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why Obama’s warnings about dictatorship are more than justified

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Watching one of the cable news networks, either CNN or MSNBC – I’ve become interested in the USA’s parlous political situation as a diversion from my own probs – I listened not so attentively to two opposing views on a recent speech given by Barak Obama in which he warned against complacency with regard to creeping dictatorship. This speech has apparently inflamed Republicans, or members of the alt-right, whatever, I’m not too keen on knowing all the distinctions within that country’s disturbing polity. I got a sample of this ‘indignation’ when a right-wing pundit on the show launched into Obama for his example of Germany in the thirties – all those millions of Jews and Enemies of the State gassed, all that racist ideology and disgusting craziness, how incredibly offensive to make such a comparison, right? Obama really showed himself to be the most shameful opportunist, who’d stoop to anything, and how can you possibly compare this Trump administration with such a maniacal mass-murderer and his henchmen, etc etc.

Then the leftist speaker got to respond and it quickly degenerated into a shoutfest. Of course I felt like shouting too, but then I thought of a more dignified response.

Obama spoke calmly and thoughtfully, and yes certainly he was referring to the Trump administration without naming it. And his comparison with the rise of Hitler might have been controversial but what other choice did he have, seriously? What other dictator would’ve meant anything to most Americans? Obama had a choice of dictatorships subverting democracy. In other words, recent dictatorships. He also would’ve known, consciously or unconsciously, that your average American knows less than zero about the history of any country other than their own. So is he going to talk about Franco’s Spain, or Tito’s Yugoslavia, or Suharto’s Indonesia? Not bloody likely, that would be like talking Swahili to an American audience. Hitler was the obvious, really the only choice. And I have to say, I’ve long been pissed off by the ‘never mention Hitler’ taboo in political discourse. He should be mentioned regularly and often, and then again.

Trump has clear and obvious dictatorial tendencies. He rarely if ever has anything positive to say about democratically elected leaders, but he’s passionately in love with Putin, a petty dictator who’s turned his country into an economic basket case, with a GDP almost exactly the same as Australia’s in spite of a population six or seven times the size. Putin tortures and murders his opponents, or steals their money and sends them into exile, where they live in constant fear for their lives. He has likely destroyed any possibility of democracy in Russia for decades, though I try to still be optimistic about that. I have no doubt that Trump is only curbed by the institutions he lashes out at – the media, the courts, the FBI, the Department of Justice, etc, and would love nothing more than to be monarch of all he surveys, with statues and banners devoted to him everywhere. Then he wouldn’t be reduced to empty threats of suing the many women he’s abused, he could simply eliminate them – a much more permanent, and cheap, solution. He wouldn’t have to humiliate himself by begging support for the Roy Moores of the world, he could simply appoint them, as does his great love Putin.

So the point is that today’s joke can become tomorrow’s reality. Recently, Trump has expressed his ‘disappointment’ about not being able to control the Department of Justice, clearly referring to the Mueller investigation. Privately, we hear, he’s apoplectic with rage about it. We hear also about his ‘administration’ trying to set up an alternative CIA, and his lawyers suggesting he can’t obstruct justice by virtue of his position. You want to laugh, but how many of us were laughing at the very idea of Trump’s candidacy?

All of this, it seems to me, results from a political system in which way too much power is invested in one man (hopefully there will be a female Prez some time soon). In this respect, the USA appears to have far less checks and balances than other western political systems. For example, it appears that the US Prez has veto rights over decisions made by the US congress or senate. This would be unthinkable in any other western nation that I know of. There’s also the apparent fact that the Prez is seen as the representative of justice in the country, which is why past Presidents such as Nixon have seemed confused about their relationship to the law – whether they’re above, below or adjacent to it. It’s a farcical but disturbing situation which just doesn’t occur in other western democracies, in which roles and power are more diversified and the leader is very much first among equals. The fact that legal experts are actually debating whether the American President can be accused of obstructing justice is a perfect example of the craziness at the summit of US politics. If the Prime Minister of Australia, or Great Britain, or the Chancellor of Germany tried to argue that they were above the law, they wouldn’t be just thrown out of office, they’d be laughed out of office. They say that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely; the US President’s power isn’t absolute, but it’s certainly too far on that side of the spectrum.

So Trump is currently pushing an envelope that’s already too large – the envelope of Presidential power. But there are positive signs. Certainly there’s no chance of him being re-elected, with his popularity waning and no real chance of it rising again, with a profoundly serious criminal investigation moving inexorably closer to Trump and his family, and with local elections moving against the Republicans. The tragedy is – and this is yet another problem for the US political system – that when Trump is pushed out of office, which I predict will happen next year, his administration won’t be dumped at the same time, as would happen in just every other democratic country, with fresh elections held. Instead you’d have an entirely discredited administration, led by the super-imbecilic bible-basher Mike Pence or the generally supine Paul Ryan, limping along for another two or three desolate years.

I may have made some mistakes about how the political system works in the USA, as I don’t like to get too close to it (I don’t find the odour appealing), but I do find it tiresome if not laughable when I hear American pundits talking about theirs as the greatest democracy, or their country as the cradle of democracy, etc. I am finding it entertaining at the moment though, with due deference to the poor and the struggling who are truly being done over by their absurd President and his horrendous policies.

 

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Written by stewart henderson

December 10, 2017 at 11:09 am

The battle for justice, part 1: some background to the case

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A prosecution should not proceed if there is no reasonable prospect of a conviction being secured. This basic criterion is the cornerstone of the uniform prosecution policy adopted in Australia.

from ‘The decision to prosecute’, in ‘Statement of prosecution policy and guidelines’, Director of Public Prosecutions, South Australia, October 2014

not this movie, unfortunately

I rarely focus on myself on this blog, but now I feel I have to. Today I lost my job because of something that happened to me about 12 years ago. So the next I don’t know how many posts will be devoted to my battle for justice, in the hope that it may help others in a similar situation. Of course I also find that writing is my best solace, as well as my best weapon. I have no financial resources to speak of, all I have is a certain amount of nous.

Between 2003-4 and 2010 I was a foster carer, under the aegis of Anglicare. Over that period I fostered six boys, with naturally varying success.

So why did I become a foster carer? I simply saw an ad on a volunteering website. I was being pushed to do some work, which I’ve always been reluctant to do, being basically a reclusive bookworm who loves to read history, science, everything that helps to understand what humans are, where they came from, where they’re going. And I hate when work interferes with that! But having come from what for me was a rather toxic family background, trying to shut myself from screaming fights between parents, and being accused by my mother, the dominant parent, of being a sneak and a liar, and ‘just like your father’ (her worst insult), and being physically and mentally abused by both parents (though never sexually), and having run away from home regularly in my teen years, I imagined that, as a survivor, I could offer something which might work for at least some of these kids  – a hands-off, non-bullying environment which would be more equal in terms of power than many foster-care situations. Call me naive…

Mostly, this approach worked. I did have to get heavy now and then of course, but not for long, so I always managed to stay on good terms with my foster-kids, as I have more recently with my students. This was even the case with the lad who accused me of raping him.

Let me describe the case as briefly as possible. A fifteen-year old boy was in my care in September 2005. He was much more of a handful than the previous two boys I’d looked after, and when I lost my temper with him during a school holiday trip in Victor Harbour, he took it out on me by claiming to his mother, with whom he spent his weekends, that I’d punched him on the back of the head. This was false, but his mother took the matter to the police, and the boy was immediately taken out of my care.

After an internal review conducted by Anglicare I was cleared of any wrongdoing, to their satisfaction at least, and another boy was placed in my care. Then, sometime in early 2006, this boy was secretly whisked out of my care, and I was informed by Anglicare that a serious allegation had been made against me. I was in shock, naturally thinking this new boy had also accused me of some kind of violence, but I was finally informed by the Anglicare social worker who’d been overseeing my placements that ‘it isn’t your new foster – kid’. The penny dropped more or less immediately that it was the same boy who’d accused me of hitting him. This boy, as far as I was aware, was now living happily with his mum.

I was left in limbo for some time, but eventually I received a message from the police to go to the Port Adelaide police station. There I was asked to sit down in an office with two police officers, and informed that I was under arrest for rape.

I was somewhat taken aback haha, and I don’t recall much of the conversation after that, but I think it went on for a long time. I do remember one key question: if the boy’s lying, why would he make such an allegation? I had no answer: I was unable to think clearly, given the situation. But later that night, after my release on bail, an answer came to me, which might just be the right one. When the boy was in my care, the plan was to reconcile him with his mother, who put him in care in the first place because she couldn’t cope with him. I knew his mother, as I met her every weekend for handover. She was highly strung and nervous, and it seemed likely she was again having trouble coping with full-time care. Quite plausibly, she was threatening to return him to foster care, which he wouldn’t have wanted. She allowed him to smoke, she allowed him to hang out with his mates, and her environment was familiar to him. To him, I would’ve seemed boringly bookish and unadventurous. What’s more, his claim that I’d hit him had worked perfectly for him, getting him exactly where he wanted. Why not shut the door on foster care forever, by making the most extreme claim?

I don’t really know if this sounds preposterous to an impartial reader, but this answer to the riddle struck me as in keeping with what I knew of the boy’s thinking, and it was backed up by a remark he made to me, which soon came back to haunt me. He said ‘my mum’s friend told me that all foster carers are child molesters…’. It was the kind of offhand remark he’d often make, but it was particularly striking in light of something I was told later by my lawyer. Apparently, the boy didn’t tell his mother directly that I’d raped him, he’d told a friend of his mother, who’d then told her.

So, after the sleepless night following my arrest, I felt confident that I knew the answer to the key police question. I typed it up and took it forthwith to the Port Adelaide station (I didn’t trust the mail). How utterly naive of me to think they’d be grateful, or interested! I received no response.

So I obtained a lawyer through legal aid, or the Legal Services Commission. At the time I was dirt poor: I’d received a stipend as a foster carer, but that had stopped. Otherwise I worked occasionally as a community worker or English language teacher, mostly in a voluntary role. From the moment I was charged I spent many a sleepless night imagining my days in court, heroically representing myself of course, exposing contradictions and confabulations, citing my spotless record, my abhorrence of violence of all kinds, etc, etc. So I was a bit miffed when my lawyer told me to sit tight and do nothing, say nothing, and to leave everything to him. Standard procedure, presumably. The case passed from hearing to hearing (I don’t know if that’s the word – at least there were several court appearances), over a period of more than a year, and every time I expected it to be dismissed, since I knew there was no evidence. It had to be dismissed, there could be no other possibility. The only reason it had become a court matter in the first place, it seemed to me, was the absolute enormity of the allegation. But how could this possibly be justified? But I had to admit, the boy had, more or less accidentally, stumbled on the perfect crime to accuse me of – a crime committed months before, where there could be no visible evidence one way or another… It was all very nerve-wracking. And I was very annoyed at the fact that the DPP (the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions) seemed to have different lawyers representing it at every court appearance, and mostly they behaved as if they’d only been handed the brief minutes before.

Finally I arrived at the lowest point so far – an arraignment. I didn’t know this (my last) appearance would be an arraignment and I didn’t know what that was. I just expected yet another appearance with a handful of yawning court officials and lawyers in attendance. Instead I found a packed courtroom.

Arraignment is a formal reading of a criminal charging document in the presence of the defendant to inform the defendant of the charges against him or her. In response to arraignment, the accused is expected to enter a plea.

In Australia, arraignment is the first of eleven stages in a criminal trial, and involves the clerk of the court reading out the indictment. (WIKIPEDIA)

The reason the courtroom was packed is that several arraignments are processed in the same courtroom on the same day, so there were several accused there with their friends and families. Unfortunately, I was solo. On my turn, I was taken out to the holding cells and brought in – some kind of ceremonial – to the dock. The charge was read out (I’d already been given the ‘details’ by the lawyer, so I barely listened to it) and I was asked to plead, and the judge told the court, to my utter amazement, that I was adjudged to have a case to answer.

So it was perhaps even more amazing that, a week or two after that appearance, the case was dropped.

 


 

Written by stewart henderson

November 11, 2017 at 7:34 pm