We are in big trouble when torture becomes just another political football. Its the kind of thing that turns powerful empires into pariah nations. Why anyone thinks its good for America for the world to perceive us as violent, pants wetting, panic artists who could start WWIII at the least sign of threat is beyond me. I certainly dont feel safer.
digby via Hullabaloo.
Translation
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Thank You!
For the love of one's country
is a terrible thing.
It banishes fear
with the speed of a flame,
And it makes us all part
of the patriot game.
— Dominic Behan
It was eye for an eye
in the land of the blind
When desert storm blew back
Across the shining seas
and spacious skies
Brought down the purple towers
Cut short the amber waves
Forever fouled the fruited plains
When desert storm blew home
We stopped
One broken hearted people
We huddled in the howling silence
Trembled in that awful still
Until, too soon,
The star-spangled
jingo dance began
The bully speech
and the heavy hand
The schoolyard line
drawn in the sand
And the call to arms, to arms,
and patriot storms
In the land of the blind,
it was eye for an eye
It was tooth for a tooth
and the torture of truth
When the old gray men
again called the tune
Ours is the one true creed,
they said
Ours are the noblest of the dead
Only our suffering counts as real
Only their suffering will heal
this unfair
and so unwanted wound
And oh, we stopped
One nation, terror torn in two
Minds heavy with
the growing madness
Wary of Orwell's
whispered warnings
Of war without end,
the ministry of spin
Destroy the village now
to save it
Imprison love
for freedom's sake
Until all talk of peace is treason
Peace is treason,
As we torture the truth
With tooth for a tooth
Now it's cry for a cry
and tear for a tear
And sword for a sword
and fear for a fear
We'll do it to them
because they did to us
We'll do it again
and again if we must
We must, if we can,
vain foolish men
It goes round and comes round
and goes round again
History falls
through the cracks in our walls
Reason fails
and love . . . love pales
Until we stop
One sorry hopeful sorry planet
Soul-sick of it all
So weary of the same old
blame scold
And no, pampered prince,
this is no new war
Not new the cratered cities
Not new the blackened dawn
Not new the wailing lovers
Not new the friendly-fired spawn
Not new the burning cross
Not new the blood-soaked
cemetery lawn
The wasted and forsaken youth
The tooth for a tooth,
The torture of truth
The eye for an eye
In the land of the blind
Unless, until,
Oh will we stop.
Michael Sky
October, 2001
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