But anyway, it is not a question now of accusing the white American of crimes against the Negro. It is too
late for that. Besides, it is irrelevant. Injustice, murder, the shedding of blood, unhappily, are
commonplace. These things happen all the time and everywhere. There is always a reason for it. People will
always give themselves reasons for it. What I'm much more concerned about is what white Americans have done to
themselves; what has been done to me is irrelevant simply because there is nothing more you can do to me. But
in doing it, you've done something to yourself. In evading my humanity, you have done something to your own
humanity. We all do this all the time, of course. One labels people; one labels them "Jew," one labels them
"fascist," one labels them "Communist," one labels them "Negro," one labels them "white man." But in the doing
of this, you have not described anything--you have not described me when you call me a nigger or when you call
me a Negro leader. You have only described yourself. What I think of you says more about me than it can
possibly say about you. [10]
14 of Hearthfire, 1:51 PM
The Confederate battle flag and other symbols of white supremacy, including the Klan hood and the burning
cross, were already displayed in Vietnam before King's dissent... After King's 1967 speech, displays of the
flag became more prominent. "We are fighting and dying in a war that is not very popular in the first place,"
Lieutenant Eddie Kitchen, a thirty-three-year-old African American stationed in Vietnam, wrote his mother in
Chicago in late February 1968, complaining of "people who are still fighting the Civil War." Kitchen, who had
been in the military since 1955, reported a rapid proliferation of Confederate flags, mounted on jeeps and
flying over some bases. Two weeks later he was dead, officially listed as "killed in action." His mother
believed that he had been murdered by white soldiers in retaliation for objecting to the flag...
Then, one year to the day of his "Beyond Vietnam" speech ,
King was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee. As protests and riots spread in cities across the United States,
white soldiers in Vietnam raised Confederate flags in celebration. Commanding officers let them fly for days.
At Cam Ranh Bay Naval Base, a group donned white robes and held a Klan rally. At Da Nang and elsewhere, they
burned crosses...
Southern working-class soldiers, white and black, served in U.S. wars in disproportionate numbers, so these
escalating fights over symbols of southern racist identity effectively marked the end of the pact of 1898.
That pact, which had brought about national reconciliation between North and South, rested on two elements.
First, the War of 1898 and the serial wars that followed allowed southerners to reclaim admission into the
nation without having to renounce their white supremacy. On the contrary, the symbol of that supremacy, the
Confederate flag, was unfurled over the nation's proliferating battlefields. Many could even imagine that that
flag didn't represent racial domination and slavery but rather honor and grit, a fighting spirit that was
helping to carry democracy forward. Second, the War of 1898 was the beginning of the process by which African
Americans could claim citizenship by being willing to fight for the nation, with the military coming to serve
as the country's most effective venue of class and race mobility and distributor of social services, such as
education and welfare. The pact didn't suppress or transcend racial conflict so much as deferred it from one
war to the next. Defeat in Vietnam, though, marked the end of this deferral. [9]
11 of Hearthfire, 12:09 PM
By connecting the concept of democratic self-rule with a continual project of expansion, the settler
narrative shaped collective institutions, ways of war, visions of growth and prosperity, and conceptions of
political
membership that still run deep. Indeed, our own period has not been immune... As George W. Bush put it on
October 6, 2001,
“Our nation is still somewhat sad, but we’re angry. There’s a certain level of bloodlust, but we won’t let it
drive our
reaction. We’re steady, clear-eyed, and patient, but pretty soon we’ll have to start displaying scalps.”
Defending the launching of the global War on Terror, U.S. diplomatic historian John Gaddis gave scholarly
imprimatur to
the settler idiom: the borders of global civil society were menaced by non-state actors in a manner similar to
the
“native Americans, pirates and other marauders” that once menaced the boundaries of an expanding U.S.
nation-state.
Foreign affairs writer Robert Kaplan concurred: “The War on Terrorism was really about taming the frontier,”
as he heard
U.S. troops in Afghanistan and Iraq repeat the refrain, “Welcome to Injun Country.”
The reference, Kaplan insists, echoing Jefferson’s homage to Logan, “was never meant as a slight against
Native North
Americans.” It was merely a “fascination,” or an allusion to history—indeed, one that fits nicely with our
aptly named
Tomahawk missiles and Apache helicopters. But these comments and this history reflect a deeper, more sinister
truth
about the American dependence upon expansionary warfare as a measure of collective security and economic
well-being. [8]
4 of Hearthfire, 1:06 PM
My conscience, once held at bay, came roaring back to life. At first, I tried to ignore it. Wishing instead
that
someone, better placed than I, should come along to take this cup from me. But this too was folly. Left to
decide
whether to act, I only could do that which I ought to do before God and my own conscience. The answer came to
me, that
to stop the cycle of violence, I ought to sacrifice my own life and not that of another person.
So, I contacted an investigative reporter, with whom I had had an established prior relationship, and told
him that I
had something the American people needed to know. [6]
6 of Last Seed, 1:23 PM
She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.
Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water...
Seas move away, why not lovers? The harbours of Ephesus, the rivers of Heraclitus disappear and are replaced
by estuaries of silt. The wife of Candaules becomes the wife of Gyges. Libraries burn. [5]
3 of Last Seed, 5:11 AM
I remember one woman was walking by and she was carrying a huge bag, and uh she looked like she was heading
towards us,
so we lit her up with the Mk 19, which is an automatic grenade launcher, and when the dust settled we realized
that the
bag was only full of groceries, and I mean, she had been trying to bring us food, and we blew her to pieces
for it. [4]
1 of Last Seed, 12:06 PM
When I went out to kill myself, I caught[3]
31 of Sun's Height, 10:15 PM
I think how little we can hold in mind, how everything is constantly lapsing into oblivion with every
extinguished life,
how the world is, as it were, draining itself, in that the history of countless places and objects which
themselves have
no power or memory is never heard, never described or passed on. [2]
31 of Sun's Height, 7:22 PM
Sources
1. McCullers, Carson. "Introduction", in Collected Stories: Including The Member of the Wedding
and The Ballad of the Sad Cafe.
Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1987. ↥ To Content
2. Sebald, W. G. Austerlitz . New York:
Modern Library, 2011. ↥ To Content
3. Wright, James. "Saint Judas", in Contemporary American Poetry . Edited by
Ralph J Mills. New York: Random
House,
1966. ↥ To Content
4. Washburn, Jason. “Rules of Engagement, Winter Soldier: Iraq and
Afghanistan.” Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) ↥ To Content
5. Ondaatje, Michael. The English
Patient . New York: Vintage Books, 1993. ↥ To Content
6. Hale, Daniel. Letter to
Judge Liam O'Grady . 18 July 2021. ↥ To Content
7. Schmidt, Dennis J. On Germans & Other
Greeks: Tragedy and Ethical Life . Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2001. ↥
To Content
8. Singh, Nikhil Pal. “The
Pervasive Power of the Settler Mindset.” Boston Review, November 26, 2019. ↥
To Content
9. Grandin, Greg. The End of the Myth: From
the Frontier to the Border Wall in the Mind of America . New York: Metropolitan Books, 2019. ↥
To Content
10. Baldwin, James. "The Uses of the Blues," in The Cross of Redemption: Uncollected Writings . New York: Pantheon Books,
2010. ↥
To Content
11. The remark on Benjamin comes from Talal Asad, quoted in: Buck-Morss, Susan.
Thinking Past Terror:
Islamism and Critical Theory on the Left . New York: Verso Books,
2003. ↥
To Content
