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Battle for the Nation (1)

Recent talk has it that Mr Trump has got his reelection well in hand, his supporters contending that the economy is strong (by other accounts it is slowing), and with unemployment low what else is there to care about?

Behind this hubris is the implicit – and sad – belief that “money is what it’s all about, so carry on, please,” and to mind comes the often quoted line “Money, money, money, makes the world go round,” which was part of a song in the film “Cabaret” (1980), a story of Germany’s descent into Fascism.

Mr Trump is, undoubtedly, a savvy politician, able to persuade a lot of folks that what he offers and represents is what the country needs. He is very lucky too. He inherited a sound economy, an economy that took a lot of effort and patience on the part of the Obama administration to bolster, so we could pull out of what could have been a catastrophe (the credit crunch of 2007-2008).

The economy that Mr Obama bequeathed to Mr Trump was in such good shape, that it has managed to withstand the latter’s efforts to wreck it, as with his vaunted trade war with China, the renegotiating of NAFTA 2 (the trade agreement with Canada and Mexico) and his continued assault on the Affordable Care Act.

All of what Mr Trump has done so far is to make a lot of noise – loud noise – to keep people and himself from paying attention to what really matters, which is not his deification but the designing and creation of social, training and educational programs necessary to boost the productivity of the American worker so they can compete effectively in today’s demanding world.

Not knowing how to go about it – without risking a hint of disapproval from his supporters – he prefers to bang his drum louder and louder instead.

Mr Trump’s strategy is not difficult to decipher, but it will take much discipline on the part of democrats to mount an effective campaign against him.

To think that America is all about the money is for Mr Trump to profoundly underestimate us.

To ignore the great need to build bridges between us is for the president to bury his head in the sand.

Building bridges is no easy task but it is the grand task now before the nation.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s (FDR) intellect and vision led us out of the Great Depression, and then we went on to lead the effort to win World War II, ushering in a long period of economic and cultural expansion.

Today we are in the midst of another great depression, not economic but of values – a depression of the spirit – as evidenced by our deep national divisions and the inability to overcome them. When WWII brought us together, we could point to someone outside of us and brand them the enemy. Today, however, the obstacle in our path lies not without but within, and it is none other than the intolerance we have for the dissenting view, the unwillingness to pause and reflect on our differences and to dare start a dialogue.

Tolerance does not mean approval of an opposing view, but instead signals the need to examine its roots. In a nation like ours, where plurality is a strength, such tolerance is essential.

Extremist views cannot be excised, as you would a tumor, but they can, with great patience and understanding, begin to be dissolved. It can be done by meeting and talking, confident as we should be that all extreme positions, whether on the right or the left, are fortresses of fear.

An effective campaign against Mr Trump must offer a clear alternative, and a key part of it ought to be an invitation to establish such dialogue in the hope of finding common ground.

Why, then, not abstain from calling people racists, and instead express our disapproval by saying that such view is unkind? Isn’t that choice of words less likely to ruffle anyone’s feathers? If I behave in a prejudiced way, I would much prefer for you to say to me that I’m being unkind rather than labelling me one thing or another. Labels stir up anger and close doors. Even truly racist people are not without kindness. Using words that lead to reflection open the path to possible change. Since we are now at a damaging standstill, couldn’t that be one alternative to try?

With the world in a period of transition fostered by massive technological change, the call is out for exemplary men or women with the ability to heal and lead. Mr Trump is lacking on both counts. An opposing democratic candidate must have such credentials to counter him effectively.

We are not about the money alone and never have been. We are about the struggle for our freedom. Tolerance of the dissenting view does not mean we approve of it. Instead it must be seen as an invitation to seek clarity in the quest for truth. Our privileged geography and the bounty of resources that nature bestowed upon us, have put us on a favorable position for such endeavor, so let us not be timid in this crucial pursuit. We Americans are much better than what Mr Trump wants us to be.

As FDR once said, “Human kindness has never weakened the stamina or softened the fiber of a free people. A nation does not have to be cruel to be tough.”

Oscar Valdes Oscarvaldes.net

Trump and White Supremacy

By Oscar Valdes 4/26/19

One of the issues at the core of Mr Trump’s turbulent presidency has been and remains his unwillingness to take the lead in confronting the resurgence of white supremacy in our nation. His inability to do so defines him as a man who is not integrated, a person that although intelligent and energetic, appears unable to confront his fears. Therein lies the great paradox of his presidency, that the leader of the free world is not a free man himself.

Free men will have prejudices – it comes with being human – but truly free men are willing to question themselves and struggle to resolve such prejudices. More than two years into his presidency we have yet to see evidence that Mr Trump has such ability.

Racism is a false belief, born out of a desire to prematurely close the inquiry into what makes each of us human. At the root of such desire is fear – fear of knowing the other – and when such fear is unexamined it leads to their devaluing and opens the door to their mistreatment.

Members of the white race have done wonderful things for humanity. Their accomplishments have been there to be enjoyed by all. The great men and women of science, industry and the arts, who happened to be white, never did think that what they had accomplished had anything to do with the color of their skin. Rather, they were well aware that their contribution to their fellow human beings rested solidly on the capacity to conceive and imagine the fullness of ideas, and then to muster the tenacity to carry them out.

Members of the white race have also done horrible things to humanity; the Holocaust, the torture and enslavement of Black Americans, the cruelty to Native Americans. And yet, through it all, the majority of the white race strives on, willing to examine themselves, determined to reach the higher ground that comes from greater self knowledge.

But where is Mr Trump? Where is the leader of the Free World? Where is the leader of the evolving consciousness that lies at the heart of what means to be free?

The great performer, the entertainer, the great seeker of attention, is sadly silent on the issue.

Not willing to confront his own fears he is thus unwilling to take on white supremacists, and so ends up encouraging them.

Mr Trump seems to believe that sitting in the White House absolves him of his flaws. Alas, it has magnified them. What his followers fail to see, so far – for eventually they will – is that our president is a distraction leading us away from the path to greater achievement, which comes from our full development as human beings and is only possible when we accept our flaws as a necessary first step to understanding them.

The hatred of others is incompatible with the path to self realization. And it is so because ‘the other’ lies within us – deep in our breast – ingrained in our soul, ceaselessly yearning to be embraced. Each one of us is all of humanity, containing at least a sample of nature’s plenitude, at least a grain of the misshapen, the ugly, the restricted, the divine, the beautiful and the gifted. And so with colors, for whiteness, a beautiful color indeed as all colors are, is but a variety in the garden of nature and not a reflection of supremacy.

To hate the other is to hate ourselves. The self aware struggles with such hate, day in and day out, for it is the price of calling ourselves free.

Mr Trump has been unable to grasp this essence and so he is not a free man. He cannot or will not perceive the larger picture. He cannot or will not say to his base, ‘let us join hands and overcome our fears and we shall seek real freedom, the freedom that comes from the quest to find our truth and which will lead us to genuine achievement’.

That more than 2 years into his presidency Mr Trump has been unable to do so, is a grave flaw of character and a blatant shirking of responsibility, the responsibility that comes from being the leader of the most powerful free nation in the world – a country that remains a beacon to the hopes of mankind – and a fountain of ideas to remedy some of the most difficult problems humanity is facing.

America – all included – the white, the black, the brown and the yellow; the blue, the red and shades in between; the fully developed and the developing, the clear headed and the confused, the open hearted and the presently bigoted, all deserve a better president.

Nicolas Maduro’s Mirror

By Oscar Valdes 3/17/19

A Short Short Story.

He awakened early in the morning and the news was that the national blackout was still going. He had hoped that, overnight, by some stroke of good luck, the power would be restored. But things had not been going well lately, so he knew it was too much to ask. Even though he had personally spoken to the head electrical engineers and made it clear that the nation would be forever grateful for their extra effort. Special honors would be coming to them to be awarded in a public ceremony broadcast nationwide. Venezuelans would revere them as national heroes.

He didn’t tell his engineers that he had already called Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping and asked them for emergency technical assistance, just in case. The technicians were in flight. He had thought of calling Diaz Canel, also, the new Cuban president, but he reasoned that the problem at hand would be beyond Cuba’s capabilities. They were mostly good for intelligence, i.e. spying and sowing intrigue to keep everyone in line. But he appreciated what they did, which was well earned since he kept sending oil to Cuba – at cost. Where could they get a deal like that? But they were his socialist brothers and sisters and he had made a promise to Hugo Chavez, as he lay in his deathbed, that no matter what disagreements he and the Cubans would have he would stick to the agreement.

Maduro went into the bathroom and stood in front of the washbasin but closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror. Not this morning. He took a deep breath. He reached for the hot water tap and opened it. Ah. The water was hot. How fortunate he was. And he thought of the poor people, how they didn’t have the powerful generators that he had in his presidential residence. And he felt sad for them. The whole thing was a conspiracy, of course, the Americans sending in special agents to get the grid to malfunction and destabilize the country. Those Americans, always plotting to take over Latin America. And he wondered how they managed to find special agents that not only spoke perfect Spanish but perfect Venezuelan. You could not tell them apart, and yet they were foreign agents. Amazing.

Maduro cupped his hands under the hot stream of water and splashed it on his face. But he didn’t open his eyes just yet.

The country was falling apart. He knew it. His days were counted. He knew that, too.

He thought of putting on a helmet, like Salvador Allende had done in Chile before the presidential palace was bombed to pieces. But he didn’t want to scare the poor people who still believed in him. And, in truth, he still thought there was some hope left for him. Somewhere.

He now opened his eyes and stared at himself.

Why had Chavez chosen him as his successor? There were obviously other people better prepared to handle the responsibility, so why him?

Chavez had been in a hospital bed in Havana, agonizing from the pain he was in, when he had called him in. The fabled comandante had become so paranoid that he didn’t trust Venezuelan doctors, men and women with a tradition of excellence and an outstanding reputation, and so, against his better judgment he had gone to Cuba so he could be treated by Cuban doctors, and be close to Fidel and Raul, his mentors. Chavez had reasoned that their emotional support was critical.

In spite of all the good efforts to rid him of his ailment, things had gone from bad to worse and so, as he lay in his room at the VIP hospital in Havana, the comandante had called for Maduro. Chavez was staying in the same room where Fidel Castro had stayed when he had had his last brush with death.

While in the hospital, other very important people had been called in for secret one on one meetings with Chavez, so Maduro didn’t know exactly why he was being summoned. As he waited he felt apprehensive and his hands had turned sweaty. Maduro had wanted to go in alone but the minute he was called, he had looked at his wife and seen how desperately she wanted to accompany him, for it was such a historic moment and she didn’t want to miss it. So he said okay.

Alone in the room with Chavez, the dying man gestured for Maduro to pull up a chair. The man looked wan and ghostly, like he already had a foot on the other side. Maduro had remained standing. With great effort, and barely a whisper, Chavez again motioned to Maduro, “Sit, Nicolas.”

“It’s okay, comandante, this is a historic moment, so I want to be on my feet,” Maduro had finally replied, his words filled with emotion and the love he had for Chavez. His wife stood right next to him as she held his hand, and both saw how Chavez grimaced from the deep pain he was in.

The efforts from the Cuban surgeons had been in vain. The surgeons had opened and closed him, the rumor went, and nothing had changed inside Chavez’s belly.

Chavez reached over, slowly, and took Maduro’s hand in his. Pausing dramatically, he then looked up at him and said, “Nicolas… I want you to succeed me.”

A tremor shot down from Maduro’s head to his feet. He felt his knees almost buckle under him and he thought how lucky he was that his wife was there to prop him up. Still, he could not manage to reply, even as the comandante kept staring at him and waiting. Maduro knew what the comandante wanted from him, but what he really wanted to say to Chavez was, ‘Me? Me, succeed you? But why? I don’t understand, comandante, just what is it that you see in me?”

And he was about to say those words in that great historic moment when his wife pinched him in the butt and Maduro had blurted out, “Si!”.

Oh how that pinch in the butt had changed history.

The day before that fateful moment, with Chavez lying in his bed and nearly delirious, Fidel and Raul Castro had approached him and, in the strictest confidence, had said to him that in order to maintain the extraordinary bond of brotherhood between Cuba and Venezuela, and the steady supply of cheap oil, selecting Maduro as his heir would be the most appropriate choice. In the midst of his agony Chavez, whose love for Venezuela was unquestioned, had replied that he worried that Maduro was simply too loyal. Chavez didn’t remember a time when Maduro had disagreed with him on anything, and it concerned Chavez that, given that circumstances on the ground were ever changing, a better choice would be a man with a more independent bent that could deviate from the rule book. Fidel and Raul had listened solemnly to his argument, then replied, “We can work with Nicolas, and we’ll help him.”

Chavez still had doubts, and he asked Fidel and Raul to step out and let him consult with Simon Bolivar before making a final decision. Chavez and the long dead Bolivar had a history of chatting but, of late, the comandante had not been able to make contact. It may have been interference from the weather, as stormy clouds had gathered over Cuba. Chavez was very open about his special relationship with Bolivar and just the day before, both Fidel and Raul had been invited to listen in on the comandante’s earnest attempt to reach the Venezuelan hero.

Seeing that Chavez was determined to try again, both Fidel and Raul bowed respectfully and left the room.

Chavez was a stubborn man and he was confident that in that hour of great need, Bolivar would not fail him.

Being all alone in his ample suite, he touched his fingers to his temples and focused his concentration.

“Simon…?” began Chavez, “are you there?”.

There was complete silence for a moment. “Simon…?” again intoned Chavez with what little strength he had left. “Do not fail me in this historic moment…”. And then, miraculously, and with a clarity that Chavez had never heard, a voice from who knows where came to him. “Yes, Hugo?” It was soft but so clear, the clearest he’d ever heard Bolivar speak to him, and he had spoken to Bolivar a lot. And not only was the voice clear but it was filled with compassion and understanding. So this was unprecedented, a miracle in fact.

The pain in his abdomen shot through once again and the comandante almost cried out, but he pressed his lips together in one valiant effort and retained his composure. He did not want to complain while speaking to Bolivar.

What clarity, though, the comandante reflected. He did think that the voice had a very slight Cuban accent, but he also knew that Bolivar had been a multitalented and well traveled man and was able to adapt to his environment. So he dismissed it.

“Simon… I’m dying,” said the comandante. Bolivar did not reply. “Fidel… and Raul… want me to choose…” And the pain shot through again, only harder, and Chavez gasped as his eyes filled with tears. After a moment to recover, he continued, “Simon… I love my Venezuela… I love my country… is Maduro the right choice?” And Bolivar had replied, “Si.”

Chavez closed his eyes slowly and let out a long breath, the final approval from Bolivar bringing him a sense of peace. “Gracias, Simon… I will soon be with you… at your side.” And Bolivar had answered, “Si.”

Chavez turned his head in the pillow and tried to get a little rest from the pain.

Meanwhile, Fidel and Raul had stood in the hallway outside, drinking a little Cuban coffee. They both had been up since before dawn to make sure they didn’t miss the historic moment. Just then, a middle aged man emerged from a room next to where Chavez lay. The man approached Fidel and Raul and, stopping a few feet before them, he bowed deeply. “As per your instructions,” the man said.

And Fidel had opened his arms and gestured for the man to come closer. “Gracias,” he had said to him softly as he shook his hand. “I will be sure not to miss your next performance at the National Theatre.”

The man smiled appreciatively, bowed to Raul, and left.

Of course, Maduro had not known that any of this had transpired before he had been summoned in a great hurry and had travelled from Caracas to Havana in a middle of the night flight, his airplane flanked by Cuban and Venezuelan fighter jets. He just knew that it was one hell of a responsibility that Chavez was entrusting him with, and he wasn’t sure he could deliver.

He was a socialist to the core, Maduro reminded himself, and he truly loved Venezuela, but he just didn’t think he was presidential material. But if Hugo Chavez, the great comandante, wanted him to step up, he would do it.

Chavez was now drifting as Maduro remained standing in front of him, still holding the comandante’s hand.

“Work with the Cubans…”said Chavez with a barely audible voice, “…no matter what.”

Maduro then reached over and kissed the comandante on the forehead. He stared at him. He was not sure he would see his great mentor again. But how would anyone know of the man’s final wishes, he wondered. He turned to his wife, and they both exited the room.

Just outside, Fidel and Raul stepped up to him and shook his hand. “Congratulations, Nicolas.”

“How did you know?,” he asked, bewildered.

“Due to the extraordinary circumstances,” began Fidel Castro, “we have the room wired.”

Castro removed a small microphone from his ear. “It’s such an historic moment that we wanted to capture every bit of it. For posterity. For those who will continue the heroic socialist fight against imperialism after we’re gone.” Fidel Castro then leaned in a bit and added, “Vladimir, Mugabe, Daniel Ortega, all have asked to please send them a transcript for their personal libraries.”

Maduro did not know what to say, but both Fidel and Raul Castro proceeded to embrace him and his wife. “Congratulations, Mr President,” had said Fidel as Raul smiled.

Back in his presidential residence, six years after that encounter, (Chavez had returned to die in his own country), in a Venezuela that was falling apart, Maduro stared at himself in the mirror as he felt the overhead light flicker. Maybe the generators were about to fail at his presidential residence too.

How had Venezuela become such a mess?

Maduro shook his head slowly, the mood despondent and at a loss for words.

And where were the Cubans, anyway? How had they let this happen? Had they learned anything since they took over in 1959?

Maduro felt a deep bitterness come over him. And the bitterness turned into anger. More than that, the anger became sheer loathing. And he glowered at himself in the mirror as it occurred to him that the Cubans had learned nothing at all about running a country successfully. He had had his doubts all along but had been too afraid to bring it up to Chavez, but now it was coming to him, full blown. Just what kind of expertise in nation building did the Cubans really have? Nothing. Nothing at all. Where did Cuba rank among Latin American nations in productivity? Near the bottom, that’s where, and they had been in power since 1959, that was 60 years! A country as wealthy as Venezuela, how could you trash it? It took some major bungling to accomplish that, and the Cubans had been right there from the start, with their so called ‘seasoned’ advice. Malarkey is what it was. Self serving bunk. The Cuban government didn’t give a damn about Venezuela and never had.

And Maduro stared at himself harder in the mirror and realized that he hadn’t been doing his own thinking. That his own teacher, Hugo Chavez, the great comandante, had been dead wrong about forging an alliance with Cuba. An alliance that, in the name of socialism, had meant shipping lots and lots of oil to Cuba and other countries, while failing to educate and train their own people.

A cold shiver run through him as he dared think his own thoughts.

Maduro felt his heart sink from the crushing shame.

It had taken for Venezuela to come to the edge of the precipice for him to see the light. Damn it! Carajo! Cabrones! He cursed loudly. Having surprised himself with his outburst, he turned to peek into the bedroom to see if his wife was still there. She wasn’t.

He returned to the mirror. The one theme that ran through the entire Cuban ideology was that it was the Americans keeping them for thriving. Mind you, the Americans were no angels, they were in it for themselves and they had done their own share of meddling too, but no, there had to be more to it. Look at the Chinese, look at the South Koreans, even the Vietnamese. Those people had pulled themselves up or were pulling themselves up and where were the Cubans compared to them? Nowhere. If it weren’t for tourism they’d all be starving to death. If it weren’t for Venezuelan oil they would have nothing to run their meagre industry. Even their sugar production, the Cubans had managed to wreck. The height of incompetence. So no, that system did not work and Chavez had been wrong to ally himself with them. Yes, he was saying it now. Chavez, his much admired mentor had been dead wrong and he, Nicolas Maduro, had not dared raise his voice to question him. Ever. How can you be the leader of a nation if you don’t dare question the great heroes?

Maduro sighed. He felt defeated.

There was no one to turn to. No one at all, not even his wife. He was on his own.

He had copied Chavez and the Cubans in blaming Americans for all his country’s problems but where had that got them?

He loved his country but there it was, falling apart, and he was their leader. The responsibility was ultimately his.

How was he going to lead Venezuela out of the mess it was in?

And now there was this character, Juan Guaido, a nobody who had come from nowhere and was daring to challenge his legitimacy. What audacity.

But just as he thought this, he acknowledged that he felt a twinge of envy.

What?

Yes. He was a little envious of Juan Guaido.

Yes, he was, ‘admit it’, he told himself. Be honest.

But what did he envy, exactly?

The guts. The courage. And Nicolas Maduro now thought that he would like to start all over again and be more like Juan Guaido.

He paused.

No, he wanted to start again and be more like whatever Nicolas Maduro had to offer. He wanted to start again and discover who he really was. He loved his country but had allowed another nation to meddle in Venezuela’s battle for its own identity.

And maybe he was a true socialist after all and maybe he was not, but what had now become very clear to him was that he would not stand by as his country self destroyed with him as their leader.

And Nicolas Maduro felt that what was clamoring now in his heart and soul at that very instant was a yearning to be himself, to be a true Venezuelan. And that it should be for Venezuelans themselves to decide what they needed to do with their country.

And as he stared at himself in the mirror, his saw his jaw drop, just as a sly smile began to show in his eyes and the corners of his mouth. There was hope, dammit! Yes, there was! He was not defeated! He would make a comeback! He would stand up for Venezuela and for himself!

He would go on national television, while giving no advanced notice at all of what he would say, and declare to the nation that he was ordering all Cuban nationals to leave the country immediately. And that meant everybody! And no, there would be no more oil shipments to Cuba. Work it out on your own, carajo! You’ve had 60 years to figure it out.

Venezuela might be in tatters, but they were a resourceful people, and they would work things out by themselves.

And he, Nicolas Maduro, would go on the history books as the man who dared lead his nation to achieving true sovereignty.

Maduro didn’t even shave. He kept smiling at himself in the mirror as he splashed some cold water on his face, the generator having stopped heating the water. But he felt great. He would have himself driven directly to the government’s main television station and make his announcement.

He stepped out of the bathroom and sent for his driver and his bodyguards. His wife, alarmed at his sudden determination, wanted to know what was up, could he please tell her, but he didn’t say a word to her. It was his move. He was the president. She could sit in the audience while he made his short speech. And it would be short. But it would be a Venezuelan’s speech, proud of his heritage, and finally fully aware, that Venezuelans could chart their own course.

His wife, now in a panic that maybe an American agent looking and speaking like a Venezuelan had slipped a drug in her husband’s morning coffee, immediately called the Chief of Staff of the Venezuelan army but the man could not be found on such short notice and instead one of his aides, a high ranking officer, came to the phone to speak with Maduro.

Maduro glared at his wife as she handed him the phone but he took the call anyway. At the other end, the high ranking officer asked Maduro what he would be saying to the nation, that he needed to know because it was his responsibility to have the troops ready, just in case, and anyway, governing Venezuela was a cooperative effort and decisions needed to be made after proper consultation with the socialist brotherhood. Maduro listened, then asked, “General, are you Venezuelan or Cuban?”

The high ranking officer at the other end paused for a second, then said, “I’m a socialist, Mr President.”

And Maduro had smiled and said, “See, that’s the problem right there, we have to be Venezuelans first.”

He hung up, walked out of the presidential residence, boarded the special bullet proof vehicle he travelled in, and went directly to the television station where he was to make his address.

On the way there he reflected, that he had never felt better in his life.

The Juan Guaido Effect

Oscar Valdes. oscarvaldes.net 3/7/19

Earlier this year Juan Guaido seized the moment when, as head of Venezuela’s legislative assembly, he proclaimed himself president after Nicolas Maduro, the preceding president, had coerced the supreme court of the land into approving his sham reelection.

Garnering the support of more than fifty nations worldwide – from Latin America, North America and Europe – Juan Guaido then led a multinational effort to bring sorely needed humanitarian aid to the Venezuelan people.

The valiant effort has been blocked but has not been defeated. It is waiting for the next Juan Guaido, the Juan Guaido than will come from within the military.

That the Venezuelan military has not yet risen against the brutal dictatorship of Mr Maduro does not mean that plans for his overthrow are not being hatched.

At this very moment there are military officers, in every part of the nation, hard at work conceiving or planning actions that will lead to toppling the government.

And it cannot be otherwise.

The absurdity of a regime that has led to the exodus of more than 10% of the population, that has ravaged their oil industry, that has empowered bullies and drug dealers, cannot go on.

The few countries that support Mr Maduro are all examples of the repression of free speech. Cuba, Russia, Nicaragua, Turkey. How can they be models for anyone but thugs?

How can that be lost on the conscience of the educated career officers of the Venezuelan military?
The military officers with conscience cannot turn away from the effects of the violent repression of their brothers and sisters, the malnutrition owing to the food shortages, the lack of medical care.

They cannot because it hurts deeply.

And that pain will fire up the Juan Guaido that exists deep in the heart of every decent Venezuelan officer. That pain will spark the courage and resolve that is needed to take the fight to those who, having divorced themselves from the plight of their countrymen, lend their cowardly support to a regime bent on destroying the soul of the nation.

Venezuela’s history demands the insurrection of the military against the forces of despotism.

Venezuela’s history demands that brave officers step front and challenge the corruption that is destroying the country.

This is the time to act.

Right now.

Juan Guaido himself, could consider declaring a national strike in the nation, to further erode Mr Maduro’s hold on power and facilitate the necessary military uprising.

The Trade War. Envy and Competition.

A centerpiece in the increasingly toxic trade war is the fact that China pushed for forced technology transfers from American and other foreign companies seeking to do business in their country.

Did this practice begin recently? No. It’s been going on for years and years.

So why, then, did it take so long for the US government to bring it up and demand that it be stopped?

Profits.

American and foreign investors agreed to Chinese demands because profits made it worthwhile. In the meantime, the Chinese learned from the technology, improved on it and now have risen to become our rivals.

If that has made us upset then it’s time we got over it.

The Chinese did what they did and we let them do it.

One American administration after another talked about stopping the forced technology transfers but ended up doing nothing.

Why?

Profits.

Maybe we thought the Chinese could never get it together or that we would keep coming up with even better technologies and ideas and forever hold an edge over them.

The growth of China forces us to take a good look at ourselves.

Are we being outcompeted?

Have they copied us too well?

If so, then let’s pull up our sleeves and get to work, not just start a trade war.

We’re envious of China. Envious of their drive and their success and we’re not dealing with it appropriately. Instead, we’re choosing to bellyache and let our president be the bellyacher in chief.

The Chinese have succeeded, no question about it, but they are also paying a heavy price for it. They are a regimented society.

We are not and should take comfort in that.

But not too much.

And I say that because there are now forces here in America that would not mind sacrificing basic freedoms so as to increase growth and ape the Chinese.

Look at the steady rise of mega companies and their continuing effort to dominate markets, making it hard to let in new companies so they can vie for a piece of the pie.

Look at the rise of autocrats, who have got into office because we put them there.

What are we thinking?

Companies that moved into China and agreed to the technology transfers demanded by their hosts did so because they were advocates of growth at any price. Never mind what or whom they left behind. Cheaper labor won the day. And they’re still there. Feeding at the trough. Still doing business. Still making money. So what’s the flap about?

If American companies handed over trade secrets and are now outcompeted and not able to come up with better ideas, then get out. Face it. You lost. No bellyaching, please.

The Chinese are coming into their own and are in contention for the title of world’s leading superpower. They’re not there yet but they’re pushing. That’s a reality. We have no choice but to compete.

This trade war we’re in is unnecessary and a dangerous distraction. It is yet another bid for world attention by our self-aggrandizing president. But it is not just any other bid. It carries with it the high risk of driving us into a world recession.

Growth at any price won’t do. The voices that cry for more competition and for greater opportunity here at home must be heard. And so must the voices that say that we have to stop abusing others, and so too the voices that call for curbing carbon emissions. We need the balance because it brings us dignity.

Safeguarding our freedoms is as important as economic growth. In that sense we’re ahead of the Chinese. So let us value what we have. It’s not all about GDP as we have come to know it but just as importantly, about that other kind of GDP, the Growth Dignity Product. We’re still a long way from getting it right but we’re getting there.

We should not let a narrow minded president think that starting a trade war with China and the world is the way for the nation to pull itself up.

Try investing in Americans. Try raising expectations. Try demanding that we rise to the task.

Human Folly – Episode 1 (Khashoggi, The Prince and Trump)

The world had been shocked by his assassination. The victim, a distinguished journalist who had been an adviser to the Saudi royal family, had decided to take a different direction in his life. If he had been a soft critic of the royal family’s injustices against the citizenry, now he would become a harsh one.

The gradual transition from insider to outsider had been driven by the journalist’s conviction that he had an obligation, as a man and as an intellectual, to stand up for himself and for his fellow countrymen who did not have the gifts and resources he had.

The journalist had weighed the pros and cons carefully. He knew there would be risks, but never did he imagine that the end would be so brutal.

A team of Saudi Arabian hitmen had been lying in wait at theSaudi consulate in Istanbul when the journalist entered. He wanted to get married a second time and needed some paperwork done. He didn’t have a chance. Audio tapes provided by Turkish intelligence revealed that a chain saw had been used to cut him into pieces before disposing of the body.

The world reacted.

There was nearly universal condemnation of the action as calls for justice rang loud.

American intelligence agencies reviewed the facts, listened to the audio tapes the Turkish government had provided and concluded that the assassination could not have happened without the reigning Saudi prince knowing about it.

But our president demurred. He said there was no clear proof. And anyway, our nation needed the oil and money the Saudis had.

Many were critical of the president while others supported him, saying that the world was a rough place and that, in the interest of realpolitik, we all have to swallow some hard facts. In other words, if you have the power, then you get away with it.

The journalist, in his idealism, had thought that standing for principle would give a special meaning to his life. As a man of conscience, he knew he could not turn a blind eye to the suffering of his fellow Saudi Arabians. He had worked as a foreign correspondent and travelled widely. He knew his country stood as an anachronism, out of synch with the rest of the emerging nations. And it pained him.

Saudi Arabia had the good fortune of being one of the leading oil producers, but the wealth was mainly kept by the royal family. Still that was not enough. The Saudi royals also enforced a rigid code that dictated what women could and could not do. And if you objected you were put in jail and kept there.

While in the rest of the world women rose to become heads of state, leading scientists and politicians, prominent artists, intellectuals and creators, in Saudi Arabia the royal family had a code to enforce. Keep the women down.

All of us that pumped gas, paid for the oil that kept the royal family in power while they oppressed more than half of their population.

A distinguished journalist and man of conscience had been savagely killed and our president, a businessman and father of an independent business woman, didn’t have any pangs of conscience with his decision to ignore the atrocity. If he did, he kept it to himself.

Saudi Arabia is an ally after all, his reasoning went. In addition to the oil, they are a player in the Middle East to help check Iran and they also buy their weapons from us. How can we lose?

Realpolitik they call it.

By now the journalist’s fate is gradually fading from the headlines. Soon he will be forgotten. Fellow journalists who are sympathetic to his cause will remember him but the public at large will forget.

Our president will meet with the prince and salute him and support him, and we’ll see it on TV, both men smiling.

But did it have to be that way?

Our president could have raised his voice and endorsed the findings of his intelligence services. He could have said, “a prominent journalist who chose to stand for more freedom in his country was murdered by the leadership.” He could have added that America would not stop investigating the crime. But our man did not do that.

Here was an opportunity for a world leader to influence the course of the history of a nation and instead he settled for oil and a contract to buy weapons. Never mind that we have become the top oil producer in the world.

There’s something wrong with that stance, isn’t there?

Yes. Something deeply wrong.

The president’s supporters should pay careful attention.

The man may call his decision an instance of realpolitik and that he is doing it for you. I call it an instance of being amoral and predict it will come back to hurt us.

But it’s not the first time, is it?

No. In fact, it’s happening here at home too, in full view, and we’re looking the other way.

Why?

Trump and Jamal Khashoggi. What the Affair Reveals.

Please see for yourself the entire statement released by the White House on 11/20.

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefings-statements/statement-president-donald-j-trump-standing-saudi-arabia/?utm_source=link

Here’s the 5^th paragraph,

“Representatives of Saudi Arabia say that Jamal Khashoggi was an “enemy of the state” and a member of the Muslim Brotherhood, but my decision is in no way based on that – this is an unacceptable and horrible crime. King Salman and Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman vigorously deny any knowledge of the planning or execution of the murder of Mr. Khashoggi. Our intelligence agencies continue to assess all information, but it could very well be that the Crown Prince had knowledge of this tragic event – maybe he did and maybe he didn’t!”

There’s no evidence that Jamal Kashoggi was an enemy of the Saudi state. He was a critic of it, a man who wanted to help steer the Saudi leadership away from the repressive practices that stifle voices of dissent, the very forces that killed him. He had been close to the leadership but had felt compelled to speak more openly, which is why he chose to move to our country while simultaneously holding residence in Turkey.

The CIA, after careful review of all the evidence produced by Turkey, where the murder took place, concluded that Mr Khashoggi could not have been assassinated without the knowledge of the crown prince. But Trump has no qualms rebuffing such verdict and instead accepting the king and crown prince’s denials. Did the crown prince have knowledge of the event? “Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t!” says Trump. Hard to believe.

But it sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Indeed, Trump said something eerily similar in Helsinki this last July – after a question from a reporter regarding Russia’s interference in the 2016 elections – immediately following his summit meeting with Putin.

“… my people came to me, Dan Coats (from National Intelligence) came to me and others, they said they think it’s Russia… I have President Putin… he said it’s not Russia. I will say this… I don’t see any reason why it would be… I have confidence in both parties… I have great confidence in my intelligence people… but I will tell you that President Putin was extremely strong and powerful in his denial today.”

Why should Trump not trust his intelligence agencies?

If Putin and the crown prince deny strongly their wrongdoing, is that supposed to negate the conclusions drawn by teams of seasoned experts in intelligence gathering?

Additionally, Mr Trump has openly stated that he will not listen to the tape produced by Turkey containing the gory sounds of the killing of Mr Khashoggi.

What does that mean?

When Trump chooses to not listen to the tapes of Khashoggi’s murder it is not just him not listening, it is all of us. It is America not listening.

What image do we project to the world when we behave as such?

Can Trump not find the strength to face the facts?

There’s something sordid and venal about Trump’s willingness to excuse the Saudi prince.

That Saudi Arabia has signed up to invest 450 billion in our country, a sizable portion going to the buying of weapons, is not a reason to hide from the truth.

This is not to say that geopolitical considerations should not be weighed in.

Saudi Arabia is a long term ally of ours and as such a counter to Iran’s aggressive influence in the region, but giving the Saudi elite a pass in this heinous act is not compatible with the Saudi people’s aspirations to become a modern state.

Why not, for instance, call for the prince to stand trial for the offense, in the presence of international observers?

Would that be a destabilizing event for Saudi Arabia? Maybe, but it would be an important step toward introducing political accountability in the country and preventing the crime from happening again.

It may well be resented and seen as interfering with their governance, but in the end, likely to invigorate the forces of reason and enlightened civility.

As a sovereign nation, it will be up to the Saudis to do as they wish, but taking a public stand for justice leaves us in a strong position while sending a message to all of our allies.

If we were dependent on Saudi oil, the geopolitical considerations would be quite different. But we are not. Thanks to the spirit of innovation that our nation retains, we have become the largest oil producer in the world. That matters. And so does our moral integrity, for it fuels courage, creativity and vision.

So far, Mr Trump has been unable or unwilling to grasp this essence.

This is not lost in the eyes of the world. Appearing to be beholden to a ruling elite is not only detrimental to our image abroad but also, and more importantly, to the image we have of ourselves.

Either way, America loses.

Calling for a National Referendum on Immigration

Is Immigration a problem for the nation? Yes or no?

Whatever the answer, let us not let Trump decide the matter.

Let the entire country do it instead.

Let the different sides present their case to all citizens

So that we – all of us – may decide what we should and should not do.

A national referendum on immigration would help us do just that.

The issue is important and complex enough to warrant our full consideration.

Do we allow immigration or not?

Could we do without it?

Do immigrants contribute to the country?

Do they take more than they contribute?

Who would be admitted and who would not?

Every color or some colors?

From every country or from some countries?

Of what age?

Of what religion?

Must they have skills or not?

Which skills?

Answering those questions would allow us to begin to address the matter rationally as it deserves to be.

We are a nation of immigrants but at some points in our history we have chosen to restrict the influx.

That is our privilege.

So let us give it the proper attention instead of letting emotion drive our choices.

Politicians manipulate emotions to get our vote.

We are a sovereign nation and as such need to give the proper thought to matters of great consequence.

Immigration is such a matter.

A Burden to the Nation

Regardless of what happens in the midterms, the nation will not reelect Donald Trump.

Our country may waver but eventually, it will come to its senses.

For those of us who, while not voting for him and recognizing his flagrant flaws, were willing to give him a chance in the hope that he would grow into a president to all Americans, the disappointment has been painful.

His crude behavior towards women and his treatment of immigrants remains intact.

If the country was polarized before, he has deepened the divisions while appearing to have neither the inclination nor the ability to heal the rift.

In a world with a great need for a model in bridge building, he prefers to boast that America will not rise to the task.

In WWII we reached out and set the standard for nation building. The enormous investment that our brave people made changed the world. But now, rather than boldly facing the difficulties brought by globalization, Trump chooses to retreat.

No amount of tax cuts or tariff raising will change the grim outlook.

We are steadily losing our standing in the world and have at the helm a man who lacks the vision to lead. White supremacists cannot come to the rescue because, at their core, they are resentful people, afraid of competing in the world, choosing instead to blame others for their shortcomings.

America has prospered because of its openness. Openness to people and ideas. They go hand in hand.

That Trump does not see that is precisely why he’s become a burden to us.

To face our new challenges, America needs a person who dares to imagine possibilities without the need to devalue others or scapegoat immigrants.

And so, in the end, history will grade Trump as one of our worst presidents, alongside Andrew Johnson who, in succeeding Abraham Lincoln, blocked Reconstruction, denied protection to former slaves and ushered in a century of Jim Crow.

Pipe bombs sent from Florida, the killings in Pittsburgh and Trump

They are related.

The culprits acted alone but the president’s rhetoric stirred them.

And yet Mr Trump is unable to acknowledge it.

He has denounced the violence but not owned up to his role.

He knows that there are unstable people that don’t need much to be tipped over

Into ghastly acts.

He knows that.

And yet, he keeps broadcasting his message of hatred and rancor.

That a president is elected to govern all Americans doesn’t sink in

And we’re already two years into his tenure.

The experience of being in the Oval office,

Of being the president of the United States,

Not the president of his base,

Does not sink in.

And so he is the burden that we must carry as a nation,

Until we have another chance to go to the polls.

I had hoped that he would have evolved,

That from his lofty position,

Seeing the entirety of our country,

He would have relinquished his extremist views,

But he has not done so.

I fear now,

That he’s incapable of it.