The US v Students

 

A civilised society supports people in need, but our brutal system shatters lives

Aditya Chakrabortty in The Guardian



Simon’s death certificate tidies away his life in a few terse official phrases. Date of death: 12 November 2017. Causes: “a) Fatty liver” and “b) Alcohol misuse”. No bureaucratic curiosity about how a 51-year-old’s life came to be cut so short.

Which leaves his only brother, Dave, dealing with the grief and asking all the whys. Why did Simon die so young? Why did no one else try to help?

No obituaries will be written for Simon, no plaques mounted, no tributes passed by politicians. But if you want to understand how Britain fails so many people in so many places, it’s stories like his you need to study.

Some people’s lives are like arrows, flying straight to their destinations. Not Simon’s. The Rhymney Valley, in south Wales, is where he was born and died, but it wasn’t where he spent most of his adult years, and it was never where he meant to land up. Bright boys, he and Dave had one notion drummed into them: get an education, and get out. On TV, Dave remembers, “We’d see the yuppie revolution going on in London – the Porsches and the red braces. It may as well have been another country.” For them, Thatcher meant mines closing, factories shutting, men being laid off in their thousands, and families going under.


Yet there are so many people like Simon, all surplus to requirements of this shrunken economy


Both sons flew away. Simon was the high-flyer, leaving Wales to do a science degree, going to Cambridge for postgraduate study, and becoming a software engineer with a giant defence firm. He married and settled far away, in Bushey, on the outskirts of London. He had got on his bike; he had looked for work. Now he was earning three times what his younger brother was making, and raring to join the yuppies.

Just as he was starting to live the dream, the dream fell to bits. He got divorced. He got laid off. Then their mother’s breast cancer returned – this time for good. The prodigal son moved back, moved in, and became her carer. Dave doesn’t remember him complaining once during the years their mother spent deteriorating and then dying.

Such setbacks await all of us, but one test of any civilised society is how well it supports us through them. In Simon’s case, Britain botched this test – over and over again. By the time his mother died, he had spent seven years outside the job market. It was 2007, the start of the credit crunch, and the economy was slowing. Even in boomtown London such a gap on the CV would have raised recruiters’ eyebrows. Here in south Wales, where jobs were already scarce, it was the kiss of death. Besides, it simply did not have positions for Si, with his Cambridge postgrad and software engineering background.

Simon “spent 25 years building up to be somebody”, says Dave. A quarter-century observing the social mobility rules laid down by Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair. He had aspired, he’d grafted, he’d kept his side of the bargain. But while social mobility trumpets opportunity for individuals, it ignores the communities where those people live. The result was that Simon’s ambitions had outgrown his home, and now he was trapped.

Dave showed me the small terrace house their mother passed on to Simon, where he spent the last years of his life. No one was about as we walked through the speck of a village – just two long rows of cars parked outside the train station. This is the new Welsh commuter class that economists such as Cardiff University’s Calvin Jones talk about, the people who travel from the valleys to staff the call centres, shops and other minimum-wage employers in Cardiff or Newport.

Governments in Westminster and Cardiff Bay have spent decades promising to rebuild the shattered economy of south Wales. Serious money has been spent on shopping malls, new motorways and sweeteners for big business. Each time, the firms come, take the cash and – at best – leave a few poverty-paying jobs. You see the same cycle in so many deindustrialised parts of Britain. And each time, the politicians learn no lessons, and try the same thing again.
A few minutes from Simon’s old home is the town of Bargoed, where the greatest excitement in recent years was the opening of a Morrisons. Much of the rest of the high street is just memories: a huge statue to commemorate dead miners, the chapel turned into a library, and shop after shop with its shutters pulled down for good.

A rural bus services in Fochriw village, Bargoed. South Wales is one of the poorest regions of the UK. Photograph: Martin Argles for the Guardian

Simon signed on at the jobcentre, which told him to apply for 35 jobs a week. He sent off to become a teaching assistant, a warehouse operative, all the minimum wage jobs going. Barely an application led to an interview. Sometimes, “angry and very down”, he’d miss his targets or appointments. He would get sanctioned, go broke, and have to call on Dave to tide him over.

After years of knockbacks, Simon declared he’d never be able to work again. It came almost as a relief. “It meant he didn’t have to think of himself as such a failure. Now he could be a victim.”

Simon had always been a pub man. But now he’d get up in the morning and start on a glass of watered-down scotch and a sci-fi DVD. By the end of a day, he’d have finished the DVDs, his fags and an entire bottle of Scotch. Why does Dave think no employer wanted him? His answer comes back in a small, tight voice. “No one wants a 50-year-old, unemployed, overweight, drinking guy on the books, do they?”

Yet there are so many of them, all surplus to the requirements of this shrunken economy. A GP in Bargoed estimates that up to one in 10 of her patients have some kind of drink or drug addiction. Up to one in three suffer depression or anxiety. In these parts, a newborn boy can expect to live just over 61 years in good health; in the richest parts of London, it’s 75 years.

Having been one of Blair’s strivers, Simon was now one of George Osborne’s skivers. He was moved on to disability benefits, before the Department for Work and Pensions assessors declared him fit for work. His money would periodically stop until his GP contested the verdict. This spring, he was moved on to universal credit, which meant six weeks with barely a penny. Again and again, it was Dave who had to bail him out. It was Dave who suggested jobs Simon could apply for, small businesses he might start. The younger brother was filling in for the state, while Si lived in ripped clothes and ate junk. “The government was abusing a vulnerable man.”

Alcoholic Simon would go to the local NHS drink service once every few weeks – and every few months, he’d end up in such a bad state he would be admitted to hospital. They’d “dry him out, then spit him out”, says Dave. According to the thinktank the Nuffield Trust, the Welsh health system is underfunded by £500m a year.

Simon died in his small house, waiting to go back into hospital to dry out. He grew up in a town with men who’d had to dig out children from the Aberfan mining disaster; he died the year Grenfell Tower burned down. When such obvious tragedies strike, the politicians and the press vow to tackle the social injustices that caused them. But Simon was just one man dying in plain sight of his neighbours, his family and state officials. Far easier to chalk up his death to a fatty liver and booze, rather than inequality and austerity and the false promises peddled by politicians from Thatcher to May. A dead man, a dying town: he spent his last days being told he’s fit for work in an economy that has next to no work.
What’s left is a younger brother beating himself up about what he should have done and angry at others for letting them both down.

Before we part, Dave asks: “Why wasn’t there someone who could step in and help? Is that naive of me? To think that a modern, 21st-century society could do that for people who need it?”

The names in this piece have been changed and details obscured in order to protect the identity of Simon’s family

CIA report details 'brutal' post-9/11 interrogations

US & CANADA

9 December 2014 Last updated at 16:15

The CIA carried out "brutal" interrogations of terror suspects in the years after the 9/11 attacks on the US, a US Senate report has said.

The summary of the Senate Intelligence Committee report said the CIA misled Americans on the effectiveness of "enhanced interrogation".

It said interrogations were badly managed and the information collected unreliable.

President Obama previously said that in his view the techniques were torture.

The Senate committee's report runs to more than 6,000 pages, drawing on huge quantities of evidence, but it remains classified and only a 480-page summary is being released.

Publication had been delayed amid disagreements in Washington over what should be made public.

President Barack Obama halted the CIA interrogation programme when he took office in 2009.

Earlier this year he said that in his view the methods used to question al-Qaeda prisoners amounted to torture.

During the presidency of George W Bush, the CIA operation against al-Qaeda - known internally as the Rendition, Detention and Interrogation - saw as many as 100 suspected terrorists held in "black sites" outside the US.

They were interrogated using methods such as waterboarding, slapping, humiliation, exposure to cold and sleep deprivation.

--------From The Independent

CIA 'torture' report: The 54 countries that will be worried by controversial revelations

After years of waiting, the US is about to publish a report exposing the “enhanced” interrogation techniques used by its intelligence service around the world – in other words, what many class as CIA torture.

The implications of the report stretch around the whole world, with much of the most controversial activity taking place off US soil. The map above shows just how many countries were participants in the CIA programme, according to the George Soros’ Open Society Foundation’s 2013 report.

Though unofficial, that very detailed probe concluded that 54 countries around the world assisted the CIA’s programme – 25 of them in Europe.

Today’s report, actually a 480-page summary of a 6,000-page investigation from the Senate Intelligence Committee, is expected to include graphic details about sexual threats, waterboarding and other harsh interrogation techniques meted out to captured militants since the 9/11 terror attacks.

Preparing for a worldwide outcry, and possibly even violence, from the publication of such graphic details, the White House and U.S. intelligence officials said on Monday they had taken steps to shore up security of US facilities worldwide.

But what is the report? And how much light will it shine on almost a decade and a half of secretive, possibly illegal Government activity.

American diplomatic and military posts overseas have been told to prepare themselves for violent protests this week if the US Senate proceeds with its promised release of a long-awaited report into 'enhanced' interrogation techniques used by the CIA on prisoners after the 11 September attacks 13 years agoWhat is the report?

The report, which took years to produce, is the first independent assessment of the CIA's "Rendition, Detention and Interrogation" program, which George Bush authorised after 9/11.

Bush ended many aspects of the program before leaving office, and Obama swiftly banned so-called "enhanced interrogation techniques," which critics say are torture, after his 2009 inauguration.

Senate Intelligence Committee staff reportedly reviewed around six million pages of information, while the report itself has over 38,000 footnotes citing CIA documents.

What details will it reveal?

Sources say the overall findings of the report are expected to be that the CIA programme did not deliver life-saving intelligence, that its techniques were more brutal than previously admitted, and that CIA officials misled the White House as to the extent of their activities.

More specifically, the report is said to describe how senior al-Qaeda operative Abdel Rahman al Nashiri, suspected mastermind of the 2000 bombing of the USS Cole, was threatened by his interrogators with a buzzing power drill. The drill was never actually used on Nashiri.

President Obama speaking ahead of the expected release of a Senate report that criticises the CIA’s treatment of captivesIn another instance, the report documents how at least one detainee was sexually threatened with a broomstick, sources told the Reuters news agency.

Other methods, such as sleep deprivation, confinement in small spaces and waterboarding, will be described as having gone beyond what was “legally allowable”, CBS News reported.

Cases in which CIA interrogators threatened one or more detainees with mock executions - a practice never authorised by Bush administration lawyers - are documented in the report, the Reuters sources said.

Why has it taken so long to be published?

It has taken three separate bipartisan votes to create, approve and finally declassify the report – in 2009, 2012 and 2014 respectively.

Republicans have fiercely opposed the publication, suggesting it will be to the detriment of national security, and critiques from Republican committee members and CIA officials are expected to be included in the release.

Abdulhakim Belhadj, a Libyan who claimed Britain helped the CIA in his illegal rendition into the hands of the Gaddafi governmentWith negotiations over how much could be released complete, Secretary of State John Kerry had earlier asked the committee to “consider” changing the timing of the report.

But that request has been denied – the committee does not want to risk not coming out under this Government, giving a potential new Republican government the chance to bury it altogether.

How will the world respond?

Preparing for a worldwide outcry, and possibly even violence, from the publication of such graphic details, the White House and US intelligence officials said on Monday that they had taken steps to shore up security of US facilities worldwide.

“There are some indications that the release of the report could lead to greater risk that is posed to US facilities and individuals all around the world,” White House spokesman Josh Earnest said.

John Kerry asked the committee to 'consider' the timing of the reportBut because so much of the CIA programme appears to have involved activity away from US soil, many other countries around the world will be concerned.

Among them is the UK which, it has been claimed, provided assistance to the CIA in the illegal rendition of Abdelhakim Belhadj, an anti-Gaddafi rebel leader who was returned to Libya reportedly via CIA custody.

The US State Department has warned all overseas posts to be prepared for a “range of reactions” in the wake of the report.

And the Republican chairman of the House Intelligence Committee, Mike Rogers, has been outspoken in his opposition. “I think this is a terrible idea,” he said on CNN. “Foreign leaders have approached the government and said, ‘You do this, this will cause violence and deaths’.”

Britain has said sorry to the Mau Mau. The rest of the empire is still waiting

British colonial violence was brutal, and systematic. If there is any justice, the Mau Mau's stunning legal victory should be the first of many

• 
• • Caroline Elkins
  • The Guardian, Thursday 6 June 2013 19.46 BST

Kenyans tortured during the Mau Mau rebellion are to receive compensation payments from the British government. Photograph: Dai Kurokawa/EPA

On Thursday nearly 200 elderly Kikuyu people travelled from their rural homesteads and sat before the British high commissioner in Nairobi. Over half a century had passed since many were last in front of a British official. It was a different era then in Kenya. The Mau Mau war was raging, and Britain was implementing coercive policies that left indelible scars on the bodies and minds of countless men and women suspected of subversive activities.

In the 1950s they experienced events in colonial detention camps that few imagined possible. Yesterday they gathered to witness another once unimaginable thing: the much-delayed colonial gesture at reconciliation. The high commissioner read extracts fromWilliam Hague's earlier statement in parliament. Hague acknowledged for the first time that the elderly Kikuyu and other Kenyans had been subjected to torture and other horrific abuses at the hands of the colonial administration during the Mau Mau emergency. On behalf of the British government he expressed "sincere regret" that these abuses had taken place, announced payments of £2,600 to each of 5,200 vetted claimants, and urged that the process of healing for both nations begin.

The faces of the elderly camp survivors betrayed the day's historical significance. Tears rolled down faces lined from years of internalised pain and bitterness. Many sat motionless as the high commissioner read the statement. Others let out audible gasps, and cries of joy. Some burst into song.

By any measure the announcement was stunning. With it, Britain jettisoned its appeal of the Mau Mau reparation case in the high court. Filed in 2009, the case was the first of its kind against the former British empire. Archival documents amassed for my book, Imperial Reckoning: The Untold Story of Britain's Gulag, were submitted in support of the case, together with other historical evidence.

As it dragged on, more evidence emerged, this time from the British government. In early2011 it announced the discovery of some 300 boxes of previously undisclosed files in Hanslope Park. As expert witness I reviewed many of these documents, hundreds of which offered additional evidence of colonial-directed coercion and torture. Facing a mountain of damning facts from imperial yesteryear, the British government chose to settle.

Britain's acknowledgement of colonial era torture has opened as many doors at it has closed. Kenya was scarcely an exception. British colonial repression was systematised and honed in the years following the second world war. First in Palestine, and then Malaya, Kenya, Cyprus, Aden, Northern Ireland and elsewhere, British coercive counter-insurgency tactics evolved, as did brutal interrogation techniques. The Mau Mau detention camps were but one site in a broader policy of end-of-empire incarceration, torture and cover-up.

In the wake of its announcement, Britain now faces potential claims from across its former empire. From a historical perspective, the government has every reason to be concerned about its legacy. There is unequivocal evidence of colonial brutalities in end-of-empire Malaya, Cyprus and elsewhere. Whether there is enough for successful legal claims is another matter altogether, however.

Lessons from the Mau Mau case in the high court are instructive. History was on trial, as it would be in other cases. As such, the level of historical reconstruction needed was extraordinary, as was the volume of evidence for a successful claim. The case was one that clearly rose and fell on highly detailed levels of historical knowledge and evidence.

The Kikuyu had a team of three historical experts – myself, David Anderson and Huw Bennett. Together, we brought decades of revisionist research to the case, and with it a full range of knowledge necessary for a successful claim. Outside Kenya, no other field has the depth or breadth of revisionist scholarship documenting British colonial violence at the end of empire. In part, this is due to the fact that British colonial authorities destroyed evidence at the time of decolonisation, or withheld other boxes of files for years. Regardless, without revisionist work, other potential cases will be at a disadvantage.

From a historian's perspective, two other factors were also at play. First, the discovery of the Hanslope files added layers of additional evidence crucial to the success of the Mau Mau claims. Some 8,800 files from 36 other colonies were discovered alongside the Kenya documents. However, none of these files, or at least those that the British government has now released to the National Archives, provide the kind of evidence contained in the Kenya documents. Second, the claimants and their historical experts were guided by the sharp legal minds and experience of Leigh Day and the Kenya Human Rights Commission. In effect, this was an exercise where expert, revisionist scholarship and human rights law came together with great effect – another first for the former British empire.

A cynic might say that the British government played its hand as best it could, and with an eye to other cases; that it dragged out proceedings for years so future claimants are now deceased; that its release of potential evidence files at Hanslope has been less than transparent, despite public claims to the contrary. Moreover, the high court's rulings over the past four years have tipped its hand to other potential cases. We now know that the chances of descendants of victims filing successful claims are slim, and the watermark for overcoming the statute of limitations is exceedingly high, as is the amount of historical evidence and expert forensic analysis. None of these factors bodes well for other potential claims.

Ultimately, the Mau Mau case is as symbolic as it is instructive. Regardless of future claims, Britons can no longer hide behind the rhetoric of unequivocal imperial success. Instead, British liberalism in the empire – with its alleged spread of civilisation, progress, liberty and rule of law justifying any coercive actions – has been irreversibly exposed.

Instead of being one-offs, Britain's colonial violence was as systematised as its efforts at cover-up. The British validation of the Mau Mau claims – and its first form of an apology for modern empire – offers its citizens an opportunity to understand more fully the unholy relationship between liberalism and imperialism, and the impacts not only on the elderly Kikuyu, but on themselves.