Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Sure, the US as a nation have always killed people. A lot of people. But no president has ever waged war by killing enemies one by one, targeting them individually for execution, wherever they are. The Obama administration has taken pains to tell us, over and over again, that they are careful, scrupulous of our laws, and determined to avoid the loss of collateral, innocent lives. They're careful because when it comes to waging war on individuals, the distinction between war and murder becomes a fine one. Especially when, on occasion, the individuals we target are Americans and when, in one instance, the collateral damage was an American boy.

You are a good man. You are an honorable man. You are both president of the United States and the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize. You are both the most powerful man in the world and an unimpeachably upstanding citizen. You place a large premium on being beyond reproach. You have become your own deliberative body, standing not so much by your decisions as by the process by which you make them. You are not only rational; you are a rationalist. You think everything through, as though it is within your power to find the point where what is moral meets what is necessary.

You love two things, your family and the law, and you have surrounded yourself with those who are similarly inclined. To make sure that you obey the law, you have hired lawyers prominent for accusing your predecessor of flouting it; to make sure that you don't fall prey to the inevitable corruption of secrecy, you have hired lawyers on record for being committed to transparency. Unlike George W. Bush, you have never held yourself above the law by virtue of being commander in chief; indeed, you have spent part of your political capital trying to prove civilian justice adequate to our security needs. You prize both discipline and deliberation; you insist that those around you possess a personal integrity that matches their political ideals and your own; and it is out of these unlikely ingredients that you have created the Lethal Presidency.

You are a historic figure, Mr. President. You are not only the first African-American president; you are the first who has made use of your power to target and kill individuals identified as a threat to the United States throughout your entire term. You are the first president to make the killing of targeted individuals the focus of our military operations, of our intelligence, of our national-security strategy, and, some argue, of our foreign policy. You have authorized kill teams comprised of both soldiers from Special Forces and civilians from the CIA, and you have coordinated their efforts through the Departments of Justice and State. You have gradually withdrawn from the nation building required by "counterinsurgency" and poured resources into the covert operations that form the basis of "counter-terrorism." More than any other president you have made the killing rather than the capture of individuals the option of first resort, and have killed them both from the sky, with drones, and on the ground, with "nighttime" raids not dissimilar to the one that killed Osama bin Laden. You have killed individuals in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Yemen, Somalia, and Libya, and are making provisions to expand the presence of American Special Forces in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. In Pakistan and other places where the United States has not committed troops, you are estimated to have killed at least two thousand by drone. You have formalized what is known as "the program," and at the height of its activity it was reported to be launching drone strikes in Pakistan every three days. Your lethality is expansive in both practice and principle; you are fighting terrorism with a policy of preemptive execution, and claiming not just the legal right to do so but the legal right to do so in secret. The American people, for the most part, have no idea who has been killed, and why; the American people — and for that matter, most of their representatives in Congress — have no idea what crimes those killed in their name are supposed to have committed, and have been told that they are not entitled to know.

This is not to say that the American people don't know about the Lethal Presidency, and that they don't support its aims. They do. They know about the killing because you have celebrated — with appropriate sobriety — the most notable kills, specifically those of Osama bin Laden and Anwar al-Awlaki; they support it because you have asked for their trust as a good and honorable man surrounded by good and honorable men and women and they have given it to you. In so doing, you have changed a technological capability into a moral imperative and have convinced your countrymen to see the necessity without seeing the downside. Politically, there is no downside. Historically, there is only the irony of the upside — that you, of all presidents, have become the lethal one; that you, of all people, have turned out to be a man of proven integrity whose foreign and domestic policies are less popular than your proven willingness to kill, in defense of your country, even your own countrymen ... indeed, to kill even a sixteen-year-old American boy accused of no crime at all.

(ON THE POLITICS BLOG: Tom Junod Considers the Implications)

It's an American story. A promising student from a poor country is selected to go to America on a Fulbright scholarship. His country is an agricultural one — an agricultural country simmering in the desert — so he goes off to study agricultural economics. He enters New Mexico State University in 1966, gets his business degree three years later, and he's studying for his master's when his first son is born. "I remember the name of the gynecologist!" he says. "I remember the name of the hospital — Las Cruces General! The next day I went to school and was very pleased. At the time in America, they distributed cigars if it was a boy. So that's what I did — I distributed cigars. It was a fantastic thing, to have my firstborn son be born in the United States."

It was 1971, and Nasser al-Awlaki named his American son Anwar. He got his Ph.D. at the University of Nebraska at Lincoln — "The year I got there, they took the national college football championship! They beat Oklahoma in the Game of the Century!" — and then got an offer to teach at the University of Minnesota. "We took Anwar to nursery school there. He was a very brilliant boy. His nursery-school teacher wrote him every year, even when he came back to Yemen. I joined the University of Sanaa and took Anwar to bilingual school. In three months he was speaking and writing Arabic!"

Anwar al-Awlaki, firstborn son of Nasser, never lost his American citizenship, though he eventually gained his Yemeni one. In 1991, he got his own scholarship to Colorado State University, and the American story — the story of the American al-Awlakis — was told a second time. "He studied civil engineering," his father says. "After he got his degree, he came back to Yemen in 1994 in order to get married. He married his second cousin and then took his wife back to America, to Denver. His first son was born in August 1995, in Denver, Colorado. My wife and my mother went to Colorado for the birth and stayed six months. He was a beautiful, lovable little boy — and of course we were all very happy that he was born in America."

You must know the boy, Mr. President. Though you've never spoken a word about him, you must know his name, who and what he was. He was, after all, one of yours. He was a citizen. He had certain inalienable rights. He moved away when he was seven, but in that way he was not so different from you. He moved around a lot when he was growing up, because his father did. He went from Denver to San Diego, and from San Diego to a suburb of Washington, D. C. Then he went to Yemen. He was an American boy, but his father came to feel that America was attacking him, and he took his wife and son back to Yemen and began preaching hatred against Americans. Anwar al-Awlaki took it as his constitutionally guaranteed right to do so. When you decided that you had to do something about him, you also had to decide whether his citizenship stood in the way. You decided that it didn't.

Anwar al-Awlaki fled into the mountains of Yemen. The boy lived with his grandfather Nasser in the capital city of Sanaa. He didn't see his father for two years. He loved his father and missed him. He was sixteen. One morning last September, he didn't show up for breakfast. His mother went to find him and instead she found a note. He had climbed out the window of the apartment building where he lived. He had gone in search of his father. You might not have known him then — you might not have had cause to know his name. But his name was Abdulrahman al-Awlaki, and he knew you as both the president of the United States and as the man trying to kill his father.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

She’s the Man of This Swamp

Review: ‘Beasts of the Southern Wild,’ Directed by Benh Zeitlin

NYT Critics' Pick

Inside 'Beasts of the Southern Wild': Benh Zeitlin, the director of "Beasts of the Southern Wild," narrates a scene from the film.

By A. O. SCOTT

Published: June 26, 2012

Hushpuppy, the 6-year-old heroine of “Beasts of the Southern Wild,”has a smile to charm fish out of the water and a scowl so fierce it can stop monsters in their tracks. The movie, a passionate and unruly explosion of Americana, directed by Benh Zeitlin, winks at skepticism, laughs at sober analysis and stares down criticism. Made on a shoestring by a resourceful New Orleans-based collective, it is animated by the same spirit of freedom it sets out to celebrate. If, as the Fourth of July approaches, you find yourself craving an antidote to anger and cynicism, a bracing reminder of the meaning of independence, and a helping of homegrown art to go with your hamburgers and watermelon, then this may be just what you need.

Multimedia

The Sweet Spot | June 29, 2012

A Mythical Bayou’s All-Too-Real Peril (June 10, 2012)
Critic’s Notebook: Amazing Child, Typical Grown-Ups (January 28, 2012)

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Jess Pinkham/Fox Searchlight Pictures

Beasts of the Southern Wild, with Quvenzhané Wallis (standing, center), and Dwight Henry (standing, back to the camera), set in a part of the Louisiana bayou called the Bathtub, opens on Wednesday in New York and Los Angeles.

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Jess Pinkham/Fox Searchlight Pictures

Quvenzhané Wallis in "Beasts of the Southern Wild."

Played by Quvenzhané Wallis, an untrained sprite who holds the camera’s attention with a charismatic poise that might make grown-up movie stars weep in envy, Hushpuppy is an American original, a rambunctious blend of individualism and fellow feeling. In other words, she is the inheritor of a proud literary and artistic tradition, following along a crooked path traveled by Huckleberry Finn, Scout Finch, Eloise (of the Plaza), Elliott (from “E.T.”) and other brave, wild, imaginary children. These young heroes allow us, vicariously, to assert our innocence and to accept our inevitable disillusionment when the world falls short of our ideals and expectations.

They also remind us of the metaphysical arrogance of childhood. Because the self and the world are perceived, by an awakening mind, as opposites — what is inside my head and what is outside; what is me and what is not — it seems to follow that they must be equal. I, too, am a cosmos.

This kind of juvenile narcissism, which is also a state of spiritual insight, shaped Terrence Malick’s “Tree of Life,” a movie with which “Beasts of the Southern Wild” has an evident kinship (not only because both films won prizes in Cannes). You might say that Mr. Malick’s work is a classical treatment of themes that, in Mr. Zeitlin’s version, are explored through the squawk and heat of blues, zydeco and other impure, vernacular products of America.

Hushpuppy, whose wide eyes absorb scenes of tenderness and catastrophe, and whose lyrical ruminations decorate the soundtrack, is a universe in her own right and in her own mind. She confidently predicts that a thousand years in the future, “scientists” will know about her, her father (who calls her “man” and “boss lady”) and the stretch of Louisiana bayou where they live. She knows just how big she is, and how powerful.

We, the adult witnesses to her adventures, have a slightly different perspective. Objectively, Hushpuppy is small and vulnerable, and the universe may not care as much about her as it should. She and her father (Dwight Henry) live in neighboring shacks in a place called the Bathtub, a swampy scrap of territory separated by a levee from a world of industry, consumerism and other forms of modern ugliness. The residents of the Bathtub spend their days fishing, scavenging and drinking, raising their kids to be self-sufficient and to believe in a folk religion featuring giant, ancient creatures called aurochs.

This way of life, both harsh and idyllic, is threatened by an epochal hurricane and also by the interference that comes before and after, first in the form of orders to evacuate and then in the form of bureaucratic relief efforts. Hushpuppy’s father, meanwhile, is fighting a lethal disease, hoping to stay alive long enough to prepare his daughter for an uncertain future.

Based on a play by Lucy Alibar (who collaborated on the script with Mr. Zeitlin), “Beasts of the Southern Wild” is a work of magic realism and, to some extent, an exercise in wishful thinking. The Bathtub is a museum of outsider ingenuity, its houses and boats cobbled together from weathered detritus, its residents wise, unpretentious and self-reliant. Mr. Zeitlin, shooting on 16-millimeter film rather than in a digital format, and aided by his ingenious cinematographer, Ben Richardson, finds rugged, ragged beauty in nearly every shot.

Viewers inclined to see things through the lens of ideology will find plenty to work with. From the left, you can embrace a vision of multicultural community bound by indifference to the pursuit of wealth and an ethic of solidarity and inclusion. From the right, you can admire the libertarian virtues of a band of local heroes who hold fast to their traditions and who flourish in defiance of the meddling good intentions of big government.

But let’s all agree: This movie is a blast of sheer, improbable joy, a boisterous, thrilling action movie with a protagonist who can hold her own alongside Katniss Everdeen, Princess Merida and the other brave young heroines of 2012. There are loose threads you can pull at — sometimes the wide-eyed wonder slides toward willful naïveté, and there are moments of distracting formal sloppiness — but the garment will not come unraveled. A lot of thinking has gone into “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” about themes as well as methods, about the significance of the story as well as its shape. And it is certainly rich enough to invite and repay a healthy measure of critical thought.

But its impact, its glory, is sensory rather than cerebral. Let me try out an analogy. Discovering this movie is like stumbling into a bar and encountering a band you’ve never heard of playing a kind of music that you can’t quite identify. Nor can you figure out how the musicians learned to play the way they do, with such fire and mastery. Did they pick it up from their grandparents, study at a conservatory, watch instructional videos on the Internet or just somehow make it all up? Are you witnessing the blossoming of authenticity or the triumph of artifice?

Those are interesting questions. They are also irrelevant, because right now you are transported by an irresistible rhythm and moved by a melody that is profoundly, almost primally, familiar, even though you are sure you have never heard anything like it before.

“Beasts of the Southern Wild” is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). Dangers large and small.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Opens on Wednesday in New York and Los Angeles.

Directed by Benh Zeitlin; written by Lucy Alibar and Mr. Zeitlin, based on the stage play “Juicy and Delicious,” by Ms. Alibar; director of photography, Ben Richardson; edited by Crockett Doob and Affonso Gonçalves; music by Dan Romer and Mr. Zeitlin; production design by Alex DiGerlando; costumes by Stephani Lewis; produced by Dan Janvey, Josh Penn and Michael Gottwald; released by Fox Searchlight Pictures. Running time: 1 hour 33 minutes.

Noam Chomsky -Las 10 técnicas de manipulación mediática

La estrategia de la distracción El elemento primordial del control social es la estrategia de la distracción que consiste en desviar la atención del público de los problemas importantes y de los cambios decididos por las élites políticas y económicas, mediante la técnica del diluvio o inundación de continuas distracciones y de informaciones insignificantes. La estrategia de la distracción es igualmente indispensable para impedir al público interesarse por los conocimientos esenciales, en el área de la ciencia, la economía, la psicología, la neurobiología y la cibernética. ”Mantener la Atención del público distraída, lejos de los verdaderos problemas sociales, cautivada por temas sin importancia real. Mantener al público ocupado, ocupado, ocupado, sin ningún tiempo para pensar; de vuelta a granja como los otros animales (cita del texto ‘Armas silenciosas para guerras tranquilas)”.

Crear problemas y después ofrecer soluciones. Este método también es llamado “problema-reacción-solución”. Se crea un problema, una “situación” prevista para causar cierta reacción en el público, a fin de que éste sea el mandante de las medidas que se desea hacer aceptar. Por ejemplo: dejar que se desenvuelva o se intensifique la violencia urbana, u organizar atentados sangrientos, a fin de que el público sea el demandante de leyes de seguridad y políticas en perjuicio de la libertad. O también: crear una crisis económica para hacer aceptar como un mal necesario el retroceso de los derechos sociales y el desmantelamiento de los servicios públicos.

La estrategia de la gradualidad. Para hacer que se acepte una medida inaceptable, basta aplicarla gradualmente, a cuentagotas, por años consecutivos. Es de esa manera que condiciones socioeconómicas radicalmente nuevas (neoliberalismo) fueron impuestas durante las décadas de 1980 y 1990: Estado mínimo, privatizaciones, precariedad, flexibilidad, desempleo en masa, salarios que ya no aseguran ingresos decentes, tantos cambios que hubieran provocado una revolución si hubiesen sido aplicadas de una sola vez.

La estrategia de diferir. Otra manera de hacer aceptar una decisión impopular es la de presentarla como “dolorosa y necesaria”, obteniendo la aceptación pública, en el momento, para una aplicación futura. Es más fácil aceptar un sacrificio futuro que un sacrificio inmediato. Primero, porque el esfuerzo no es empleado inmediatamente. Luego, porque el público, la masa, tiene siempre la tendencia a esperar ingenuamente que “todo irá mejorar mañana” y que el sacrificio exigido podrá ser evitado. Esto da más tiempo al público para acostumbrarse a la idea del cambio y de aceptarla con resignación cuando llegue el momento.

Dirigirse al público como criaturas de poca edad. La mayoría de la publicidad dirigida al gran público utiliza discurso, argumentos, personajes y entonación particularmente infantiles, muchas veces próximos a la debilidad, como si el espectador fuese una criatura de poca edad o un deficiente mental. Cuanto más se intente buscar engañar al espectador, más se tiende a adoptar un tono infantilizante. Por qué? “Si uno se dirige a una persona como si ella tuviese la edad de 12 años o menos, entonces, en razón de la sugestionabilidad, ella tenderá, con cierta probabilidad, a una respuesta o reacción también desprovista de un sentido crítico como la de una persona de 12 años o menos de edad (ver “Armas silenciosas para guerras tranquilas”)”.

Utilizar el aspecto emocional mucho más que la reflexión. Hacer uso del aspecto emocional es una técnica clásica para causar un corto circuito en el análisis racional, y finalmente al sentido critico de los individuos. Por otra parte, la utilización del registro emocional permite abrir la puerta de acceso al inconsciente para implantar o injertar ideas, deseos, miedos y temores, compulsiones, o inducir comportamientos…
Mantener al público en la ignorancia y la mediocridad. Hacer que el público sea incapaz de comprender las tecnologías y los métodos utilizados para su control y su esclavitud. “La calidad de la educación dada a las clases sociales inferiores debe ser la más pobre y mediocre posible, de forma que la distancia de la ignorancia que planea entre las clases inferiores y las clases sociales superiores sea y permanezca imposible de alcanzar para las clases inferiores (ver ‘Armas silenciosas para guerras tranquilas)”.
Estimular al público a ser complaciente con la mediocridad. Promover al público a creer que es moda el hecho de ser estúpido, vulgar e inculto…

Reforzar la autoculpabilidad. Hacer creer al individuo que es solamente él el culpable por su propia desgracia, por causa de la insuficiencia de su inteligencia, de sus capacidades, o de sus esfuerzos. Así, en lugar de rebelarse contra el sistema económico, el individuo se auto desvalida y se culpa, lo que genera un estado depresivo, uno de cuyos efectos es la inhibición de su acción. Y, sin acción, no hay revolución!
Conocer a los individuos mejor de lo que ellos mismos se conocen. En el transcurso de los últimos 50 años, los avances acelerados de la ciencia han generado una creciente brecha entre los conocimientos del público y aquellos poseídos y utilizados por las élites dominantes. Gracias a la biología, la neurobiología y la psicología aplicada, el “sistema” ha disfrutado de un conocimiento avanzado del ser humano, tanto de forma física como psicológicamente. El sistema ha conseguido conocer mejor al individuo común de lo que él se conoce a sí mismo. Esto significa que, en la mayoría de los casos, el sistema ejerce un control mayor y un gran poder sobre los individuos, mayor que el de los individuos sobre sí mismos.

Reproduzca esta informacion. El terror se basa en la incomunicación. Rompa el aislamiento. Vuelva a sentir la satisfacción moral de un acto de libertad. Derrote el terror.