely, if we can declare access to education essential, we can also fight for every woman's right to control her own body, as a woman's health is essential to her participation in society. The US should lead by example, repeal the Helms amendement and campaign strongly for the right to choose for every woman, no matter where she lives. I hope that the G8 will provide an opportunity to demonstrate courageous leadership on this issue, even in the face of controversy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today I read about the impending G8 discussion of global access to abortion services. While the Canadian PM has tacitly made his opposition to this clear, there is hope that the US will come out forcefully in support of safe and legal access to contraception and abortion as a global woman's right. I'm not so hopeful; I think that, for all of your administration's talk about the importance of education and equal rights for women and girls, the health care debate clearly demonstrated that reproductive rights are not enough of a priority to warrant any real political risks. This depressing thought reminded me of a news story I'd read several months back, about a nun in Arizona. Sister Margaret McBride, the administrator of St. Joseph's hospital in Phoenix, approved an abortion for a patient who would have died without terminating her pregnancy. Sister McBride was excommunicated for this, and condemned by many anti-choice organizations.
What struck me about this story is the obvious disdain the church has for the woman's life, and also the contrast in their reaction to this Nun's actions and those of the countless Priests accused of child molestation. This same hypocrisy is apparent in the Helms amendment, and, domestically, the demands that insurance plans covering abortion use no federal funds. Taxpayers fund death and torture and extrajudicial incarceration in Afghanistan every day, but the idea that an organization allowing Afghan women to make their own reproductive decisions would get a dime of American money is too controversial? Surely, if we can declare access to education essential, we can also fight for every woman's right to control her own body, as a woman's health is essential to her participation in society. The US should lead by example, repeal the Helms amendement and campaign strongly for the right to choose for every woman, no matter where she lives. I hope that the G8 will provide an opportunity to demonstrate courageous leadership on this issue, even in the face of controversy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 174-Secretary of War
Dear Mr. President,
I think that replacing General McChrystal was a necessary thing. The war in Afghanistan does not seem to be going well, and much of our own conduct has been unacceptable. I don't know that General Petraeus is the best man to replace him, but, as I'm not a military officer, and am in no way qualified to comment on the best way to wage a war I fundamentally oppose, I have no particularly strong feelings about this choice. I hope that, if nothing else, the change in leadership provides an opportunity for us to seriously reconsider and reexamine our entire strategy in Afghanistan. What is our goal? Safety? Stability? I do not see how more weapons, more violence, more destruction, will help achieve these ends. What real purpose is our mission there serving? Do we seek to gain strategic global positioning? Is it conflict for conflict's sake, a vain attempt to slake the bloodthirst that we can't even admit to having? Is it the same death throe delusion that has taken down empire after empire daring to set its sights on this land? Or is it just old-guard military men who want to beat the Soviets, even at empire, hell-bent on completing their cold-war victory even all these decades later? Because, Mr. President, and I confess I am no expert, it does not appear, at least, that we are doing anything more than strengthening the terrorists we claim to be fighting. Osama Bin Laden has not been caught, and even if he is, it does not matter. Our invasion has spread one man's delusion beyond his loyal band of followers and made them a global political and military force to be reckoned with. Were we just looking for another challenge? I don't know what is true, I don't know what I believe, and I don't know what the best solution is. I feel certain, however, that there is more motivating our actions than self-defense. Be it vengeance or greed or a need for chaos, I am uneasy, as an American, being represented that way to the rest of the world.
Today a friend asked about the Secretary of War, a position he read about in Lincoln's cabinet. He was curious as to what it had become. Did the men who decided to change the name of that position think that it would mean less war? Or did they just find the name too impolite for modern sensibilities? We can call it defense, or even homeland security, but war has certainly not become any less fashionable. I may be less involved, and asked to sacrifice even less, than the generations of American civilians who committed their whole selves to the national war efforts, but still I am tired. I am so tired of this war, and I have not been fighting it. I have not been dying or suffering in it, either. Bombs are not dropping in my neighborhood, as they are for countless Afghan civilians, but I am still tired of their sound. This war is exhausting, because it has no clear objective and it has not clear imperative. This war is exhausting because it strengthens the forces we claim to oppose, extending and provoking and ensuring that another generation will pick up the kalashnikovs their fathers are dropping as we gun them down. Because each life lost leads only to more lives lost; the overwhelming suffering and destruction leads only to more suffering and destruction. We are better than this, Mr. President; better than our conduct in this war, better than the petty despots we've propped up, the violence we've perpetuated, or the viciousness of those who attacked us. I know there is a significant and vocal portion of our population that equate war with patriotism and justice and righteousness, but I also know that we are better than that, too.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I think that replacing General McChrystal was a necessary thing. The war in Afghanistan does not seem to be going well, and much of our own conduct has been unacceptable. I don't know that General Petraeus is the best man to replace him, but, as I'm not a military officer, and am in no way qualified to comment on the best way to wage a war I fundamentally oppose, I have no particularly strong feelings about this choice. I hope that, if nothing else, the change in leadership provides an opportunity for us to seriously reconsider and reexamine our entire strategy in Afghanistan. What is our goal? Safety? Stability? I do not see how more weapons, more violence, more destruction, will help achieve these ends. What real purpose is our mission there serving? Do we seek to gain strategic global positioning? Is it conflict for conflict's sake, a vain attempt to slake the bloodthirst that we can't even admit to having? Is it the same death throe delusion that has taken down empire after empire daring to set its sights on this land? Or is it just old-guard military men who want to beat the Soviets, even at empire, hell-bent on completing their cold-war victory even all these decades later? Because, Mr. President, and I confess I am no expert, it does not appear, at least, that we are doing anything more than strengthening the terrorists we claim to be fighting. Osama Bin Laden has not been caught, and even if he is, it does not matter. Our invasion has spread one man's delusion beyond his loyal band of followers and made them a global political and military force to be reckoned with. Were we just looking for another challenge? I don't know what is true, I don't know what I believe, and I don't know what the best solution is. I feel certain, however, that there is more motivating our actions than self-defense. Be it vengeance or greed or a need for chaos, I am uneasy, as an American, being represented that way to the rest of the world.
Today a friend asked about the Secretary of War, a position he read about in Lincoln's cabinet. He was curious as to what it had become. Did the men who decided to change the name of that position think that it would mean less war? Or did they just find the name too impolite for modern sensibilities? We can call it defense, or even homeland security, but war has certainly not become any less fashionable. I may be less involved, and asked to sacrifice even less, than the generations of American civilians who committed their whole selves to the national war efforts, but still I am tired. I am so tired of this war, and I have not been fighting it. I have not been dying or suffering in it, either. Bombs are not dropping in my neighborhood, as they are for countless Afghan civilians, but I am still tired of their sound. This war is exhausting, because it has no clear objective and it has not clear imperative. This war is exhausting because it strengthens the forces we claim to oppose, extending and provoking and ensuring that another generation will pick up the kalashnikovs their fathers are dropping as we gun them down. Because each life lost leads only to more lives lost; the overwhelming suffering and destruction leads only to more suffering and destruction. We are better than this, Mr. President; better than our conduct in this war, better than the petty despots we've propped up, the violence we've perpetuated, or the viciousness of those who attacked us. I know there is a significant and vocal portion of our population that equate war with patriotism and justice and righteousness, but I also know that we are better than that, too.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Day 164- The Saudi Arabia of Lithium
Dear Mr. President,
The news of huge mineral deposits discovered in Afghanistan is mixed blessing; surely a country with a GDP of $12 billion can benefit from the discovery of trillions of dollars worth of industrial metals, though I think the people of West Virginia might have a few cautionary tales about the dangers to workers and to the environment that come with an economy based on mining. I'm eager to see the situation in Afghanistan improve; the decades of suffering, war and poverty that the Afghani people have survived could break the hardest heart, and if mines represent a way out, than I am glad for their sake. On the other hand, I fear that the Pentagon's statement that Afghanistan could become "the Saudi Arabia of Lithium" might prove to be prophetic; that the wealth of the land and the poor will be exploited to create a wealthy (and corrupt) ruling class. And, while I know full well that write this on a machine using many of the minerals I'm referring to, the reality is that there isn't an infinite supply of these resources; at some point we will run out the things we have been so quick to tear up the earth for. Will we look back on the mountains of West Virginia, or the Great Lakes, or the Gulf of Mexico and wish we had learned to live without the resources we destroyed them for? Will Afghanis look back on their own land one day and wonder if their wealth came at too high a cost?
Clearly, neither you nor I are qualified to make the decisions regarding the future of Afghanistan's mining industry. The risk of the Taliban, or of another foreign power controlling the mineral-rich areas is no excuse for exploitation by American interests. The land and its resources must be controlled by the Afghan people and their elected officials, though, I suppose, even that will be problematic. My concern for the snow leopards aside, I wonder if the cost of destroying a country's ecosystem can be quantified, let alone measured against the economic benefits. But no matter what I think is right, I have to believe that the decision is best made by those who will suffer the results directly. I hope that my government can restrain its eagerness to preach the correct way to handle Afghanistan's resources and respect the Afghani people enough to let them determine their own destinies.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
The news of huge mineral deposits discovered in Afghanistan is mixed blessing; surely a country with a GDP of $12 billion can benefit from the discovery of trillions of dollars worth of industrial metals, though I think the people of West Virginia might have a few cautionary tales about the dangers to workers and to the environment that come with an economy based on mining. I'm eager to see the situation in Afghanistan improve; the decades of suffering, war and poverty that the Afghani people have survived could break the hardest heart, and if mines represent a way out, than I am glad for their sake. On the other hand, I fear that the Pentagon's statement that Afghanistan could become "the Saudi Arabia of Lithium" might prove to be prophetic; that the wealth of the land and the poor will be exploited to create a wealthy (and corrupt) ruling class. And, while I know full well that write this on a machine using many of the minerals I'm referring to, the reality is that there isn't an infinite supply of these resources; at some point we will run out the things we have been so quick to tear up the earth for. Will we look back on the mountains of West Virginia, or the Great Lakes, or the Gulf of Mexico and wish we had learned to live without the resources we destroyed them for? Will Afghanis look back on their own land one day and wonder if their wealth came at too high a cost?
Clearly, neither you nor I are qualified to make the decisions regarding the future of Afghanistan's mining industry. The risk of the Taliban, or of another foreign power controlling the mineral-rich areas is no excuse for exploitation by American interests. The land and its resources must be controlled by the Afghan people and their elected officials, though, I suppose, even that will be problematic. My concern for the snow leopards aside, I wonder if the cost of destroying a country's ecosystem can be quantified, let alone measured against the economic benefits. But no matter what I think is right, I have to believe that the decision is best made by those who will suffer the results directly. I hope that my government can restrain its eagerness to preach the correct way to handle Afghanistan's resources and respect the Afghani people enough to let them determine their own destinies.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, May 21, 2010
Day 141- War isn't making me poor
Dear Mr. President,
Representative Alan Grayson is proposing The War Is Making You Poor Act, which would redirect funding from Afghanistan and Iraq to relieve the income tax burden on incomes up to $35,000. I didn't end up paying taxes this year. War isn't making me poor, Mr. President. War is making me ashamed of my country. War is making me less free, less educated and less safe. War is making me afraid. These things are OK, though, because war is making other people much worse, it is making them sick and homeless and crazy and dead. War is making is making people so many things that are even worse than poor. I'm with Mr. Grayson, in that I think our national priorities are defined by our spending and that our spending indicates we value death, destruction and oppression. I think defunding these disasters is a great idea, but, instead of tax cuts, let's spend this money improving education, improving care and benefits for our veterans, strengthening domestic law enforcement and investing in clean energy. You see, taxes aren't making me poor, either.
I think Grayson's bill, even if I think the money could be better spent elsewhere, is something that deserves debate and serious attention in the House; sadly, it is unlikely to be treated as anything more than a stunt. The inertia of our foreign policy, especially as it is inherited by one party from its ideological opponents, makes established conflicts seem inevitable. We're there, so now we have to think in small, strategic steps. We have to finish what we came to do, to sew up the wounds left by our clumsy surgery and hope we're able to revive the patient without too much brain damage. But I don't think this is an apt metaphor. I don't believe the havoc we've brought to these countries is going to help them, or keep us safer. I don't think that you believe this either. You were right to oppose the war in 2003 and you have promised us a foreign policy that represents our values. So, instead of spending another year tied to these wars, strangling our national budget and staining our reputation darker each day, let's get out, right now. The world does not always have to change so slowly.
Mr. President, I support this bill. In my case, that requires nothing extraordinary. For you, even to ask that it be seriously debated would require the kind of courage politicians usually can't seem to locate. I understand this, but I hope you find it anyway.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Representative Alan Grayson is proposing The War Is Making You Poor Act, which would redirect funding from Afghanistan and Iraq to relieve the income tax burden on incomes up to $35,000. I didn't end up paying taxes this year. War isn't making me poor, Mr. President. War is making me ashamed of my country. War is making me less free, less educated and less safe. War is making me afraid. These things are OK, though, because war is making other people much worse, it is making them sick and homeless and crazy and dead. War is making is making people so many things that are even worse than poor. I'm with Mr. Grayson, in that I think our national priorities are defined by our spending and that our spending indicates we value death, destruction and oppression. I think defunding these disasters is a great idea, but, instead of tax cuts, let's spend this money improving education, improving care and benefits for our veterans, strengthening domestic law enforcement and investing in clean energy. You see, taxes aren't making me poor, either.
I think Grayson's bill, even if I think the money could be better spent elsewhere, is something that deserves debate and serious attention in the House; sadly, it is unlikely to be treated as anything more than a stunt. The inertia of our foreign policy, especially as it is inherited by one party from its ideological opponents, makes established conflicts seem inevitable. We're there, so now we have to think in small, strategic steps. We have to finish what we came to do, to sew up the wounds left by our clumsy surgery and hope we're able to revive the patient without too much brain damage. But I don't think this is an apt metaphor. I don't believe the havoc we've brought to these countries is going to help them, or keep us safer. I don't think that you believe this either. You were right to oppose the war in 2003 and you have promised us a foreign policy that represents our values. So, instead of spending another year tied to these wars, strangling our national budget and staining our reputation darker each day, let's get out, right now. The world does not always have to change so slowly.
Mr. President, I support this bill. In my case, that requires nothing extraordinary. For you, even to ask that it be seriously debated would require the kind of courage politicians usually can't seem to locate. I understand this, but I hope you find it anyway.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Day 133- Bring them home
As a personal preface to tonight's letter, I'd like to emphasize that I do not intend this letter to stand as a sweeping indictment of anything other than war itself. I do not think that all soldier are war criminals, and I do not think that all those who commit the kinds of horrible acts I'm writing about are necessarily responsible for their own actions. I know I have a number of readers who are serving or who have served in the armed forces; I have tremendous respect for them, and for all our troops, which is why I don't believe they should be sent into situations like Iraq and Afghanistan. It's also why I do believe that those who put all of them at risk by violating the rules of war and of common decency should be held accountable, be they soldiers, commanding officers, or the civilian leaders of the military at the DOD or in the White House.
Dear Mr. President,
As a student at Boise State University, I was lucky enough to take classes from a gifted professor who had a friendship with Seymour Hersh. Mr. Hersh gave a lecture at our school that year, and, the morning before, spoke with the thirty or so students in my class directly. Our discussion was mainly about the recent revelations, brought to light by Mr. Hersh himself, about the prisoner abuses at Abu Ghraib. I recall thinking, at the time, that Mr. Hersh's legacy of bringing the most intimate horrors of war to the public's eye was a testament to his tenacity as a reporter, but not to any increase in the brutality of America's wars. Mr. Hersh, who would have still gone down in history a journalistic icon if he'd retired after breaking the story of the Mai Lai massacre, continues to bring us the sad news of our own war crimes, this time on your watch. Battlefield executions (or, for that matter, prisoner abuse and the killing of civilians,) are probably nothing new in the history of the American military; one only need read Vonnegut's account of World War II to see that, even when fought for noble and just causes, war cannot be waged without these kinds of brutalities.
How does your Christianity allow such conduct? How does your humanity? The evidence mounts, daily, that the wars we fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, (wars which, I grant, you did not start,) are bloody, costly, and doing far more harm than good for all involved. There must be a clear sense, in the field, by the troops, that their commanding officers right up to their commander in chief will not allow, condone, or, most importantly, ignore, the violations of human rights and international law that continue to be uncovered. This expectation must be clear, public, and enforced even at the levels of high command. I respect the men and women who serve our country in uniform, sir, if anything I count them among the victims of these wars, but when even one of them kills a prisoner in cold blood, they do so in my name, with my country's flag on their arms, and I am just as responsible for it as they are. And, even more to the point, Mr. President, so are you.
A distinction Mr. Hersh made to our class about the awareness, higher up the chain of command, as to what was going on at Abu Ghraib, was echoed years later by another professor, this time at the University of Washington. Discussing international law, both emphasized that the standard for culpability is when those in power knew, or should have known human rights abuses were occurring. As much as I love international law, this is one instance in which my first concern is not the legality of your behavior but the morality of it. I don't know, and will likely never know, if you condone or even order these battlefield executions, but I doubt very much that you do. I do know that you are the leader of this military and I elected you, in part, with the hope that you would curtail the human rights abuses by US soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan by the only means that I know for sure will accomplish this; by bringing them home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
As a student at Boise State University, I was lucky enough to take classes from a gifted professor who had a friendship with Seymour Hersh. Mr. Hersh gave a lecture at our school that year, and, the morning before, spoke with the thirty or so students in my class directly. Our discussion was mainly about the recent revelations, brought to light by Mr. Hersh himself, about the prisoner abuses at Abu Ghraib. I recall thinking, at the time, that Mr. Hersh's legacy of bringing the most intimate horrors of war to the public's eye was a testament to his tenacity as a reporter, but not to any increase in the brutality of America's wars. Mr. Hersh, who would have still gone down in history a journalistic icon if he'd retired after breaking the story of the Mai Lai massacre, continues to bring us the sad news of our own war crimes, this time on your watch. Battlefield executions (or, for that matter, prisoner abuse and the killing of civilians,) are probably nothing new in the history of the American military; one only need read Vonnegut's account of World War II to see that, even when fought for noble and just causes, war cannot be waged without these kinds of brutalities.
How does your Christianity allow such conduct? How does your humanity? The evidence mounts, daily, that the wars we fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, (wars which, I grant, you did not start,) are bloody, costly, and doing far more harm than good for all involved. There must be a clear sense, in the field, by the troops, that their commanding officers right up to their commander in chief will not allow, condone, or, most importantly, ignore, the violations of human rights and international law that continue to be uncovered. This expectation must be clear, public, and enforced even at the levels of high command. I respect the men and women who serve our country in uniform, sir, if anything I count them among the victims of these wars, but when even one of them kills a prisoner in cold blood, they do so in my name, with my country's flag on their arms, and I am just as responsible for it as they are. And, even more to the point, Mr. President, so are you.
A distinction Mr. Hersh made to our class about the awareness, higher up the chain of command, as to what was going on at Abu Ghraib, was echoed years later by another professor, this time at the University of Washington. Discussing international law, both emphasized that the standard for culpability is when those in power knew, or should have known human rights abuses were occurring. As much as I love international law, this is one instance in which my first concern is not the legality of your behavior but the morality of it. I don't know, and will likely never know, if you condone or even order these battlefield executions, but I doubt very much that you do. I do know that you are the leader of this military and I elected you, in part, with the hope that you would curtail the human rights abuses by US soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan by the only means that I know for sure will accomplish this; by bringing them home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, May 7, 2010
Day 127- Omar Khadr
Dear Mr. President,
I don't know Omar Khadr. I don't know his crimes, his history or the circumstances surrounding his arrest and detention. I don't have any opinion about his guilt or innocence. I know one thing, only one thing for sure, about Omar Khadr; on the day of his arrest by US soldiers 8 years ago, he was 15 years old. I don't need to know anything else, Mr. President. I don't need to know who he allegedly killed or how he confessed to the crime of participating in the losing side of an ugly war. I don't need to know these things because it is simply inexcusable for us to treat a child this way. A child who was wounded and nearly dead when we arrested him and tortured him and convinced him that he would suffer even worse if he did not confess.
I've been 15. We've all been 15. And I'm not claiming that going to war or throwing grenades is just some adolescent stage that Khadr would have outgrown, but, by now, he has certainly lost his best chance at growing up into something better. There are legal and political arguments to be made about the rules of war and what is acceptable conduct, but we're talking about a child, who was surrounded by political upheaval, facing an invading army (right or wrong, it is what we are,) with better weapons and better armor and better training, and who, allegedly, threw a grenade; there is a higher moral argument to be made against calling that a "war crime." He should have spent the last eight years in school, not in prison. While his actions have consequences that must be acknowledged, this country has a moral obligation to demonstrate, to the world, the way a responsible superpower conducts itself. I don't believe for a second that you need to be told this, sir, but a responsible superpower does not behave this way toward children. There is simply no crime this boy could have committed to warrant the treatment he has received at American hands. This is why people hate us. It makes us less safe, it generates more anti-American sentiment, and it's just wrong.
You promised to close Guantanamo Bay, and that has not happened. We have had no explanation for this failure, no apology for the broken promise, and no indication that it will be fulfilled in the future. The people who voted for you are entitled to these answers, Mr. President, and if you cannot give them, you can at least ensure that Omar Khadr's treatment and trial are fair, just, and conducted with due consideration of his age at the time of his arrest. It is a small mercy that should be given, not out of symbolism or political expediency, but because, in this instance, we have behaved appallingly, and there will be no rectifying it until we say so.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I don't know Omar Khadr. I don't know his crimes, his history or the circumstances surrounding his arrest and detention. I don't have any opinion about his guilt or innocence. I know one thing, only one thing for sure, about Omar Khadr; on the day of his arrest by US soldiers 8 years ago, he was 15 years old. I don't need to know anything else, Mr. President. I don't need to know who he allegedly killed or how he confessed to the crime of participating in the losing side of an ugly war. I don't need to know these things because it is simply inexcusable for us to treat a child this way. A child who was wounded and nearly dead when we arrested him and tortured him and convinced him that he would suffer even worse if he did not confess.
I've been 15. We've all been 15. And I'm not claiming that going to war or throwing grenades is just some adolescent stage that Khadr would have outgrown, but, by now, he has certainly lost his best chance at growing up into something better. There are legal and political arguments to be made about the rules of war and what is acceptable conduct, but we're talking about a child, who was surrounded by political upheaval, facing an invading army (right or wrong, it is what we are,) with better weapons and better armor and better training, and who, allegedly, threw a grenade; there is a higher moral argument to be made against calling that a "war crime." He should have spent the last eight years in school, not in prison. While his actions have consequences that must be acknowledged, this country has a moral obligation to demonstrate, to the world, the way a responsible superpower conducts itself. I don't believe for a second that you need to be told this, sir, but a responsible superpower does not behave this way toward children. There is simply no crime this boy could have committed to warrant the treatment he has received at American hands. This is why people hate us. It makes us less safe, it generates more anti-American sentiment, and it's just wrong.
You promised to close Guantanamo Bay, and that has not happened. We have had no explanation for this failure, no apology for the broken promise, and no indication that it will be fulfilled in the future. The people who voted for you are entitled to these answers, Mr. President, and if you cannot give them, you can at least ensure that Omar Khadr's treatment and trial are fair, just, and conducted with due consideration of his age at the time of his arrest. It is a small mercy that should be given, not out of symbolism or political expediency, but because, in this instance, we have behaved appallingly, and there will be no rectifying it until we say so.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, May 3, 2010
Day 123-Predators
Dear Mr. President,
I enjoyed watching your jokes at the correspondent's dinner. While I think that Jay Leno was a poor choice, I respect that other people may have different tastes than mine. I assumed that, with a major environment crisis in the Gulf, a foiled car bomb in New York, an election imminent in the UK, several contentious state primaries, and the legislation aimed at the torment of pregnant women passed recently in Oklahoma, people would have more important things to talk about than the jokes you told at dinner. But I was wrong. (This is sort of your fault. If you hadn't encouraged me to embrace the spirit of civility by reading the Drudge Report, I'd never have found out about this.)
Anyway, it seems that some people feel that your Jonas Brothers/Predator drone joke wasn't really a laughing matter, considering the number of people even less threatening than the Jonas Brothers who are actually killed by these weapons every year. I'm a big fan of the "politically correct" and even I don't get this. Back in high school my dad used to joke about his gun collection/police buddies/access to criminal background checks to any boy who wanted to date me. It's lame dad humor. Every dad jokes about that, right? No one believes you're actually using the Predator drone as your own personal play-toy, right? I think the wars we're waging abroad are awful, morally baseless and catastrophically unfair, but I think getting upset over people actually getting killed is a far more useful way to spend one's emotional energy than to get upset over a joke that (no offense) was certainly not an original one.
Speaking of fatherly humor, I read some remarks by the First Lady about your daughter Malia's concern for saving the tiger population. I thought you should know that you're getting outpaced by Russia and Iran on this issue, or at least missing out on the heads of state big cat exchange. I'm sure Malia would agree with me that getting a Persian Leopard would be pretty freaking cool, so maybe you and Ahmadinejad could work through your differences and get Bo a new playmate? I'm sure the question "Dad, why can't you be more like Vladimir Putin?" is not one you want to hear over dinner.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I enjoyed watching your jokes at the correspondent's dinner. While I think that Jay Leno was a poor choice, I respect that other people may have different tastes than mine. I assumed that, with a major environment crisis in the Gulf, a foiled car bomb in New York, an election imminent in the UK, several contentious state primaries, and the legislation aimed at the torment of pregnant women passed recently in Oklahoma, people would have more important things to talk about than the jokes you told at dinner. But I was wrong. (This is sort of your fault. If you hadn't encouraged me to embrace the spirit of civility by reading the Drudge Report, I'd never have found out about this.)
Anyway, it seems that some people feel that your Jonas Brothers/Predator drone joke wasn't really a laughing matter, considering the number of people even less threatening than the Jonas Brothers who are actually killed by these weapons every year. I'm a big fan of the "politically correct" and even I don't get this. Back in high school my dad used to joke about his gun collection/police buddies/access to criminal background checks to any boy who wanted to date me. It's lame dad humor. Every dad jokes about that, right? No one believes you're actually using the Predator drone as your own personal play-toy, right? I think the wars we're waging abroad are awful, morally baseless and catastrophically unfair, but I think getting upset over people actually getting killed is a far more useful way to spend one's emotional energy than to get upset over a joke that (no offense) was certainly not an original one.
Speaking of fatherly humor, I read some remarks by the First Lady about your daughter Malia's concern for saving the tiger population. I thought you should know that you're getting outpaced by Russia and Iran on this issue, or at least missing out on the heads of state big cat exchange. I'm sure Malia would agree with me that getting a Persian Leopard would be pretty freaking cool, so maybe you and Ahmadinejad could work through your differences and get Bo a new playmate? I'm sure the question "Dad, why can't you be more like Vladimir Putin?" is not one you want to hear over dinner.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
