By: W. Earle Simpson
More than seventy years ago, Adolf Berle and Gardener Means said that, “the rise of the modern corporation has brought a concentration of economic power which can compete on equal terms with the modern state.”
By equating the rising power of corporation to that of a state, the men took a prescient look at modern potential constitutional conflict within the United States. If a corporation becomes as powerful as a state, might it not violate the people’s rights in ways similar to those that a state can?
Indeed, some modern United States corporations are already more financially and politically powerful than some states. For example, with assets at $797 billion and annual sales of $182 billion, General Electric is ranked the largest global company by Forbes Magazine.
Conversely, the Bureau of Economic Analysis reported that the 2007 gross state product of Alaska was 44.9 billion. That is four times less than the annual sales of General Electric. It can therefore be reasonably said that General Electric is four times more financially powerful than the government of Alaska. If that is true, might corporations, like General Electric, be that much more enabled to violate the rights of Americans than are states like Alaska?
I believe that corporations like General Electric potentially pose more of a threat to our liberties than do some states.
Indeed, the ongoing case of Citizens United v. FEC serves to highlight my point. In this case, Citizens United sues the Federal Election Commission (FEC) over its rights to air the documentary Hillary: The Movie. The FEC classifies the movie as a campaign ad under the Bipartisan Campaign Reform Act of 2002. Under this act, “Big Money” cannot unfairly influence elections, and if they sponsor campaigns like Hillary: The Movie, they have to disclose such sponsorship.
But Citizens United does not want to disclose the involvement of “Big Money.” Instead they have asked the US Supreme Court to rule that this movie is not a campaign ad, and further, to state whether corporations have a First Amendment Right to spend money on election campaigns.
According to Erwin Chemerinski, dean of the school of law at University of California at Irvine, “This is one of the most important First Amendment cases in years…[because] many believe that the Supreme Court might say that corporations have a First Amendment right to spend money in political campaigns.”
If the Supreme Court agrees with Citizens United and grant corporations the unfair advantage that “big money” provides, I believe that the First Amendment rights of the people will then be gradually whittled away, and the people would be placed where they started when ‘We the people’ were when the constitution was first being written.
At the time of the constitution’s writing, the Fathers deeply considered the words of John Milton: “Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties,” he had said. From these words grew the idea of “Congress shall make no law…abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press…”
The Fathers deemed freedom of the press an absolutely essential aspect of the fragile democracy that they constructed. If this democracy was going to survive and flourish, then freedom, they thought, belonged not to the government, its representatives or corporations, but to “We the people.” And they were right.
To support their liberties, the people deliberately established a plethora of newspapers and pamphlets within which they expressed their points of view and maintained their freedoms. The idea was to have as many news papers as possible and by as many individuals as possible. The more single individuals owning a paper, the more diverse the opinion pool would be, and the more sides to the truth the public would be made to have. The people’s press got the people’s voices heard, and helped them to bring down the corrupt governments and corporations of their time.
In fact, because of the people’s press, slavery, labor rights, civil rights, women’s rights, birth control and sex education were all brought to the people’s attention, and each got its just attention. The people’s press kept governments and corporations from abusing the rights of the people.
But today, corporations are fighting back. In recent years, corporations have found effective ways of wrestling away the people’s freedoms. Using the model of freedom of the press, corporations have self-define themselves as individuals, and of such, have succeeded in re-branding themselves “we the people.”
Under this guise, corporations, with their ‘big money,’ have established news media where there were none, and bought others that already existed. This creates a new model that gives corporation a power that effectively silences the people.
An example of this new phenomenon at work can be seen on the documentary “Out Foxed.” In this documentary, reporters took a close-up view of the news reporting practices of Fox News. The report suggests that the corporate head of the network became involved in the news agenda little by little until, over time, it totally took over and now, entirely, sets the agenda - daily directives would indicate the tone and content of the news.
Corporations are seeking to contain more and more of the people’s rights, and they see the case of the Hillary movie as a great springboard for completing their take over. As a result of this, they have filed numerous amicus curiae briefs in support of Citizens United in this case.
If the Supreme Court rules in the favor of Citizens United, ‘Big Money’ with its relatively influential political power, would succeed in their plan take over bid. I believe that such an outcome would place corporations in a position to gradually chip away at the First Amendment rights of the people in ways similar to those in which governments have done. In fact, corporations would become the new governments.
If you believe that governments are bad, wait until they are replaced by corporations. I prefer to be at war with them over my rights than with corporations. There are fifty one governments in the United States, but there are thousands of corporations. God help the people if corporations become the new government.
If the Supreme Court were to use Hillary: The Movie to fast advance the reign of ‘Big Money,’ I believe that corporation would un-ceremonially bury the freedoms of the people. The people would loose, and everyone taken back to the year 1787, in search again for “We the people.”
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
From Protest To Pagan
By: Earle Simpson
Sir Patrick Allen, independent-Jamaica’s sixth governor-general, who on Friday June 13 became the newest receptor of the British Order of St. Michael and St. George, is not only the first Adventist to become governor-general of Jamaica, he is also the first regional head of the Adventist church to abdicate his role in favour of what seems to be personal and or political ambitions.
When Dr. Allen accepted the nomination to become governor- general of Jamaica, my thoughts were that he was mistaken; that choice would in no way further or amplify the call to which he had previously described as divine, I thought. How would being governor- general be a more effective way of leading the church he was divinely called to lead? I could not see the holy rational in his thinking then, but I was prepared to be talked down on it. However, now that Dr. Allen has gone further and accepted the Order of St. Michael and St. George, I am convinced that, for him, personal ambitions outweigh those of the divine. But I am not the only one confused by Sir Patrick’s move. According to July 2009 edition of the Adventist World, Reverend Courtney Stewart, a Baptist minister who heads the Bible Society of the West Indies and a long time friend of Sir Patrick exclaimed, “The Adventists were being seen as different from others. The appointment of an adventist as governor-general is a maturing of our people.”
The order of St. Michael, as well as that of St. George, is essentially Roman Catholic, and by nature antithetical to especially Seventh-Day Adventism. And since the Seventh-day Adventists have, for centuries, been the nemesis of the Roman Catholics, I find it extremely difficult to understand the meaning of the acceptance of these orders by a president of a Seventh-day Adventist Union. I say “a president” because to say “a former president” would be to misrepresent the facts. Dr. Allen quitted the presidency for the political position and accolade – an accolade that essential ennobled him in a Catholic private or public society.
That these orders honor Catholic religious icons is a fact supposedly well known to a man who led and taught many against Catholic Traditions. But maybe Sir Allen found the orders very difficult to refuse since hagiography suggests that, in the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches, St. George and St. Michael are among the most venerated saints. But not only are these saints relics of the Catholic Church, the idea of saints, as taught by the Catholics, is also denounced by the Adventists. Catholics believe that saints are people who lived holy lives, but are now in heaven, after their death, interceding on behalf of families and friends, and must be associated with one or more miracles. Adventists, on the other hand, believe that once dead, people remain dead in their graves; meaning that they are not capable of one, let alone more miracles. Moreover, Adventists believe that the teaching about saints is diabolic at every level including its foundation.
But, if Sir Allen, an Adventist, shares the Adventist’s beliefs, then those beliefs seem at odd with the implications of his recent acceptance of the orders. Kneeling at the tip of the sword of a Catholic icon not only implies ecumenical overtures, it sheds significant light on the club to which the Adventist Pastor has now become a member. Each member of that club stands a chance of becoming the grand master, and if he were to become grand master, what a grand master Sir Allen would be!
When Sir Allen was the leader of the Adventist group whose leadership he abandoned, he vigorously propagated and proselytized his disbelief in saints. So, how does he explain the current situation of which he is a willing acceptor of orders in honor of not one, but two well known and ancient saints? Founded in 1326 by cardinals and bishops in the presence of King Karoly Robert of Hungary, the Order of St. George was in 1400 united with the Order of St. Michael. The original insignia of the Order of St. George included a white enameled cross patt̩e with a central disc bearing the image of St. George on horseback slaying the dragon, but in the year 1503, when Pope Paul III became the grand master, he placed the holy crown of St. Stephen above the St. George Cross. The St George cross, which is sometimes referred to as the Maltese cross, is a popular part of the regalia of Defenders of the Faith, and could often be seen on the capes of Knights Templar and Free Masons Рgroups to which Sir Allen would normally decline membership. But apparently Sir Allen has had a change of heart and direction.
Whereas I might not be able to unequivocally provide the answer to why Sir Allen has made this turn, I can only remember one of his admonitions: “By their fruits you will know them.” This may provide the only cue to the resolutions to what is now gnawing the nerves of many Adventists. But rather than allowing the faithful few to contemplate his agenda, Sir Patrick Allen could, himself, resolve the issue: give an honest-to-god explanation to the recent denominational faut pas of his life.
Sir Patrick Allen, independent-Jamaica’s sixth governor-general, who on Friday June 13 became the newest receptor of the British Order of St. Michael and St. George, is not only the first Adventist to become governor-general of Jamaica, he is also the first regional head of the Adventist church to abdicate his role in favour of what seems to be personal and or political ambitions.
When Dr. Allen accepted the nomination to become governor- general of Jamaica, my thoughts were that he was mistaken; that choice would in no way further or amplify the call to which he had previously described as divine, I thought. How would being governor- general be a more effective way of leading the church he was divinely called to lead? I could not see the holy rational in his thinking then, but I was prepared to be talked down on it. However, now that Dr. Allen has gone further and accepted the Order of St. Michael and St. George, I am convinced that, for him, personal ambitions outweigh those of the divine. But I am not the only one confused by Sir Patrick’s move. According to July 2009 edition of the Adventist World, Reverend Courtney Stewart, a Baptist minister who heads the Bible Society of the West Indies and a long time friend of Sir Patrick exclaimed, “The Adventists were being seen as different from others. The appointment of an adventist as governor-general is a maturing of our people.”
The order of St. Michael, as well as that of St. George, is essentially Roman Catholic, and by nature antithetical to especially Seventh-Day Adventism. And since the Seventh-day Adventists have, for centuries, been the nemesis of the Roman Catholics, I find it extremely difficult to understand the meaning of the acceptance of these orders by a president of a Seventh-day Adventist Union. I say “a president” because to say “a former president” would be to misrepresent the facts. Dr. Allen quitted the presidency for the political position and accolade – an accolade that essential ennobled him in a Catholic private or public society.
That these orders honor Catholic religious icons is a fact supposedly well known to a man who led and taught many against Catholic Traditions. But maybe Sir Allen found the orders very difficult to refuse since hagiography suggests that, in the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches, St. George and St. Michael are among the most venerated saints. But not only are these saints relics of the Catholic Church, the idea of saints, as taught by the Catholics, is also denounced by the Adventists. Catholics believe that saints are people who lived holy lives, but are now in heaven, after their death, interceding on behalf of families and friends, and must be associated with one or more miracles. Adventists, on the other hand, believe that once dead, people remain dead in their graves; meaning that they are not capable of one, let alone more miracles. Moreover, Adventists believe that the teaching about saints is diabolic at every level including its foundation.
But, if Sir Allen, an Adventist, shares the Adventist’s beliefs, then those beliefs seem at odd with the implications of his recent acceptance of the orders. Kneeling at the tip of the sword of a Catholic icon not only implies ecumenical overtures, it sheds significant light on the club to which the Adventist Pastor has now become a member. Each member of that club stands a chance of becoming the grand master, and if he were to become grand master, what a grand master Sir Allen would be!
When Sir Allen was the leader of the Adventist group whose leadership he abandoned, he vigorously propagated and proselytized his disbelief in saints. So, how does he explain the current situation of which he is a willing acceptor of orders in honor of not one, but two well known and ancient saints? Founded in 1326 by cardinals and bishops in the presence of King Karoly Robert of Hungary, the Order of St. George was in 1400 united with the Order of St. Michael. The original insignia of the Order of St. George included a white enameled cross patt̩e with a central disc bearing the image of St. George on horseback slaying the dragon, but in the year 1503, when Pope Paul III became the grand master, he placed the holy crown of St. Stephen above the St. George Cross. The St George cross, which is sometimes referred to as the Maltese cross, is a popular part of the regalia of Defenders of the Faith, and could often be seen on the capes of Knights Templar and Free Masons Рgroups to which Sir Allen would normally decline membership. But apparently Sir Allen has had a change of heart and direction.
Whereas I might not be able to unequivocally provide the answer to why Sir Allen has made this turn, I can only remember one of his admonitions: “By their fruits you will know them.” This may provide the only cue to the resolutions to what is now gnawing the nerves of many Adventists. But rather than allowing the faithful few to contemplate his agenda, Sir Patrick Allen could, himself, resolve the issue: give an honest-to-god explanation to the recent denominational faut pas of his life.
Sadness
By: W. Earle Simpson
I was born in an highly chauvinistic society on the island of Jamaica. In my society, men are encouraged not to be softies. Men teach their sons to be tough, and my father was no exception. From as early as my fifth birthday, my father taught me that men do not cry or demonstrate physical signs of sadness. My father repeatedly told me that I should leave the wimping and wailing to my sisters. I obeyed my father’s instruction and over a period of many years I learned how to conceal many of my emotions. For example, I can conceal my expressions of fear, anger, happiness, surprise and disgust but it was my emotion of sadness that I deliberately and successfully hid the most.
As I grew, there were many instances of my hiding the signs of my sadness but the instance that stood out the most was at the occasion of my maternal grandmother’s death. When “Granny” died, I was very sad. I was especially sad because she was the only grandparent I knew and consequently we had a very close relationship. Granny would always look out for me; she would bring me pencils, food, clothes and she even planted fruit trees for me. In fact, I remember hearing her asking my father about adopting me. Granny loved me and I loved her but when she died, although I wanted to cry, I did not because I remembered that men do not cry.
The next time that I was called upon to demonstrate my manly lack of emotion was in front of my seventh grade classmates. One of my female classmates took a pencil off my desk without asking my permission, but I allowed her to use it until I was ready for it. I went over to her desk and asked for my pencil. Instead of returning the pencil, she refused then hit me. The force of her hand almost knocked me over, especially because I was a smaller boy. I felt wronged and embarrassed and was moved to defend my person and my pencil. No sooner than I retaliated, my class teacher called the school’s principal to my attention. The principal arrived, adjudicated the case, found me guilty of beating up on a female classmate and proceeded to strap me in front of the class. I decided that I would take the strapping as a man should; I did not flinch; I did not cry. I took my strapping as my father told me how but when the principal noticed that I did not show signs of sadness, he increased the number of beatings: He normally administered six licks; he gave me eight. That day I thought about the value of hiding my emotion – was I hurting myself more or causing other people to hurt me more by not showing my emotion? I wondered about it, but that would not be the last time I did not cry.
One day, many years later, I had a conflict with my father. In evaluating my conduct, he determined that I was not only disrespectful but also I deserved a beating. He inflicted the normal number of licks (most parents and teachers in Jamaica agree on six) but when I did not cry he took offence. My father proceeded to administer maybe twice the usual number of licks while commenting, “You believe that you are a man now, don’t you?” In my mind that was the object of his lesson to me but clearly it was not working for me, not even with him. Again, that day I evaluated the concept and determined that it would lead me to destruction but I kept the practice.
As time went by, I felt the need to reeducate myself especially in terms of how I express my emotions but the pressure from my Jamaican society, teaming with my good intention, would almost always win the battle against my noble will. However, although I still do not cry, from the few victories of my will, I have learned to do better than not to cry. But, probably like many men, I am often caught and tossed between the contradiction of ‘to cry or not to cry.’ Indeed, now I know that I am not alone in this. There are many Jamaican men who are accustomed to hiding their emotions but are now feeling as if they need to show them. In fact, I read that men from other countries, like the USA, are also having the same experiences with this stigma. But in spite of the manly contradictions, I still feel as if I am not certain what the appropriate choice is, although I believe that I know which is the more beneficial – crying out aloud. I have thought about crying out loud and in the past I have wondered about what it would be like to just throw my arms up in the air and wail in public. Would it be satisfying, relieving or embarrassing? How would it deviate from what I have learnt, how would it affect my father if he were to hear of such a behavior – what would he say and how would he react?
Although I wanted to test the reaction of my father by contravening his teachings, I hesitated because deep inside me lies an admiration for his leadership, his courage, his morality, his strength and now his honor. The death of my father presented me with the strongest test of an emotional resolve. I am his eldest son and as such I am expected to not only take his place as head of his family but also to teach and live what he taught and lived – men do not cry and I must not cry.
It was very difficult for me to not cry at my father’s funeral but somehow, amidst the wailings of my mother and my sisters, I did not cry and I noticed also that, like me, my brothers did not cry. And precisely because they did not cry, I knew that that day I could not cry. I am the “daddy” now and daddy did not cry. That day, as the funeral continued and was completed, I successfully managed not to cry but as night fell I began to feel the need and the urge to cry. As it got darker, the burden got heavier and soon it became clear to me that man or not, I was going to cry.
I spent half of that night showering the inside of my car with tears and although no one saw me, I felt like I had my chance at throwing up my arms and wailing in the public. During the part of the night that I slept, my father appeared to me in a dream and consoled me with the words “It is OK my son.” The next morning when I woke up I was still in my car but I felt calmed, consoled and as comforted as though I had slept in a warm bed. In fact, I realized then that the calm I was feeling was similar to the one that I felt after I hid and cried back when my grandmother died.
I still believe, practice and teach the concept of ‘men do not cry’ but today I have a better appreciation for it. It is a preaching more than a practice. The admonition is really to hide one’s emotion. So now as I teach and live my father’s instruction with new meaning – I absolutely do not cry, not ever, no, never in public.
I was born in an highly chauvinistic society on the island of Jamaica. In my society, men are encouraged not to be softies. Men teach their sons to be tough, and my father was no exception. From as early as my fifth birthday, my father taught me that men do not cry or demonstrate physical signs of sadness. My father repeatedly told me that I should leave the wimping and wailing to my sisters. I obeyed my father’s instruction and over a period of many years I learned how to conceal many of my emotions. For example, I can conceal my expressions of fear, anger, happiness, surprise and disgust but it was my emotion of sadness that I deliberately and successfully hid the most.
As I grew, there were many instances of my hiding the signs of my sadness but the instance that stood out the most was at the occasion of my maternal grandmother’s death. When “Granny” died, I was very sad. I was especially sad because she was the only grandparent I knew and consequently we had a very close relationship. Granny would always look out for me; she would bring me pencils, food, clothes and she even planted fruit trees for me. In fact, I remember hearing her asking my father about adopting me. Granny loved me and I loved her but when she died, although I wanted to cry, I did not because I remembered that men do not cry.
The next time that I was called upon to demonstrate my manly lack of emotion was in front of my seventh grade classmates. One of my female classmates took a pencil off my desk without asking my permission, but I allowed her to use it until I was ready for it. I went over to her desk and asked for my pencil. Instead of returning the pencil, she refused then hit me. The force of her hand almost knocked me over, especially because I was a smaller boy. I felt wronged and embarrassed and was moved to defend my person and my pencil. No sooner than I retaliated, my class teacher called the school’s principal to my attention. The principal arrived, adjudicated the case, found me guilty of beating up on a female classmate and proceeded to strap me in front of the class. I decided that I would take the strapping as a man should; I did not flinch; I did not cry. I took my strapping as my father told me how but when the principal noticed that I did not show signs of sadness, he increased the number of beatings: He normally administered six licks; he gave me eight. That day I thought about the value of hiding my emotion – was I hurting myself more or causing other people to hurt me more by not showing my emotion? I wondered about it, but that would not be the last time I did not cry.
One day, many years later, I had a conflict with my father. In evaluating my conduct, he determined that I was not only disrespectful but also I deserved a beating. He inflicted the normal number of licks (most parents and teachers in Jamaica agree on six) but when I did not cry he took offence. My father proceeded to administer maybe twice the usual number of licks while commenting, “You believe that you are a man now, don’t you?” In my mind that was the object of his lesson to me but clearly it was not working for me, not even with him. Again, that day I evaluated the concept and determined that it would lead me to destruction but I kept the practice.
As time went by, I felt the need to reeducate myself especially in terms of how I express my emotions but the pressure from my Jamaican society, teaming with my good intention, would almost always win the battle against my noble will. However, although I still do not cry, from the few victories of my will, I have learned to do better than not to cry. But, probably like many men, I am often caught and tossed between the contradiction of ‘to cry or not to cry.’ Indeed, now I know that I am not alone in this. There are many Jamaican men who are accustomed to hiding their emotions but are now feeling as if they need to show them. In fact, I read that men from other countries, like the USA, are also having the same experiences with this stigma. But in spite of the manly contradictions, I still feel as if I am not certain what the appropriate choice is, although I believe that I know which is the more beneficial – crying out aloud. I have thought about crying out loud and in the past I have wondered about what it would be like to just throw my arms up in the air and wail in public. Would it be satisfying, relieving or embarrassing? How would it deviate from what I have learnt, how would it affect my father if he were to hear of such a behavior – what would he say and how would he react?
Although I wanted to test the reaction of my father by contravening his teachings, I hesitated because deep inside me lies an admiration for his leadership, his courage, his morality, his strength and now his honor. The death of my father presented me with the strongest test of an emotional resolve. I am his eldest son and as such I am expected to not only take his place as head of his family but also to teach and live what he taught and lived – men do not cry and I must not cry.
It was very difficult for me to not cry at my father’s funeral but somehow, amidst the wailings of my mother and my sisters, I did not cry and I noticed also that, like me, my brothers did not cry. And precisely because they did not cry, I knew that that day I could not cry. I am the “daddy” now and daddy did not cry. That day, as the funeral continued and was completed, I successfully managed not to cry but as night fell I began to feel the need and the urge to cry. As it got darker, the burden got heavier and soon it became clear to me that man or not, I was going to cry.
I spent half of that night showering the inside of my car with tears and although no one saw me, I felt like I had my chance at throwing up my arms and wailing in the public. During the part of the night that I slept, my father appeared to me in a dream and consoled me with the words “It is OK my son.” The next morning when I woke up I was still in my car but I felt calmed, consoled and as comforted as though I had slept in a warm bed. In fact, I realized then that the calm I was feeling was similar to the one that I felt after I hid and cried back when my grandmother died.
I still believe, practice and teach the concept of ‘men do not cry’ but today I have a better appreciation for it. It is a preaching more than a practice. The admonition is really to hide one’s emotion. So now as I teach and live my father’s instruction with new meaning – I absolutely do not cry, not ever, no, never in public.
From One Community To The Next
By: W. Earle Simpson
As the long hot day began to cool and the clouds of dust from the road on which we were travelling began to settle, my sister, Stephanie, and I hoped that the approaching cool would soon dry the copious flow of sweat running off our bodies. The journey was long, we were tired and exhausted, but we kept on going; the night was approaching fast and we had only covered about a third of our journey. I quickened my strides and Stephanie kept close behind me. Although we did not say a word about the trepidation we felt, we understood perfectly why each of us had started to move faster - night was approaching.
Earlier that day we had walked the more than fifteen miles from home to Ulster Spring and we were retracing those steps. It was not our first time travelling to Ulster Spring, but it was our first travelling on foot. The last time we travelled over the hot and dusty streets that lead to and from our nearest Hospital, our uncle, Uncle Venty, took us in what to us was the biggest truck we had ever seen - his old Bedford truck. We liked driving in Uncle Venty’s truck because, although the suspensions were mostly broken and the truck bounced us around, we loved the attention we got from our friends especially after he blew the loud horn as he passed by them. But that day, we could only imagine riding in that truck.
“Hurry,” I said to my sister as I contemplated the difficulty and danger of the rest of our journey. Our elder brother had told us many ghost stories about the very journey we were on. In fact, there was a very scary story associated with a very lonely area of the path on which we would soon tread. The myths would come alive at night and night was coming soon. As we got closer to the lonely area, I grabbed my sister’s hand in an effort to move us along faster, but the pull set us off running. We ran toward a corner that led to the object of our fear, but a loud noise stopped us in our track. Our eyes searched for the source of the noise and when we found it, we were very surprised; it was the loud sound of Uncle Venty’s truck horn. Why we were so happy to see him did not matter to Uncle; to him we were always happy to see him, and although this time we seemed extraordinarily happy, he did not question our motives.
On our way home, Uncle Venty stopped at his house and feed us. To our surprise, there were many other children there, running through the house calling him “Uncle Venty.” “From where did he get all these nieces and nephews?” we asked ourselves. “And are they our cousins?” we asked our parents when we got home. “No. They are not your cousins and he is not your real uncle,” answered our mother. “He is your ‘community uncle’; your father’s church brother; the church brother of the parents of all the children you met at his house.”
A community uncle! Wow! But that was how it was. Uncle Venty was not the only uncle we learned was not our real uncle; we had many other uncles and aunts like him, but our mother’s announcement did not diminish our respect for their authority over us. We loved and respected those ‘community relatives’ as we would our blood relatives. In fact, many times they exercised more authority over us than did some of our blood relatives, and somehow, we did not rebel against them. We accepted them as part of our regular disciplinary routine. Along our life’s journey, we expected it; we were given it and we accepted it. Growing up, it was not uncommon for me and my siblings to encounter hundreds of aunts and uncles along a journey of 15 miles. We were always aware that if a tragedy struck us on any part of our journey, we had an uncle or an aunt nearby who would happily assist us. We lived it; we loved it, and now we miss it. These days are different: the concept of the community has been sidelined by the framers of the norms of our post modern society.
In our post modern society, each person’s interest is pitted against that of the other. Each man lives for himself; one lives and dies at his own risk and expense. In this society there are no “community uncles or aunts.” There are only blood uncles and aunts, if one can find them. Our post modern society mostly emphasizes the individual, leading the French Author, Jacques Languirand, to opine that, “Individualism is something of a virtue, because there was a time when the individual did not matter – there was the tribe, the clan, and the extended family et cetera. Finally we started to focus on the individual – the man at the heart of evolution; a sense of progress in humanity…that’s fine…but I get the feeling that if we go too far in that direction, we will become alienated from society as a collective whole.” But will we?
I yearn for the community into which I was raised and my feeling is that several other people suffer from the same nostalgia. For those whose experiences disallow them from empathizing with the nostalgic ones, I believe that there is an innate desire for community. The psychologists say that we are social beings, meaning that our communities are essential to our collective survival. Individualism contradicts everything that our existence stands for. Little wonder then that, starved of our community, we project our need onto the concept of brands.
Brand is not just an idea. According to Languirand, it is also “le marque” - a mark. Cattle ranchers brand their cattle. This branding identifies the cattle as members of a particular cattle community. The concept of branding ourselves with tattoos, clothes and electronic gadgets is similar to that of cattle branding – it places us in a community. We seek brands like Nike, Guess, Gucci, Fubu, Benz, BMW and Lexus. Why do we stress the concept of individualism while we simultaneously want to identify with a certain social, educational or financial community?
My answer to that question is, at the heart of who we are, lies the community. We are the community and the community is us. Long live the community!
As the long hot day began to cool and the clouds of dust from the road on which we were travelling began to settle, my sister, Stephanie, and I hoped that the approaching cool would soon dry the copious flow of sweat running off our bodies. The journey was long, we were tired and exhausted, but we kept on going; the night was approaching fast and we had only covered about a third of our journey. I quickened my strides and Stephanie kept close behind me. Although we did not say a word about the trepidation we felt, we understood perfectly why each of us had started to move faster - night was approaching.
Earlier that day we had walked the more than fifteen miles from home to Ulster Spring and we were retracing those steps. It was not our first time travelling to Ulster Spring, but it was our first travelling on foot. The last time we travelled over the hot and dusty streets that lead to and from our nearest Hospital, our uncle, Uncle Venty, took us in what to us was the biggest truck we had ever seen - his old Bedford truck. We liked driving in Uncle Venty’s truck because, although the suspensions were mostly broken and the truck bounced us around, we loved the attention we got from our friends especially after he blew the loud horn as he passed by them. But that day, we could only imagine riding in that truck.
“Hurry,” I said to my sister as I contemplated the difficulty and danger of the rest of our journey. Our elder brother had told us many ghost stories about the very journey we were on. In fact, there was a very scary story associated with a very lonely area of the path on which we would soon tread. The myths would come alive at night and night was coming soon. As we got closer to the lonely area, I grabbed my sister’s hand in an effort to move us along faster, but the pull set us off running. We ran toward a corner that led to the object of our fear, but a loud noise stopped us in our track. Our eyes searched for the source of the noise and when we found it, we were very surprised; it was the loud sound of Uncle Venty’s truck horn. Why we were so happy to see him did not matter to Uncle; to him we were always happy to see him, and although this time we seemed extraordinarily happy, he did not question our motives.
On our way home, Uncle Venty stopped at his house and feed us. To our surprise, there were many other children there, running through the house calling him “Uncle Venty.” “From where did he get all these nieces and nephews?” we asked ourselves. “And are they our cousins?” we asked our parents when we got home. “No. They are not your cousins and he is not your real uncle,” answered our mother. “He is your ‘community uncle’; your father’s church brother; the church brother of the parents of all the children you met at his house.”
A community uncle! Wow! But that was how it was. Uncle Venty was not the only uncle we learned was not our real uncle; we had many other uncles and aunts like him, but our mother’s announcement did not diminish our respect for their authority over us. We loved and respected those ‘community relatives’ as we would our blood relatives. In fact, many times they exercised more authority over us than did some of our blood relatives, and somehow, we did not rebel against them. We accepted them as part of our regular disciplinary routine. Along our life’s journey, we expected it; we were given it and we accepted it. Growing up, it was not uncommon for me and my siblings to encounter hundreds of aunts and uncles along a journey of 15 miles. We were always aware that if a tragedy struck us on any part of our journey, we had an uncle or an aunt nearby who would happily assist us. We lived it; we loved it, and now we miss it. These days are different: the concept of the community has been sidelined by the framers of the norms of our post modern society.
In our post modern society, each person’s interest is pitted against that of the other. Each man lives for himself; one lives and dies at his own risk and expense. In this society there are no “community uncles or aunts.” There are only blood uncles and aunts, if one can find them. Our post modern society mostly emphasizes the individual, leading the French Author, Jacques Languirand, to opine that, “Individualism is something of a virtue, because there was a time when the individual did not matter – there was the tribe, the clan, and the extended family et cetera. Finally we started to focus on the individual – the man at the heart of evolution; a sense of progress in humanity…that’s fine…but I get the feeling that if we go too far in that direction, we will become alienated from society as a collective whole.” But will we?
I yearn for the community into which I was raised and my feeling is that several other people suffer from the same nostalgia. For those whose experiences disallow them from empathizing with the nostalgic ones, I believe that there is an innate desire for community. The psychologists say that we are social beings, meaning that our communities are essential to our collective survival. Individualism contradicts everything that our existence stands for. Little wonder then that, starved of our community, we project our need onto the concept of brands.
Brand is not just an idea. According to Languirand, it is also “le marque” - a mark. Cattle ranchers brand their cattle. This branding identifies the cattle as members of a particular cattle community. The concept of branding ourselves with tattoos, clothes and electronic gadgets is similar to that of cattle branding – it places us in a community. We seek brands like Nike, Guess, Gucci, Fubu, Benz, BMW and Lexus. Why do we stress the concept of individualism while we simultaneously want to identify with a certain social, educational or financial community?
My answer to that question is, at the heart of who we are, lies the community. We are the community and the community is us. Long live the community!
Does John McCain Really Not Get It?
By: W. Earle Simpson
In his acceptance speech on Thursday, August 29, 2008, the Democratic Nominee for President of the United States of America, Senator Barack Obama, said of his republican opponent, Senator John McCain, , “[Senator] John McCain just doesn’t get it!”
But what doesn’t John McCain get?
Over the last approximately 70 years, the American people have seen nine international conflicts involving American troops. Of the four conflicts between 1939 and 1975: World War II, the Korean War, the Bay of Pigs War and the Vietnam War, the Vietnam War was the longest and probably, consequently, the one that stirred the most domestic resentment.
The Vietnam War started in 1960 and lasted for 15 years, taking with it the lives of more than 35,000 American civilians, 58,000 American soldiers, and wounding another 300,000, according to Reese Williams, in his book, “Unwinding the Vietnam War: From War into Peace (Seattle: Real Comet Press, 1987)”. Some Americans, like McCain, were captured and taken as prisoners of war, and 32 years later, many are still missing in action.
The devastating effects of the difficult war placed undue pressure on the American people; they could not cope with its burden and so they refused to support it much further. Protests and large movements sprung up against the war, forcing the United States government to put an end to the war. But the people did not feel entirely satisfied with the government’s reprieve; to satiate their desire, they voted against the government.
That vote ended the cycle of choosing a president from the United States Congress. For all of the previous 44 years, the American people would look to the Congress for their president, but the congressmen-turn-presidents would lead them into what appeared to have been an endless period of war. The people had their fill, eructed and turned their attention to the gubernatorial leaders for future presidents.
In 1976 the American people turned from what was reasonably considered a warmongering congress and elected to the presidency, James Earle Carter, a little known Governor from the state of Georgia.
Over the following 32 years and eight presidential electoral cycles, the American people would elect five presidents, all but one gubernatorial. But along the way the governors apparently forgot and forfeited the reason the people turned and elected presidents from their pool: Governors would take the country back to war.
For a while the people clearly accepted the call to battle: Sept. 11, 2001 was a justifiable call, but the tour of duty is now perceivably too long. Many Americans are tired and torn by the war. In fact, according to a CNN poll, 60 per cent of Americans are currently against the war in Iraq.
Consequently, as they did to the congressmen in 1976, the American people turned from the gubernatorial pool, returned to the Congressmen, and from there elected their 2008 presidential nominees. But according to Obama, “[Senator] John McCain just doesn’t get it!”
McCain has turned the people’s choice upon its head. In choosing the Governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, as his presidential running mate, McCain appeared to have presented the people of America with a dilemma. This choice apparently resists what the people considered a satisfactory solution to their choice of a president.
But Obama chose Senator Joe Biden and said, “I get it!” McCain could have chosen Senator Joe Lieberman or any republican senator, but as Obama said, he just doesn’t get it. Getting the message of the people is an important tool to winning the peoples votes, and if McCain doesn’t get it, then on the morning of November 5, 2008 he will awake to reflect on the choice of the people vindicated in the presidency and vice presidency of none others than those of Obama and Biden.
In his acceptance speech on Thursday, August 29, 2008, the Democratic Nominee for President of the United States of America, Senator Barack Obama, said of his republican opponent, Senator John McCain, , “[Senator] John McCain just doesn’t get it!”
But what doesn’t John McCain get?
Over the last approximately 70 years, the American people have seen nine international conflicts involving American troops. Of the four conflicts between 1939 and 1975: World War II, the Korean War, the Bay of Pigs War and the Vietnam War, the Vietnam War was the longest and probably, consequently, the one that stirred the most domestic resentment.
The Vietnam War started in 1960 and lasted for 15 years, taking with it the lives of more than 35,000 American civilians, 58,000 American soldiers, and wounding another 300,000, according to Reese Williams, in his book, “Unwinding the Vietnam War: From War into Peace (Seattle: Real Comet Press, 1987)”. Some Americans, like McCain, were captured and taken as prisoners of war, and 32 years later, many are still missing in action.
The devastating effects of the difficult war placed undue pressure on the American people; they could not cope with its burden and so they refused to support it much further. Protests and large movements sprung up against the war, forcing the United States government to put an end to the war. But the people did not feel entirely satisfied with the government’s reprieve; to satiate their desire, they voted against the government.
That vote ended the cycle of choosing a president from the United States Congress. For all of the previous 44 years, the American people would look to the Congress for their president, but the congressmen-turn-presidents would lead them into what appeared to have been an endless period of war. The people had their fill, eructed and turned their attention to the gubernatorial leaders for future presidents.
In 1976 the American people turned from what was reasonably considered a warmongering congress and elected to the presidency, James Earle Carter, a little known Governor from the state of Georgia.
Over the following 32 years and eight presidential electoral cycles, the American people would elect five presidents, all but one gubernatorial. But along the way the governors apparently forgot and forfeited the reason the people turned and elected presidents from their pool: Governors would take the country back to war.
For a while the people clearly accepted the call to battle: Sept. 11, 2001 was a justifiable call, but the tour of duty is now perceivably too long. Many Americans are tired and torn by the war. In fact, according to a CNN poll, 60 per cent of Americans are currently against the war in Iraq.
Consequently, as they did to the congressmen in 1976, the American people turned from the gubernatorial pool, returned to the Congressmen, and from there elected their 2008 presidential nominees. But according to Obama, “[Senator] John McCain just doesn’t get it!”
McCain has turned the people’s choice upon its head. In choosing the Governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, as his presidential running mate, McCain appeared to have presented the people of America with a dilemma. This choice apparently resists what the people considered a satisfactory solution to their choice of a president.
But Obama chose Senator Joe Biden and said, “I get it!” McCain could have chosen Senator Joe Lieberman or any republican senator, but as Obama said, he just doesn’t get it. Getting the message of the people is an important tool to winning the peoples votes, and if McCain doesn’t get it, then on the morning of November 5, 2008 he will awake to reflect on the choice of the people vindicated in the presidency and vice presidency of none others than those of Obama and Biden.
Who Is An African-American?
By: W. Earle Simpson.
Each year black history is celebrated in the month of February. Everyday of this month is associated with the recall or admission of some great achievements by famous or notorious African Americans.
So far, in most of the Februaries of previous years, people have been mainly concerned with recalling the memorable deeds of African Americans, like Martin Luther King Jr., whose worthwhile contributions to society have made them significant.
This February, however, people may see the careful admission of an African American whose contribution to society might be taller than those before his.
Barack Obama, the Democratic Senator from Illinois, is the first African American with a serious chance of winning both the Democratic nomination as well as the presidency of the United States of America. Obama has so far won more than 50 percent of the Democratic primaries and caucuses, beating out his nearest and now only rival, Senator Hillary – Rodham Clinton by a margin wider than two to one.
Obama’s victories and ambitious hope have engaged the attention and participation of African Americans, if not America, like never before. For African Americans, their savior has arrived; their time has come! But just who is an African American?
According to the website, Answers.com, “The use of the taxonomic category African American, either in public or health or other disciplines, fundamentally reflects the historic and contemporary systems of racial stratification in American society.” But this nomenclature also resulted from the race’s self identification attempts. The online Encyclopedia, Wikipedia, suggests that the political consciousness resulting from the social ferment of the late 1960s and early 1970s favored the terms ‘Blacks’ and ‘Afro-American’ above the derogatory ‘Negro’. However, in the 1980s the term ‘African American’, modeled on the term ‘German American’ was advanced and later made popular by the social and political activist the Rev. Jesse Jackson.
The term ‘African American’, Answers.com suggests, was believed to more accurately reflect historical lineage as well as “identity that is rooted in cultural and ethnogeographic origins.” Not only was this term posited to favorably represent racial identity, but its use by health and educational institutions suggests that it was also accepted as a means of racial and social stratification. Few African Americans stop to notice that, but that is not the only thing about this classification that has gone un-noticed:
If the term African American is to be accepted for what it’s worth, then people must agree that it includes every American of African decent. If this argument is accepted, and it should, then all American peoples of African decent must be understood to be and called African Americans.
According to the Heinz Family Philanthropies website, www.hfp.heinz.org, Senator John Kerry’s wife, Teresa Heinz-Kerry is a white African. She was born in Mozambique. Therefore Heinz-Kerry is an African American. And no doubt when she fills in her medical forms she includes that information. But the framers of the term never intended it to include people like her. They were thinking entirely of colored people of African decent.
If this term was not meant to include people like Heinz-Kerry under its classification, then it is a misnomer and suggests that maybe its framers still have work to do. So just who is an African American? The answer is yet to be posited.
Each year black history is celebrated in the month of February. Everyday of this month is associated with the recall or admission of some great achievements by famous or notorious African Americans.
So far, in most of the Februaries of previous years, people have been mainly concerned with recalling the memorable deeds of African Americans, like Martin Luther King Jr., whose worthwhile contributions to society have made them significant.
This February, however, people may see the careful admission of an African American whose contribution to society might be taller than those before his.
Barack Obama, the Democratic Senator from Illinois, is the first African American with a serious chance of winning both the Democratic nomination as well as the presidency of the United States of America. Obama has so far won more than 50 percent of the Democratic primaries and caucuses, beating out his nearest and now only rival, Senator Hillary – Rodham Clinton by a margin wider than two to one.
Obama’s victories and ambitious hope have engaged the attention and participation of African Americans, if not America, like never before. For African Americans, their savior has arrived; their time has come! But just who is an African American?
According to the website, Answers.com, “The use of the taxonomic category African American, either in public or health or other disciplines, fundamentally reflects the historic and contemporary systems of racial stratification in American society.” But this nomenclature also resulted from the race’s self identification attempts. The online Encyclopedia, Wikipedia, suggests that the political consciousness resulting from the social ferment of the late 1960s and early 1970s favored the terms ‘Blacks’ and ‘Afro-American’ above the derogatory ‘Negro’. However, in the 1980s the term ‘African American’, modeled on the term ‘German American’ was advanced and later made popular by the social and political activist the Rev. Jesse Jackson.
The term ‘African American’, Answers.com suggests, was believed to more accurately reflect historical lineage as well as “identity that is rooted in cultural and ethnogeographic origins.” Not only was this term posited to favorably represent racial identity, but its use by health and educational institutions suggests that it was also accepted as a means of racial and social stratification. Few African Americans stop to notice that, but that is not the only thing about this classification that has gone un-noticed:
If the term African American is to be accepted for what it’s worth, then people must agree that it includes every American of African decent. If this argument is accepted, and it should, then all American peoples of African decent must be understood to be and called African Americans.
According to the Heinz Family Philanthropies website, www.hfp.heinz.org, Senator John Kerry’s wife, Teresa Heinz-Kerry is a white African. She was born in Mozambique. Therefore Heinz-Kerry is an African American. And no doubt when she fills in her medical forms she includes that information. But the framers of the term never intended it to include people like her. They were thinking entirely of colored people of African decent.
If this term was not meant to include people like Heinz-Kerry under its classification, then it is a misnomer and suggests that maybe its framers still have work to do. So just who is an African American? The answer is yet to be posited.
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