thenation--2020-11-12--A Plea from Federal Death Row: ‘We Need You to Raise Your Voices’

None of us is promised another day , hour , or even minute .
Here on federal death row , that reality bears down on us harshly .
But Christopher Vialva ’ s execution on September 24 weighs especially heavy on me .
Chris was the seventh prisoner on federal death row whom the administration executed in the last three months , after a 17-year lapse in federal executions .
There are vast differences in my situation and Chris ’ s : I am fighting to prove my innocence , whereas Chris , in the end , told people his @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this video : “ I ’ m not making this plea as an innocent man , but I am a changed and redeemed man.
” Despite those differences , from the moment we met , I saw in Chris something I recognized in myself .
Like Chris , I had been arrested at the age of 19 and sentenced to death at the age of 20 .
At the time of his conviction , Chris was still trying to figure out where he belonged , what he could do , and who he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for a re-trial for Billie Allen was recently signed by authors , activists , athletes and academics , including Danny Glover , Dave Eggers , Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor , Wallace Shawn , Marc Lamont Hill , Exonerated 5 ( formerly Central Park 5 ) , and Michael Bennett .
For more information : www.FreeBillieAllen.com '' I had struggled similarly upon my arrival on death row only a few years prior .
I had been taken from my family for something that I didn ’ t do ; I harbored a lot of anger and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cautioned me not to allow myself to turn into “ the worst of the worst ” —who society thought I was .
He urged me to use every opportunity to do better , to be better .
I taught myself law , worked on my writing skills and , with my family ’ s support , grew into a responsible man , all the while struggling to prove my innocence , battling depression , and later cancer .
I tried to take every opportunity to become a better version of myself than the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through those doors .
I saw the way Chris asked questions and gravitated towards the guys who were a little older than he was , who had been in his shoes and who had gained some wisdom .
I saw someone who was looking for a better way—a reason to be better .
One day , we were with a group of guys on the range , laughing and joking .
The laughter came at the expense of other prisoners .
I didn ’ t want to be part of that , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ well .
I took him aside .
“ Some people need people to laugh at , because it helps them to do their time .
But we have to look at what we do and say , and ask ourselves if we can and should do better.
” Whenever that dynamic repeated itself , Chris would just step back and reflect .
A lot of guys in here see asking for help as a sign of weakness .
That wasn ’ t Chris .
Chris asked me to explain many aspects of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ books about all walks of life .
Chris seemed to soak up knowledge and information , and used it to better himself .
He taught himself Arabic , Hebrew , and how to play guitar .
He practiced his new skills until they became second nature .
And as Chris began to grow , I saw the joy it gave him to help others grow as well , and the reciprocal relationships he developed .
He shared books with me and the other guys .
He taught me Arabic , and I helped @ @ @ @ @ @ @ communicate with French pen pals .
I helped him with his sketching , and he taught me his own unique style of drawing .
Chris helped both older and younger guys—anyone and everyone he could .
He made us want to be better .
I was already pushing myself , but the example Chris set made me want to work even harder .
We held each other accountable by pointing out mistakes the other one was making .
It was always about taking more steps forward than we took steps back .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he said , “ I committed a great wrong when I was a lost kid and took two precious lives from this world… .
every day I wish I could right this wrong.
” Though Chris and I never spoke about the details of our cases , this desire he expressed to right his wrongs was so clear in his actions—clearer than any words could have been .
Chris was eventually able to see himself , not how the jury who convicted him to death saw him , but as his higher @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grown into .
The unit changed and as time passed , Chris and I only saw each other in passing .
We spoke when we could , but it was infrequent , especially these last few years with my illness .
Each time I returned from the hospital , though , I received a message from Chris , asking me how I was doing and letting me know that he was praying for me .
I saw Chris briefly the day before they took him .
I was in the law library with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ innocence as I am .
Chris told us that he loved us .
We said that we loved him too .
In a place like this , where trust and friendship is hard to find , we didn ’ t need a lot of words .
We know each other .
We ’ ve demonstrated that we have one another ’ s back .
And now , Chris is gone .
Another close friend—Orlando Hall—is scheduled to be killed on November 19 , despite the fact that Orlando was never indicted by a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And then , a few weeks back , as I was typing an appeal for my own case , the rattling of keys , chains , and a lot of movement let me know they were here .
They had just taken another friend , Chris ’ s codefendant , Brandon Bernard , as well as Lisa Montgomery to the death-watch range .
And despite DNA , other forensic evidence and an alibi that support my innocence claims , I could be next .
Each morning I wake up with a growing pit @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will be the day they call my name , and I think about Chris .
Doesn ’ t the transformation he underwent count ?
Does who we become matter in the eyes of the world ?
Does innocence ?
I believe innocence does matter , and that redemption is always possible—and I have to hold onto hope that others in our country believe it does as well .
It may be too late for Chris , but it ’ s not yet too late for Orlando , for Lisa , Brandon , for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for me .
We need parents , teachers , students , workers , lawyers , nurses , clergy , everybody and we need you urgently .
We need you to raise your voices against the death penalty—whether implemented by states or the federal government—before we lose another Chris .
Before they come for me .

This article appears in the December 14/21, 2020 issue.
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None of us is promised another day, hour, or even minute. Here on federal death row, that reality bears down on us harshly. But Christopher Vialva’s execution on September 24 weighs especially heavy on me.
Chris was the seventh prisoner on federal death row whom the administration executed since July, after a 17-year lapse in federal executions.
There are vast differences in my situation and Chris’s: I am fighting to prove my innocence, whereas Chris, in the end, told people his story in his own words, in this video: “I’m not making this plea as an innocent man, but I am a changed and redeemed man.”
Despite those differences, from the moment we met, I saw in Chris something I recognized in myself. Like Chris, I had been arrested at the age of 19 and sentenced to death at the age of 20. At the time of his conviction, Chris was still trying to figure out where he belonged, what he could do, and who he could be. An open letter calling for a re-trial for Billie Allen was recently signed by authors, activists, athletes and academics, including Danny Glover, Dave Eggers, Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor, Wallace Shawn, Marc Lamont Hill, Yusef Salaam (from the Exonerated 5), and Michael Bennett. For more information: www.FreeBillieAllen.com"
I had struggled similarly upon my arrival on death row only a few years prior. I had been taken from my family for something that I didn’t do; I harbored a lot of anger and resentment. One of the older guys cautioned me not to allow myself to turn into “the worst of the worst”—who society thought I was. He urged me to use every opportunity to do better, to be better. I taught myself law, worked on my writing skills and, with my family’s support, grew into a responsible man, all the while struggling to prove my innocence, battling depression, and later cancer. I tried to take every opportunity to become a better version of myself than the young, frustrated man who first walked through those doors.
I saw the way Chris asked questions and gravitated towards the guys who were a little older than he was, who had been in his shoes and who had gained some wisdom. I saw someone who was looking for a better way—a reason to be better.
One day, we were with a group of guys on the range, laughing and joking. The laughter came at the expense of other prisoners. I didn’t want to be part of that, and I could tell Chris felt uncomfortable as well. I took him aside. “Some people need people to laugh at, because it helps them to do their time. But we have to look at what we do and say, and ask ourselves if we can and should do better.” Whenever that dynamic repeated itself, Chris would just step back and reflect.
A lot of guys in here see asking for help as a sign of weakness. That wasn’t Chris. Chris asked me to explain many aspects of the law. He asked to borrow my books about all walks of life. Chris seemed to soak up knowledge and information, and used it to better himself. He taught himself Arabic, Hebrew, and how to play guitar. He practiced his new skills until they became second nature. And as Chris began to grow, I saw the joy it gave him to help others grow as well, and the reciprocal relationships he developed. He shared books with me and the other guys. He taught me Arabic, and I helped him learn French, so he could communicate with French pen pals. I helped him with his sketching, and he taught me his own unique style of drawing. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann
Chris helped both older and younger guys—anyone and everyone he could. He made us want to be better. I was already pushing myself, but the example Chris set made me want to work even harder. We held each other accountable by pointing out mistakes the other one was making. It was always about taking more steps forward than we took steps back. Current Issue View our current issue
In the video Chris made before his execution, he said, “I committed a great wrong when I was a lost kid and took two precious lives from this world…. every day I wish I could right this wrong.” Though Chris and I never spoke about the details of our cases, this desire he expressed to right his wrongs was so clear in his actions—clearer than any words could have been. Chris was eventually able to see himself, not how the jury who convicted him to death saw him, but as his higher self. The true self he had grown into.
The unit changed and as time passed, Chris and I only saw each other in passing. We spoke when we could, but it was infrequent, especially these last few years with my illness. Each time I returned from the hospital, though, I received a message from Chris, asking me how I was doing and letting me know that he was praying for me.
I saw Chris briefly the day before they took him. I was in the law library with Dustin Higgs—who is fighting to prove his innocence as I am. Chris told us that he loved us. We said that we loved him too. In a place like this, where trust and friendship is hard to find, we didn’t need a lot of words. We know each other. We’ve demonstrated that we have one another’s back.
And now, Chris is gone. Another close friend—Orlando Hall—is scheduled to be killed on November 19, despite the fact that Orlando was never indicted by a grand jury for a capital offense. And then, a few weeks back, as I was typing an appeal for my own case, the rattling of keys, chains, and a lot of movement let me know they were here. They had just taken another friend, Chris’s codefendant, Brandon Bernard, as well as Lisa Montgomery to the death-watch range. And despite DNA, other forensic evidence and an alibi that support my innocence claims, I could be next.
“America,” a painting by Billie Allen. (Billie Allen)
Each morning I wake up with a growing pit in my stomach, wondering if today will be the day they call my name, and I think about Chris. Doesn’t the transformation he underwent count? Does who we become matter in the eyes of the world? Does innocence?
I believe innocence does matter, and that redemption is always possible—and I have to hold onto hope that others in our country believe it does as well. It may be too late for Chris, but it’s not yet too late for Orlando, for Lisa, Brandon, for the other guys on the row, for me. We need parents, teachers, students, workers, lawyers, nurses, clergy, everybody and we need you urgently. We need you to raise your voices against the death penalty—whether implemented by states or the federal government—before we lose another Chris. Before they come for me.


thenation--2020-11-12--Donald Trump’s Deadly Last Stand

Donald Trump’s Deadly Last Stand

There are now fewer than 70 days to go until the inauguration of Joe Biden as president of the United States .
No matter which candidate you supported in the Democratic primaries , many of us breathed a sigh of relief as the election was called for the former vice president four days after people went to the polls .
As an epidemiologist , watching this pandemic unfold in this country with a ferocity that is still unabated , a weight was lifted off me and others in public health .
Finally , we had actually turned a corner .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ s Covid-19 Task Force , which will put a roster of well-known , solid leaders in health at the table , the prospect of normal competence in our pandemic response was—is—now tantalizingly close .
But then .
President Donald Trump refuses to concede .
He has blocked any transition activities from happening , meaning the usual communications and discussions between incoming and outgoing administration officials isn ’ t occurring .
In ordinary times , this would be a scandal ; no sitting president has refused to concede an election and blocked the transition @ @ @ @ @ @ @ normal times , such petulance would be antidemocratic , putschist .
In a pandemic , when time is of the essence , these delays are catastrophic .
Cases of Covid-19 are skyrocketing in the United States .
On November 10 , we had close to 140,000 new cases—an almost 70 percent increase from the previous two weeks and with cumulative cases now passing the 10 million person threshold .
We ’ re well over 1,000 deaths per day now , too , with close to 1,500 as of November 10 and with cumulative @ @ @ @ @ @ @ women , and children in our country .
We ’ re Never Going Back to Normal Instead of breaking with the president , even as world leaders congratulate Biden on his victory , almost all of the GOP members of Congress , the Republican Party—and our own Russia Today , Fox News—have indulged Trump ’ s antics , risking a protracted stalemate on a transition that drags on for weeks .
Count the dead : 1,000 per day , to be conservative .
In a week , there will be 7,000 dead .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the cold , hard ground .
Many of us have been saying for months that this winter was going to be grim .
Such predictions were not difficult to make in the context of a complete abdication of federal response to the pandemic , with mini-me Republican governors aping Trump ’ s nonchalance around the country .
But although winter doesn ’ t actually start until December , the flood of viral transmission we expected—with cooler weather driving people indoors , with all of us tired , just exhausted and frustrated with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ visible support from our leaders—is here now .
It ’ s not clear people recognize the new danger in our midst .
As the election returns intimated , many Americans have experienced this pandemic as an economic and social disaster—not an epidemiological one .
Many people in the United States still don ’ t know someone who has contracted SARS-CoV-2 , let alone died of Covid-19 .
So even news reports of a viral resurgence aren ’ t having the same effect as the first reports of the pandemic in the late winter @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to shelter in place of their own volition .
Right now , most new infections are happening in small social gatherings at home .
As the holidays approach , as we crave the social connection we ’ ve all missed for most of this year , the chance for the virus to party-crash Thanksgiving , Christmas , Hannukah , Kwanzaa , and New Year ’ s celebrations is high .
Set another chair for SARS-CoV-2 .
As if the last 70 days of the Trump administration couldn ’ t get any worse , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he has no appetite for pandemic relief of any useful size , telling the press : “ I don ’ t think the current situation demands a multi-trillion dollar package .
So I think it should be highly targeted , very similar to what I put on the floor in both October and September.
” McConnell , of course , hasn ’ t crunched the numbers with epidemiologists , physicians , public health experts , or economists at his side .
Most people who actually know anything about the virus and its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a massive relief package is needed right now to put into place the public health measures that the current administration has ignored .
We desperately need to get real , substantial support to ordinary Americans—not to the corporations who dined so well on the last pandemic relief bill .
Of course , McConnell doesn ’ t really care about the pandemic .
He will continue to dance his one-note samba of political destruction , seeking to bring down the other party at all costs , even as the dead from Covid-19 pile up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ruins .
While Trump himself may be gone in January , McConnell has high hopes of still being the majority leader in the Senate .
If he is , the relief many of us in public health felt a few days ago will evaporate .
Yes , Biden can try to do things through executive order , to use the bully pulpit of the presidency to urge Americans to follow public health guidance .
But the scale of the response we need right now to confront the pandemic and its economic and social @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Marshall Plan .
Right now , McConnell is the one thing blocking our road to recovery .
He is even deadlier than a virus .

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There are now fewer than 70 days to go until the inauguration of Joe Biden as president of the United States. No matter which candidate you supported in the Democratic primaries, many of us breathed a sigh of relief as the election was called for the former vice president four days after people went to the polls.
As an epidemiologist, watching this pandemic unfold in this country with a ferocity that is still unabated, a weight was lifted off me and others in public health. Finally, we had actually turned a corner. With the announcement of President-elect Biden’s Covid-19 Task Force, which will put a roster of well-known, solid leaders in health at the table, the prospect of normal competence in our pandemic response was—is—now tantalizingly close.
But then. President Donald Trump refuses to concede. He has blocked any transition activities from happening, meaning the usual communications and discussions between incoming and outgoing administration officials isn’t occurring. In ordinary times, this would be a scandal; no sitting president has refused to concede an election and blocked the transition of power like this. Even in normal times, such petulance would be antidemocratic, putschist.
In a pandemic, when time is of the essence, these delays are catastrophic. Cases of Covid-19 are skyrocketing in the United States. On November 10, we had close to 140,000 new cases—an almost 70 percent increase from the previous two weeks and with cumulative cases now passing the 10 million person threshold. We’re well over 1,000 deaths per day now, too, with close to 1,500 as of November 10 and with cumulative deaths now just over 240,000 men, women, and children in our country. More From Gregg Gonsalves These New Alzheimer’s Drugs Are a Travesty July 27, 2023 It's Not “Unreasonable” to Want to Change Our Rotten Health Care System June 1, 2023 Now More Than Ever, We Need to Fight, Not Despair May 11, 2023
Instead of breaking with the president, even as world leaders congratulate Biden on his victory, almost all of the GOP members of Congress, the Republican Party—and our own Russia Today, Fox News—have indulged Trump’s antics, risking a protracted stalemate on a transition that drags on for weeks. Count the dead: 1,000 per day, to be conservative. In a week, there will be 7,000 dead. In two weeks, 14,000 bodies buried in the cold, hard ground.
Many of us have been saying for months that this winter was going to be grim. Such predictions were not difficult to make in the context of a complete abdication of federal response to the pandemic, with mini-me Republican governors aping Trump’s nonchalance around the country. But although winter doesn’t actually start until December, the flood of viral transmission we expected—with cooler weather driving people indoors, with all of us tired, just exhausted and frustrated with social distancing measures, and with no visible support from our leaders—is here now. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann
It’s not clear people recognize the new danger in our midst. As the election returns intimated, many Americans have experienced this pandemic as an economic and social disaster—not an epidemiological one. Many people in the United States still don’t know someone who has contracted SARS-CoV-2, let alone died of Covid-19. So even news reports of a viral resurgence aren’t having the same effect as the first reports of the pandemic in the late winter last year did, prompting many people to shelter in place of their own volition. Right now, most new infections are happening in small social gatherings at home. As the holidays approach, as we crave the social connection we’ve all missed for most of this year, the chance for the virus to party-crash Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, and New Year’s celebrations is high. Set another chair for SARS-CoV-2. Current Issue View our current issue
As if the last 70 days of the Trump administration couldn’t get any worse, Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell has signaled that he has no appetite for pandemic relief of any useful size, telling the press: “I don’t think the current situation demands a multi-trillion dollar package. So I think it should be highly targeted, very similar to what I put on the floor in both October and September.” McConnell, of course, hasn’t crunched the numbers with epidemiologists, physicians, public health experts, or economists at his side.
Most people who actually know anything about the virus and its downstream economic and social effects recognize that a massive relief package is needed right now to put into place the public health measures that the current administration has ignored. We desperately need to get real, substantial support to ordinary Americans—not to the corporations who dined so well on the last pandemic relief bill.
Of course, McConnell doesn’t really care about the pandemic. He will continue to dance his one-note samba of political destruction, seeking to bring down the other party at all costs, even as the dead from Covid-19 pile up around him and the economy lies in ruins. While Trump himself may be gone in January, McConnell has high hopes of still being the majority leader in the Senate. If he is, the relief many of us in public health felt a few days ago will evaporate.
Yes, Biden can try to do things through executive order, to use the bully pulpit of the presidency to urge Americans to follow public health guidance. But the scale of the response we need right now to confront the pandemic and its economic and social costs is nothing short of a domestic Marshall Plan. Right now, McConnell is the one thing blocking our road to recovery. He is even deadlier than a virus.


thenation--2020-11-12--Jack Halberstam’s Call of the Wild

Jack Halberstam’s Call of the Wild

Jack Halberstam mourns the lost dreams of a wilder future .
Today , few practical people dare imagine a world free from environmental degradation and police terror , a world in which humans do not try to master nature .
The radical Columbia professor ’ s new book maintains that our environmental and carceral crises trace back just six centuries .
As European conquest altered our climate , the state legitimized its violence through colonial ideas of the wild : “ savage otherness , ” “ unspoiled nature , ” and an “ intuitive connection ” to Black criminality .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ slavery , Halberstam argues that we must remake everything .
Wild Things is a deconstruction of the colonial logics of the wild and a reconstruction of the term itself .
How knowledge is produced , classified , and remembered is a common thread throughout Halberstam ’ s work—an oeuvre that includes the groundbreaking Female Masculinity and The Queer Art of Failure .
In Wild Things , Halberstam expands on his almost three decades of thinking about “ subjugated knowledge ” —or , what our culture has discarded .
With this book his goal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” of wildness .
Jumping from the paintings of Cree artist Kent Monkman to animated films like The Secret Life of Pets , Halberstam curates an archive of wildness—what , at one point , he calls “ a record of stolen life ” —that merges anticolonial , anticapitalist , and radical queer interests .
If there is an imperial order of things , the book insists , then there is also a disorder of things : a way of being “ that will not submit to rule , a mode of unknowing , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of life beyond the human.
” Halberstam is at his best when he takes us to unruly places that escape classification .
In a chapter titled “ The Epistemology of the Ferox , ” Halberstam searches for alternative worlds in a group of lonely queer writers intent on becoming falcons .
Their desires to become feral may not be “ nice or right , good or true , ” Halberstam writes , but the inability to fit into a “ tidy homo-hetero binary ” points to realities beyond the constricted boundaries of modern @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thinkers ” who inspired the book , Halberstam urges us to rethink the entanglements of freedom , rule , expert knowledge , and bewilderment .
We talked over the phone the week before the book ’ s release .
Curled up next to me , my house ’ s dog growled softly each time I asked Halberstam a question .
aliah ancini : I want to start by asking about the colonial context that produced the wild in opposition to the modern and civilized .
If the colonial defines the wild , how @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
ack alberstam : That ’ s the question at the heart of this project : Can we take this term “ wildness ” out of the discursive context within which it has been used against people of color , Indigenous people , and queer people , and find in it glimmers of other ways of being and thinking ?
There is a political context within which the recasting of a malign term is a very potent strategy .
Even the category of queer is a reclamation of a term that was intended @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been crafted anew in order to reject the politics of respectability within a lexicon in which queerness was an insult .
My work joins forces with that kind of intellectual operation .
It ’ s not easy to do , I will say that .
It ’ s not as if we are now outside of a world within which civilization or discourse dominates .
We ’ re very much still living with the consequences of the narratives about civilizing orders of things that emanated from colonialism and that continue today to script @ @ @ @ @ @ @ color in particular .
That said , the category of the wild holds within it multitudes .
I tried to explore both the dangerous terrain of the wild and then lay out some of the other scripts that are available if we dig a bit deeper : to produce the category of wildness as a type of terrain within which political meaning is reoriented and reorganized .
TM : And this type of terrain reorients our thinking about queer liberation ?
JH : Totally , but Wild Things is a counterintuitive queer project @ @ @ @ @ @ @ new lineage and then pointing to “ some wild queer people.
” It ’ s more a way of saying that the script of queerness is already a tidying up of an extraordinary range of desires .
Those extraordinary desires are not in and of themselves politically radical , but their exclusion from the narrow swaths of identities and desires that we recognize is symptomatic of a larger system of rule .
Take , for example , my chapter on proto-queer male writers from the middle of the last century who are preoccupied @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just a quirky subculture .
It names a strong desire for the feral or for breaking out of domesticity altogether .
Instead of offering another corner of queerness to explore , I ’ m arguing for a wild relationship to the political : one that is not determined in advance by an identity politics and one that has much larger political ambitions than the folding of LGBTQ people into the status quo .
TM : Instead of making one central claim , the book wanders through different texts and imaginaries of high and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ How would you describe the shape of this book ?
JH : There isn ’ t one central claim , but there are arguments that I keep returning to : one of which is that wildness is not exhausted by it being positioned as the other to civilization , the other is that the interest that humans take in wild animals is not only about domesticating those animals—as we see in the falconry chapter—but also about this fantasy of becoming feral and staying feral .
And while becoming feral is clearly a powerful @ @ @ @ @ @ @ orientation to nonhuman worlds and stands in direct opposition to the practice of pet owning .
People think that they are in relationship to any fragment of the wild by looking at their family dog .
They are sorely mistaken .
What they look at when they look at their family dog is the very evidence of domestication that Euro-American humans have used to quell any kind of unruly entity in the world around them .
Domestication goes hand in hand with heteronormativity , colonialism , and white supremacy , and yet , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ owning offers a route to the nonhuman world .
I ’ m trying to uncover some hard truths here about what is actually wild .
The wild is something other than a deeply scripted relationship between a human and an animal .
The Limits of Trans Representation as We Know It TM : This idea—that pet-owning is part and parcel of today ’ s carceral crisis—is a difficult one for humans to entertain .
JH : Many of us are deeply invested in an abolitionist position that thinks beyond the carceral state , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ our homes .
In that mini-carceral state , you very often find a pet and a child : the two figures that enter the world with a degree of wildness that has to be tamed , domesticated , and trained .
That training is the way in which we keep reproducing the carceral , even as we think we are opposing it .
No one likes to hear that they ’ re potentially complicit in a system they abhor ; no one wants to hear either that their deeply intimate relationship with their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ else .
Humans don ’ t like dogs because they ’ re smart or loyal ; they like them because they ’ re docile and subservient in ways that other animals are not .
Confront that piece of disquieting information when you say “ heel ” or “ sit , ” as opposed to thinking “ Oh , my dog and I are evidence of a cross-species love.
” I ’ m trying to find out how we oppose wildness wherever we find it , even as wildness holds on to a kind @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is a perfect example : You like the animal because it ’ s not human , but you domesticate the animal because it ’ s not human .
TM : There ’ s a great moment , toward the end of the book , where you ask , “ What if we are not the authors of revolution , but the masters who must be overthrown ?
” What would it look like for animals to make a break for freedom ?
JH : The narrative of animal riot is commonplace in Euro-American @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the most obvious—but also the least satisfying because it is allegorical and not really about animals .
The animated film Chicken Run is a smart and amusing fantasy of chicken revolution .
Two more recent animated films focus specifically on the spectacle of revolting pets : the very disappointing Secret Life of Pets and the much more satisfying English version called Flushed Away .
The Secret Life of Pets does actually engage the idea of an animal underground in which animals are literally plotting to overthrow their human masters—and not just that , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ then you find out that the abandoned animals just want love , not riots .
It ’ s so disappointing when you have offered the possibility of an animal uprising !
But there are other films that I mention , like Fantastic Mr. Fox or White God , where animals actually do oppose human rule .
White God is a Hungarian film featuring spectacular scenes of dogs releasing themselves from an animal shelter and running through the street , savaging humans as they take over the town .
That film to me is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shots of dogs just pouring into the street and then running at full tilt , in a way that can only be scary to the human viewer .
That kind of spectacle is the one that has to be suppressed by the pet owner and the animal lover in order to believe that their relationship to the animal is benevolent and good—that the dog/cat/bird actually loves you back !
TM : This connects to your thinking about bewilderment .
A big part of the wild is about getting lost , feeling alone , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ knowledge—rather than acquiring it and classifying it .
JH : Yes .
I frame the book with some analyses of Maurice Sendak ’ s Where the Wild Things Are .
This is a beloved children ’ s book about loss , exploitation , wildness , and bewilderment .
Max , the story ’ s child protagonist , leaves his family home in search of something different , something wilder .
When he finds the wild things , he decides that , rather than being ruled by his parents , he would rather rule @ @ @ @ @ @ @ more satisfying than being ruled .
Sendak ’ s tale opens onto a space of bewilderment where the quest for knowledge only entangles the child in more confusion and alienation .
The question that I ask in the book is whether we can sit in that bewildering space that is neither the space of the sovereign nor the space of the ruled and the governed .
Are there other relationships to power that are held by bewilderment ?
Bewilderment is just a great word , because it conveys a sense of becoming wild @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is a process in which you become wild through not knowing .
TM : You write that this book came out of a shared project with [ the late scholar ] José Muñoz and [ the cultural critic and historian ] Tavia Nyong ’ o .
Can you talk more about this collaboration ?
Can the wild be thought of as a sort of fugitive space for un-imagining the current condition ?
JH : The reason that people are so taken , for example , with Fred Moten and Stefano Harney ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an anthemic book for this political moment—is precisely because it is interested in theorizing fugitive spaces , of what they call Black Study .
Fugitivity itself is the goal rather than the means .
Fugitivity is what you engage in to get to a sort of intellectual openness and curiosity .
This generative power of fugitivity can be expressed in modes of protest .
So you don ’ t read The Undercommons , for example , to pull forward a clear manifesto of what is to be done .
You read it to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to where the wild things are .
Similarly , with Tavia and José , we were all reading works that would loosely be classified as anarchist .
We had watched this amazing film made by Wu Stang , called WILDNESS , which was about a club in Los Angeles that both created a space for queer performance and quickly became overrun by hipsters .
The film offered an early take on gentrification in LA .
We were all thinking about the way in which the regulatory influence of the mainstream just eradicated the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ realized that the category of wildness itself was super useful for thinking outside of some of the very tame politics that had become connected with queerness .
We fantasized that we were going to write a kind of three-way book on wildness that would pull together many of our interests and political goals .
Of course , it never came to pass , because José died tragically young .
In order to keep our shared project alive , Tavia and I published an issue of South Atlantic Quarterly that brought together wild thinkers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ scholar who writes on computer games and empire among other things , and Saidiya Hartman , whose book Wayward Lives has radically changed how people are talking about beauty , experimentation , Blackness , and rebellion .
I think of Wild Things as very much in conversation with a group of wild thinkers who are trying to break with disciplinary thought , break a little bit with the university and its tidy regimes of knowledge-making , and burst into these other spaces—some of which are lyrical , some of which are imaginatively capacious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ some of which are dystopian , and all of which try to change the critical lexicon for political life now .
TM : Where do you find radical thinkers taking these risks ?
JH : I think many people nowadays are looking to art for hints of radical expression , but increasingly people are experimenting with speech , political forms , and scholarly practices .
We ’ re looking to make sense of a disorder of things , a kind of disordering slant that will not bring us into the cozy fold of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ corrupt political framework that we ’ re stuck with right now and that we desperately want to get out of .
The utopian world impulse is no longer world-making ; it is world-unmaking .
For anyone looking around at the political status quo , it is clear that we will not get to a better or more politically exciting framing of potentiality through the mechanisms that are in place right now .
We will have to absolutely dismantle and destroy the world we live in .
In terms of the environment , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ moment , in terms of consolidation of global capitalism , we ’ re in a moment that calls for anarchist dismantling .
Hopefully , what I keep calling the script of wildness is part of that .
TM : Yes—the book ’ s orientation toward unmaking and unbecoming is appropriate for what feels like the end of the world .
JH : All of the thinkers I ’ ve mentioned , plus some of the Afro-Pessimists like Calvin Warren and I would mention Rizvana Bradley here , are saying that the end of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be seeking to bring about .
“ World , ” right now , refers to the consolidation of global capitalism , white supremacy , and colonial domination .
We ’ re in a moment when we do have to unmake worlds .
That ’ s what we saw this past summer , where so many young people went into the streets and took massive risks with their own health to not engage simply in peaceful protest but to tear things down .
In Minneapolis , people were not asking simply for accountability from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to “ defund the police.
” We are calling for the abolition of this particular system of so-called law and order .
If this is law and order , we need disorder .
How will this dismantling happen ?
Well there are many activist groups who are already figuring out how to bring about the end of this world , from Black Lives Matter to the occupation of City Hall in New York City this summer .
These political actions do not have to last for months to be politically effective ; in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ too long , they tend to get lousy with white , male power .
These effective protests prove that the end is nigh .
It ’ s already happening in activist spaces , it ’ s happening in intellectual zones , and it ’ s happening through the efforts of young people who recognize that this political system can not continue .
That ’ s the only thing that encourages me right now : the spectacle of large collaborative groups of young and older people saying no to the political status quo and @ @ @ @ @ @ @

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Jack Halberstam mourns the lost dreams of a wilder future. Today, few practical people dare imagine a world free from environmental degradation and police terror, a world in which humans do not try to master nature. The radical Columbia professor’s new book maintains that our environmental and carceral crises trace back just six centuries. As European conquest altered our climate, the state legitimized its violence through colonial ideas of the wild: “savage otherness,” “unspoiled nature,” and an “intuitive connection” to Black criminality. Living in the ruins of genocide and slavery, Halberstam argues that we must remake everything. Wild Things is a deconstruction of the colonial logics of the wild and a reconstruction of the term itself.
How knowledge is produced, classified, and remembered is a common thread throughout Halberstam’s work—an oeuvre that includes the groundbreaking Female Masculinity and The Queer Art of Failure. In Wild Things, Halberstam expands on his almost three decades of thinking about “subjugated knowledge”—or, what our culture has discarded. With this book his goal is to trace a “counterintuitive terrain” of wildness. Jumping from the paintings of Cree artist Kent Monkman to animated films like The Secret Life of Pets, Halberstam curates an archive of wildness—what, at one point, he calls “a record of stolen life”—that merges anticolonial, anticapitalist, and radical queer interests. If there is an imperial order of things, the book insists, then there is also a disorder of things: a way of being “that will not submit to rule, a mode of unknowing, a resistant ontology, and a fantasy of life beyond the human.”
Halberstam is at his best when he takes us to unruly places that escape classification. In a chapter titled “The Epistemology of the Ferox,” Halberstam searches for alternative worlds in a group of lonely queer writers intent on becoming falcons. Their desires to become feral may not be “nice or right, good or true,” Halberstam writes, but the inability to fit into a “tidy homo-hetero binary” points to realities beyond the constricted boundaries of modern political life. Like the “wild thinkers” who inspired the book, Halberstam urges us to rethink the entanglements of freedom, rule, expert knowledge, and bewilderment.
We talked over the phone the week before the book’s release. Curled up next to me, my house’s dog growled softly each time I asked Halberstam a question.
—Taliah Mancini
T aliah M ancini: I want to start by asking about the colonial context that produced the wild in opposition to the modern and civilized. If the colonial defines the wild, how does the wild exceed its colonial definition?
J ack H alberstam: That’s the question at the heart of this project: Can we take this term “wildness” out of the discursive context within which it has been used against people of color, Indigenous people, and queer people, and find in it glimmers of other ways of being and thinking? There is a political context within which the recasting of a malign term is a very potent strategy. Even the category of queer is a reclamation of a term that was intended as an insult and that has since been crafted anew in order to reject the politics of respectability within a lexicon in which queerness was an insult. My work joins forces with that kind of intellectual operation. It’s not easy to do, I will say that. It’s not as if we are now outside of a world within which civilization or discourse dominates. We’re very much still living with the consequences of the narratives about civilizing orders of things that emanated from colonialism and that continue today to script relationships between white people and people of color in particular. That said, the category of the wild holds within it multitudes. I tried to explore both the dangerous terrain of the wild and then lay out some of the other scripts that are available if we dig a bit deeper: to produce the category of wildness as a type of terrain within which political meaning is reoriented and reorganized. Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Current Issue View our current issue
TM: And this type of terrain reorients our thinking about queer liberation?
JH: Totally, but Wild Things is a counterintuitive queer project. It is not about creating a new lineage and then pointing to “some wild queer people.” It’s more a way of saying that the script of queerness is already a tidying up of an extraordinary range of desires. Those extraordinary desires are not in and of themselves politically radical, but their exclusion from the narrow swaths of identities and desires that we recognize is symptomatic of a larger system of rule. Take, for example, my chapter on proto-queer male writers from the middle of the last century who are preoccupied with falconry. This preoccupation is not just a quirky subculture. It names a strong desire for the feral or for breaking out of domesticity altogether. Instead of offering another corner of queerness to explore, I’m arguing for a wild relationship to the political: one that is not determined in advance by an identity politics and one that has much larger political ambitions than the folding of LGBTQ people into the status quo.
TM: Instead of making one central claim, the book wanders through different texts and imaginaries of high and low culture to make its arguments. How would you describe the shape of this book?
JH: There isn’t one central claim, but there are arguments that I keep returning to: one of which is that wildness is not exhausted by it being positioned as the other to civilization, the other is that the interest that humans take in wild animals is not only about domesticating those animals—as we see in the falconry chapter—but also about this fantasy of becoming feral and staying feral. And while becoming feral is clearly a powerful fantasy, that fantasy masks a deeper orientation to nonhuman worlds and stands in direct opposition to the practice of pet owning. People think that they are in relationship to any fragment of the wild by looking at their family dog. They are sorely mistaken. What they look at when they look at their family dog is the very evidence of domestication that Euro-American humans have used to quell any kind of unruly entity in the world around them. Domestication goes hand in hand with heteronormativity, colonialism, and white supremacy, and yet, for many, many people, pet owning offers a route to the nonhuman world. I’m trying to uncover some hard truths here about what is actually wild. The wild is something other than a deeply scripted relationship between a human and an animal. The Q&A The Limits of Trans Representation as We Know It Tal Milovina Masha Gessen on Trump’s ‘Autocratic Attempt’ on America Stephanie deGooyer To Stop Anti-Trans Legislation, Abolish the Settler State Tal Milovina
TM: This idea—that pet owning is part and parcel of today’s carceral crisis—is a difficult one for humans to entertain.
JH: Many of us are deeply invested in an abolitionist position that thinks beyond the carceral state, but we have created carceral states within our homes. In that mini-carceral state, you very often find a pet and a child: the two figures that enter the world with a degree of wildness that has to be tamed, domesticated, and trained. That training is the way in which we keep reproducing the carceral, even as we think we are opposing it. No one likes to hear that they’re potentially complicit in a system they abhor; no one wants to hear either that their deeply intimate relationship with their animal might in fact reek of something else. Humans don’t like dogs because they’re smart or loyal; they like them because they’re docile and subservient in ways that other animals are not. Confront that piece of disquieting information when you say “heel” or “sit,” as opposed to thinking “Oh, my dog and I are evidence of a cross-species love.” I’m trying to find out how we oppose wildness wherever we find it, even as wildness holds on to a kind of romantic allure. The family pet is a perfect example: You like the animal because it’s not human, but you domesticate the animal because it’s not human.
TM: There’s a great moment, toward the end of the book, where you ask, “What if we are not the authors of revolution, but the masters who must be overthrown?” What would it look like for animals to make a break for freedom?
JH: The narrative of animal riot is commonplace in Euro-American literature. Animal Farm by Orwell is the most obvious—but also the least satisfying because it is allegorical and not really about animals. The animated film Chicken Run is a smart and amusing fantasy of chicken revolution. Two more recent animated films focus specifically on the spectacle of revolting pets: the very disappointing Secret Life of Pets and the much more satisfying English version called Flushed Away. The Secret Life of Pets does actually engage the idea of an animal underground in which animals are literally plotting to overthrow their human masters—and not just that, but to kill them, master them—but then you find out that the abandoned animals just want love, not riots. It’s so disappointing when you have offered the possibility of an animal uprising! But there are other films that I mention, like Fantastic Mr. Fox or White God, where animals actually do oppose human rule. White God is a Hungarian film featuring spectacular scenes of dogs releasing themselves from an animal shelter and running through the street, savaging humans as they take over the town. That film to me is extremely powerful. There are extraordinary eye-level shots of dogs just pouring into the street and then running at full tilt, in a way that can only be scary to the human viewer. That kind of spectacle is the one that has to be suppressed by the pet owner and the animal lover in order to believe that their relationship to the animal is benevolent and good—that the dog/cat/bird actually loves you back!
TM: This connects to your thinking about bewilderment. A big part of the wild is about getting lost, feeling alone, sitting in this counterintuitive space of shedding knowledge—rather than acquiring it and classifying it.
JH: Yes. I frame the book with some analyses of Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. This is a beloved children’s book about loss, exploitation, wildness, and bewilderment. Max, the story’s child protagonist, leaves his family home in search of something different, something wilder. When he finds the wild things, he decides that, rather than being ruled by his parents, he would rather rule the beasts. But this is no more satisfying than being ruled. Sendak’s tale opens onto a space of bewilderment where the quest for knowledge only entangles the child in more confusion and alienation. The question that I ask in the book is whether we can sit in that bewildering space that is neither the space of the sovereign nor the space of the ruled and the governed. Are there other relationships to power that are held by bewilderment? Bewilderment is just a great word, because it conveys a sense of becoming wild. It’s as if there is a process in which you become wild through not knowing.
TM: You write that this book came out of a shared project with [the late scholar] José Muñoz and [the cultural critic and historian] Tavia Nyong’o. Can you talk more about this collaboration? Can the wild be thought of as a sort of fugitive space for un-imagining the current condition?
JH: The reason that people are so taken, for example, with Fred Moten and Stefano Harney’s The Undercommons—why it’s become such an anthemic book for this political moment—is precisely because it is interested in theorizing fugitive spaces, of what they call Black Study. Fugitivity itself is the goal rather than the means. Fugitivity is what you engage in to get to a sort of intellectual openness and curiosity. This generative power of fugitivity can be expressed in modes of protest. So you don’t read The Undercommons, for example, to pull forward a clear manifesto of what is to be done. You read it to engage in wild thinking. You go to where the wild things are. Similarly, with Tavia and José, we were all reading works that would loosely be classified as anarchist. We had watched this amazing film made by Wu Tsang, called WILDNESS, which was about a club in Los Angeles that both created a space for queer performance and quickly became overrun by hipsters. The film offered an early take on gentrification in LA. We were all thinking about the way in which the regulatory influence of the mainstream just eradicated the wildness of that space, and we realized that the category of wildness itself was super useful for thinking outside of some of the very tame politics that had become connected with queerness.
We fantasized that we were going to write a kind of three-way book on wildness that would pull together many of our interests and political goals. Of course, it never came to pass, because José died tragically young. In order to keep our shared project alive, Tavia and I published an issue of South Atlantic Quarterly that brought together wild thinkers like Jodi Byrd, a queer Indigenous scholar who writes on computer games and empire among other things, and Saidiya Hartman, whose book Wayward Lives has radically changed how people are talking about beauty, experimentation, Blackness, and rebellion. I think of Wild Things as very much in conversation with a group of wild thinkers who are trying to break with disciplinary thought, break a little bit with the university and its tidy regimes of knowledge-making, and burst into these other spaces—some of which are lyrical, some of which are imaginatively capacious, some of which are anarchist, some of which are dystopian, and all of which try to change the critical lexicon for political life now.
TM: Where do you find radical thinkers taking these risks?
JH: I think many people nowadays are looking to art for hints of radical expression, but increasingly people are experimenting with speech, political forms, and scholarly practices. We’re looking to make sense of a disorder of things, a kind of disordering slant that will not bring us into the cozy fold of political consciousness but that will shatter this corrupt political framework that we’re stuck with right now and that we desperately want to get out of. The utopian world impulse is no longer world-making; it is world-unmaking. For anyone looking around at the political status quo, it is clear that we will not get to a better or more politically exciting framing of potentiality through the mechanisms that are in place right now. We will have to absolutely dismantle and destroy the world we live in. In terms of the environment, in terms of the political corruption of our moment, in terms of consolidation of global capitalism, we’re in a moment that calls for anarchist dismantling. Hopefully, what I keep calling the script of wildness is part of that.
TM: Yes—the book’s orientation toward unmaking and unbecoming is appropriate for what feels like the end of the world.
JH: All of the thinkers I’ve mentioned, plus some of the Afro-Pessimists like Calvin Warren and I would mention Rizvana Bradley here, are saying that the end of the world is something that we should be seeking to bring about. “World,” right now, refers to the consolidation of global capitalism, white supremacy, and colonial domination. We’re in a moment when we do have to unmake worlds. That’s what we saw this past summer, where so many young people went into the streets and took massive risks with their own health to not engage simply in peaceful protest but to tear things down. In Minneapolis, people were not asking simply for accountability from the police, instead the call was to “defund the police.” We are calling for the abolition of this particular system of so-called law and order. If this is law and order, we need disorder.
How will this dismantling happen? Well there are many activist groups who are already figuring out how to bring about the end of this world, from Black Lives Matter to the occupation of City Hall in New York City this summer. These political actions do not have to last for months to be politically effective; in fact, when they do last for too long, they tend to get lousy with white, male power. These effective protests prove that the end is nigh. It’s already happening in activist spaces, it’s happening in intellectual zones, and it’s happening through the efforts of young people who recognize that this political system cannot continue. That’s the only thing that encourages me right now: the spectacle of large collaborative groups of young and older people saying no to the political status quo and actively working towards a wilder future.


thenation--2020-11-12--‘We Won’t Quit Until We Stop It’

‘We Won’t Quit Until We Stop It’

aha , kinawa—Every day except weekends , holidays , and typhoon days , even in the pandemic , charter buses leave from Naha and other cities on this island to transport protesters to three locations in the north , where the Japanese government is trying to build a super airbase for the US Marines .
One location is Shirakawa , on the Pacific Ocean side of the island , where the government ’ s Okinawa Defense Bureau is tearing down a mountain and loading it into dump trucks .
There , protesters delay the work by standing in front of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the nearby Awa Pier , where the mountain-become-dirt is loaded onto small cargo ships .
There , by milling around on the sidewalk at the gate where there ’ s a traffic light , protesters reduce the number of trucks entering the area to one per green light .
This reduces the number of ships that depart each day .
In the water , the ships are further delayed by a brave fleet of sea-kayakers , who crowd around the bow of each ship until they are hauled away .
Once free of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the East China Sea side of the island , to Cape Henoko , site of the US Marines ’ Camp Schwab , and dump the dirt into the sea as landfill to support the airstrip that is planned to cut across the cape and stick out into the sea on both sides , wreaking ecocatastrophe on the coral garden there .
Another team of kayakers meets them , delaying the process still more .
The third charter bus destination is the gate on the inland side of Camp Schwab , where a daily @ @ @ @ @ @ @ trucks—cement trucks , trucks carrying building materials , and dump trucks carrying more dirt from nearby locations—that enter the construction site in the form of three convoys of 200–300 vehicles a day , even during the pandemic .
Okinawa was a peaceful independent kingdom until Japan seized it in the same historical era that the United States seized Puerto Rico .
Legally , Okinawans are Japanese ; culturally , they are a colonized indigenous people .
Occupying 0.6 percent of Japanese territory , they are stuck with more than 70 percent of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ situation they call structural discrimination .
Okinawan conservatives and progressives are united in opposing the construction of yet another base .
A Walk in the Woods During a Season of Uncertainty ‘ Why Tell Me That We ’ re Safer Here ?
’ Labor , Land , and Legacy : What New Might We Grow in the Shell of the Old ?
More in this series The protesters are mostly retired people .
It makes sense .
Direct action targeting construction needs to be carried out during working hours .
Also , people @ @ @ @ @ @ @ need to worry about getting fired .
But more than that , most of these folks remember the Battle of Okinawa or the devastation that came after , and see this as their last chance to put their hatred of war into the form of a concrete achievement .
Asked why they think they can win against the combined force of the US and Japanese governments , their fixed answer is “ Because we won ’ t quit until we do.
” Last week , I took the Wednesday bus to Henoko .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ bit down from the previous average of around 20 , probably because of Covid , but the reduced number made it easier to keep our distance .
The mood was good , with lots of happy greetings .
These people enjoy one another ’ s company and love having something meaningful to do each day .
The 90-minute drive was spent listening to self-introductions from three who ’ d come down from mainland Japan ( these buses have mics ) , discussing politics , exchanging information , and singing .
H-san , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her usual bubbly self , alternating between humor and anger as she talked about Japan ’ s new prime minister .
Her punch line : “ As for being Japanese , I resign .
I ’ m Okinawan !
” C-san , an eloquent raconteur who always sits in the left rear seat , talked ( half in Japanese , half in the Okinawan language ) about why he is confident the airbase will never get built : The sea bottom on the northern side of Cape Henoko is unstable slime—mayonnaise , they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ airstrip .
T-san , who specializes in irony and black humor , got lots of laughs .
The Henoko action , including the bus ride , has been called Henoko University .
A few months ago , Covid appeared inside the construction site , and work was shut down briefly .
When it resumed , the question at the gate became how both the protesters and the riot policemen could carry out their respective roles while observing social distancing rules .
This was the 2,313th day of the sit-in .
Our job at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ others who ’ d come on different buses , was to delay the second and the third of that day ’ s truck convoys .
In the past , the interaction between police and protesters was pretty rough , especially when most of the riot police were from mainland Japan .
In those days there was a lot of anger on both sides .
Nonviolence resembled that of a rugby match—no hitting but lots of pushing and shoving .
Now most of the Japanese have been sent home .
The remaining Okinawan riot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than any humans on earth .
Most of those speeches are delivered by women , who must remind them of their mothers or grandmothers .
That , plus the adamant nonviolence of the protesters , has had its effect .
The action has come to look less and less like rugby .
It ’ s quite something to see .
With a convoy of a couple hundred trucks halted on the highway , the officer in charge of this police unit—who has become pretty friendly toward the protesters—repeats through his bullhorn that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ move aside .
From time to time , he looks at his watch .
The sit-inners continue speech-making and singing .
The riot police stand silently , waiting for the order .
After 15 or 20 minutes , he gives it—not to carry protesters away , but to ask them politely .
This the riot police do , one by one .
The protesters refuse , and refuse , and refuse again , but when the policemen make as if to pick them up , they stand up and amble to the side @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of conflict may not be exciting , and it slows down the delivery by only about 20 minutes .
But repeated three times , that ’ s one lost hour a day .
More important , the sit-in deprives the builders of free access to the gate and the efficiency of just-in-time deliveries ; it forces them to organize convoys and protect them with hundreds of police .
Through the repetition of these protest tactics , combined with refusal of the Prefectural Government to issue permits , refusal of the City of Nago @ @ @ @ @ @ @ controls , and many lawsuits and protests from environmentalists , the cost estimate has tripled , the target date has been postponed by more than a decade , and many people—including some in the US Congress—believe ( or worry , in the case of the Congresspeople ) that the thing will never get done .
Scenes From a Pandemic is a collaboration between The Nation and Kopkind , a living memorial to radical journalist Andrew Kopkind , who from 1982–94 was the magazine ’ s chief political writer and analyst .
This series @ @ @ @ @ @ @ network of participants , advisers , guests , and friends is edited by Nation contributor and Kopkind program director JoAnn Wypijewski , and appears weekly on thenation.com and kopkind.org .

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N aha, O kinawa—Every day except weekends, holidays, and typhoon days, even in the pandemic, charter buses leave from Naha and other cities on this island to transport protesters to three locations in the north, where the Japanese government is trying to build a super airbase for the US Marines.
One location is Shiokawa, on the East China Sea side of the island, where the government’s Okinawa Defense Bureau is tearing down a mountain and loading it into dump trucks. There, protesters delay the work by standing in front of the trucks. The second location is the nearby Awa Pier, where the mountain-become-dirt is loaded onto small cargo ships. There, by milling around on the sidewalk at the gate where there’s a traffic light, protesters reduce the number of trucks entering the area to one per green light. This reduces the number of ships that depart each day. In the water, the ships are further delayed by a brave fleet of sea-kayakers, who crowd around the bow of each ship until they are hauled away. Once free of the kayakers, the ships sail to the Pacific Ocean side of the island, to Cape Henoko, site of the US Marines’ Camp Schwab, and dump the dirt into the sea as landfill to support the airstrip that is planned to cut across the cape and stick out into the sea on both sides, wreaking ecocatastrophe on the coral garden there. Another team of kayakers meets them, delaying the process still more.
The third charter bus destination is the gate on the inland side of Camp Schwab, where a daily sit-in slows down the huge fleets of trucks—cement trucks, trucks carrying building materials, and dump trucks carrying more dirt from nearby locations—that enter the construction site in the form of three convoys of 200–300 vehicles a day, even during the pandemic.
Okinawa was a peaceful independent kingdom until Japan seized it in the same historical era that the United States seized Puerto Rico. Legally, Okinawans are Japanese; culturally, they are a colonized indigenous people. Occupying 0.6 percent of Japanese territory, they are stuck with more than 70 percent of the US military installations in Japan, a situation they call structural discrimination. Okinawan conservatives and progressives are united in opposing the construction of yet another base. Scenes From a Pandemic Untethered, or The Year of Living Virtually Patricia J. Williams The Art of the Meal Mary Lewis Maybe We Shouldn’t Go Back to Normal Bri M.
The protesters are mostly retired people. It makes sense. Direct action targeting construction needs to be carried out during working hours. Also, people living on retirement incomes don’t need to worry about getting fired. But more than that, most of these folks remember the Battle of Okinawa or the devastation that came after, and see this as their last chance to put their hatred of war into the form of a concrete achievement. Asked why they think they can win against the combined force of the US and Japanese governments, their fixed answer is “Because we won’t quit until we do.” Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann Popular "swipe left below to view more authors"Swipe → The Evisceration of a Public University The Evisceration of a Public University Lisa M. Corrigan The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks The Patronizing Moralism of David Brooks Chris Lehmann “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash “The Blind Side” Was Always Trash Dave Zirin How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection How the “Brooks Brothers Riot” Set the Stage for Insurrection Chris Lehmann
Last week, I took the Wednesday bus to Henoko. Fifteen people were on it, a bit down from the previous average of around 20, probably because of Covid, but the reduced number made it easier to keep our distance.
The mood was good, with lots of happy greetings. These people enjoy one another’s company and love having something meaningful to do each day. The 90-minute drive was spent listening to self-introductions from three who’d come down from mainland Japan (these buses have mics), discussing politics, exchanging information, and singing. H-san, who presides over the Wednesday bus, was her usual bubbly self, alternating between humor and anger as she talked about Japan’s new prime minister. Her punch line: “As for being Japanese, I resign. I’m Okinawan!” C-san, an eloquent raconteur who always sits in the left rear seat, talked (half in Japanese, half in the Okinawan language) about why he is confident the airbase will never get built: The sea bottom on the northern side of Cape Henoko is unstable slime—mayonnaise, they call it—and will never support a concrete airstrip. T-san, who specializes in irony and black humor, got lots of laughs. The Henoko action, including the bus ride, has been called Henoko University. Current Issue View our current issue
A few months ago, Covid appeared inside the construction site, and work was shut down briefly. When it resumed, the question at the gate became how both the protesters and the riot policemen could carry out their respective roles while observing social distancing rules.
This was the 2,313th day of the sit-in. Our job at the gate, together with several dozen others who’d come on different buses, was to delay the second and the third of that day’s truck convoys. In the past, the interaction between police and protesters was pretty rough, especially when most of the riot police were from mainland Japan. In those days there was a lot of anger on both sides. Nonviolence resembled that of a rugby match—no hitting but lots of pushing and shoving. Now most of the Japanese have been sent home. The remaining Okinawan riot police have probably heard more anti-Henoko-base speeches than any humans on earth. Most of those speeches are delivered by women, who must remind them of their mothers or grandmothers. That, plus the adamant nonviolence of the protesters, has had its effect. The action has come to look less and less like rugby.
It’s quite something to see. With a convoy of a couple hundred trucks halted on the highway, the officer in charge of this police unit—who has become pretty friendly toward the protesters—repeats through his bullhorn that the sit-inners are violating traffic law and must move aside. From time to time, he looks at his watch. The sit-inners continue speech-making and singing. The riot police stand silently, waiting for the order. After 15 or 20 minutes, he gives it—not to carry protesters away, but to ask them politely. This the riot police do, one by one. The protesters refuse, and refuse, and refuse again, but when the policemen make as if to pick them up, they stand up and amble to the side.
This slow-motion, spatially distant enactment of conflict may not be exciting, and it slows down the delivery by only about 20 minutes. But repeated three times, that’s one lost hour a day. More important, the sit-in deprives the builders of free access to the gate and the efficiency of just-in-time deliveries; it forces them to organize convoys and protect them with hundreds of police. Through the repetition of these protest tactics, combined with refusal of the Prefectural Government to issue permits, refusal of the City of Nago to allow construction work on land it controls, and many lawsuits and protests from environmentalists, the cost estimate has tripled, the target date has been postponed by more than a decade, and many people—including some in the US Congress—believe (or worry, in the case of the Congresspeople) that the thing will never get done.
Scenes From a Pandemic is a collaboration between The Nation and Kopkind, a living memorial to radical journalist Andrew Kopkind, who from 1982–94 was the magazine’s chief political writer and analyst. This series of dispatches from Kopkind’s far-flung network of participants, advisers, guests, and friends is edited by Nation contributor and Kopkind program director JoAnn Wypijewski, and appears weekly on thenation.com and kopkind.org.