Redefining
“Truth” - Part 1
Okay
… It is clear that the Mueller investigation has found evidence, some resulting
in unenforceable indictments of Russians, of Russian interference in our 2016
election process. Some is clearly in the
area of criminal activity, an example of which is the hacking (a crime) of the
Democratic National Committee’s computers and that of Democratic leadership
which produced embarassing information about Democrats, thus secured illegally,
which was then passed along to websites and distributed via social media.
But
beyond such obvious criminal acts (which undoubtedly continue), we enter the fuzzy area where the Russians
were feeding disinformation into American online media intended to foment and
nourish animosity between Americans, their objective being to put the democratic process in the United States into disarray. They have succeeded.
 |
| Russia's Internet Research Agency, the souurce of the disinformation fed to American social media, is headquarted in this Saint Petersburg building. |
Once Russian misinformation has infiltrated American media, it is further transmitted by Americans who have become the unwitting tools of Russian Intelligence. Our intelligence agencies have been able to figure out what is going on, have reported on
it, but not
to the satisfaction of the many, including the President of the United States,
who have been seduced into believing in this kind of misinformation and whose
behavior is motivated by it. How else could the President be sufficiently misguided to say the neo-nazis marching in Charlottesville included "some good people"? Wherever he picked up that notion, there could have been Russian input somewhere behind it.
And as for the President's recent exhortation before the VFW (a group which does not include draft-dodgers, of which our President is the "Dodger-in-Chief"): "Don't believe the crap you see from these people, the fake news ... What you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening," this is just a more pointed and more vulgar expansion of Trump’s categorizing anything with which he disagrees as “fake news.” He is redefining “truth” as being what he wants the public to believe. Autocrats who do not believe in democracy always do that. And they always attack the press.
it, but not
to the satisfaction of the many, including the President of the United States,
who have been seduced into believing in this kind of misinformation and whose
behavior is motivated by it. How else could the President be sufficiently misguided to say the neo-nazis marching in Charlottesville included "some good people"? Wherever he picked up that notion, there could have been Russian input somewhere behind it. And as for the President's recent exhortation before the VFW (a group which does not include draft-dodgers, of which our President is the "Dodger-in-Chief"): "Don't believe the crap you see from these people, the fake news ... What you're seeing and what you're reading is not what's happening," this is just a more pointed and more vulgar expansion of Trump’s categorizing anything with which he disagrees as “fake news.” He is redefining “truth” as being what he wants the public to believe. Autocrats who do not believe in democracy always do that. And they always attack the press.
Those Americans who are unwilling to denounce such autocratic arrogance are contemptible. Most are Republicans. And they are living in a fairy tale world. So here’s a bedtime fairy tale for them. (For it is truly bedtime for the Republican Party as we have known it.)
JL
Redefining
“Truth” - Part 2
THE EMPEROR'S
NEW CLOTHes
(A translation of Hans Christian Andersen’ “Keiserens Nye
Klaeder” by Jean Hersholt.)
Many
years ago there was an Emperor so exceedingly fond of new clothes that he spent
all his money on being well dressed. He cared nothing about reviewing his
soldiers, going to the theatre, or going for a ride in his carriage, except to
show off his new clothes. He had a coat for every hour of the day, and instead
of saying, as one might, about any other ruler, "The King's in
council," here they always said. "The Emperor's in his dressing
room."
In the
great city where he lived, life was always gay. Every day many strangers came
to town, and among them one day came two swindlers. They let it be known they
were weavers, and they said they could weave the most magnificent fabrics
imaginable. Not only were their colors and patterns uncommonly fine, but
clothes made of this cloth had a wonderful way of becoming invisible to anyone
who was unfit for his office, or who was unusually stupid.
"Those
would be just the clothes for me," thought the Emperor. "If I wore
them I would be able to discover which men in my empire are unfit for their
posts. And I could tell the wise men from the fools. Yes, I certainly must get
some of the stuff woven for me right away." He paid the two swindlers a
large sum of money to start work at once.
They set
up two looms and pretended to weave, though there was nothing on the looms. All
the finest silk and the purest old thread which they demanded went into their
traveling bags, while they worked the empty looms far into the night.
"I'd
like to know how those weavers are getting on with the cloth," the Emperor
thought, but he felt slightly uncomfortable when he remembered that those who
were unfit for their position would not be able to see the fabric. It couldn't
have been that he doubted himself, yet he thought he'd rather send someone else
to see how things were going. The whole town knew about the cloth's peculiar
power, and all were impatient to find out how stupid their neighbors were.
"I'll
send my honest old minister to the weavers," the Emperor decided.
"He'll be the best one to tell me how the material looks, for he's a
sensible man and no one does his duty better."
So the
honest old minister went to the room where the two swindlers sat working away
at their empty looms.
"Heaven
help me," he thought as his eyes flew wide open, "I can't see
anything at all". But he did not say so.
Both the
swindlers begged him to be so kind as to come near to approve the excellent
pattern, the beautiful colors. They pointed to the empty looms, and the poor
old minister stared as hard as he dared. He couldn't see anything, because
there was nothing to see. "Heaven have mercy," he thought. "Can
it be that I'm a fool? I'd have never guessed it, and not a soul must know. Am
I unfit to be the minister? It would never do to let on that I can't see the
cloth."
"Don't
hesitate to tell us what you think of it," said one of the weavers.
"Oh,
it's beautiful -it's enchanting." The old minister peered through his
spectacles. "Such a pattern, what colors!" I'll be sure to tell the
Emperor how delighted I am with it."
"We're
pleased to hear that," the swindlers said. They proceeded to name all the
colors and to explain the intricate pattern. The old minister paid the closest
attention, so that he could tell it all to the Emperor. And so he did.
The
swindlers at once asked for more money, more silk and gold thread, to get on
with the weaving. But it all went into their pockets. Not a thread went into
the looms, though they worked at their weaving as hard as ever.
The
Emperor presently sent another trustworthy official to see how the work
progressed and how soon it would be ready. The same thing happened to him that
had happened to the minister. He looked and he looked, but as there was nothing
to see in the looms he couldn't see anything.
"Isn't
it a beautiful piece of goods?" the swindlers asked him, as they displayed
and described their imaginary pattern.
"I
know I'm not stupid," the man thought, "so it must be that I'm
unworthy of my good office. That's strange. I mustn't let anyone find it out,
though." So he praised the material he did not see. He declared he was
delighted with the beautiful colors and the exquisite pattern. To the Emperor
he said, "It held me spellbound."
All the
town was talking of this splendid cloth, and the Emperor wanted to see it for
himself while it was still in the looms. Attended by a band of chosen men,
among whom were his two old trusted officials-the ones who had been to the
weavers-he set out to see the two swindlers. He found them weaving with might
and main, but without a thread in their looms.
"Magnificent,"
said the two officials already duped. "Just look, Your Majesty, what
colors! What a design!" They pointed to the empty looms, each supposing
that the others could see the stuff.
"What's
this?" thought the Emperor. "I can't see anything. This is terrible!
Am I a
fool? Am I unfit to be the Emperor? What a thing to happen to me of all people!
- Oh! It's very pretty," he said. "It has my highest
approval." And he nodded approbation at the empty loom. Nothing could make
him say that he couldn't see anything.
His whole
retinue stared and stared. One saw no more than another, but they all joined
the Emperor in exclaiming, "Oh! It's very pretty,"
and they advised him to wear clothes made of this wonderful cloth especially
for the great procession he was soon to lead. "Magnificent! Excellent!
Unsurpassed!" were bandied from mouth to mouth, and everyone did his best
to seem well pleased. The Emperor gave each of the swindlers a cross to wear in
his buttonhole, and the title of "Sir Weaver."
Before
the procession the swindlers sat up all night and burned more than six candles,
to show how busy they were finishing the Emperor's new clothes. They pretended
to take the cloth off the loom. They made cuts in the air with huge scissors.
And at last they said, "Now the Emperor's new clothes are ready for
him."
Then the
Emperor himself came with his noblest noblemen, and the swindlers each raised
an arm as if they were holding something. They said, "These are the
trousers, here's the coat, and this is the mantle," naming each garment.
"All of them are as light as a spider web. One would almost think he had
nothing on, but that's what makes them so fine."
"Exactly,"
all the noblemen agreed, though they could see nothing, for there was nothing
to see.
"If
Your Imperial Majesty will condescend to take your clothes off," said the
swindlers, "we will help you on with your new ones here in front of the
long mirror."
The
Emperor undressed, and the swindlers pretended to put his new clothes on him,
one garment after another. They took him around the waist and seemed to be
fastening something - that was his train-as the Emperor turned round and round
before the looking glass.
"How
well Your Majesty's new clothes look. Aren't they becoming!" He heard on
all sides, "That pattern, so perfect! Those colors, so suitable! It is a
magnificent outfit."
Then the
minister of public processions announced: "Your Majesty's canopy is
waiting outside."
"Well,
I'm supposed to be ready," the Emperor said, and turned again for one last
look in the mirror. "It is a remarkable fit, isn't it?" He seemed to
regard his costume with the greatest interest.
The
noblemen who were to carry his train stooped low and reached for the floor as
if they were picking up his mantle. Then they pretended to lift and hold it
high. They didn't dare admit they had nothing to hold.
So off
went the Emperor in procession under his splendid canopy. Everyone in the
streets and the windows said, "Oh, how fine are the Emperor's new clothes!
Don't they fit him to perfection? And see his long train!" Nobody would
confess that he couldn't see anything, for that would prove him either unfit
for his position, or a fool. No costume the Emperor had worn before was ever
such a complete success.
"But
he hasn't got anything on," a little child said.
"Did
you ever hear such innocent prattle?" said its father. And one person
whispered to another what the child had said, "He hasn't anything on. A
child says he hasn't anything on."
"But
he hasn't got anything on!" the whole town cried out at last.
The
Emperor shivered, for he suspected they were right. But he thought, "This
procession has got to go on." So he walked more proudly than ever, as his
noblemen held high the train that wasn't there at all.
 |
| For those who believe in fairy tales, the noblemen holding the canopy aloft are Republicans. |
JL
William Browder is an American-born
British financier. He was the CEO and co-founder of Hermitage Capital
Management, an investment fund that at one time was the largest foreign
portfolio investor in Russia. Browder
and the Russian government over the years argued about the operation of his
company and major conflicts erupted between them, well documented in his 2016
book, “Red Notice.”
Things turned violent when Browder’s Russian accountant,
Sergei Maganitsky, was imprisoned by the Russian government and died in prison.
Browder maintains he was tortured to death and to this day, Browder lives in
the United Kingdom maintaining extensive personal security against Russian
threats. (Browder is one of the individuals
Vladimir Putin asked our government to provide to him in exchange for his
making available the Russian agents recently indicted by our Department of
Justice.)
Bill Browder, motivated by the death of Maganitsky,
convinced the United States Congress to impose certain stringent economic
sanctions on Russia for humanitarian reasons, such as the murder of people who disagree with the government. The Russian government (and Browder attributes this directly to Vladimir
Putin) then attempted to get even by cancelling a long-established program
which permitted American families to adopt Russian orphans. Of course, any
distress caused by disallowing the adoptions was far less significant a bargaining
chip than the severe economic damage done to Russia by what have become known
as the Maganitsky sanctions.
 |
| Trump Tower Building (NYC) |
When Donald Trump, Jr., Paul Manafort and Jared
Kushner met with Russian representatives in June, 2016 in their Trump Tower
meeting, the purpose of the meeting was supposedly the adoption of Russian orphans. This was undoubtedly true, but that issue was
clearly inseparable from the Russians’ desire to have the Maganitsky sanctions
removed, the adoption restrictions being a direct response to the imposition of
those sanctions.
What went on at that meeting is still not
clear, but from Donald Trump, Jr.’s emails, it appears that the Russians were
willing to sweeten their side of any bargain to be made by adding “dirt” on
Hillary Clinton, the likely Democratic nominee for the presidency in 2016. Do you think it is conceivable that such “dirt,”
plus the resumption of the adoption program, could be offered in exchange for a
relaxation of the Maganitsky sanctions if Donald Trump ended up the Republican
nominee and managed to win the presidency?
Do you think that this might also be the reason for the kind of Russian
interference with our 2016 election which was directed at weakening
the candidacy of Hillary Clinton and promoting that of Donald Trump? Do you think that Donald Trump sitting in his office in Trump Tower was unaware that his son, his campaign manager and his son-in-law were participating in this meeting upstairs or downstairs from where he was at the time? I don’t know the answers to these
questions. In all probability, Robert
Mueller does. That might be why
President Trump wants Mueller’s ongoing investigation ended.
JL
JL
Footnote: The fact that President Trump has reverted to his "campaigning mode," striking out in all directions against anyone who contradicts or disagrees with him, seems to indicate that he is leaning heavily on the panic button. He seems to be a man acting out of desperation as disaster gets closer and closer to him with each passing day and he begins to recognize that his "base" will not be enough to save him from impeachment, conviction and exile.
Current Events Poem
(Get out your guitar, ukelele, tamborine or whatever and strum along as you sing this ditty.)
When the DOJ goes to court
To nail down thieves like Manafort,
And when Michael Cohen spills the beans
About his boss’s bedroom scenes,
Mike made his girlfriends disappear
So he could proceed without fear!
Soon it will be time to begin
To hear the words of Michael Flynn,
And one thing that won’t go away,
Christopher Steele’s damn Dossier!
Then It won’t be too far a reach
To get our Congress to impeach,
And as the dirt all comes to light,
For a grand jury to indict,
And any jury that is picked
I think Is certain to convict.
The judge will offer with a smile
A choice of places for exile.
JL
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1 comment:
Thanks Jack - my head is spinning!
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