Richard Milhous Nixon

Richard Milhous Nixon was born in Yorba Linda, Calif., on Jan. 9, 1913, to Midwestern-bred parents, Francis A. and Hannah Milhous Nixon, who raised their five sons as Quakers. Nixon was a high school debater and was undergraduate president at Whittier College in California, where he was graduated in 1934. As a scholarship student at Duke University Law School in North Carolina, he graduated third in his class in 1937.

After five years as a lawyer, Nixon joined the navy in August 1942. He was an air transport officer in the South Pacific and a legal officer stateside before his discharge in 1946 as a lieutenant commander.

Running for Congress in California as a Republican in 1946, Nixon defeated Rep. Jerry Voorhis. As a member of the House Un-American Activities Committee, he made a name as an investigator of Alger Hiss, a former high State Department official, who was later jailed for perjury. In 1950, Nixon defeated Rep. Helen Gahagan Douglas, a Democrat, for the Senate. He was criticized for portraying her as a Communist dupe.

Nixon's anti-Communism ideals, his Western roots, and his youth figured into his selection in 1952 to run for vice president on the ticket headed by Dwight D. Eisenhower. Demands for Nixon's withdrawal followed disclosure that California businessmen had paid some of his Senate office expenses. His televised rebuttal, known as �the Checkers speech� (named for a cocker spaniel given to the Nixons), brought him support from the public and from Eisenhower. The ticket won easily in 1952 and again in 1956.

Eisenhower gave Nixon substantive assignments, including missions to 56 countries. In Moscow in 1959, Nixon won acclaim for his defense of U.S. interests in an impromptu �kitchen debate� with Soviet premier Nikita S. Khrushchev.

Nixon lost the 1960 race for the presidency to John F. Kennedy.

In 1962, Nixon failed in a bid for California's governorship and seemed to be finished as a national candidate. He became a Wall Street lawyer, but kept his old party ties and developed new ones through constant travels to speak for Republicans.

Nixon won the 1968 Republican presidential nomination after a shrewd primary campaign, then made Gov. Spiro T. Agnew of Maryland his surprise choice for vice president. In the election, they edged out the Democratic ticket headed by Vice President Hubert H. Humphrey by 510,314 votes out of 73,212,065 cast.

Committed to winding down the U.S. role in the Vietnamese War, Nixon pursued �Vietnamization��training and equipping South Vietnamese to do their own fighting. American ground combat forces in Vietnam fell steadily from 540,000 when Nixon took office to none in 1973 when the military draft was ended. But there was heavy continuing use of U.S. air power.

Nixon improved relations with Moscow and reopened the long-closed door to mainland China with a good-will trip there in Feb. 1972. In May of that same year, he visited Moscow and signed agreements on arms limitation and trade expansion and approved plans for a joint U.S.�Soviet space mission in 1975.

Inflation was a campaign issue for Nixon, but he failed to master it as president. On Aug. 15, 1971, with unemployment edging up, Nixon abruptly announced a new economic policy: a 90-day wage-price freeze, stimulative tax cuts, a temporary 10% tariff, and spending cuts. A second phase, imposing guidelines on wage, price, and rent boosts, was announced Oct. 7.

The economy responded in time for the 1972 campaign, in which Nixon played up his foreign-policy achievements. Played down was the burglary on June 17, 1972, of Democratic national headquarters in the Watergate apartment complex in Washington. The Nixon�Agnew reelection campaign cost a record $60 million and swamped the Democratic ticket headed by Sen. George McGovern of South Dakota with a plurality of 17,999,528 out of 77,718,554 votes. Only Massachusetts, with 14 electoral votes, and the District of Columbia, with 3, went for McGovern.

In Jan. 1973, hints of a cover-up emerged at the trial of six men found guilty of the Watergate burglary. With a Senate investigation under way, Nixon announced on April 30 the resignations of his top aides, H. R. Haldeman and John D. Ehrlichman, and the dismissal of White House counsel John Dean III. Dean was the star witness at televised Senate hearings that exposed both a White House cover-up of Watergate and massive illegalities in Republican fund-raising in 1972.

The hearings also disclosed that Nixon had routinely tape-recorded his office meetings and telephone conversations.

On Oct. 10, 1973, Agnew resigned as vice president, then pleaded no-contest to a negotiated federal charge of evading income taxes on alleged bribes. Two days later, Nixon nominated the House minority leader, Rep. Gerald R. Ford of Michigan, as the new vice president. Congress confirmed Ford on Dec. 6, 1973.

In June 1974, Nixon visited Israel and four Arab nations. Then he met in Moscow with Soviet leader Leonid I. Brezhnev and reached preliminary nuclear arms limitation agreements.

But, in the month after his return, Watergate ended the Nixon regime. On July 24 the Supreme Court ordered Nixon to surrender subpoenaed tapes. On July 30, the Judiciary Committee referred three impeachment articles to the full membership. On Aug. 5, Nixon bowed to the Supreme Court and released tapes showing he halted an FBI probe of the Watergate burglary six days after it occurred. It was in effect an admission of obstruction of justice, and impeachment appeared inevitable.

Nixon resigned on Aug. 9, 1974, the first president ever to do so. A month later, President Ford issued an unconditional pardon for any offenses Nixon might have committed as president, thus forestalling possible prosecution.

In 1940, Nixon married Thelma Catherine (Pat) Ryan. They had two daughters, Patricia (Tricia) and Julie, who married Dwight David Eisenhower II, grandson of the former president.

He died on April 22, 1994, in New York City of a massive stroke.

Source: Richard Milhous Nixon

Symbols of the United States

The Great Seal of the U.S.

On July 4, 1776, the Continental Congress appointed a committee consisting of Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson "to bring in a device for a seal of the United States of America." After many delays, a verbal description of a design by William Barton was finally approved by Congress on June 20, 1782. The seal shows an American bald eagle with a ribbon in its mouth bearing the device E pluribus unum (One out of many).
In its talons are the arrows of war and an olive branch of peace. On the reverse side it shows an unfinished pyramid with an eye (the eye of Providence) above it. Although this description was adopted in 1782, the first drawing was not made until four years later, and no die has ever been cut.

The U.S. Flag

In 1777 the Continental Congress decided that the flag would have 13 alternating red and white stripes, for the 13 colonies, and 13 white stars on a blue background. A new star has been added for every new state. Today the flag has 50 stars.

Bald Eagle

The bald eagle has been our national bird since 1782. The Founding Fathers had been unable to agree on which native bird should have the honor-Benjamin Franklin strongly preferred the turkey! Besides appearing on the Great Seal, the bald eagle is also pictured on coins, the $1 bill, all official U.S. seals, and the President's flag.

Uncle Sam

The image of Uncle Sam, with his white hair and top hat, first became famous on World War I recruiting posters. The artist, James Montgomery Flagg, used himself as a model. But the term dates back to the War of 1812, when a meat-packer nicknamed Uncle Sam supplied beef to the troops. The initials for his nickname were quite appropriate!

Source: Symbols of the United States

History of the American Flag

According to popular legend, the first American flag was made by Betsy Ross, a Philadelphia seamstress who was acquainted with George Washington, leader of the Continental Army, and other influential Philadelphians. In May 1776, so the story goes, General Washington and two representatives from the Continental Congress visited Ross at her upholstery shop and showed her a rough design of the flag. Although Washington initially favored using a star with six points, Ross advocated for a five-pointed star, which could be cut with just one quick snip of the scissors, and the gentlemen were won over.

Unfortunately, historians have never been able to verify this charming version of events, although it is known that Ross made flags for the navy of Pennsylvania. The story of Washington's visit to the flagmaker became popular about the time of the country's first centennial, after William Canby, a grandson of Ross, told about her role in shaping U.S. history in a speech given at the Philadelphia Historical Society in March 1870.

What is known is that the first unofficial national flag, called the Grand Union Flag or the Continental Colours, was raised at the behest of General Washington near his headquarters outside Boston, Mass., on Jan. 1, 1776. The flag had 13 alternating red and white horizontal stripes and the British Union Flag (a predecessor of the Union Jack) in the canton. Another early flag had a rattlesnake and the motto �Don't Tread on Me.�

The first official national flag, also known as the Stars and Stripes, was approved by the Continental Congress on June 14, 1777. The blue canton contained 13 stars, representing the original 13 colonies, but the layout varied. Although nobody knows for sure who designed the flag, it may have been Continental Congress member Francis Hopkinson.

After Vermont and Kentucky were admitted to the Union in 1791 and 1792, respectively, two more stars and two more stripes were added in 1795. This 15-star, 15-stripe flag was the �star-spangled banner� that inspired lawyer Francis Scott Key to write the poem that later became the U.S. national anthem.

In 1818, after five more states had gained admittance, Congress passed legislation fixing the number of stripes at 13 and requiring that the number of stars equal the number of states. The last new star, bringing the total to 50, was added on July 4, 1960, after Hawaii became a state.

Read more: History of the American Flag

Noam Chamsky

Chomsky, Noam (nom chom'ske) [key], 1928�, educator and linguist, b. Philadelphia. Chomsky, who has taught at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology since 1955, developed a theory of transformational (sometimes called generative or transformational-generative) grammar that revolutionized the scientific study of language.

He first set out his abstract analysis of language in his doctoral dissertation (1955) and Syntactic Structures (1957). Instead of starting with minimal sounds, as the structural linguists had done, Chomsky began with the rudimentary or primitive sentence; from this base he developed his argument that innumerable syntactic combinations can be generated by means of a complex series of rules.

According to transformational grammar, every intelligible sentence conforms not only to grammatical rules peculiar to its particular language, but also to �deep structures,� a universal grammar underlying all languages and corresponding to an innate capacity of the human brain. Chomsky and other linguists who built on his work formulated transformational rules, which transform a sentence with a given grammatical structure (e.g., �John saw Mary�) into a sentence with a different grammatical structure but the same essential meaning (�Mary was seen by John�). Transformational linguistics has been influential in psycholinguistics, particularly in the study of language acquisition by children.

In the 1990s Chomsky formulated a �Minimalist Program� in an attempt to simplify the symbolic representations of the language facility. Chomsky is a prolific author whose principal linguistic works after Syntactic Structures include Current Issues in Linguistic Theory (1964), The Sound Pattern of English (with Morris Halle, 1968), Language and Mind (1972), Studies on Semantics in Generative Grammar (1972), Knowledge of Language (1986), Language and Thought (1993), and Architecture of Language (2000).

Chomsky also has wide-ranging political interests. An early and outspoken critic of U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War and a vociferous opponent of the Iraq war, he has written extensively on many political issues from a generally left-wing point of view. Among his political writings are American Power and the New Mandarins (1969), Peace in the Middle East? (1974), Manufacturing Consent (with E. S. Herman, 1988), Profit over People (1998), Rogue States (2000), Hegemony or Survival (2003), and Failed States (2006). Chomsky's controversial bestseller 9-11 (2002) is an analysis of the World Trade Center attack that, while denouncing the atrocity of the event, traces its origins to the actions and power of the United States.

See biography by R. F. Barsky (1997); interviews with D. Barsamian (1992, 1994, 1996, and 2001); studies by F. D'Agostino (1985), C. P. Otero (1988 and 1998), R. Salkie (1990), M. Achbar, ed. (1994), M. Rai (1995), V. J. Cook (1996), P. Wilkin (1997), J. McGilvray (1999), N. V. Smith (1999), A. Edgley (2000), and H. Lasnik (2000); Manufacturing Consent: Noam Chomsky and the Media (film by P. Wintonick and M. Achbar, 1992) and Power and Terror: Noam Chomsky in Our Times (documentary film dir. by J. Junkerman, 2002).

Aceh under Martial Law: Unnecessary and Dangerous Restrictions on International Humanitarian Access

A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper | September 2003

Introduction
While the world's attention on Indonesia has been focused on the terror trials of the Bali bombers, Indonesia has also been prosecuting a largely hidden war in the northwest province of Aceh. This war has been taking place off the front pages of the world's press and out of reach of human rights or even most humanitarian workers. Since Indonesia restarted hostilities on May 19, Indonesia's military has essentially sealed Aceh off from the world--and its people from urgently needed assistance. The Indonesian government has barred all independent witnesses from observing its four-month old campaign against a long-standing insurgency, obscuring the extent of the war's human casualties.

Human Rights Watch believes that the current information vacuum, caused by restrictions on Indonesian observers and the closing of the province to independent international observers, foreign correspondents, diplomats, and international human rights organizations, may be hiding a humanitarian crisis, or at least warning signs of an impending disaster.

Since the beginning of the campaign the government has tightly controlled information about the war in Aceh and its impact on Aceh's residents. The Indonesian government has restricted not just the international media, but also U.N. agencies and international nongovernmental organizations from access to areas outside of Banda Aceh, the provincial capital. It is also increasingly placing obstacles in the way of humanitarian assistance, such as by restricting access of international humanitarian staff to Aceh.

The trickle of information leaking out of the province suggests that thousands of Acehnese civilians have been forced to flee their homes to escape the conflict or to seek food and shelter. Residents who remain in their homes are subjected to shortages of food, water, and sanitation, and breakdowns in basic services such as health care and education.

The military operation in Aceh is Indonesia's largest military campaign since Indonesia invaded East Timor (newly independent after Portuguese rule) in 1975. The campaign in Aceh involves an estimated 30,000 troops in a much-publicized "integrated" operation combining military, humanitarian, law enforcement, and local governance measures. Opposing them are an estimated five thousand armed members of the Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka or GAM). In an attempt to resolve the ongoing conflict, on December 9, 2002, the government of Indonesia and GAM signed a ceasefire agreement known as the Cessation of Hostilities Agreement. Six months later the tenuous ceasefire ended when the Indonesian government launched a major new military offensive in Aceh.

The Indonesian government initially suggested that martial law and the military operation would last six months. However, it is now clear that this will not be the case, and the war may drag on for some time, with or without the legal mandate of a military emergency. In September, the commander of Indonesia's armed forces, General Endriartono Sutarto, told a legislative committee in Jakarta that the military operation will last as long as the government believes GAM poses a security threat.¹ In previous statements General Sutarto has commented that this could take up to ten years.² Indonesian Coordinating Minister for Security and Political Affairs, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, once a proponent of peace talks with Aceh's rebel movement, has recently stated that if the government did not reach its security targets after six months then it would extend the martial law.³ The government is now undertaking a one-month evaluation of the campaign to assess whether or not martial law should be extended.

The conflict in Aceh between GAM and the government of Indonesia has been raging for over two decades. The conflict has been marked by the long-term displacement of thousands of civilians and a war in which both sides have violated international human rights and humanitarian law with impunity. Human Rights Watch has documented serious abuses by government forces and, increasingly, by GAM in a series of reports over the last decade.⁴

Restrictions on International Aid under Martial Law
Since the collapse of the ceasefire in Aceh, and the subsequent declaration of martial law, U.N. agencies and international nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) in the province, in consultation with donors, have directed their efforts towards meeting the immediate needs for food, clean water, and shelter of those affected by the current conflict. However, international humanitarian bodies have been severely restricted in their ability to distribute or monitor the distribution of aid, due to new government regulations, ambiguity over the implementation of the new regulations, and ongoing security concerns.

On June 16, 2003, the Indonesian government issued Presidential Decree No. 43 of 2003, concerning "The Arrangement of Activities of Foreigners, Non-Government Organisations and the Press in Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province."⁵ This decree states in section 2 that:

1. International and local non-governmental organisations are not allowed to conduct activities contrary to the objectives of the Military Emergency Conditions in Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province. 2. Humanitarian assistance from friendly countries, international bodies, and international and local non-governmental organisations in Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province are co-ordinated by the Co-ordinating Minister of Social Welfare on behalf of the President as the Central Military Emergency Authority.⁶

Despite the decree's vague reference to "activities contrary to the objectives of the Military Emergency Conditions," the martial law administration has made it clear that it interprets this clause to mean that no international personnel from the U.N. or international NGOs may travel outside of the capital. Moreover, the reference in the second clause to "coordination" by the Minister of Social Welfare has been used by the government to require that all relief supplies bound for the countryside of Aceh be distributed by government agencies alone.

On June 27, 2003, the Resident U.N. Coordinator and Humanitarian Coordinator in Jakarta, Bo Asplund, wrote to the Coordinating Minister of People's Welfare, Jusuf Kalla, requesting letters permitting all international U.N. and NGO staff to resume their activities throughout Aceh. To date those letters have not been forthcoming.

Blue Books
The Ministry of Justice and Human Rights on June 30, 2003, issued a ministerial decree outlining the procedure for access to Aceh by international humanitarian actors.⁷ This introduced what is essentially an internal visa system for Aceh province, applicable to international aid workers and foreign correspondents. Under this so-called "blue book" procedure, no access to Aceh is allowed without a pre-approved blue book, with its relevant Jakarta authorization.⁸

In compliance with the blue book procedure, international staff workers left Banda Aceh for Jakarta to obtain the new blue books required for access to Aceh, on the understanding that it would allow them greater access to the province. On August 8, 2003, Asplund met with the Coordinating Minister of Social Welfare, Jusuf Kalla, who told him that only Indonesian national staff of U.N. agencies and international NGOs would now be allowed outside of Banda Aceh and that full access for others would rest with the discretion of the martial law administrator in Banda Aceh. This was in contradiction to the previous understanding that international blue book bearers would have full access to the province.⁹

To date, only two international staff members of U.N. agencies have received blue books to go to Banda Aceh. Both of these have subsequently expired, and only one has been renewed. No international staff persons from international NGOs have yet been issued a blue book permit. In protest over the new blue book procedures, the International Committee of the Red Cross closed its office in Banda Aceh, and withdrew all international staff.

The government of Indonesia has repeatedly stated that the restriction of access for foreigners is directly related to security concerns. Specifically, the government has emphasized that it does not want a repeat of the incident at Atambua, West Timor, when militias killed three international U.N. staff in 2000.¹⁰ A government may take appropriate steps to ensure the safety of civilians in or near combat zones. However, many international aid workers have taken the government's references to Atambua as a warning aimed to keep them out of Aceh, rather than as a statement of the government's concern for their security. In light of these fears, it is incumbent on Indonesian authorities to clarify its position to the aid community.

Under international law the Indonesian government is responsible for ensuring secure access for international humanitarian assistance. In a statement issued on May 29, the U.N. secretary-general called on the Indonesian government to "ensure the necessary security conditions to allow international aid organizations safe and unhindered access to affected populations."¹¹ On June 20, in a briefing to the Security Council on the protection of civilians in armed conflict, the U.N. Under-Secretary-General Kenzo Oshima noted his concern at "recent policies of the Indonesian Government suggesting constraints on the delivery of international humanitarian assistance" in Aceh.¹² Human Rights Watch shares these concerns.

A Civilian Population at Risk
Since martial law began in Aceh, the Indonesian government has restricted U.N. agencies and international NGOs from carrying out their duties in the province. International humanitarian aid agencies have had no access at all to areas outside of Banda Aceh, causing concern that adequate humanitarian assistance is not reaching many of those in need. An independent assessment must be made of the needs of Aceh's civilians to determine their humanitarian needs and provide them with the necessary assistance. Given Indonesia's lack of capacity and experience in handling these types of problems, the role of international humanitarian actors is particularly important, and their forced absence more troubling.

Little is known about the well-being of Aceh's civilian population. Most of Aceh's 4.2 million residents live in relative isolation outside the province's two main towns. Fighting between the Indonesian military and GAM has disrupted the lives and livelihoods of civilians by cutting food supplies, water, electricity, communications, schooling, and healthcare to thousands. Food distribution networks have been disrupted by attacks on food convoys despite recent attempts by the Indonesian military to secure the main routes. Over five hundred schools have been burned down. Electricity pylons in several districts were sabotaged. Telephone communications outside Banda Aceh have been severely disrupted. The overall picture from the scant information available is that the population of Aceh faces a shortage of basic supplies and services.

Conditions are likely to be worse for those who have been forced to flee their homes. Preliminary information indicates that the fighting has forced thousands of civilians out of their homes. The Jesuit Refugee Service and Indonesian media sources have already highlighted reports of poor water and sanitation facilities, malnutrition, and skin complaints amongst this population.¹³

The International Organization for Migration (IOM), the intergovernmental agency responsible for assisting civilians fleeing conflicts or disasters in their own country, has reported that during the first three months of the military operation a total of more than 24,730 families (over 100,000 people) were displaced across Aceh Province.¹⁴ As of September 3, IOM reported that 3,972 families (some 16,000 people) remained displaced,¹⁵ a reduction from the peak of 49,000 displaced in July. These figures include those spontaneously fleeing conflict areas, and those forced out of their homes by the Indonesian military. In the past GAM has also been involved in the forcible removal of non-Acehnese communities from their homes in the province. Because of the lack of access to Aceh, it is difficult to ascertain whether this is currently taking place or not.

Current numbers reflect only internally displaced persons (IDPs) in officially designated government camps. The actual number of displaced people may be considerably higher since official figures do not include civilians who have found refuge on their own, or are staying in unofficial camps. Reports that the border between North Sumatra province and Aceh is sealed suggest that new IDPs have not been able to seek refuge in North Sumatra since the military campaign began. Civilians displaced prior to the current military campaign, and those outside of the province, including in North Sumatra and Malaysia, are also omitted from official figures.

All international aid is now distributed through local government structures and the Indonesian Red Cross. International aid agencies have already provided the government with substantial food aid and school and health kits. One Jakarta-based international aid worker told Human Rights Watch that the school and health kits given to the government after the first two weeks of martial law remained in Jakarta for a month before being sent to Aceh. This was apparently due to the government's lack of capacity to transport the supplies to Aceh, or to store them once they arrived in the province.¹⁶ Citing new regulations, the government has prevented humanitarian actors from providing aid directly, and instead has insisted that it be routed through Indonesian authorities.

Since the campaign began, Indonesia's media has reported that seventy-seven village heads and thirteen sub-district leaders have been replaced with retired military officers. These former military officers are now responsible for the coordination and distribution of aid in their respective areas. While Indonesia has an obligation to ensure the humanitarian well-being of the civilian population, and thus carry out its own programs of humanitarian assistance, this cannot be the justification for barring access to impartial humanitarian agencies. Both the government and GAM must provide secure and unimpeded access to all impartial humanitarian agencies in order to ensure the survival and safety of the civilian population, particularly vulnerable groups such as the internally displaced.

Limits on access also apply to the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), which initially had access to some prisoners in police and military detention. However, this access has not been comprehensive, and has not extended to all of those detained under the martial law administration. To date, very few of those detained under martial law have been charged with a recognizable offense, or had access to defense counsel.

The Indonesian government also announced plans to turn the island of Pulau Nasi, off the coast of Aceh, into a penal colony. Although this plan was then publicly retracted by senior military officers in Jakarta, it is as yet unclear whether those individuals already detained on the island have been transferred to other police or military detention facilities, or whether they have had any access to the ICRC or defense counsel.

Applicable Law
Indonesian and GAM forces in Aceh are bound by international humanitarian law governing the conduct of armed conflict. The conflict in Aceh is considered to be a non-international (internal) armed conflict, for which the applicable law includes article 3 common to the four Geneva Conventions of 1949, the Second Additional Protocol to the Geneva Conventions (Protocol II), and customary international humanitarian law. Indonesia became a party to the Geneva Conventions in 1958. Although Indonesia is not a party to Protocol II, many if not all of its provisions reflect customary international law. Parties to an internal armed conflict must allow humanitarian relief to reach civilian populations suffering undue hardship owing to a lack of foodstuffs and medical supplies essential for their survival.¹⁷ The Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement provide basic guidelines to governments on their responsibilities to internally displaced persons.¹⁸ According to principle 18, authorities are obliged to provide displaced persons with food, water, shelter, clothing, and medical services, or to ensure their access to these necessities.

There are serious concerns that Indonesia lacks the experience and expertise to handle a possible humanitarian crisis of this scale on its own. Prior to the start of the military campaign, the Indonesian government drew up a contingency plan, in consultation with U.N. agencies in Jakarta, to prepare for up to 300,000 IDPs in Aceh. In the past, the government of Indonesia had traditionally relied on international aid agencies to assist with humanitarian crises. Before the military campaign, international agencies provided significant aid and programming to assist victims of the ongoing conflict in Aceh. Similarly, in other parts of Indonesia, international agencies have performed a vital role in assisting civilians at risk. For instance, in 1999 and 2000 when fighting between Christians and Muslims in the Malukus displaced over half a million people, U.N. agencies and international NGOs worked closely with the government to provide aid and assistance. The international community also provided significant assistance to the 250,000 East Timorese refugees who were forcibly deported to West Timor by the Indonesian military in September 1999.

With a history of reliance on international aid and expertise it is doubtful that the Indonesian government has the capacity to cover the whole range of assistance needed by the civilian population in Aceh. In particular, the provision of water and sanitation facilities in IDP camps, supplementary feeding, and distribution of non-food items are areas of assistance historically borne by U.N. agencies and international NGOs. Other areas, such as protection and extra care of vulnerable groups such as separated children, victims of trauma, the elderly, and nursing and pregnant women, are also fields where international actors have specialized expertise. It is unclear why there have been such deliberate measures by the Indonesian government to restrict international humanitarian access and involvement in the current crisis in Aceh.

Recommendations

To the government of Indonesia:

� Provide immediate and unimpeded access throughout Aceh for all impartial humanitarian agencies to distribute and monitor aid. Facilitate, rather then impede, the movement of humanitarian workers in the province. � End the requirement that humanitarian aid be routed through the Indonesian authorities, and permit impartial humanitarian agencies to deliver aid directly to populations in need. � Allow access to U.N. agencies and non-governmental organizations that can assist in the protection of the civilian population, particularly displaced persons. To date, insufficient help is being provided to unaccompanied minors in need of specialized care and legal assistance, women and children at risk of sexual or other abuse, victims of trauma in need of psychosocial assistance, and separated family members in need of tracing. � All persons detained in Aceh should be promptly charged with a recognizable offense and have access to defense counsel, or be released immediately.

To the government of Indonesia and GAM:

� Strictly abide by international humanitarian law in the conduct of military operations, particularly with respect to the treatment of civilians and other non-combatants. � Ensure secure and unimpeded access to all impartial humanitarian agencies. Act to prevent attacks on humanitarian agencies and their workers, and take appropriate action against those implicated in such attacks. � Displaced persons should not be denied the freedom of movement to seek refuge in other areas, particularly the province of North Sumatra.

To the government of Malaysia:

� Ensure the right of persons fleeing the conflict in Aceh to seek asylum in Malaysia in safety and dignity. Acehnese refugees and asylum seekers in Malaysia should be granted full protections under international law, including freedom from arbitrary arrest and detention and the right not to be returned to a place where their life or freedom are at risk because of persecution (non-refoulement).

To the United Nations:

� Continue to urge an independent assessment of the needs of Aceh's civilians to determine their humanitarian needs and ensure they are provided with the necessary assistance.

1 "TNI Pertimbangkan Operasi di Aceh hingga Pemilu," Kompas, September 4, 2003.

2 "Indonesian Military Offensive could last until April," Agence France-Presse, September 4, 2003; "Operasi Militer Tak Mungkin Enam Bulan," Kompas, July 7, 2003;

3 "Top Indonesian Security Minister rules out dialogue with rebels," Agence France-Presse, August 21, 2003.

4 See Human Rights Watch, "Aceh Under Martial Law: Human Rights Under Fire," A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper, June 2003; Human Rights Watch, "Indonesia: Accountability for Human Rights Violations in Aceh," A Human Rights Watch Report, vol. 14, no. 1 (c), March 2002; Human Rights Watch, "Indonesia: The War in Aceh," A Human Rights Watch Report, vol. 13, no. 4 (c), August 2001; Human Rights Watch, "Indonesia: Civilians Targeted in Aceh," A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper, May 2000; Human Rights Watch, "Why Aceh is Exploding," A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper, August 1999; Human Rights Watch, "Indonesia: The May 3, 1999 Killings in Aceh," A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper, May 1999.

5 "Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province" is the official name for the province of Aceh.

6 Decree No. 43 of 2003 of the President of the Republic of Indonesia as Central Military Authority, "The Arrangement of Activities of Foreigners, Non-Government Organizations and the Press in Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province," June 16, 2003, sec. 2.

7 Decree of the Minister of Justice and Human Rights, Republic of Indonesia, Number: M.02.IZ.01.10, Year 2003, Regarding Granting Permits for Foreigners to Visit and Conduct Activities in Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam Province, Jakarta, June 30, 2003.

8 Bakornas PBP (Indonesia's National Coordinating Body for the Management of Disaster and IDPs/Refugees) is now responsible for the consideration of requests for blue book passes for foreigners wishing to enter Aceh. Agencies that require blue books need to send a letter to the Coordinating Ministry of Social Welfare and to Bakornas. These requests will be evaluated and, if recommended by Bakornas, the Office of the Coordinating Minister will send a letter to the Ministry of Justice on the basis of which a blue book pass will be issued. The pass allows a single entry for a maximum of fourteen days with one extension at the province for a further fourteen days. After twenty-eight days the pass will expire and the bearer will have to leave Aceh in order to apply for the renewal of the pass, and re-start the whole procedure again.

9 Human Rights Watch interview with international aid worker, New York, August 2003.

10 On September 6, 2000, three international UNHCR workers were killed by a militia mob in Atambua, West Timor. The three UNHCR staff were in West Timor to facilitate the repatriation of East Timorese refugees to Dili. After the killings all U.N. international staff were permanently withdrawn from West Timor.

11 "Indonesia: Annan deeply concerned about hostilities' effect on civilians in Aceh," U.N. News service, May 29, 2003.

12 OCHA: Statement of Under-Secretary-General Kenzo Oshima at the open Security Council briefing on the protection of civilians in armed conflict, June 20, 2003.

13 JRS Dispatches No. 137, August 1, 2003.

14 OCHA: Indonesia: Consolidated Situation Report No. 143, August 9 - 15, 2003

15 OCHA: Indonesia: Consolidated Situation Report No. 144, August 30 - September 5, 2003.

16 Human Rights Watch interview with international aid worker, Jakarta, June 11, 2003.

17 Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, and Relating to the Protection of Victims of Non-International Armed Conflicts (Protocol II), 1125 U.N.T.S. 609, entered into force Dec. 7, 1978, art. 18.

18 The Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement (the Guiding Principles), adopted in September 1998 by the U.N. General Assembly, reflect international humanitarian law as well as human rights law, and provide a consolidated set of international standards governing the treatment of the internally displaced. Although not a binding instrument, the Guiding Principles are based on international laws that do bind states as well as some insurgent groups, and they have acquired authority and standing in the international community.

---source HRW

Why Not Independence?

Challenging the myths about Aceh�s national liberation movement

By William Nessen
It was late 2002 and I was in Banda Aceh�s best hotel talking to a US embassy official. He was preparing for an impending cease-fire between the Free Aceh Movement (Gerakan Aceh Merdeka, GAM), and the Indonesian government. He was part of the international chorus telling the world that what the Acehnese really wanted was peace. When I countered that they wanted independence too, he responded impatiently: that may be, but they certainly don�t have good enough reason.

Provoked, I proceeded to list their reasons: several hundred years running to the 20th century as a sovereign state; the greatest resistance in the archipelago to Dutch colonial conquest; broken or empty Indonesian promises of autonomy; pillage of natural resources; de facto military occupation; the crushing of non-violent dissent; the killing, torture and rape of thousands and the absence of any justice for these crimes. All leading, I said, to a complete absence of trust in Indonesia.

The embassy man shrugged. �What they need is some justice, economic fairness, and peace,� he said. �They just don�t have a big enough gripe.� Foreign partisanship

The words of this embassy official sum up the dismissive attitude that the Acehnese face internationally. One of the great tragedies of the conflict in Aceh is that so few outsiders seem to know what the Acehnese want or why.

When the East Timorese struggled for independence, they eventually attracted advocates and admirers around the world. That support helped the East Timorese sustain hope during decades of Indonesian occupation.

In Aceh, despite an overwhelming desire for independence and an unending roll-call of Indonesian brutality, foreign governments, NGOs, policy analysts and others have all sought to convince the Acehnese to accept Indonesian rule.

No one - except the Acehnese themselves - proposes independence as a solution. Fearing the unraveling of the world�s fourth most populous country and hampered by a shallow view of international law and a lack of first-hand reporting and comparative analysis with other national liberation struggles, even well-meaning foreigners can�t think sensibly about the conflict. And so partisanship in favour of continued Indonesian control simply appears neutral.

During a total of a year in Aceh between 2001 and 2003, which included time spent with GAM guerillas and the Indonesian military and in jail, I discovered that much of what passes as balanced scholarship and fair commentary about the conflict perpetuates myths instead.

Caught in the middle?

It is a late afternoon in mid-June 2003, a month into the government�s biggest-ever offensive and I am travelling with a company of GAM guerrillas. We have stopped to rendezvous with other fighters in a village a dozen kilometres from a main spur road. Fighters are washing laundry, drinking coffee and relaxing with villagers, many of whom are relatives or life-long friends.

Suddenly, there are loud bursts of automatic-rifle fire. Without knowing the guerrillas are there, Indonesian soldiers have strolled out of the woods. Overconfident, guerrilla company commanders failed to post lookouts far enough afield.

Male villagers, dozens of guerrillas and I retreat in panic. Soon, however, we are moving in two long columns of a hundred men each, and the commanders have begun to organise the fighters to protect the rest of us. But for the first time since I�ve been with them, the fighters are scared; a vice-commander draws the edge of his hand across his neck � we are finished, surrounded. As the sun sets, we walk swiftly along a dirt road past small wooden houses where women are weeping and crying out for God to save us and bring harvest to Aceh�s struggle.

Before daybreak, a group of old men appears. They are the men the young fighters here turn to when they�ve reached their limits. These elders have organised a dangerous zigzag through the tightening Indonesian ring. We set out in groups of 20, ten minutes apart, each group with a guide silently steering us this way and that, pausing to listen and to send small boys ahead to make sure the route remains clear.

One of the common bits of nonsense one hears about Aceh is that most Acehnese, even those who support independence, don�t support GAM. Hapless victims, opposing violence by both sides, they are �caught in the middle�.

Spending time with the guerrillas and in the villages allows a clearer view. The episode above was not the first time I saw �ordinary� Acehnese risk their lives to save GAM fighters. Wherever I travelled with the guerrillas, the �people caught in the middle� repeatedly took sides, providing food, information and heartfelt encouragement. I had experienced the same in East Timor in 1998.

During the first weeks of the new offensive, we were often ushered into a home late at night where an older woman would grind chili paste, fry cupfuls of dried fish and boil a large pot of rice for �her boys.� Even when criticising GAM, Acehnese villagers referred to the guerrillas as their army, often concluding: �They are our people, they are us.�

In the towns, that close identification lies beneath the surface. During the day, Indonesian military commanders pointed to their growing control. At night, I�d wander about, usually ending at a simple restaurant, where, invariably, an animated gathering of regular customers would soon be saying, �Of course, everyone supports the guerrillas. We just have to be careful now.�

What are you fighting for?

Another common argument against the Free Aceh guerrillas is that they are not really fighting for independence. Other factors motivate them, like power, boredom, money, local prestige, and ethnic hatred.

This view also forms part of the Indonesian military�s own armoury. I recall a meeting with General Djali Yusuf, the army�s top man in Aceh, and an Acehnese himself, in January 2003. Lifting in turn a lighter, then a pack of cigarettes and finally a trademark cigarette holder to make his point, General Djali outlined the composition of GAM: one part genuine nationalist, one part revenge-seeker and one part criminal.

I�d heard it before and it was half-true. Many GAM fighters I knew had lost a father or brother to Indonesian guns. I�d heard their desire to strike back. I�d met GAM commanders who�d been small-time gangsters. Their search for excitement and quick money took them to Malaysia, then on to guerilla training in Libya in the late 1980s.

But political involvement transformed the well-travelled ex-gangsters and the village-bound revenge-seekers into men of broader horizons with a fierce commitment to their land.
None of this should surprise us. Aceh, despite what experts say, is a lot like anywhere else. Sociologists, political scientists and historians have long recognised that movements attract people for a variety of reasons in addition to their stated goals.

Indonesia�s independence struggle in 1945�49 was no different. Robert Cribb, in his book Gangsters and Revolutionaries, shows that criminal gangs played a key role in the struggle against the Dutch. The historian Geoffrey Robinson observed in his book about Bali, The Dark Side of Paradise, that the nationalist struggle there was initially �a guise for other struggles�, with nobles and peasants lining up (and changing sides) depending on pre-existing political rivalries.
No one contends that Indonesia�s independence struggle was illegitimate because participants often had multiple motivations, or because some people sided with the enemy, or because opium became the most important trading commodity of the Republic-to-be. Yet some commentators try to delegitimise the entire Acehnese independence cause because some of its supporters don�t have �pure� motives and because, yes, some of them commit crimes.

How bad is GAM?
For some years, human rights organisations have criticised abuses committed by insurgent non-state actors, as well as those by states. With good reason. During the past two decades, numerous guerrilla insurgencies committed two sins together: they used brutal means for selfish ends.

In Aceh, human rights groups and journalists refer to abuses on both sides. Yet what�s striking is how few serious abuses GAM has actually committed, resulting in what some disappointed critics say is a tendency to �romanticise� them.

Unlike a dozen guerrilla groups that come to mind, GAM has conducted no massacres, nor killed many non-combatants. They have not raped or mutilated prisoners or unleashed suicide bombers. Nor have they forced people into military service, unlike many insurgencies. Terror ain�t GAM�s weapon. It has an arguably reasonable goal and goes about it as cleanly as almost anyone has.

The catalogue of Indonesian abuses is vast and rich in detail. Numerous reports by human rights organisations specify time and place, and sometimes the preceding sequences of events. The charges against GAM are few and often vague.

Even the Indonesian military has preferred not to inventory GAM�s crimes, perhaps fearing the comparison. GAM urges no restriction on access for journalists to the territory and comprehensive investigation of violations by all parties. Indonesia has long opposed any such scrutiny. Indonesia shut the province to journalists during the 1990s and closed it again in June 2003.

Some things GAM doesn�t deny. Asserting that they are a more legitimate government than Jakarta, GAM claims the right to impose a tax on anyone running a business in Aceh. Contractors are supposed to be taxed 10 per cent of their profits; small shops, 2.5 per cent. Critics call this extortion. As with any tax, people would prefer not to pay. Yet GAM must depend entirely on fellow Acehnese, and so far the best evidence suggests most people have willingly given what they could.

Other charges leveled at GAM � such as the killing of teachers for teaching the Indonesian curriculum � are not, or not yet, substantiated. Investigating two alleged instances, I discovered that the mobile police had shot the teachers because they were strong GAM supporters regularly donating money. In another case, according to a GAM commander, GAM killed a teacher because, despite many warnings, he kept giving information about GAM personnel to the TNI (Indonesian National Military).

During its battle for the countryside, GAM has killed scores of informers and military intelligence agents. However, some informers are held just a few months. In western Aceh, I met several itinerant pedlars arrested by GAM. They admitted to helping the Indonesians. One told the authorities about the location of several unarmed GAM fighters. The mobile police killed two of them. Angry GAM fighters beat this man badly when they captured him. After that, he told me, the fighters had not harmed him.

Though never saying so, GAM also probably assassinated one well-known academic. Their rumoured excuse: GAM central command didn�t know and wouldn�t have approved what the district unit chief decided to do.

Again, we can compare Aceh with Indonesia�s independence movement, despite changing times and rising moral standards. In 1945-49, all around the country, there were indiscriminate attacks against people working for the Dutch, not just informers. Whole villages were laid waste. Revolutionary groups killed people for wearing Dutch-style clothing or for carrying items in the colours of the Dutch flag. Extortion, robbery, kidnapping, ethnic attacks and terror were the stock-in-trade of Indonesia�s nationalist struggle.

Ethnic cleansing?
The most inflammatory charge against GAM is that it has engaged in ethnic cleansing. With its image of bloodied families heaped and scattered across the ground, this charge is intended to set off alarm bells. Here it rings hollow.

Of the many ethnic groups in Aceh, GAM has had conflict with one only, the Javanese. The several hundred thousand Javanese differ from the other minority groups in three ways. First, they are not indigenous to the region, having all come in the last hundred years, most as part of Suharto�s transmigration program, many during Dutch colonisation. Second, they are from the country�s dominant ethnic group. Third, and most critically, for years thousands of Javanese men have acted alongside government soldiers as village militia forces and anti-GAM combatants.

As proof of the deep-seated enmity toward the Javanese, critics point to GAM�s view (widely shared in much of Indonesia) that Java merely replaced Holland as the ruler of the archipelago, to the anti-Javanese invectives of GAM founder Hasan di Tiro and to GAM�s conception of a sovereign Aceh, which critics say is backward-looking and even racist.

GAM�s nationalism does look back - but only to a past sovereignty. And it looks forward not to a purified ethnic nation-state, but to a multi-ethnic country. GAM includes many members of minority groups, including at the highest levels. The top commander in Central Aceh is a Gayo, and in Tamiang, two of the four district GAM chiefs are Javanese, with numerous Javanese fighters under them.

Still, it helps to hear the critics. A 2002 report of the International Crisis Group states that in Central Aceh, where the bulk of long-term Javanese settlers live, �there were raids by GAM guerrillas and local sympathisers on Javanese communities in which people were killed, houses looted and burned.� In fact, the situation was far more complicated.

Coordinated by the TNI, armed Javanese �self-defence� groups gathered intelligence on GAM, manned checkpoints, patrolled roads, and participated in offensive actions against Acehnese villages. Army units and Javanese militias reportedly killed at least several hundred Acehnese civilians during the first months of 2001. Tens of thousands of Acehnese fled northward, their valuables looted and homes razed.

No one has accused GAM of violence against Javanese women, children and the elderly. Honestly or not, GAM has said that Javanese are welcome back after independence.
A right to secede?

Many people think Aceh doesn�t have a right to separate from Indonesia because the Acehnese were part of the Indonesian independence struggle against the Dutch in 1945�49. Once having agreed to join, they are forbidden to leave. Foreign governments and observers insist this is a basic principle of international law.

But there�s another view of international law that has the backing of a solid body of scholarly literature. In this view, peoples do have a right to secede from an existing state, so long as they are persistent, the crimes against them are great, and they meet certain criteria.

Those criteria boil down to two sets of points. First, secession can�t make the original country more vulnerable to external aggression, leave it in disconnected pieces, block its access to the sea, or remove its economic base. None of these apply to Aceh.

Second, the future country must be a viable entity, in which the majority of people support separation. They must share a strong sense of identity (based on language, religion, traditions, or history) and have exhausted other courses of resolving their problems. International recognition of the secession of four Yugoslav republics was contingent on additional criteria: a democratic government and protection of minorities.

In addition to the ex-Yugoslav republics, there have been several notable instances of secession, including Bangladesh and Eritrea. Most suggestively, the Papua New Guinea government and the people of Bougainville agreed in 2001 to allow the province progressively greater autonomy during a ten-year period, culminating in an independence referendum.

Independence was the ultimate solution for people suffering under European colonial domination. Why shouldn�t it be available for people, like the Acehnese, experiencing a similar lack of political control, economic exploitation and intolerable human rights abuses?
My guess is that after a few years, it won�t matter much to anyone but the Acehnese that Aceh is independent.

Beyond partisanship
Concerned outsiders shouldn�t simply accept Indonesia�s right to rule in Aceh. Instead, we ought to look more deeply at the facts and more widely at all possible solutions.

History, including Indonesia�s, tells us that independence struggles are often painful and scarring. Yet in writing about Aceh, many outsiders impose a mythic model that the Acehnese can never hope to match. But raising the bar on Aceh�s already uphill challenge seems exactly these writers� intention.

The effect � and the greatest tragedy here � is to leave the fate of Aceh in the hands of Indonesia�s military.

William Nessen is a freelance photojournalist who was detained for 39 days in 2003 for covering the latest military offensive from the company of GAM guerrillas. He is currently working on a film and book on the Aceh conflict.

source insideindonesia

All Politics Is Identity Politics

Are there two political forces more vilified than interest groups and identity politics? No matter what your ideology or political party, if you want to prove that you are truly committed to the betterment of our nation, you are almost required to speak out against these pernicious influences. Organizing with other people who share your particular identity and interests? That's selfish. Practically anti-democratic. And, many have argued in this magazine and in other progressive venues over the past 20 years, it's harmful to liberalism.

By Ann Friedman

Kathleen M. Sullivan, writing in the Prospect in 1998, summarized Nancy Rosenblum's book, Membership and Morals: "Rather than socializing members for democracy, groups are likely to be exclusionary, snobbish, and competitive vis-a-vis others. The internal cooperation they foster in no way guarantees that they will be ... civic, virtuous, or deliberative in relation to the larger polity." In 2004, Michael Lind argued in these pages that, in order to regain the majority, the Democratic Party should attempt to dissociate itself from "identity-politics groups -- blacks, Latinos, feminists, gays, and lesbians -- and economic-interest groups, like unions" -- and instead organize itself by geography. And perhaps most notably, in a 2006 Prospect cover story Michael Tomasky decried the "million-little-pieces, interest-group approach to politics" and stated that "citizens should be called upon to look beyond their own self-interest and work for a greater common interest."

Barack Obama's adoption of the "Yes we can!" slogan -- "we" being the operative word -- tested the greater-good thesis on the campaign trail. Although pundits like Andrew Sullivan praised what they saw as Obama's attempt to distance himself from identity politics, his appeal to the common good was also packaged within a historic narrative: the promise of the first black president. Exit-poll analysis shows that race was a significant factor in his victory -- Obama won 95 percent of black votes and 67 percent of Hispanic votes, compared to Kerry's 88 percent and 53 percent, respectively. But the increased support among minority voters for Obama was not due solely to his race. As John Halpin and Ruy Teixeira have been pointing out for years, African Americans, Hispanics, and Asians are the most reliable Democratic voters -- no matter what the candidate's ethnicity. Indeed, as we head into what looks to be a difficult midterm election for Democrats, the Democratic National Committee is again turning to its nonwhite base. In a DNC video released this spring and directed at minority voters, Obama says, "It will be up to each of you to make sure that the young people, African Americans, Latinos, and women who powered our victory in 2008 stand together once again."

While identity is not the sole predictor of ideology, at least today, for many groups it is a strong indication. In an 18,000-word research paper published in the Prospect in 2006, Halpin and Teixeira identified racial and ethnic minorities as "the single strongest element of the progressive coalition," followed by "single, working, and highly educated women." In other words, the people most likely to identify with the liberal worldview are those who have experienced some lack of freedom and opportunity themselves.

Progressives love identity in the voting booth -- it's how we knew our long-awaited majority was going to emerge. But when it comes time to govern, these constituencies quickly transform from the very lifeblood of progressivism into a perceived burden. You would think that, because minorities and women are the keys to progressives' demographic success at the polls, their particular concerns would be of utmost importance to leaders and lawmakers.

Instead, "identity groups" agitating for equality and their place at the table have often been told to sit tight and trust movement leaders to do what's best for everyone. We might all agree that gay couples deserve marriage rights, and women must have access to reproductive health care, but when it comes to devising a political strategy and policy agenda, these are inevitably the issues that slide quietly to the back burner. It is painfully clear that in reality we do not all take on the same level of responsibility for securing the rights in which we claim to believe.

Calls to reject identity and adopt a "greater good" approach never make clear who defines that greater good. Who decides which issues have to wait and which are of utmost importance? Think back on some of the biggest steps this country has taken toward equality. Without the existence of groups specifically advocating for their rights, would women, African Americans, or LGBT people have made any progress? Would Lyndon Johnson actually have signed the Civil Rights Act absent pressure from the NAACP, the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, and other racial-justice oriented groups? Would the Family and Medical Leave Act have passed without the insistence of feminists? If it weren't for the gay-rights movement, would the federal government still be denying the existence of AIDS?

The problem is not the presence of identity groups within the progressive coalition. The problem is the party and movement structure that make them necessary. Despite their nominal commitment to equality and opportunity, the Democratic Party and progressive movement reflect the biases and hierarchies of the rest of the country. The president may be black and the speaker of the House a woman, but as I argued in these pages shortly after Hillary Clinton dropped out of the 2008 Democratic primary, a handful of leaders who break the mold are not enough to actually, well, break the mold. Until the progressive-movement leadership actually reflects the members that make up its core constituencies, pressure from identity groups will be necessary to ensure those constituencies are given a voice, that their concerns are addressed.

The common good is a laudable goal, but asking progressives to subsume their identities and interests is not the way to achieve it. Allowing people to organize based on their identities and deeply held beliefs is just smart politics. Those groups can -- and do -- work together to craft policies and organizing strategies that lift all members of the coalition, not just those who are white, heterosexual, economically advantaged, and male. Until we can trust the movement's standard-bearers to include the top-tier concerns of women, people of color, and gay Americans in that common good, identity-based groups will remain necessary.

The progressive movement will only ensure its survival by deepening its commitment to these people, not taking their votes for granted. If we continue to compromise on their concerns, or dismiss them as "special interests" working against a nebulous greater good, we will ultimately render our shared concept of liberalism totally meaningless. After all, if each group within the coalition is actually just in it alone, what's the point of subscribing to a common ideology at all?

Critiques of identity politics fail to acknowledge that people join social-justice and political groups because they actually do want to look beyond themselves and make our country a better place. Amy Gutmann writes in her 2003 book, Identity in Democracy, that members of the sorts of identity groups that make up the progressive coalition "don't usually join because they want some instrumental goods from the group that they could not otherwise obtain. ... Shared identity is connected to identification with a group and, as a large body of psychological literature demonstrates, is independent of the pursuit of self-interest." This holds true with what I know about people who came to progressive politics by way of identity -- including myself. I didn't become a feminist to ensure my own access to contraception or a salary equal to that of my male peers. In a view typical of women of my generation, I don't want to believe I personally need feminism for that. However, these are issues with which I have direct experience, and I can connect that experience to the broad, societal ways sexism and gender discrimination persist. I can safely say that if I hadn't initially seen politics through the lens of gender, I would not work at a progressive magazine today. I was a feminist before I was a liberal.

I'm certainly not alone. Most political acts -- even those done under the auspices of "special interests" like immigrant rights, abortion rights, or racial justice -- are done in service of a greater good. Most activists don't become clinic escorts or agitate to get racist shock jocks fired or cancel their vacations to Arizona for themselves. Identity groups are made up of people who want to be part of something bigger, people who recognize personal injustices and want to channel their indignation into a greater quest for a better country. That sentiment is the very fuel of progressivism.

After all, as Tomasky wrote in his cover story, we're all in it together. Labor rights are tied to gay rights are tied to women's rights are tied to immigrants' rights. If what binds us together as progressives is our vision for a more just society, it is our commitment to all of these issues that will define us. This doesn't mean everyone must be an advocate for every single issue. Each of us has a different metric for separating the political negotiables from the nonnegotiables. But I do expect the liberal coalition, particularly its leaders, to be sensitive to whose greater good our agenda is serving. Until the leaders of the progressive movement and Democratic Party reflect the core constituencies that support them, interest and identity groups will remain powerful and necessary. And I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, my identity is why I'm a liberal in the first place.

---------source American Prospect

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The Forever Culture War

Even as we make progress on specific issues, the broader culture war seems to get uglier and uglier.
By Ann Friedman

In a long and often-cited Atlantic cover story published during the 2008 presidential race, Andrew Sullivan announced that he was supporting Barack Obama because his election would put an end to "the war within America that has prevailed since Vietnam and that shows dangerous signs of intensifying ... a war about war -- and about culture and about religion and about race." Like Sullivan, voters were receptive to Obama's promises to be a post-ideological president who would defuse America's most explosive political elements.

Yet in many ways, the opposite has happened. Today a particularly nasty strain of right-wing extremism is flourishing: draconian immigration policies, heated opposition to the establishment of an Islamic community center in Lower Manhattan, the Tea Party movement, claims that the president is a Muslim. As the sun set on the Bush years, it seemed like this brand of conservatism was becoming extinct -- despite the persistence of talk-radio hate speech and the occasional right-wing crackpot politician. Now it's back, and it's more mainstream than ever.

What happened? The bottom fell out of the economy. Sure, economic indicators didn't look great back when Obama was campaigning, either. But one of the reasons why I found Sullivan's thesis almost persuasive is that, against all odds, Obama's "change" narrative was resonating positively at a time when the only changes most voters had experienced in recent years were negative. In the months since his inauguration, as Americans have continued to lose their jobs and houses in droves -- and don't expect to get either back any time soon -- there is a palpable feeling of fear. This, coupled with long-simmering anxiety about demographic change, is driving the extremism we now see gaining traction beyond Fox News and virtually taking over the Republican Party.

In other words, it's an appropriate moment to re-evaluate Sullivan's election thesis. Ben Smith and Jonathan Martin argued in Politico recently that Obama actually ended one culture war -- the one over gay rights and abortion -- and stepped into another. Now, they write, the fight is over "the role of government and the very meaning of America." But really, this is nothing new. For women, people of color, LGBT people, poor people -- those of us whose very lives were on the line in what Smith and Martin define as the "old" culture war -- it has always been about who is a "real American."

"Real Americans are defined as much as [by] what they're not as [by] what they are," writes Amanda Marcotte on her blog, Pandagon. "The enemies list is long: racial minorities (especially non-compliant ones), immigrants, foreigners in general, feminists, liberals, poor people -- yes, especially poor people, who haven't known their place in like 100 years at least -- men who aren't completely wrapped up in nonstop demonstrations of proof they're Real Men, gay people, college professors, activists who try to improve people's lives, honestly you could go on."

Economic strife doesn't just restart the culture war. It reorders the conflict, shifting both the issues at stake and the targets of the moment. One of the great errors of defining the culture war of the 1980s and 1990s as primarily about women's and gay rights is that liberals got the idea that this was a war we could win. Just give it time, and Americans would become more LGBT-friendly and more accepting of abortion rights, and we would have somehow mended America's deepest ideological rifts. In some ways, that is proving true. Affirmative action, welfare, women in the workforce, "political correctness" -- these were all once battles in the culture war. Today we have a biracial president. Women's right to work and be compensated fairly is generally accepted. Each poll on marriage equality is more encouraging than the last. These particular issues are falling off the agenda.

Even as we make progress on specific issues, however, the broader culture war seems to get uglier and uglier. The underlying sentiment that has fueled this conflict from the start --

that only certain Americans are "real Americans" who deserve rights and respect -- has not gone away.

The issues at the forefront of the culture war change with America's economy, demographics, and leaders. But much like the war on terrorism, this war is perpetual. And it's high time we at least realize that progress on a set of issues -- or the election of a pathbreaking president -- does not mean we have won. Until we live in a just society that treats all Americans with dignity, there's always more work to do.

-------source American Prospect

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William Jefferson Clinton

William Jefferson Clinton was born William Jefferson Blythe III in Hope, Ark., on Aug. 19, 1946. He was named for his father, who was killed in an automobile accident before Clinton's birth. Virginia Kelley, his mother, eventually married Roger Clinton, a car dealer, whose surname the future president later adopted.

In high school in Hot Springs, Ark., Clinton considered becoming a doctor, but politics beckoned after a meeting with President John F. Kennedy in Washington, DC, on a Boys' Nation trip. He earned a BS in international affairs in 1968 at Georgetown University, having spent his junior year working for Arkansas senator J. William Fulbright. He was a Rhodes scholar at Oxford between 1968 and 1970. He then attended Yale Law School, where he met his future wife, Hillary Rodham, a Wellesley graduate. The couple has one child, Chelsea.

Clinton taught at the University of Arkansas (1974�1976), was elected state attorney general (1976), and in 1979 became the nation's youngest governor. But he was defeated for reelection in 1980 by voters irate at a rise in the state's automobile license fees. In 1982 he was elected again. This time he reined in liberal tendencies to accommodate the conservative bent of the voters.

Clinton became the 42nd U.S. president following a turbulent political campaign. He overcame vigorous personal attacks on his character and on his actions during the Vietnam War, which he actively opposed. The �character issue� stemmed from allegations of infidelity, which Clinton refuted in a television interview in which he and Hillary avowed their relationship was solid. Throughout his term in office, Clinton was dogged by allegations relating to the Whitewater real estate deal in which he and Hillary were involved prior to the 1992 election. Though the Clintons were never accused of any wrongdoing, partners in the venture were convicted of fraud and conspiracy in a trial in 1996.

The problems faced by the new president were as daunting as they were varied. In Jan. 1993 he became embroiled with the military leadership over his campaign pledge to allow homosexuals to serve openly in the armed services. He ultimately agreed to a compromise, dubbed the �don't ask, don't tell� policy. Clinton's first year also saw him wrangling with Congress over the federal budget and economic policy.

In his second year, Clinton was faced with acrimonious battles over health care, welfare reform, and crime prevention. A health care reform package crafted by his wife failed to gain sufficient support. Clinton had to reduce his objective from massive overhaul to incremental reform.

Clinton won major victories with the passage of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), which took effect Jan. 1, 1994, and the Global Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), which led to the establishment in 1995 of the World Trade Organization (WTO). Congress also approved a deficit reduction bill, rules allowing abortion counseling in federally funded clinics, a waiting period for handgun purchases (the Brady Bill), and a national service program.

Foreign affairs became a proving ground for Clinton, since he has been elected primarily on a domestic economic agenda. He improved his international image when the Israel�Jordan peace agreement was signed at the White House in the summer of 1994 by Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin and Jordan's King Hussein. In the fall of that year, the administration succeeded in restoring Haiti's ousted president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, to power. Clinton scored again by bolstering Russian president Boris Yeltsin's popularity with promises of economic aid.

The problems in Eastern Europe were Clinton's next big challenge. Though he wanted desperately to end the brutal ethnic cleansing in Bosnia, he did not want to commit American ground troops to do so. A peace accord involving American peacekeeping troops was ultimately signed in Dayton, Ohio, in Nov. 1995.

The 1994 elections resulted in a Republican-controlled Congress, and 1995 was largely a tug-of-war between the White House and Capitol Hill over budget-balancing and other key points of the GOP's �Contract with America,� crafted by Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich.
In 1996, aided by a booming economy, Clinton won reelection to a second term, becoming the first Democratic president since Franklin D. Roosevelt to do so. The country's general prosperity also made it possible in 1997 for Clinton and the Republicans to reach an agreement to balance the federal budget in three decades.

However, the character issues that had followed Clinton for years soon began to emerge once again. A series of investigations was begun to determine whether Clinton and Vice President Gore had participated in questionable fund-raising practices in their 1996 campaign.

As his tenure wore on, Clinton came under increasing pressure from Kenneth Starr, the independent counsel who in 1994 took over the investigation of the Clintons' involvement in the Whitewater land deal. Over time, Starr's brief was expanded to include other matters, such as the suicide of White House lawyer Vincent Foster, the handling of firings in the White House travel office, and allegations of sexual misconduct by Clinton.

In Jan. 1998, Clinton was called to testify in a long-pending sexual harassment suit brought against him by Paula Corbin Jones, a former Arkansas state employee. The hearing also addressed another scandalous relationship, and in his testimony, Clinton denied that he had had a sexual relationship with a young White House intern, Monica Lewinsky, and that he had attempted to cover it up. Although a federal judge in Arkansas threw out the Jones sexual harassment suit in April 1998, by this time the Lewinsky affair had become the focus of Kenneth Starr's investigation as well as a national obsession.

Finally, on Aug. 17, 1998, after relentless media attention, leaks, and news of Lewinsky's upcoming testimony, Clinton made history by becoming the first U.S. president to testify in front of a grand jury in an investigation of his own possibly criminal conduct. In an address to the nation that evening, he admitted to having had an �inappropriate relationship� with Lewinsky, but reaffirmed that he had not asked anyone to lie about or cover up the affair.

In spite of the scandalous outcome of events, Clinton's overall popularity among Americans remained high. The country seemed willing to ignore his weaknesses in character, much as they had in the 1992 elections, as long as the economy was good, his policies were popular, and the United States remained strong abroad.

On Sept. 9, Starr�a conservative Republican whose investigation was seen by Clinton supporters as a politically inspired vendetta�delivered his report to the House of Representatives. While the report outlined 11 possible grounds for impeachment, none stemmed from the initial subjects of the investigation, including the Whitewater real estate deal. The real focus of the accusations seemed to be Clinton's moral conduct, and the �Starr Report� graphically detailed his sexual affair.

Despite the American population's general disapproval of a trial, reflected in poll after poll, Congress moved forward with impeachment proceedings and on Dec. 19, Clinton became the second president in American history to be impeached. Two of the four articles of impeachment�Article I, grand jury perjury, and Article III, obstruction of justice�passed, the votes drawn along party lines. After a Senate trial in Jan.�Feb. 1999, Clinton was acquitted on both counts.

While the impeachment trial overshadowed all other activity in Washington for a good portion of 1998, Clinton was forced to respond to continued problems with Iraq at the end of the year. In December, Saddam Hussein blocked a weapons inspection by the United Nations. The UN responded with airstrikes that would continue on a nearly daily basis for the next three months, and then off and on through the spring and summer, as Iraq taunted the U.S. and its allies further by shooting at jets patrolling the no-fly zones set up after the Persian Gulf war.

In the spring of 1999, reports grew of continued ethnic cleansing in the Serbian province of Kosovo. Clinton and his British counterpart, Tony Blair, led the push for NATO intervention, which resulted in a 78-day bombing campaign against Serbia beginning in March. Although Clinton received some sharp criticism for holding back on the deployment of NATO ground troops, he was vindicated when Serbian president Slobodan Milosevic signed a peace treaty on June 9.

In his final year of office, the president maintained a relatively low profile but took several major trips overseas, to South Asia, Europe, and Africa. He also prepared for the 2000 elections, lending his support not only to presidential hopeful Al Gore, but also to his wife, Hillary Clinton, who successfully ran for U.S. senator from New York.

On Jan. 19, 2001, the day before he left office, Clinton agreed to a five-year suspension of his Arkansas law license and his paying of a $25,000 fine to the Arkansas Bar Association. In exchange, Kenneth Starr's successor, Robert Ray, agreed to close the Whitewater probe, ending the threat of criminal liability for Mr. Clinton after he left office.

See also Encyclopedia: Bill Clinton.

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