Les faux comptes #Twitter pro-Barkhane - Par Maurice Midena | Arrêt sur images
En janvier 2020, les dirigeants du #G5 Sahel et de la #France se sont réunis lors du sommet de Pau pour redéfinir le cadre de leur coopération dans la lutte contre l’État islamique dans le Sahara. Alors que la présence militaire française était vivement critiquée au Sahel par les populations locales, une cellule de cyber-activistes a œuvré sur Twitter pour améliorer l’image de Barkhane en ligne, en marge du sommet palois. S’y mêlent des « vrais » comptes et des alias montés de toute pièce. Ainsi que des articles signés par de prétendus journalistes dans des médias africains. Selon les informations d’ASI, une agence de communication parisienne, Concerto, influente en Afrique, est derrière cette opération. L’état-major de l’armée française nie « tout lien contractuel » avec Concerto. Concerto dément avoir coordonné les faux comptes et affirme qu’ASI est l’objet d’une manipulation.
ASI a pu consulter des documents qui nous ont permis d’identifier une de ces « #usines_à_trolls » constituées en faveur de l’action française dans le Sahel. Une cellule de #cyber-activistes a ainsi été formée en Côte d’Ivoire, et a été coordonnée par une agence de communication parisienne, #Concerto. Cette cellule a œuvré de décembre 2019 à janvier 2020 en marge du sommet de Pau, qui réunissait la France et les dirigeants du #G5_Sahel (Mauritanie, Mali, Burkina Faso, Tchad et Niger) en janvier 2020, afin de « redéfinir » l’action conjointe des armées française et locales dans le cadre de l’opération Barkhane. Cette opération d’e-activisme, intitulée « opération Terre-Sainte » par Concerto, avait pour but de mener une campagne anti fake news sur Twitter et Facebook, en faveur des #opérations militaires françaises dans le Sahel.
Outre les manifestations à Bamako, des étudiants nigériens ont déchiré un drapeau français en décembre 2019. Cette animosité n’est pas seulement le fait des citoyens lambda : elle circule également dans le plus hautes sphères. En juin 2019, le ministre de la Défense du #Burkina Faso, Chériff Sy, se déclarait « étonné » que la France n’ait pas réussi à « éradiquer cette bande de terroristes » et se demandait si elle n’avait pas « d’autres priorités », comme le racontait Jeune Afrique dans une longue enquête sur le sentiment anti-français dans le #Sahel.
« Meurtres à Atlanta » : une enquête de James Baldwin | Agora
En 1981, un jeune homme noir était reconnu coupable du meurtre de 28 enfants à Atlanta, alors que les preuves assemblées contre lui étaient minces. James Baldwin écrivit un livre sur cette affaire, dans lequel il interrogeait la responsabilité du peuple américain dans la place assignée aux Noirs. « La situation des Noirs dans ce pays, écrivait-il, constitue à elle seule un acte d’accusation à l’encontre de l’histoire juridique et éthique de l’Amérique ». Ce fut le dernier essai publié du vivant de l’auteur, qui mourrait deux ans plus tard. Durée : 34 min. Source : France Culture en 1985
In the Atlantic Ocean, Subtle Shifts Hint at Dramatic Dangers - The New York Times
In the Atlantic Ocean, Subtle Shifts Hint at Dramatic Dangers
The warming atmosphere is causing an arm of the powerful Gulf Stream to weaken, some scientists fear.
Starlink vise la conquête marchande de l’espace
ENQUÊTE 3/3 - Le réseau de satellites Starlink doit rendre l’accès à internet haut-débit possible partout sur la planète. Les militaires et les particuliers isolés — s’ils en ont les moyens — pourraient en bénéficier mais ce ne sera pas le cas d’une grande partie de la population mondiale. Ce déploiement servira en revanche d’appui pour les projets de conquête marchande de l’espace. « Je me sens désormais comme une personne normale, Starlink est ma bouée de sauvetage. » Sur le site de Starlink, les (...)
9-11 revisited - Mountain Meadows Massacre
Les habitants des États Unis possèdent un penchant bizarre pour le 11 septembre qui il leur semble propice pour les massacres. C’est devenu prèsque une tradition sur fond religieux. Je ne vous dévoile pas où je me trouverai ce 11 septembre, on ne sait jamais.
The Mountain Meadows Massacre was a series of attacks which resulted in the mass murder of 120 members of the Baker–Fancher emigrant wagon train. The massacre occurred September 7–11, 1857 at Mountain Meadows in southern Utah, and was perpetrated by Mormon settlers belonging to the Utah Territorial Militia (officially called the Nauvoo Legion), together with some Southern Paiute Native Americans.
American exceptionalism is the theory that the United States is inherently different from other nations. This stems from its emergence from the American Revolution, becoming what the political scientist Seymour Martin Lipset called “the first new nation” and developing a uniquely American ideology, “Americanism”. This ideology is based on liberty, equality before the law, individual responsibility, republicanism, representative democracy, and laissez-faire economics. This ideology itself is often referred to as “American exceptionalism.” Under this other definition, America is seen as being superior to other nations or having a unique mission to transform the world.
L’Irak post-Saddam Hussein, une énorme machine à cash - Page 1 | Mediapart
Après la chute du dictateur irakien en 2003, les Américains ont déversé des milliards de dollars sur le pays. Les futurs membres du gouvernement irakien adoubés par eux ont notamment profité de cette manne financière. Nous avons enquêté sur ces mouvements de fonds sans aucun contrôle.
[...] Dans ce camion-poubelle se trouve un milliard de dollars, disposés dans des palettes. Il doit les déposer à la banque Rafidayn, sur la rive droite de Bagdad. C’est sa dernière mission pour le compte du Pentagone. Dans le plus grand secret, entre 2003 et 2008, il a transporté à lui seul 40 milliards de dollars en petites coupures entre l’aéroport de Bagdad et la Banque centrale d’Irak. L’équivalent du PIB d’un pays comme le Mali. Ce récit est confirmé par David Nummy, le responsable du Trésor américain en place à Bagdad. « Il était notre homme de confiance pour ces missions difficiles. Il savait ce qu’il faisait. J’avais une entière confiance en lui », se souvient-il.
The Danger of Anti-Immigrant Extremism Posing as Environmentalism—and Who Funds It
With President Joe Biden in the White House and Vice President Kamala Harris providing the deciding vote in the Senate, a range of long-sought Democratic policy goals are back in play, albeit just barely. That includes ambitious agendas on immigration and the environment.
Could this be the administration that pushes through comprehensive immigration reform after decades of failed attempts? Will youth activists and the burgeoning movement for a Green New Deal provide a pathway to major climate legislation? If so, advocates and their funders alike face a tough road ahead, including an obstructionist congressional minority and opponents on both fronts that will look to appeal to the public’s darkest impulses to build opposition.
At this inflection point, a report this month from the Center for American Progress, “The Extremist Campaign to Blame Immigrants for U.S. Environmental Problems,” offers a timely overview of the history of how opponents of immigration falsely portray it as a threat to the natural world—a strategy we’re likely to see more of in the months ahead. The report offers a valuable review of these efforts, ranging from the past anti-immigrant stances of some of the nation’s best-known environmental groups to the funders that have bankrolled the nation’s largest anti-immigration groups.
Four years of an administration defined by its opposition to immigration, plus growing attention to climate change, breathed new life into the toxic and racist narrative of immigrants as a cause of environmental degradation. As the report lays out, this argument—often part of a right-wing, white supremacist ideology known as ecofascism, though CAP’s report does not use the term—found allies in the top echelons of government and media, including a former head of the U.S. Bureau of Land Management and conservative commentators like Ann Coulter and Fox News host Tucker Carlson.
In contemporary politics, this strategy is mainly seen as a right-wing phenomenon or an artifact of the racist and Eurocentric early history of conservation. Yet the fact that anti-immigrant sentiment found a home within top environmental groups, including Earthfirst! and the Sierra Club, which had a major faction in support of these ideas as late as 2004, is a reminder that it has found fertile soil in a variety of political camps. That makes the narrative all the more dangerous, and one against which funders working in both immigration and the environment ought to take a firm and vocal stance.
Who’s funding anti-immigration work in the name of the environment?
Although not comprehensive, the report highlights three funders as key backers of anti-immigration groups: Colcom Foundation, Weeden Foundation and Foundation for the Carolinas. The first two are, in their branding and language, environmental funders—and make those grants in the name of preventing further damage to the natural world.
Colcom, founded by Mellon Bank heir Cordelia Scaife May, is far and away the largest funder. With a roughly $500 million endowment, it has provided a large share of the support for a network of groups founded by John Tanton, a Sierra Club official in the 1980s, whom the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC) calls “the racist architect of the modern anti-immigrant movement.”
Recipients include NumbersUSA, Federation for American Immigration Reform (FAIR), and the Center for Immigration Studies, which we once called “Trump’s favorite immigration think tank.” The latter two are classified as hate groups by the SPLC, a designation the organizations reject.
In keeping with the bending of reflexive political categories, it’s worth noting that May—who died in 2005—was also a substantial funder of Planned Parenthood due to her prioritization of “population control” as a means of achieving conservation. In 2019, the New York Times documented May’s dark journey to becoming a leading funder of the modern anti-immigrant movement, and the millions her foundation continued to move, long after her death, in support of ideas that gained a receptive audience in a nativist Trump administration. May’s wealth came from the Mellon-Scaife family fortune, which yielded several philanthropists, including another prominent conservative donor, Richard Mellon Scaife.
Weeden, led by Don Weeden, has funded a similar who’s who of top anti-immigration groups, as well as lower-profile or regional groups like Californians for Population Stabilization, Progressives for Immigration Reform—which CAP calls the “most central organization in the anti-immigrant greenwashing universe”—and the Rewilding Institute.
Both Weeden and Colcom, as well as the groups they fund, generally say they are neither anti-immigrant nor anti-immigration. Aside from restrictionist policy positions and racist comments by former leaders, it is revealing that the groups they fund are the favored information sources for some of the most virulently anti-immigrant politicians, both historically and among those who rose prominence during the Trump administration. For a deeper dive on Weeden and Colcom, see my colleague Philip Rojc’s excellent 2019 piece on these grantmakers.
Finally, there is the Foundation for the Carolinas, which in many ways is a typical community foundation, with initiatives on topics from COVID-19 relief to local arts. But it also hosts a donor-advised fund that has supported several anti-immigration groups, including Center for Immigration Studies, FAIR and NumbersUSA. That fund channeled nearly $21 million to nine such groups between 2006 and 2018, according to the report.
There’s a connection here to a larger problem of private foundations and DAFs, some of which are housed at community foundations, supporting 501(c)(3) nonprofits identified as hate groups, according to a recent analysis from the Chronicle of Philanthropy. Foundation for the Carolinas also made its list of top donors to these groups.
An ideology funders must fight against
As the debates over both immigration and climate policies move forward under this new administration, and the opposition marshals efforts to defeat them, this report offers a helpful guide to this enduring and noxious myth. It’s also an important reminder that if these ideas are not called actively combated, they can take root within well-intentioned efforts. Though it seems only a small number of foundations directly fund groups advancing these ideas, anti-immigrant sentiment is insidious.
For example, while some commentators are suggesting that acceding to Trump-fueled demands for a border wall is how Congress could reach bipartisan action on immigration reform, the report notes how the existing sections of wall are ineffective against furtive crossings, disruptive to species migration, and in violation of Indigenous sacred sites. These facts—and more broadly, the connection to white supremacist and fascist movements—should put foundations on guard, whether they support grantees pushing for immigration reform, action on climate or both.
With the United States and other nations facing greater and greater pressures from climate change—particularly as it forces migration from regions like Latin America and the Middle East—philanthropy would do well to be proactive now and draw a bright line in countering this ideology’s propagation.
#extrême_droite #anti-migrants #USA #Etats-Unis #environnementalisme #environnement #migrations #nature #dégradation_environnementale #écofascisme #éco-fascisme #suprématisme_blanc #extrême_droite #Ann_Coulte #Tucker_Carlson #racisme #Earthfirst #Sierra_Club #deep_ecology #fondations #Colcom_Foundation #Weeden_Foundation #Foundation_for_the_Carolinas #Mellon_Bank #Cordelia_Scaife_May #mécénat #John_Tanton #NumbersUSA #Federation_for_American_Immigration_Reform (#FAIR) #Center_for_Immigration_Studies #Planned_Parenthood #démographie #contrôle_démographique #néo-malthusianisme #néomalthusianisme #protection_de_l'environnement #philanthropie #Richard_Mellon_Scaife #Weeden #Don_Weeden #Californians_for_Population_Stabilization #Progressives_for_Immigration_Reform #Rewilding_Institute
The Extremist Campaign to Blame Immigrants for U.S. Environmental Problems
With growing frequency over the past four years, right-wing pundits, policymakers, and political operatives have fiercely and furiously blamed immigrants for the degradation and decline of nature in the United States. William Perry Pendley, who temporarily ran the U.S. Bureau of Land Management under former President Donald Trump, saw “immigration as one of the biggest threats to public lands,” according to an agency spokesperson.1 A handful of right-wing anti-immigration zealots, including Joe Guzzardi, have repeatedly misused data published by the Center for American Progress on nature loss to make xenophobic arguments for anti-immigration policies.2 This so-called “greening of hate”—a term explored by Guardian reporter Susie Cagle—is a common refrain in a wide range of conservative and white supremacist arguments, including those of Ann Coulter, Fox News host Tucker Carlson, neo-Nazi Richard Spencer, and the manifestos of more than one mass shooter.3
The claim that immigration is to blame for America’s environmental problems is so absurd, racist, and out of the mainstream that it is easily debunked and tempting to ignore. The scientific community, and the little research that has been conducted in this area, resoundingly refutes the premise. Consider, for example, the environmental damage caused by weak and inadequate regulation of polluting industries; the destruction of wildlife habitat to accommodate wealthy exurbs and second homes; the design and propagation of policies that concentrate toxic poisons and environmental destruction near communities of color and low-income communities; the continued subsidization of fossil fuel extraction and trampling of Indigenous rights to accommodate drilling and mining projects; and the propagation of a throw-away culture by industrial powerhouses. All of these factors and others cause exponentially more severe environmental harm than a family that is fleeing violence, poverty, or suffering to seek a new life in the United States.
The extremist effort to blame immigrants for the nation’s environmental problems deserves scrutiny—and not merely for the purpose of disproving its xenophobic and outlandish claims. The contours, origins, funding sources, and goals of this right-wing effort must be understood in order to effectively combat it and ensure that the extremists pushing it have no place in the conservation movement. The individuals and organizations that are most fervently propagating this argument come largely from well-funded hate groups that are abusing discredited ideologies that were prevalent in the 19th-century American conservation movement in an attempt to make their racist rhetoric more palatable to a public concerned about the health of their environment.
While leaders of the contemporary, mainstream environmental movement in the United States have disavowed this strain of thought and are working to confront the legacies of colonialism and racism in environmental organizations and policies, a small set of right-wing political operatives are trying to magnify overtly xenophobic and false environmental arguments to achieve specific political objectives. In particular, these right-wing political operatives and their deep-pocketed funders are seeking to broaden the appeal of their anti-immigration zealotry by greenwashing their movement and supplying their right-wing base with alternative explanations for environmental decline that sidestep the culpability of the conservative anti-regulatory agenda. In their refusal to confront the true reasons for environmental decline, they are hurting the people—immigrants, Indigenous peoples, and people of color—who bear a disproportionate burden of environmental consequences and are increasingly the base of the climate justice and conservation movements.
Passeport vaccinal : non ; pass sanitaire : yes !
Les serveurs des « géants du Web » doivent ronronner de bonheur ...
Covid-19 : Emmanuel Macron évoque la mise en place d’un « pass sanitaire »
La mise en œuvre d’un tel instrument « va poser beaucoup de questions techniques, de respect des données individuelles, d’organisation de nos libertés » et, pour cela, « il faut [la] préparer dès maintenant techniquement, politiquement, juridiquement », a expliqué le président.
La France-des-Cavernes, les chroniques de Joseph Ponthus dans Article 11
« L’usine te bouffe le temps, le corps et l’esprit » En guise d’hommage à Joseph Ponthus, nous [CQFD] mettons en ligne cet entretien, en date de septembre, autour de "À la ligne", sa pépite noire décrivant l’enfer quotidien des abattoirs.
Charleroi, Pennsylvania, “The Magic City” | | Wilfriedmag
Detroit ne fascine que les pionniers de l’agriculture urbaine et les néotouristes parcourant les #usines_désaffectées, un Canon autour du cou, comme les romantiques sillonnaient les friches antiques le carnet de croquis à la main. Mais, avant d’arriver dans la Motown, nous étions attendus de pied ferme à #Charleroi. Pour qu’ils n’apprennent pas après coup que nous étions passés sans les saluer, nous avions prévenu les autorités de notre #ville_sœur de notre bref passage. Nous pensions ne nous arrêter qu’une heure. L’accueil #carolo en a décidé autrement.
Contre la gentrification ; convoitises et résistances dans les #quartiers_populaires
C’est à une repolitisation des #questions_urbaines que ce livre, dont le propos est centré sur le devenir des quartiers populaires, aspire à contribuer. Il mobilise en particulier le concept de gentrification, dans la continuité des travaux de la #géographie_radicale.
L’auteur vise à remettre à l’avant-plan la #violence des logiques de gentrification, à contre-courant des usages aseptisés du terme, mais aussi à s’intéresser à ce qui va contre ces logiques, ce qui les contrecarre, les freine ou leur résiste, par des #mobilisations_collectives ou par le maintien d’#usages_populaires de l’#espace, remettant ainsi en question l’apparence inéluctable de la gentrification.
Comment la Silicon Valleyr réagit au COVID19 et à BlackLivesMatter ?
Interview de Fred Turner par Nastasia Hadjadji
Alors que la pandémie mondiale de COVID-19 est pour les GAFAM une opportunité de marché en or, les grandes entreprises des nouvelles technologies font face à des contestations venues de différents pans de la société américaine.
Historien, professeur à l’université de Stanford, Fred Turner est un spécialiste de la contre-culture américaine, de l’utopie numérique et de l’histoire des médias américains. Il est notamment l’auteur de Aux sources de l’utopie numérique : De la contre culture à la cyberculture, C&F Editions, 2013. Son prochain essai, L’usage de l’art : de Burning man à Facebook, art, management et innovation dans la Silicon Valley, paraîtra à l’automne aux Editions C&F.
Comment les entreprises tech utilisent l’art et la créativité pour manager
Un long entretien avec Fred Turner par Margaux Dussert
Dans son ouvrage L’usage de l’art, paru fin 2020, le chercheur Fred Turner, professeur de communication à l’université de Stanford, montre comment les entreprises de la Silicon Valley utilisent l’art pour bâtir un style de management « cool » et ultra-libertaire. De quoi cacher leurs logiques de pouvoir sous un épais vernis de créativité et une rhétorique de l’émancipation bien huilée.
Rapports de pouvoir invisibilisés par des performances chatoyantes | Entre les lignes entre les mots
L’auteur analyse le paysage de l’expansion capitaliste, comment sont valorisées les connexions interpersonnelles, la surveillance des utilisateurs et utilisatrices, la cartographie et la quantification des schémas des interactions, l’élaboration des algorithmes pour inciter « subtilement à adopter tel ou tel comportement en particulier », le rôle de l’esthétique dans la modélisation des expériences les plus intimes, les masques des relations contractuelles, les effets des architectures numériques, l’expression individuelle sans syndicalisation, l’assimilation des besoins de l’entreprise à ceux du public, l’abstraction mathématique et ses utilisations dans les schémas de surveillance assistée par ordinateur…
Cette nouvelle publication de Fred Turner poursuit la veine originale qui l’a conduit à explorer, dans d’autres ouvrages traduits par le même éditeur1, les affinités inattendues entre contre-cultures, nouvelles technologies et capitalisme libéral américain. Plus court et plus modeste que les précédents, L’usage de l’art réunit en fait pour le lecteur français deux articles initialement parus dans des revues anglophones.
Si les thèses de Turner semblent parfois reposer sur des analogies quelque peu forcées entre art et idéologie, plutôt que sur des démonstrations documentées, c’est la contrepartie d’un effort stimulant pour lier des disciplines, media studies, histoire de l’art et sociologie du travail, qui communiquent habituellement peu. Le choix d’une approche sous l’angle de l’art d’entreprise permet de comprendre le pouvoir d’attraction que ces multinationales continuent d’exercer sur leurs employés comme sur leurs utilisateurs, malgré des critiques croissantes : leurs promesses de réalisation de soi ne se nourrissent pas seulement « aux sources de l’utopie numérique », mais aussi à celles de la bohème artistique.
Comment créer une rue piétonne
Organisation d’intérêt public, Vivre en Ville contribue, partout au #Québec, au développement de collectivités viables, œuvrant tant à l’échelle du bâtiment qu’à celles de la rue, du quartier et de Lire la suite...
Une Mine autogérée à Saint-Étienne... en 1891 ! - Le Numéro Zéro
Inaugurée en 1891, la Mine aux mineurs de Monthieu dura jusqu’en 1908. Elle ne fut pourtant ni la mine autogérée qui dura le plus longtemps en France, ni même la seule Mine aux mineurs dans le bassin minier de la Loire, qui en compta deux autres à Rive-de-Gier dans les mêmes années.
Elle eut une vie agitée, secouée par de nombreux procès, et même une grève ! Et pourtant elle réussit à faire vivre, pendant plus de dix ans, entre 70 et 100 mineurs, là où la compagnie précédente avait échoué, et cela alors qu’elle manquait de capitaux. Son histoire mouvementée et contrastée prouve bien que, selon un proverbe célèbre, « l’autogestion, c’est pas de la tarte ! ». Mais, justement, ses difficultés et ses contradictions constituent une expérience précieuse, utile à toutes celles et tous ceux qui veulent construire l’autogestion ou, de manière plus limitée, qui souhaitent plus de démocratie dans les entreprises. Aujourd’hui encore, cette expérience peut être utile, comme elle le fut à la fin du XIXe siècle.
Je découvre #The_Freedom_Affair, un nouveau groupe de soul de Kansas City, avec de très beaux titres :
Don’t Shoot (sur les #violences_policières bien sûr, en acoustique)
je ne sais pas si c’est la fatigue, ou je suis trop sensible en ce moment, mais le premier clip moi ça m’a fait pleurer l’ambiance, les gens qui sont bien ensemble, la vie qui pourrait être belle, etc, en regard de toutes les merdes qui s’annoncent et après avoir lu le début de L’Onde hier soir… ▻https://seenthis.net/messages/901815
mais merci pour la découverte :)
Immigration Enforcement and the Afterlife of the Slave Ship
Coast Guard techniques for blocking Haitian asylum seekers have their roots in the slave trade. Understanding these connections can help us disentangle immigration policy from white nationalism.
Around midnight in May 2004, somewhere in the Windward Passage, one of the Haitian asylum seekers trapped on the flight deck of the U.S. Coast Guard’s USCGC Gallatin had had enough.
He arose and pointed to the moon, whispering in hushed tones. The rest of the Haitians, asleep or pretending to be asleep, initially took little notice. That changed when he began to scream. The cadence of his words became erratic, furious—insurgent. After ripping his shirt into tatters, he gestured wildly at the U.S. Coast Guard (USCG) watchstanders on duty.
I was one of them.
His eyes fixed upon mine. And he slowly advanced toward my position.
I stood fast, enraptured by his lone defiance, his desperate rage. Who could blame him? Confinement on this sunbaked, congested, malodorous flight deck would drive anyone crazy—there were nearly 300 people packed together in a living space approximately 65 feet long and 35 feet wide. We had snatched him and his compatriots from their overloaded sailing vessel back in April. They had endured week after week without news about the status of their asylum claims, about what lay in store for them.
Then I got scared. I considered the distinct possibility that, to this guy, I was no longer me, but a nameless uniform, an avatar of U.S. sovereignty: a body to annihilate, a barrier to freedom. I had rehearsed in my mind how such a contingency might play out. We were armed only with nonlethal weapons—batons and pepper spray. The Haitians outnumbered us 40 to 1. Was I ready? I had never been in a real fight before. Now a few of the Haitian men were standing alert. Were they simply curious? Was this their plan all along? What if the women and children joined them?
Lucky for me, one of the meanest devils on the watch intervened on my behalf. He charged toward us, stepping upon any Haitians who failed to clear a path. After a brief hand-to-hand struggle, he subdued the would-be rebel, hauled him down to the fantail, and slammed his head against the deck. Blood ran from his face. Some of the Haitians congregated on the edge of the flight deck to spectate. We fastened the guy’s wrists with zip ties and ordered the witnesses to disperse. The tension in his body gradually dissipated.
After fifteen minutes, the devil leaned down to him. “Are you done? Done making trouble?” His silence signified compliance.
Soon after, the Haitians were transferred to the custody of the Haitian Coast Guard. When we arrived in the harbor of Port-au-Prince, thick plumes of black smoke rose from the landscape. We were witnessing the aftermath of the CIA-orchestrated February coup against President Jean-Bertrand Aristide and the subsequent invasion of the country by U.S. Marines under the auspices of international “peacekeeping.” Haiti was at war.
None of that mattered. Every request for asylum lodged from our boat had been rejected. Every person returned to Haiti. No exceptions.
The Gallatin left the harbor. I said goodbye to Port-au-Prince. My first patrol was over.
Out at sea, I smoked for hours on the fantail, lingering upon my memories of the past months. I tried to imagine how the Haitians would remember their doomed voyage, their detention aboard the Gallatin, their encounters with us—with me. A disquieting intuition repeated in my head: the USCG cutter, the Haitians’ sailing vessel, and European slave ships represented a triad of homologous instances in which people of African descent have suffered involuntary concentration in small spaces upon the Atlantic. I dreaded that I was in closer proximity to the enslavers of the past, and to the cops and jailors of the present, than I ever would be to those Haitians.
So, that night, with the butt of my last cigarette, I committed to cast my memories of the Haitians overboard. In the depths of some unmarked swath of the Windward Passage, I prayed, no one, including me, would ever find them again.
In basic training, every recruit is disciplined to imagine how the USCG is like every other branch of the military, save one principle: we exist to save lives, and it is harder to save lives than to take them. I was never a very good sailor, but I took this principle seriously. At least in the USCG, I thought, I could evade the worst cruelties of the new War on Terror.
Perhaps I should have done more research on the USCG’s undeclared long war against Haitian asylum seekers, in order to appreciate precisely what the oath to “defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic” would demand of me. This war had long preceded my term of enlistment. It arguably began in 1804, when the United States refused to acknowledge the newly liberated Haiti as a sovereign nation and did everything it could to insulate its slaving society from the shock waves of Haiti’s radical interpretation of universal freedom. But in our present day, it began in earnest with President Ronald Reagan’s Executive Order 12324 of 1981, also called the Haitian Migrant Interdiction Operation (HMIO), which exclusively tasked the USCG to “interdict” Haitian asylum seekers attempting to enter the United States by sea routes on unauthorized sailing vessels. Such people were already beginning to be derogatorily referred to as “boat people,” a term then borrowed (less derogatorily) into Haitian Kreyòl as botpippel.
The enforcement of the HMIO and its subsequent incarnations lies almost entirely within the jurisdiction of federal police power acting under the authority of the executive branch’s immigration and border enforcement powers. It does not take place between nations at enmity with one another, but between vastly unequal yet allied powers. Its strategic end is to create a kind of naval blockade, a fluid maritime border around Haiti, which remains under ever-present threat of invasion by a coalition of U.S. and foreign military forces.
Adding to its asymmetry, the “enemies” to be vanquished on the battlefield are also unconventional: they are not agents of a state, but rather noncombatant individuals who are, in one sense or another, simply acting to save their own lives. During their incarceration aboard USCG cutters, they automatically bear the legal status of “economic migrant,” a person whom authorities deem to be fleeing poverty alone and therefore by definition ineligible for asylum. The meaning of this category is defined solely by reference to its dialectical negation, the “political refugee,” a person whom authorities may (or may not) deem to have a legible asylum claim because they are fleeing state persecution on the basis of race, creed, political affiliation, or sexual orientation. These abstractions are historical artifacts of a half-baked, all-encompassing theory of preemptive deterrence: unless USCG patrols are used to place Haiti under a naval blockade, and unless botpippel are invariably denied asylum, the United States will become flooded with criminals and people who have no means of supporting themselves. By 2003 John Ashcroft and the Bush administration upped the ante, decrying botpippel to be vectors of terrorism. On January 11, 2018, President Donald Trump, during efforts to justify ending nearly all immigration and asylum, described Haiti (which he grouped with African nations) as a “shithole country” where, as he asserted several months prior, “all have AIDS.”
Haiti is now facing another such crisis. Its president, Jovenel Moïse, having already suspended nearly all elected government save himself, refused to step down at the end of his term on February 7, 2021, despite widespread protests that have shuttered the country. Moïse’s administration is currently being propped up by criminal syndicates, but they are slipping his grasp, and kidnapping for money is now so prevalent that people are terrified to leave their homes. So far, the Biden administration’s response has not been encouraging: though it has instructed ICE to temporarily halt deportations to Haiti, naval blockades remain in force, and the U.S. State Department has expressed the opinion that Moïse should remain in office for at least another year, enforcing the sense that Haiti is once again a U.S. client state.
With regard to the Coast Guard’s longstanding orders to block Haitians seeking asylum, the modality of killing is not straightforward, but it is intentional. It consists of snatching the Haitian enemy from their vessel, forcing them to subsist in a state of bare life, and finally abandoning them in their home country at gunpoint. Of course, many may survive the ordeal and may even attempt another journey. But especially during acute phases of armed conflict and catastrophe, it is just as likely that—whether at the behest of starvation, disease, or violence—a return to Haiti is a death sentence.
This banal form of murder is analogous to what Ruth Wilson Gilmore offers as her definition of racism in Golden Gulag (2007): “the state sanctioned or extralegal production and exploitation of group-differentiated vulnerability to premature death.” Based on the extant documentary record, I estimate that the USCG has interdicted at least 120,000 botpippel since the HMIO of 1981 took effect. Those who fell prey to an untimely demise following deportation died because the United States, though repeatedly responsible for undermining Haitian democracy and economic stability, nonetheless refuses to acknowledge that these actions have made Haiti, for many, mortally unsafe. The true death toll will never be known. Countless botpippel have simply disappeared at sea, plunged into a gigantic watery necropolis.
Since 2004 U.S. officials have brought their forms of border policing strategies and tactics against Haitians to bear on land-based immigration and refugee policies against non-white asylum seekers. One of the most significant technical innovations of enforcement against Haitians was the realization that by detaining them exclusively within a maritime environment, the United States could summarily classify all of them as economic migrants—whose claims for asylum de facto have no standing—and prevent them from lodging claims as political refugees, which are the only claims with any hope of success. They were thus proactively disabled from advancing a request for asylum in a U.S. federal court, with all claims instead evaluated by an INS-designated official aboard the USCG vessel. The New York Times recently reported that, since late 2009, similar techniques have been adopted by Customs and Border Control agents patrolling sea routes along the California coast, which has resulted in a notable escalation of CBP naval patrols and aerial surveillance of the region. And in fact, the USCG has cooperatively supported these efforts by sharing its infrastructure—ports, cutters, and aircraft—and its personnel with CBP. All of this has been with the aim of making sure that asylum seekers never make it to the United States, whether by land or by sea.
The Trump administration made the most significant use of this set of innovations to date, insisting that asylum claims must be made from camps on the Mexican side of the U.S. border—and therefore automatically invalid by virtue of being limited to the status of economic migrant. Thus, hundreds of thousands of non-white asylum seekers fleeing material precariousness, yes, but also the threat of violence in the Global South are, and will continue to be, caught in carceral webs composed of ICE/CBP goon squads, ruthless INS officials, and perilous tent cities, not to mention the prison guards employed at one of the numerous semi-secret migrant detention centers operating upon U.S. soil for those few who make it across.
From the perspective of Haitian immigrants and botpippel, this is nothing new. Thousands of their compatriots have already served time at infamous extrajudicial sites such as the Krome detention center in Miami (1980–present), Guantanamo Bay (1991–93), and, most often, the flight decks of USCG cutters. They know that the USCG has long scoured the Windward Passage for Haitians in particular, just as ICE/CBP goon squads now patrol U.S. deserts, highways, and city streets for the undocumented. And they know that Trump’s fantasy of building a “Great Wall” on the U.S.–Mexico border is not so farfetched, because the USCG continues to enforce a maritime one around Haiti.
The Biden administration has inherited this war and its prisoners, with thousands remaining stuck in legal limbo while hoping—in most cases, without hope—that their asylum claims will advance. Opening alternative paths to citizenship and declaring an indefinite moratorium on deportations would serve as foundations for more sweeping reforms in the future. But the core challenge in this political moment is to envision nothing less than the total decriminalization and demilitarization of immigration law enforcement.
Botpippel are not the first undocumented people of African descent to have been policed by U.S. naval forces. The legal architecture through which the USCG legitimates the indefinite detention and expulsion of Haitian asylum seekers reaches back to U.S. efforts to suppress the African slave trade, outlawed by Congress in 1807, though domestic slaveholding would continue, and indeed its trade would be not only safeguarded but bolstered by this act.
This marked a decisive turning point in the history of maritime policing vis-à-vis immigration. Per the Slave Trade Acts of 1794 and 1800, the United States already claimed jurisdiction over U.S. citizens and U.S. vessels engaged in the slave trade within U.S. territorial borders (contemporaneously understood as extending three nautical miles into the ocean). By 1808, however, the United States sought to extend its jurisdiction over the sea itself. Slaver vessels operating around “any river, port, bay, or harbor . . . within the jurisdictional limits of the United States” as well as “on the high seas” were deemed illegal and subject to seizure without compensation. The actual physical distance from U.S. soil that these terms referred to was left purposefully vague. To board a given vessel, a Revenue Cutter captain only had to suspect, rather than conclusively determine, that that vessel eventually intended to offload “international” (i.e., non-native) enslaved people into the United States. The 1819 iteration of the law further stipulated that U.S. jurisdiction included “Africa, or elsewhere.” Hence, in theory, after 1819, the scope of U.S. maritime police operations was simply every maritime space on the globe.
Revenue Cutter Service captains turned the lack of any description in the 1808 law or its successive iterations about what should be done with temporarily masterless slaves into an advantage. They did what they would have done to any fugitive Black person at the time: indefinitely detain them until higher authorities determined their status, and thereby foreclose the possibility of local Black people conspiring to shuttle them to freedom. During confinement, captured Africans were compelled to perform labor as if they were slaves. For instance, those captured from the Spanish-flagged Antelope (1820) spent seven years toiling at a military fort in Savannah, Georgia, as well as on the local U.S. marshal’s plantation. As wards of the state, they were human only insofar as U.S. officials had a duty to force them to remain alive. Of those “rescued” from the Antelope, 120 ultimately died in captivity and 2 went missing. Following litigation, 39 survivors were sold to U.S. slaveowners to compensate Spanish and Portuguese claimants who had stakes in the Antelope and her enslaved cargo. Per the designs of the American Colonization Society, the remaining 120 Africans were freed upon condition that they be immediately deported to New Georgia, Liberia.
This anti-Black martial abolitionism was therefore a project framed around the unification of two countervailing tendencies. While white planters consistently pushed to extend racial slavery into the southern and western frontiers, white northern financiers and abolitionists were in favor of creating the most propitious conditions for the expansion of free white settlements throughout America’s urban and rural milieus. Black people were deemed unfit for freedom not only because of their supposed inborn asocial traits, but because their presence imperiled the possibility for white freedom. To actualize Thomas Jefferson’s “Empire of Liberty,” the United States required immigration policies that foreshortened Black peoples’ capacities for social reproduction and thereby re-whitened America.
This political aim was later extended in legislation passed on February 19, 1862, which authorized President Abraham Lincoln—who intended to solve the contradictions that led to the Civil War by sending every Black person in America back to Africa—to use U.S. naval forces to capture, detain, and deport undocumented people of East Asian/Chinese descent (“coolies”) while at sea. Henceforth, “the free and voluntary emigration of any Chinese subject” to the U.S. was proscribed unless a ship captain possessed documents certified by a consular agent residing at the foreign port of departure. At the time, the principal means for Chinese emigrants to obtain authorization would have been at behest of some corporation seeking expendable, non-white laborers contractually bound to work to death in mines and on railroads on the western frontiers—Native American lands stolen through imperialist warfare. White settlers presupposed that these Asians’ residency was provisional and temporary—and then Congress codified that principle into law in 1870, decreeing that every person of East Asian/Chinese descent, anywhere in the world, was ineligible for U.S. citizenship.
Twelve years later, An Act to Regulate Immigration (1882) played upon the notion that non-white immigration caused public disorder. Through the use of color-blind legal language, Section 2 of this law specified that the United States must only accept immigrants who were conclusively not “convict[s], lunatic[s], idiot[s], or any person unable to take care of himself or herself without becoming a public charge.” The burden of proof lay on non-white immigrants to prove how their racial backgrounds were not already prima facie evidence for these conditions. Section 4 also stipulated that “all foreign convicts except those convicted of political offenses, upon arrival, shall be sent back to the nations to which they belong and from whence they came.” By which means a non-white person could demonstrate the “political” character of a given conviction were cleverly left undefined.
It was not a giant leap of imagination for the United States to apply these precedents to the maritime policing of Haitian asylum seekers in the 1980s. Nor should we be surprised that the logic of anti-Black martial abolitionism shapes present-day U.S. immigration policy.
Political philosopher Peter Hallward estimates that paramilitary death squads executed at least a thousand supporters of Lavalas, President Aristide’s party, in the weeks following Aristide’s exile from Haiti on February 29, 2004. The first kanntè (Haitian sailing vessel) the Gallatin sighted one morning in early April had likely departed shortly thereafter.
The first people from our ship that the Haitians met were members of the boarding team, armed with pistols, M-16s, shotguns, and zip ties. Their goal was to compel the hundred or so aboard the kanntè to surrender their vessel and allow us to deposit them on the flight deck of our ship. Negotiations can take hours. It is not uncommon for some to jump overboard, rather than allow boarding to occur uninhibited. If immediate acquiescence is not obtained, we will maneuver ourselves such that any further movement would cause the small boat to “ram” the Gallatin—an attack on a U.S. military vessel.
On the Gallatin, we waited for uptake, outfitted with facemasks and rubber gloves. One at a time, we aided the Haitian adults to make the final step from the small boat to the deck of the cutter. We frisked them for weapons and then marched them to the fantail to undergo initial processing. Most of them appeared exhausted and confused—but compliant. Some may have already been in fear for their lives. One night aboard the USCGC Dallas, which hovered in Port-au-Prince Bay as a deportation coordination outpost and as a temporary detention site for Haitians awaiting immediate transfer to Haitian Coast Guard authorities, my friend and his shipmates asked their Kreyòl interpreter how he managed to obtain compliance from the botpippel. “I tell them you will hurt or kill them if they do not obey,” he joked, “so, of course, they listen.”
Boarding all the Haitians took from midday until midnight. One of the last ones I helped aboard, a man dressed in a suit two sizes too large, looked into my eyes and smiled. He gently wept, clasped my hand tightly, and embraced me. I quickly pushed him off and pointed to the processing station at the fantail, leading him by the wrist to join the others. He stopped crying.
Three things happened at the processing station. First, Haitians deposited the last of their belongings with the interpreter, ostensibly for safekeeping. Who knows if anyone got their things back. Second, a Kreyòl translator and one of the officers gave them a cursory interview about their asylum claims, all the while surrounded by armed sentries, as well as other Haitians who might pass that intelligence onto narcotics smugglers, paramilitary gangs, or state officials back in Haiti. Lastly, they received a rapid, half-assed medical examination—conducted in English. So long as they nodded, or remained silent, they passed each test and were shuffled up to the flight deck.
We retired for the night after the boarding team set fire to the kanntè as a hazard to navigation. The Haitians probably didn’t know that this was the reason we unceremoniously torched their last hope for escape before their very eyes.
About a week later, we found another kanntè packed with around seventy Haitians and repeated the process. Another USCG cutter transferred a hundred more over to the Gallatin. Our flight deck was reaching full capacity.
We arrived at one kanntè too late. It had capsized. Pieces of the shattered mast and little bits of clothing and rubbish were floating around the hull. No survivors. How long had it been? Sharks were spotted circling at a short depth below the vessel.
The Gallatin’s commanders emphasized that our mission was, at its core, humanitarian in nature. We were duty-bound to provide freshwater, food, and critical medical care. During their time aboard, Haitians would be treated as detainees and were not to be treated, or referred to, as prisoners. The use of force was circumscribed within clear rules of engagement. The Haitians were not in any way to be harmed or killed unless they directly threatened the ship or its sailors. Unnecessary violence against them could precipitate an internal review, solicit undue international criticism, and imperil the deportationist efficiency of INS officials. We were told that our batons and pepper spray were precautionary, primarily symbolic.
It sounded like all I had to do was stand there and not screw anything up.
Over the course of several watches, I concluded that, in fact, our job was also to relocate several crucial features of the abysmal living conditions that obtained on the kanntè onto the Gallatin’s flight deck. Though the flight deck was 80 feet by 43 feet, we blocked the edges to facilitate the crew’s movement and to create a buffer between us and the Haitians. Taking this into account, their living space was closer to 65 feet by 35 feet. For a prison population of 300 Haitians, each individual would have had only 7 feet 7 inches square to lie down and stand up. On the diagram of the eighteenth-century British slaver Brooks, the enslaved were each allocated approximately 6 feet 10 inches square, scarcely less than on the Gallatin. (Historian Marcus Rediker thinks that the Brooks diagram probably overstates the amount of space the enslaved were given.)
Although some cutters will drape tarps over the flight deck to shield the Haitians from the unmediated effects of the sun, the Gallatin provided no such shelter. We permitted them to shower, once, in saltwater, without soap. The stench on the flight deck took on a sweet, fetid tinge.
The only place they could go to achieve a modicum of solitude and to escape the stench was the makeshift metal toilet on the fantail. (On slave ships, solitude was found by secreting away to a hidden compartment or small boat to die alone; the “necessary tubs” that held human excrement were contained in the slave holds below deck.) They were permitted to use the toilet one at a time in the case of adults, and two at a time in the case of children and the elderly. For what was supposed to be no longer than five minutes, they had an opportunity to stretch, relax, and breathe fresh sea air. Nevertheless, these moments of respite took place under observation by the watchstander stationed at the toilet, not to mention the numerous Haitian onlookers at the rear of the flight deck.
Despite our commanders’ reticence on the matter, the ever-present fear of revolt hovered underneath the surface of our standing orders. We were to ensure order and discipline through counterinsurgency protocols and techniques of incarceration that one might find in any U.S. prison. The military imperative aboard the Gallatin was to produce a sense of radical uncertainty and temporal disorientation in the Haitians, such that they maintain hope for an asylum claim that had already been rejected.
In this context, there were four overlapping components to the security watch.
The first component of the ship’s securitization was constant surveillance. We were not supposed to take our eyes off the Haitians for one moment. During the watch, we would regularly survey the flight deck for any signs of general unrest, conspiracy, or organized protest. Any minor infraction could later contribute to the eruption of a larger riot, and thus needed to be quickly identified and neutralized. We also had to observe their behavior for indications that one of them intended to jump overboard or harm another Haitian. All that said, we found a used condom one day. Surveillance is never total.
The second was the limitation we placed on communication. We shrouded all USCG practices in a fog of secrecy. Conversing with the Haitians through anything other than hand signals and basic verbal commands was forbidden; physical contact was kept at bare minimum. Nonofficial speech among the watch was proscribed. Watchstanders were stripped of their identity, save their uniform, from which our nametags were removed. It was critical that botpippel forever be unable to identify us.
Secrecy preemptively disabled the Haitians from collectively piecing together fragments of information about where our vessel had been, where it was now, and where it was going. Officially, the concern was that they might exploit the situation to gather intelligence about our patrol routes and pass this information to human or narcotics smugglers. We militated against their mapping out how the ship operated, its layout and complement, where living spaces and the armory were located, and so on. These were standard tactics aboard slaver vessels. As freed slave and abolitionist Olaudah Equiano observed, “When the ship we were in had got in all her cargo . . . we were all put under deck, so that we could not see how they managed the vessel.”
On the Gallatin, the command also strove to maintain strict control over the narrative. They blocked sailors’ access to the open Internet and censored letters from home that contained news of global or domestic politics (and even just bad personal news). Knowledge of whether a particular asylum claim had failed or succeeded was hidden from all. A watchstander harboring political solidarity with—as opposed to mere empathy and pity for—the Haitians might compromise operational capacities, good judgment, and core loyalty to the USCG.
Our third securitization strategy was to produce false knowledge of the future. The Haitians were led to believe that they were merely waiting aboard the ship because their asylum claims were still being vigorously debated by diplomatic entities in Washington. Their continued compliance was predicated on this differential of knowledge. They could not realize that they were moving in circles, being returned slowly to Haiti. If they lost all hope, we presumed they would eventually resist their intolerable conditions through violent means.
Hence, our fourth securitization measure: USCG personnel were permitted to inflict several limited forms of physical and symbolic violence against the Haitians, not only in response to perceived noncompliance, but also as a means of averting the need to inflict even greater violence in the future.
If it were not classified as a matter of national security, we might have a better grasp of how many times such instances occur aboard USCG vessels. I open this essay with a story of how we subdued and punished one person for resisting the rules. But it is known that punishment is sometimes inflicted on entire groups. A telling example took place on January 30, 1989, when the USCG captured the Dieu Devant with 147 Haitians aboard. One of them, Fitzroy Joseph, later reported in congressional hearings that, after they expressed a fear of being killed if returned to Haiti, USCG personnel “began wrestling with the Haitians and hitting their hands with their flashlights.” This was followed by threats to release pepper spray. Marie Julie Pierre, Joseph’s wife, corroborated his testimony, adding:
[We were] asked at once if we feared returning to Haiti and everyone said yes we did. We said ‘down with Avril, up with Bush.’ We were threatened with tear gas but they didn’t use it. Many people were crying because they were so afraid. [Ti Jak] was hit by the officers because he didn’t want to go back. They handcuffed him. The Coast Guard grabbed others by the neck and forced them to go to the biggest boat. My older brother was also hit and treated like a chicken as they pulled him by the neck.
Counterintuitively, our nonlethal weapons functioned as more efficient instruments of counterinsurgency than lethal weapons. Brandishing firearms might exacerbate an already tense situation in which the Haitians outnumbered the entire ship’s complement. It could also provide an opportunity for the Haitians to seize and turn our own guns against us (or one another). In contrast, losing a baton and a can of pepper spray represented a relatively minor threat to the ship’s overall security. In the event of an actual riot, the command could always mobilize armed reinforcements. From the perspective of the command, then, the first responders on watch were, to some extent, expendable. Nevertheless, sentries bearing firearms were on deck when we approached Haiti and prepared for final deportation. That is, the precise moment the Haitians realized their fate.
Like the enslaved Africans captured by the Revenue Cutter Service, botpippel were human to us only insofar as we had to compel them, through the threat or actuality of violence, to remain alive. The Haitians ate our tasteless food and drank our freshwater—otherwise they would starve, or we might beat them for going on a hunger strike. They tended to remain silent and immobile day and night—otherwise they would invite acts of exemplary punishment upon themselves. The practices of confinement on the Gallatin represent a variant of what historian Stephanie Smallwood describes as a kind of “scientific empiricism” that developed aboard slave ships, which “prob[ed] the limits to which it is possible to discipline the body without extinguishing the life within.” Just as contemporary slavers used force to conserve human commodities for sale, so does the USCG use force to produce nominally healthy economic migrants to exchange with Haitian authorities.
The rational utilization of limited forms of exemplary violence was an integral aspect of this carceral science. Rediker shows how slaver captains understood violence along a continuum that ranged from acceptably severe to unacceptably cruel. Whereas severity was the grounds of proper discipline as such, an act was cruel only if it led “to catastrophic results [and] sparked reactions such as mutiny by sailors or insurrection by slaves.” In turn, minor acts of kindness, such as dispensing better food or allowing slightly more free time to move above deck, were conditioned by these security imperatives. Furthermore, they exerted no appreciable change to the eventuality that the person would be sold to a slaveowner, for kindness was a self-aggrandizing ritual performance of authority that intended to lay bare the crucial imbalance of power relations at hand. This was, Rediker maintains, “as close as the owners ever came to admitting that terror was essential to running a slave ship.”
The USCG’s undeclared long war against Haitian asylum seekers is but one front of a much longer war against people of African descent in the Americas. The entangled histories of the African slave trade and anti-Black martial abolitionism reveal how this war intimately shaped the foundations and racist intentions that underlay modern U.S. immigration and refugee policy writ large. And the Gallatin, her sailors, and the Haitians who were trapped on the flight deck, are, in some small way, now a part of this history, too.
The Biden administration has the power to decisively end this war—indeed, every war against non-white asylum seekers. Until then, botpippel will continue to suffer the slave ships that survive into the present.
#esclavage #héritage #migrations #contrôles_migratoires #Haïti #gardes-côtes #nationalisme_blanc #USA #Etats-Unis #migrations #frontières #asile #réfugiés #USCG #Haitian_Migrant_Interdiction_Operation (#HMIO) #botpippel #boat_people
But in our present day, it began in earnest with President Ronald Reagan’s Executive Order 12324 of 1981, also called the Haitian Migrant Interdiction Operation (HMIO), which exclusively tasked the USCG to “interdict” Haitian asylum seekers attempting to enter the United States by sea routes on unauthorized sailing vessels. Such people were already beginning to be derogatorily referred to as “boat people,” a term then borrowed (less derogatorily) into Haitian Kreyòl as botpippel.
Excision territoriale australienne :
Citation tirée du livre de McAdam et Chong : « Refugees : why seeking asylum is legal and Australia’s policies are not » (p.3)
“Successive governments (aided by much of the media) have exploited public anxieties about border security to create a rhetorical - and, ultimately, legislative - divide between the rights of so-called ’genuine’ refugees, resettled in Australia from camps and settlements abroad, and those arriving spontaneously in Australia by boat.”
Accidental Skyline – The Municipal Art Society of New York
A blueprint for a more intentional city
Since the release of its Accidental Skyline report in 2013, MAS has been raising the alarm about the need for new rules and regulations to protect public assets like light, air, open space, and the character of the City’s neighborhoods from supertall towers and out-of-scale development.
New York is experiencing an unprecedented boom in as-of-right, out-of-scale development that flout the intention of our zoning code. We urge the City to address the following interrelated issues that have given rise to supertalls and out-of-scale development:
Loopholes and outdated rules, including provisions for air rights transfers, zoning lot mergers, height factor buildings, structural voids, and floor area bonuses, along with deficient environmental review evaluations and questionable mitigation enforcement;
Inadequate public input, including significant actions with no public review, resistance to community-based planning initiatives; and
Lack of accountability, including an opaque process rife with inaccessible and incomplete information and insufficient building applications.
Please visit our ten-point plan for reform: How Do We Fix It?
Biden orders review of visa scheme for Afghan translators
US President Joe Biden ordered a review of the Special Immigrant Visa (SIV) program for Afghan and Iraqi translators who helped the American troops in the two countries.
Under Friday’s executive order, the White House said, practices would be reviewed to ensure the US was keeping its promise held out to the allies to expand the visa scheme.
The proposed review will help enhance access to the programme for the translators who are under threat of persecution.
The review will also help women, children and those who may be discriminated against for gender or sexual orientation.
According to Fox News, Rep. Mike Waltz, R-Fla., a combat veteran who works closely with SIV requests, welcomed the new order.
The lawmaker said: “It just sends such an important signal if you stand with us and you stand against extremism we’ll be there for you. We will honor that commitment.”
Fearing retaliation from the Taliban and other militant outfits, some 17,000 Afghans who helped the US abroad are seeking special visas to resettle in America.
Amazon’s New CEO Is Shaping How the Military Uses Killer Robots
Andy Jassy is a member of the National Security Commission on Artificial Intelligence On July 1, Amazon will have a new CEO. Andy Jassy, who is replacing Jeff Bezos, helped build the company’s cloud business from scratch, cementing its servers as a cornerstone of the internet. But not all of Jassy’s work has been inside Amazon. The incoming CEO is also a commissioner on the National Security Commission on Artificial Intelligence (NSCAI), which was created by Congress in 2018 to advise on (...)