At the Tribeca Film Festival of 2008, I watched a documentary entitled The Trial of Milosovic, a skillfully edited composite of archival footage on the Hague's failure to convict the titular monster.
Milosovic's sudden death in 2006 cut the trials short, but not before the occurrence of a particularly infuriating incident in which he smirked from the criminal box - a smirk rendered immortal by the rolling camera - that the successful evasion of the law by Ratko Mladic, his lead general, proved the ultimate impotence of his enemies in bringing his legacy to rest.
Flashback to another memory of mine: a rendition of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues in 2005, where a performer rendered with devastating efficacy the testimony of a Bosnian woman assaulted in one of Serbia's rape camps, the latter a brainchild both of Milosovic and his murderous general.
Yesterday's arrest of Mladic can of course do little to undo the trauma that such women experienced, and can do even less - thanks to the intervention of oblivion - at wiping that godawful smile from Milosovic's face, but in the month that saw the extinction of Osama Bin Laden, his capture again signals the world's commitment to squashing the careers of mass-murderers, and this time a squashing done properly: through arrest and trial, and not - as with Bin Laden - through homicide.
Mladic managed to wreak havoc on both religious and racial grounds, overseeing the slaughter of 8,000 Muslim men and boys in 1995. He also co-opted the timeless weapon of rape as a demoralizing and eugenic tactic, systematically assaulting countless Bosnian women, with the aim of breaking the spirit of his enemies, and even, as a long term plan, breeding out the Bosniak bloodline through forced impregnation.
I find myself wishing that the U.N could somehow allow for the victims of Mladic to line up in their hundreds of thousands and one at a time spit in his face, and I'd hope that he'd be handcuffed, so the saliva could sit, undisturbed, on his face.
Unfortunately, there just aren't enough handcuffs in the world, though there's plenty of untapped saliva.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Prayers for a battered nation
It's stunning, really: Louisiana and Mississippi hammered by floods, much of the South and the Midwest ripped apart by tornadoes . . . 100 people dead in Joplin, Missouri, by the latest
estimate. . .
estimate. . .
I'm not sure what to add to what I've already said, save to articulate whatever passes for a secular man's prayer (our language is oddly unaccommodating on the matter) and to thank the New York Times for at least offering adequate coverage of the Joplin disaster so far.
Finally, if any of my readers can refer me to any viable online fundraising efforts, I'd be more than happy to donate. My fellow Americans deserve as much.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Strauss-Kahn and his not-so-tacit support base
The appalling situation surrounding IMF director Dominique Strauss-Kahn's sexual assault charge is just one more illustration of what power, privilege, and a set of Caucasian testicles can buy you: the capacity not only to commit an atrocity, but to do so under full expectation of immunity.
That's not to say I'm any more repulsed by the conduct of Strauss-Kahn than I am by any other monster of his ilk. Rather, I'm disgusted at the light this has shed on just how much the upper-class white establishment will stand by its own, with the French aristocracy more inclined to condemn the American justice system than to acknowledge that one of their fellow noblemen might have done something wrong.
The Young Feminist Task Force, of the New York State Chapter of the National Organization for Women, has made space on its blog for letters of support for the victim. A single mother, immigrant, and woman of color, the assaulted housekeeper was everything her entitled attacker was not, a tragic reality that makes the situation all the more worthy of attention.
Meanwhile, we have France passing a sweeping ban on the burqa, purportedly for security concerns. Personally, I feel they'd better serve the security of their citizens by reigning in megalomaniacal rapists than oppressing their Muslims.
That's not to say I'm any more repulsed by the conduct of Strauss-Kahn than I am by any other monster of his ilk. Rather, I'm disgusted at the light this has shed on just how much the upper-class white establishment will stand by its own, with the French aristocracy more inclined to condemn the American justice system than to acknowledge that one of their fellow noblemen might have done something wrong.
The Young Feminist Task Force, of the New York State Chapter of the National Organization for Women, has made space on its blog for letters of support for the victim. A single mother, immigrant, and woman of color, the assaulted housekeeper was everything her entitled attacker was not, a tragic reality that makes the situation all the more worthy of attention.
Meanwhile, we have France passing a sweeping ban on the burqa, purportedly for security concerns. Personally, I feel they'd better serve the security of their citizens by reigning in megalomaniacal rapists than oppressing their Muslims.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Tragedy threatens the Cajun community in central Louisiana
The Atchafalaya Basin in central Louisiana is the one region of the American South that I struggled hardest to capture in my novel, and still managed, in my opinion, to fall short on. I was devastated to read in this morning's paper that the Mississippi Floods are posing a real threat to the area and the phenomenally rich culture it supports.
This particular article cites as one of its primary sources Oliver A. Houck, a Tulane Law School professor and former general counsel and vice president of the National Wildlife Federation, who fought to preserve the basin during his tenure there. Mr. Houck lays out the parameters of Atchafalaya, a sock-shaped region 20 miles wide and 150 miles long that tracks the course of its namesake river. The latter is in fact a branch of the Mississippi itself, splitting from the main channel north of Baton Rouge and flowing south to the Gulf of Mexico. Recent flooding on the Mississippi has made this parentage problematic, especially following a distressing decision by the Army Corps of the Engineers to open a major spillway that diverted millions of cubic tons of water into the Atchafalaya Basin, sparing Louisiana's cities but putting thousands of swamp-residing Cajuns in critical danger.
Rather than act as a broken record, pointing out the classist connotations of this maneuver, I'll instead lament with political neutrality on what this means for one of the country's most singular communities.
Cajuns, a culture almost solely unique to Louisiana, are descendants of the French-speaking residents of far-eastern Canada, whom the British expelled from their homelands during the Seven Years War, an event many historians have compared to ethnic cleansing. While many Cajuns were deported across the Atlantic, the majority settled in Louisiana, where they have resided ever since.
The Times interviewed Russell Melancon, a Cajun resident of the Basin who is faced with the prospect of abandoning a home that his family has inhabited for generations.
“It’s where we was raised,” he said. “Where my daddy was raised. Where we make our living. Why you are here is something you never even think about. You are this place.”
“You can’t have the Cajun culture without the basin,” says Professor Oliver Houck, echoing Mr. Melancon's sentiments.
Though tragic, the article's description of what will happen when the flood reaches Mr. Melancon's home underscores the distinctiveness of the Basin, and the culture it informs:
“Copperhead snakes might slither into the rafters. Alligators will take up residence on sheds. Gardens fat with tomatoes will be gone, and mosquitoes will swarm in such thick clouds that even he, a Cajun with skin as thick as one of those alligators, might not be able to stand it.”
Such descriptions would seem to apply as much to the Jurassic Period as they do to the jungles of Africa or Asia, neither one a part of the nation to which Atchafalaya actually belongs.
Dig and Abida, the protagonists of my novel, role into the basin on the fringes of a storm, a storm that both prefaces the climax of the book and echoes my own experience in the region, on which much of the novel is based.
I remember the rain pounding on the windshield, our mud-drenched Mercedes-Benz plowing down a narrow, intermittently unpaved highway, blasting Zydeco so loud we rattled the glass, looking out at the cabins and the trailers stretched out on the water, exuding an air of belonging and pride so palpable that I found the pen of my journal lunging for the paper, struggling to convey my impressions.
This very durability of presence gives me hope that whatever damages the flood exacts will be impermanent, an optimism that many Cajuns are quoted as sharing. Nevertheless, there's something indisputably gut-wrenching in watching another epicenter of our national heritage sustain a massive blow to the head.
This particular article cites as one of its primary sources Oliver A. Houck, a Tulane Law School professor and former general counsel and vice president of the National Wildlife Federation, who fought to preserve the basin during his tenure there. Mr. Houck lays out the parameters of Atchafalaya, a sock-shaped region 20 miles wide and 150 miles long that tracks the course of its namesake river. The latter is in fact a branch of the Mississippi itself, splitting from the main channel north of Baton Rouge and flowing south to the Gulf of Mexico. Recent flooding on the Mississippi has made this parentage problematic, especially following a distressing decision by the Army Corps of the Engineers to open a major spillway that diverted millions of cubic tons of water into the Atchafalaya Basin, sparing Louisiana's cities but putting thousands of swamp-residing Cajuns in critical danger.
Rather than act as a broken record, pointing out the classist connotations of this maneuver, I'll instead lament with political neutrality on what this means for one of the country's most singular communities.
Cajuns, a culture almost solely unique to Louisiana, are descendants of the French-speaking residents of far-eastern Canada, whom the British expelled from their homelands during the Seven Years War, an event many historians have compared to ethnic cleansing. While many Cajuns were deported across the Atlantic, the majority settled in Louisiana, where they have resided ever since.
The Times interviewed Russell Melancon, a Cajun resident of the Basin who is faced with the prospect of abandoning a home that his family has inhabited for generations.
“It’s where we was raised,” he said. “Where my daddy was raised. Where we make our living. Why you are here is something you never even think about. You are this place.”
“You can’t have the Cajun culture without the basin,” says Professor Oliver Houck, echoing Mr. Melancon's sentiments.
Though tragic, the article's description of what will happen when the flood reaches Mr. Melancon's home underscores the distinctiveness of the Basin, and the culture it informs:
“Copperhead snakes might slither into the rafters. Alligators will take up residence on sheds. Gardens fat with tomatoes will be gone, and mosquitoes will swarm in such thick clouds that even he, a Cajun with skin as thick as one of those alligators, might not be able to stand it.”
Such descriptions would seem to apply as much to the Jurassic Period as they do to the jungles of Africa or Asia, neither one a part of the nation to which Atchafalaya actually belongs.
Dig and Abida, the protagonists of my novel, role into the basin on the fringes of a storm, a storm that both prefaces the climax of the book and echoes my own experience in the region, on which much of the novel is based.
I remember the rain pounding on the windshield, our mud-drenched Mercedes-Benz plowing down a narrow, intermittently unpaved highway, blasting Zydeco so loud we rattled the glass, looking out at the cabins and the trailers stretched out on the water, exuding an air of belonging and pride so palpable that I found the pen of my journal lunging for the paper, struggling to convey my impressions.
This very durability of presence gives me hope that whatever damages the flood exacts will be impermanent, an optimism that many Cajuns are quoted as sharing. Nevertheless, there's something indisputably gut-wrenching in watching another epicenter of our national heritage sustain a massive blow to the head.
Checking in with Tunisia
An article in The Economist has identified some encouraging signs in Tunisia - signs that the country is still moving forward on the rocky road to democracy.
The undisputed kick-starter of the Arab Spring, the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia quickly skipped from the public eye as soon as it toppled its dictator, save for some scattered reports of stagnation, economic woe, and overall distress.
The Economist argues that such reports are misleading, occurring, as they do, in the context of Tunisia's unbroken commitment to drafting a new constitution. A 260-person body will be charged with fulfilling that task, and the creation of that party will take place via a general election scheduled for July 24th. A 16-member independent commission will monitor the polls, to guard against fraud or the abuse of power. Best of all, from the feminist standpoint, the government has mandated that half of the elected party must be women.
Though it is certainly premature to conclude that Tunisia has overcome its authoritarian proclivities, it is nevertheless encouraging to note that it has so far challenged the old familiar narrative of the failed revolution, so timelessly embodied by the great Pete Townsend: "Meet the new boss . . . same as the old boss."
May they please continue their good work!
The undisputed kick-starter of the Arab Spring, the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia quickly skipped from the public eye as soon as it toppled its dictator, save for some scattered reports of stagnation, economic woe, and overall distress.
The Economist argues that such reports are misleading, occurring, as they do, in the context of Tunisia's unbroken commitment to drafting a new constitution. A 260-person body will be charged with fulfilling that task, and the creation of that party will take place via a general election scheduled for July 24th. A 16-member independent commission will monitor the polls, to guard against fraud or the abuse of power. Best of all, from the feminist standpoint, the government has mandated that half of the elected party must be women.
Though it is certainly premature to conclude that Tunisia has overcome its authoritarian proclivities, it is nevertheless encouraging to note that it has so far challenged the old familiar narrative of the failed revolution, so timelessly embodied by the great Pete Townsend: "Meet the new boss . . . same as the old boss."
May they please continue their good work!
Monday, May 9, 2011
First the storm, now the flood
I'd no sooner finished this morning's post on the tornadoes in the South, and the failure of the media to maintain coverage, when flood warnings went out along the banks of the Mississippi, which has surged to levels higher than any seen in the last 70 years, prompting evacuations in Memphis and sending another ripple of anxiety through the Gulf.
As if to prove my point, The New York Times featured it for less than half an afternoon, then removed it from the homepage completely.
Thank goodness we have a few more updates on the U.S.-Pakistani tit-for-tat to distract us from the suffering of our own fellow citizens.
As if to prove my point, The New York Times featured it for less than half an afternoon, then removed it from the homepage completely.
Thank goodness we have a few more updates on the U.S.-Pakistani tit-for-tat to distract us from the suffering of our own fellow citizens.
Tornadoes, the American South, and Domestic Imperialism
American culture and national identity form one of the central pillars of this blog, but I've neglected it of late in favor of the other acting pillars, namely those pertaining to feminism and Islam.
In the interest of correcting this trend, but also giving voice to a subject on which I’m ashamed to have kept silent, I’d like to extend belated condolences to the victims of April’s tornadoes, and my support for its survivors.
During my travels through the American South, one of the elements that most impressed me was its air of resilience and durability, a theme that exploded in the public consciousness with Katrina in 2005, and that recent assault of tornadoes on Alabama and neighboring states has again brought to the public eye.
A New York Times article reports on Mr. and Mrs. Walker, two mobile home residents in rural Alabama.
In the morning hours of April 27th, a tornado pulverized their dwelling and buried them in rubble, making their survival more than a little miraculous. Their community immediately reached out to assist them, providing them with food, shelter, and clothing, and the support needed to get through the trauma. Readers can draw their own conclusions from the story, but I find proof of the region's tenacity in the testimony of Mrs. Walker’s son: “People take care of their own here . . . the South has risen again.”
I would be loath to omit a resonance between sections of the South and the Third World.
“Third World” is a term I appropriate with the utmost caution, given its condescending and at times bigoted connotations, but it’s one that I feel best communicates the way in which Washington handles its southern neighbors. Though the relationship is of course nuanced and by no means monolithic, there have been a depressing number of occurrences that made clear the privilege that the more economically sound North has enjoyed with respect to the South.
Katrina stands out as a prominent example, a disaster that placed the Gulf States at the mercy of Washington, which in turn failed to utilize its power to assist the region for nearly 72 hours. The story of the Walkers offer a gloomy update to this legacy, one that indicts not only our own government but the international community as well: citing as an excuse the remoteness of the Walkers' residence – a dirt road in northeastern Alabama – the Red Cross failed to arrive at the scene until three days after the tornadoes tore through.
Yet it’s not simply the power to rescue or neglect the ills of the South that puts Washington in a privileged position, but also its power to set the agenda. While our fellow Americans struggle to recover from the second-deadliest tornado outbreak in our nation’s history, ad nauseum reports of Bin Laden’s last hours and its implications for the endless “War on Terror” have saturated the media. With the exception of the Walkers’ story, itself presented as a somewhat saccharine “human interest story,” the New York Times has been largely silent on the matter since the end of April. A visit to today's home page shows only one mention of the disaster, located in the lower-left hand corner, visible only after scrolling down.
All of this strikes a familiar tone with Washington’s response to the earthquake in Haiti, to the floods in Pakistan, to the cyclone in Myanmar, and so forth.
Domestic imperialism is by no means preferable to hegemony abroad. I would love it if our leaders could get their act straight.
In the interest of correcting this trend, but also giving voice to a subject on which I’m ashamed to have kept silent, I’d like to extend belated condolences to the victims of April’s tornadoes, and my support for its survivors.
During my travels through the American South, one of the elements that most impressed me was its air of resilience and durability, a theme that exploded in the public consciousness with Katrina in 2005, and that recent assault of tornadoes on Alabama and neighboring states has again brought to the public eye.
A New York Times article reports on Mr. and Mrs. Walker, two mobile home residents in rural Alabama.
In the morning hours of April 27th, a tornado pulverized their dwelling and buried them in rubble, making their survival more than a little miraculous. Their community immediately reached out to assist them, providing them with food, shelter, and clothing, and the support needed to get through the trauma. Readers can draw their own conclusions from the story, but I find proof of the region's tenacity in the testimony of Mrs. Walker’s son: “People take care of their own here . . . the South has risen again.”
I would be loath to omit a resonance between sections of the South and the Third World.
“Third World” is a term I appropriate with the utmost caution, given its condescending and at times bigoted connotations, but it’s one that I feel best communicates the way in which Washington handles its southern neighbors. Though the relationship is of course nuanced and by no means monolithic, there have been a depressing number of occurrences that made clear the privilege that the more economically sound North has enjoyed with respect to the South.
Katrina stands out as a prominent example, a disaster that placed the Gulf States at the mercy of Washington, which in turn failed to utilize its power to assist the region for nearly 72 hours. The story of the Walkers offer a gloomy update to this legacy, one that indicts not only our own government but the international community as well: citing as an excuse the remoteness of the Walkers' residence – a dirt road in northeastern Alabama – the Red Cross failed to arrive at the scene until three days after the tornadoes tore through.
Yet it’s not simply the power to rescue or neglect the ills of the South that puts Washington in a privileged position, but also its power to set the agenda. While our fellow Americans struggle to recover from the second-deadliest tornado outbreak in our nation’s history, ad nauseum reports of Bin Laden’s last hours and its implications for the endless “War on Terror” have saturated the media. With the exception of the Walkers’ story, itself presented as a somewhat saccharine “human interest story,” the New York Times has been largely silent on the matter since the end of April. A visit to today's home page shows only one mention of the disaster, located in the lower-left hand corner, visible only after scrolling down.
All of this strikes a familiar tone with Washington’s response to the earthquake in Haiti, to the floods in Pakistan, to the cyclone in Myanmar, and so forth.
Domestic imperialism is by no means preferable to hegemony abroad. I would love it if our leaders could get their act straight.
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