Her Royal Highness Hillary flew in to Los Angeles today, less to celebrate Cinco de Mayo and more to grab wads of cash from wealthy Angelinos, in between a stop to speak to Hispanics at a local college. Apparently, because Her Highness carries hot sauce (allegedly) in her handbag, she feels entitled to the Latino vote.
Not all Americans of Hispanic descent welcomed the new Evita Peron to their fair city however. Several Latin American groups in Los Angeles find plenty not to like about the former Secretary of State and planned to protest her Cinco de Mayo visit to East Los Angeles College.
Organizers protesting Her Majesty Hillary’s visit include Union del Barrio-LA, MEXA de ELAC and the Los Angeles Brown Beret. In a communique they “call on the L.A. community to join us this Thursday to tell Hillary that she is NOT WELCOMED in L.A.!”
Organizers called Clinton an enemy of the working class. They also argue that her Central American policies as secretary of state caused death, destruction and deportation. While Secretary of State, Clinton condoned a coup d’état in Honduras and then refused to take action against the military dictatorship. Pretending to be for women and children to American voters, Hillary has covered up the gang rape and murder of women and children in the Central American country, in part because a multi-national with ties to the Clinton Foundation wants to build a giant damn on native lands.
The demonstrators plan to gather at Belvedere Park in East Los Angeles at 3 p.m. and then march on the community college men’s gym two blocks away, where Clinton is scheduled to address supporters.
In consideration of the season, following is William Butler Yeats’ famous poem, Easter, 1916. It is both commentary on, and witness to, the Easter Rebellion in Dublin of that year. For those familiar with the events, it needs no commentary; however, I will comment on it nevertheless.
The rebellion occurred nearly two years into the Great War, but the “Irish Question” (so-called) was festering well before the war. In fact, it could be argued that The Troubles” had more to do with Britain’s entry into World War I than any secret alliances His Majesty’s government had argued prior to August of 1914.
Consider this: in the weeks leading up to the outbreak of war, trainbands of volunteer “militia” were forming all over the British Isles, large quantities of munitions were being smuggled into the Emerald Isle and the issue of Irish sovereignty was threatening to break out into open civil war. Add to that the fact that on the eve of war England had a banking crisis and the prospect of a brief war on the continent may have seemed a preferable alternative to the government then in power at 10 Downing Street at the time.
When Britain did enter the war, both the Green and the Orange factions competed to see who could volunteer for service in greater numbers to prove their patriotism, so in a sense the ploy did work—for a time. However the Sinn Fein movement, comparatively small to begin with, did not sympathize with this surge of loyalty to King and Country and during Easter Week of 1916 they launched their ill starred rebellion against the Crown.
The Easter Rebellion was many things: hopeless, quixotic, foolish; but it ultimately proved successful. It was a blood sacrifice which turned Irish opinion away from loyalty to Great Britain and towards the goal of a Republican government.
But the Easter Rebellion also invoked the terrible specter of civil war in Ireland. Of course, this was an old ghost insofar as Ireland was concerned; centuries before the English crown had consciously setting two religious groups against each other in Ireland as strategy for maintaining control.
After World War I, His Majesty’s government would employ the exact same strategy in Palestine to hold on to its conquest from that war—and we can all see how well that worked out.
I HAVE met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses. I have passed with a nod of the head Or polite meaningless words, Or have lingered awhile and said Polite meaningless words, And thought before I had done Of a mocking tale or a gibe To please a companion Around the fire at the club, Being certain that they and I But lived where motley is worn: All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.
That woman’s days were spent In ignorant good-will, Her nights in argument Until her voice grew shrill. What voice more sweet than hers When, young and beautiful, She rode to harriers? This man had kept a school And rode our winged horse; This other his helper and friend Was coming into his force; He might have won fame in the end, So sensitive his nature seemed, So daring and sweet his thought. This other man I had dreamed A drunken, vainglorious lout. He had done most bitter wrong To some who are near my heart, Yet I number him in the song; He, too, has resigned his part In the casual comedy; He, too, has been changed in his turn, Transformed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.
Hearts with one purpose alone Through summer and winter seem Enchanted to a stone To trouble the living stream. The horse that comes from the road. The rider, the birds that range From cloud to tumbling cloud, Minute by minute they change; A shadow of cloud on the stream Changes minute by minute; A horse-hoof slides on the brim, And a horse plashes within it; The long-legged moor-hens dive, And hens to moor-cocks call; Minute by minute they live: The stone’s in the midst of all.
Too long a sacrifice Can make a stone of the heart. O when may it suffice? That is Heaven’s part, our part To murmur name upon name, As a mother names her child When sleep at last has come On limbs that had run wild. What is it but nightfall? No, no, not night but death; Was it needless death after all? For England may keep faith For all that is done and said. We know their dream; enough To know they dreamed and are dead; And what if excess of love Bewildered them till they died? I write it out in a verse – MacDonagh and MacBride And Connolly and Pearse Now and in time to be, Wherever green is worn, Are changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.
This is by way of introduction to this blog-site. It is intended to put posts here about military and political affairs, both present and past.
While my graduate work was in Ancient Near Eastern Studies, with a concentration in Archaeology, I have also an abiding interest in Middle East of later periods as well. In any case, most of my books published so far have dealt with American history and folklore, and while I continue to publish on those subjects, this blog explores my other areas of interest.
My interest in military history, ancient and modern will be more deeply indulged on this blog. I had thought to post some of my original research on the Age of Arthur here, but thought better of it: that will be found on a sister site devoted to fifth and early sixth century Britain and allied topics.
So, if in the future you should scan these pages, be forewarned.