Oh Canada [this is eh!]

Book Review- The Secret History of the American Empire by John Perkins

nobody@vox.com(MaiCecile) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 11:37:22 -0800

The Secret History of the American Empire by John Perkins

New York: Dutton (Penguin Group Inc.)

June 2007

John Perkins writes out of guilt. Carrying on in the tradition of Confessions of an Economic Hit Man, The Secret History of the American Empire is a form of atonement for the author to right his wrongs after what he feels were years of exploiting the weak as an employee of major corporations. However, this time around, he aims to do more than merely confess. His purpose is to effect change. Perkins maintains a positive perspective, despite the fact that the bulk of his account revolves around a depressing theme of the destruction of the earth and its inhabitants, perpetrated largely by the greed and materialism of the United States. In the Prologue he states, “I want to emphasize that you will not find gloom and doom in these pages” (2). He stresses optimism and the necessity of positive action. While his work has the potential to inspire would-be movers and shakers, it is somewhat weighed down by the blurring of the timeline of events and a heavy reliance on his own memory that leaves a question mark in the area of credibility. Still, the book carries enough weight to be a powerful tool for advocates of economic, social and environmental responsibility as it is both a history of American imperialism and a resource for how people can begin to change the existing system.

Perkins purpose in writing this book is outlined in both his Prologue and his concluding chapter. The author expounds on his previous work, which was a biography of his years as an “Economic Hit Man” (EHM), to include confessions from other EHMs and members of corporations, governments, NGOs and the Peace Corps. These reports are linked to the history of how the United States has used the developing world as an extension of their own resources, and the violence, unrest, and extreme poverty in developing countries that have occurred as a direct result. In doing so, Perkins hopes that he can spread the idea that things must change, and that every individual has a responsibility to do his or her own part to effect this change.

In order to accomplish his aims, Perkins organizes his account into four regions, with Part 5, entitled “Changing the World,” being reserved for his main message. The regions include nations in Asia, Latin America, The Middle East and Africa. Most of these are former European colonies, now developing countries who have struggled economically under loans from the IMF and World Bank. Each section covers both the history of economic colonialism in the area, as well as his personal accounts of his own sins and those of other “Economic Hit Men” and jackals. While EHMs use their influence to pave the way for Western corporations to exploit resources, jackals employ threats, violence and assassination to enforce the West’s economic empire. Perkins employs all forms of writing-narrative, descriptive and expository- in order to give us a complete picture of the history, setting, and problems of the regions he describes. He is a gifted storyteller, and as such uses every tool in his arsenal to appeal to both the emotions and intellect of his readers.

The first section (Asia) sets the tone for the rest of the book. Perkins describes Asian cities where the population is ravaged by either a foreign government or foreign investors who mould their country into one which forces them into either unemployment or work in one of Asia’s notorious sweatshops. Against this backdrop, corporate executives and corrupt government officials live lives of shameless opulence, chuckling to themselves at their own fortune and cunning. Near the end of the section, Perkins describes an encounter with the Dalai Lama that informs both his decision to become an author, his work with non-profits, as well as the content of the rest of the book. The Dalai Lama’s encouragement to, “practice compassion,” (65) shows in Perkins’ willingness to treat even the greatest economic offenders with respect and forgiveness.

The next section on South America continues the trend, but with the addition of what Perkins refers to as “Maya killers,” men who are either bodyguards of the corporate elite or part of a dictator’s military, mainly trained at the School of the Americas (now the Western Hemisphere Institute for Security Cooperation, or WHINSEC) and whose main role is to subjugate an oppressed population. It is in the South American division of the book that Perkins’ fascination with and sympathy towards indigenous cultures comes through. The author of several books on aboriginal cultures, Perkins lauds the indigenous movements of Latin America, praising political leaders who take pride in their heritage. He points to men like Che Guevara, Hugo Chavez, and Evo Morales who rose from the indigenous community and stood up to Western imperialism as being the forces of unity in the continent that have inspired people groups all over the world to hope for change. The importance of the earth to indigenous cultures also becomes a theme, contrasting sharply with the lack of environmental responsibility most foreign companies in Latin America display.

The Middle East is where Perkins really channels the post WWII spy thrillers, which he alludes, may not have been so far from the truth with their back alley deals and silent assassinations. Espionage plays a big part in this section, as Perkins essentially attributes the creation of EHMs to CIA agent Kermit Roosevelt Jr., a precursor for private sector employees sent to create favourable conditions in developing countries for Western corporations. The story of the Middle East in Perkins’ account is mainly one of a race for oil, a race that has caused rampant unrest and war in the area, as well as the kind of culture clash Samuel Huntington described between the Christian West and the militant Islamic parts of the Middle East.

The next section (Africa) is closely linked to the Middle East, but adds diamonds, gold, copper, tantalum (coltan) and uranium to the list of resources that the United States aims to control. Perkins links the modern exploitation of Africa to two events: the rise of independence movements searching for a way into the new world economic system and the OPEC embargoes of the 1970s that left the United States and other Western Nations searching for new sources of oil. Africa had what the West wanted, and in many cases African leaders were willing to give in the demands of the United States in order to either fill their own pockets, or make a misguided attempt at jumpstarting their country’s economy. Including Africa as the last region is also strategic in terms of his message. Africa’s history of slavery, colonial exploitation and genocide is a useful springboard to ensure we are paying attention to the last part of the book, the one Perkins fittingly titles, “Changing the World”.

In the last chapter, Perkins attacks what he feels is the main detractor to people standing up to corporations: fear. He describes the social justice exploits of everyone from college and high school students to reformed executives to prove that it can be done. Perkins relies largely on the actions of the Rainforest Action Network (RAN), an organization he is intimately involved in, as inspiration for how NGOs are forcing corporations to become more environmentally and socially responsible. The last chapter concludes with a call to action that assures readers that they have the necessary tools to start making a difference.

The division of the book into these regional stories is the main reason that the dates of events get lost in the shuffle. Perkins jumps from one decade to another depending on which story best suits his theme at the time. For those to whom the sequence of events is important, this structure can be off-putting. The jumble of history, personal encounters and second-hand accounts can become confusing if you are attempting to take the book as a true historical work. However, this tactic also gives Perkins an air of world-worn wisdom as it emphasizes the scope of his work as a Peace Corps volunteer, EHM, non-profit worker and public speaker.

Despite the organization of how they are interspersed in the work, Perkins’ addition of well-known historical facts, public figures, and big-name corporations lend credibility to his work. If his experiences are indeed as he says, Perkins is an authoritative source for telling the story of American economic imperialism. The main detractor from this writing tactic is his penchant for recreating entire conversations, some of which occurred thirty or more years ago. Although he says in the prologue that he has attempted to recreate these events using his own personal correspondence and notes, as well as historical records, one has to wonder how much has been lost to the passage of time. While the dialogues have the benefit of making the book a more interesting read, recounting them complete with facial expressions and pensive silences take away any chance of this work being accepted as a true history of events.

As a best-selling author, Perkins ensures that The Secret History of the American Empire has something for everyone, both the older generation, worried about their future, as well as the younger generation, worried about their present and the responsibilities they now must shoulder. The author understands the American public well. For more critical readers, he lays down cold hard facts and statistics. It is difficult to fault his critique of the brutality of sweatshops and the intervention of the United States in foreign governments, as these are views that are held by a large percentage of the world, including many academics who have written extensively on both subjects. However, he also makes sure that the average reader, picking his book off the shelf at a Coles on whim, is not easily bored. Using cliff-hangers at the end of each chapter, much like a best-selling work of fiction, Perkins style reads like a suspense novel about the shady history of our modern Western affluence. His final chapter also goes beyond the boundaries of age and race and speaks to readers from the developing world in order to mobilise and encourage them towards living more sustainable lives. A list of ideas for how to do so and appendices of charities, NGOs and advocacy groups dominate the end of the book. Perkins leaves no room for excuses of ignorance from his readers.

While The Secret History of the American Empire may not be useful as a credible academic source, it is a powerful interpretation of the experiences of individuals and countries that have come into contact with the ruthless greed of American imperialism. Despite the content, Perkins keeps his promise of maintaining optimism throughout the book, and ends with an assumption that we are going to answer his call to action. His urgency is effective. If we take anything away from his account, it is that the corporations of the United States, in collusion with the American government, have been allowed to use the earth and the people in it as they please for far too long, and that some kind of change is necessary. John Perkins has made, and continues to make his change with speaking tours, his non-profit the Pachamama Alliance, and notably, his written works. “Today is the day,” (329) for us to decide what ours will be.

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Welcome to My World

nobody@vox.com(MaiCecile) — Thu, 14 May 2009 20:09:49 -0700

Dear readers,

First off, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my blog.

A little about me:

I am a Canadian who spent my childhood in Africa, but went to high school in Toronto, Ontario (the city with the CN Tower- I know, pretty cool, eh?). Currently I am a fourth-year university student doing a major in a program that I fondly have dubbed "Hippie School," with classes such as How to Save the World 101. I have always been preoccupied with how our actions affect others, and how they can change our communities for good. My program of study has given me the tools to take that preoccupation to the next level. It has opened my eyes to how our world works, taught me to be open to the ideas of others, and to think critically.

A little about this blog:

I have always loved writing. My purpose is to just have an outlet where I can keep writing in preparation for applying to a grad program in journalism. I have put my interests in the tags, and those will be primarily what I write about. To reiterate: politics, globalization, the environment, religion, culture, fashion, pop culture, the media. I am most interested in how my generation is dealing with the issues of our time. Our attitudes and actions today are a good litmus test of how we will deal with the responsibility of being the movers and shakers of a world with some pretty messed-up problems.

As an introduction to me I hope that this has served its purpose. I will be posting my second piece very soon (as it is already written) to really get started.

Happy reading!

with hope,

Meg

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Dear CBC

nobody@vox.com(Tryphaena) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 15:29:22 -0700

This is a delayed post. I wrote it a month ago into my day planner, just having to get it off my chest one day, but unable to get to computer.

Dear CBC,

Please do not prop-up the electorates poor understanding of the workings of parliamentary democracy by using the term "prop-up" to describe opposition parties support, or lack thereof, of the current minority government. You know the power of words, sharing them over the air as you do every day, and know full well that my connotation (if not even denotation) you are lending an air of illegitimacy to the government it does not deserve. The goal of the government is to gain the confidence of the House, and, if an opposition party opts to support it, fine. That is good and proper. By alluding to parties as simply unthinkingly holding up a government that can't hold its own, which is what you imply when using the misleading term, you do the public a disservice by spreading misinformation. In my mind, it is as bad as those who wrongly called last fall's coalition of opposing parties "illegal." That term did a great deal of harm to many of the public's already limited knowledge of parliamentary democracy.

If the government gains the support of the House - fine. If they fail to do so - fine. Either way, each party is legitimately pursuing the governance of this country, the task we have elected them to do.

Sincerely,

Tryphaena, a faithful CBC listener
except for the afternoons, because I don't like the new programming. Oh, and I don't blame you; I know the Conservatives slashed you budget, so I can even understand why you'd want to have a go at them when you can, but still. Take the high road.

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Zellers Starts Treating its Customers Like Sweat Shop Workers

nobody@vox.com(brianmovinginvan) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 22:10:27 -0700

Logo_Zellers

Like many things in life it started out as something simple a trip to the mall to buy summer shorts. What the trip reveled about global markets and low prices was what was enlightening.

First it was the clothes themselves over produced with features that on one really wanted or need. Give me break men are not looking for shorts with internal waist bands. Then when I asked for for a fitting room I was walk to other side fo the store right in the middle of woman's lingerie dept. When I went to changing are no staff member was there and I walked in on elderly asian women who trying on top. I left the store upset. Today I thought I give another try and it was better and worse. There was clerk at the front the fitting room telling you were to go but their A/C working on the hottest day of year the and the checker looked like she was working in a sweat shop oh sorry she was working in a sweat shop and i was shopping in sweat shop and buying something made in sweat shop it just did not feel right. Zeller's you can do a better job.

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Summer in the City

nobody@vox.com(MaiCecile) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 09:01:21 -0700

I am so sorry friends that I neglected to tell you I would be away from a computer for a month and a half! I am in Toronto working at an inner-city ministry as a lifeguard and camp counselor. But rest assured I am building up material and blog posts in my little moleskine notebook! Happy Summer all!
Some upcoming posts:
The Way You Make Me Feel- how the emotions in MJ's music bridges generations
Part 1 of A Blonde African's Diary
That's all for now folks! It's off to yet another week in the forest for me :) Canoeing, reading, playing guitar, sitting on the dock and lifeguarding...I am gradually building my tan despite my spf 50 sunscreen! :)
Happy Summer.

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What I Learned from my Father

nobody@vox.com(MaiCecile) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 17:41:16 -0700

I can sum up my early relationship with my dad in one word: hero. My dad was my hero. I saw him as the protector, the fun-maker, and the thinker. When we would have guests over, I would sometimes prefer to sit on his knee or beside him while the other kids played. I would listen and watch with wide eyes as he talked with other adults, giving his opinion with the smile that crinkles his eyes and scrunches up his nose. When others talked, my dad would listen with careful, humble consideration. I can always tell in his eyes how hard he is thinking about what people are saying. And whether he agrees or not, his eyes always hold the same respect. From him I learned to always look at both sides of a situation, and to value others’ opinions no matter what my own might be.

Up until I was ten years old my father had no sons. Living in Africa, I grew up with a healthy appreciation for adventure. My dad recognized this and fostered it. So alongside my dolls I played with the bow he had made me, sharpening my own arrows with my mock Swiss Army knife and targeting passing sheep (until Dad stopped that practice and I had to resort to aiming at rocks and bushes). I was a warrior princess, Robyn Hood’s equal. My Dad’s confidence made me feel strong. “I don’t want my girls to be wimps,” he would say in a playfully rough voice, gently punching my arm.

My dad may have given me soccer balls and bows and arrows, but he never made me feel that I had to choose between those and my more feminine playthings. He cared for and protected my sensitivity, cradling me whether it was my heart or my knee that was wounded. He also made me feel beautiful, telling me often how pretty I was. I remember so many times in my awkward teenage years, I would come out of my room ready for a concert or for church and he would look at me with tenderness in his eyes and say, “My girl is so pretty.” I knew that he meant it, and somehow his approval made everyone else’s not so important.

For my graduation, my father wrote me a beautiful letter. He told me how proud he was of me. Then, near the end of the note, he told me that I was his first heroine. My father’s heroes are men like Blaise Pascal, C.S. Lewis and William Wilberforce. When I read those words that placed me next to people of such accomplishment and passion I began to cry. My dad thought me worthy of the title- heroine- and suddenly all the dreams I had to change the world were not so very far off.

My father has also instilled in me a great sense of heritage. He tells me stories and talks about my family’s history in England and Wales as if it were part of our everyday, modern lives. A writer himself, Dad has recorded stories for me of my grandfather who I knew only briefly as a child before he passed away. In this way I have learned a lot about my dad, and in turn, about myself. He helps me discover where I have come from in order to better discern where I am going.

My father is a sensitive man, but he does not cry often. In fact, I know of only a few times he has shed tears. Of those times, I have only seen one. It was the night I left home and flew back to Canada to begin university. I had a hard time believing that Dad was even crying until one of the girls I was travelling with confirmed it. Those tears spoke more to me than all the parting words we exchanged. They meant that I am cared for, that I am important, and that I will always have someone to protect me when I am vulnerable.

Through the past few years, as I have tried to take my place in a world full of heartache and failure, my dad’s encouragement and confidence in me has rested in my heart like an anchor, able to withstand even the ugliest storm. I have come to him many times with my head spinning with questions of history, theology and social justice. He patiently unravels my ideas, discusses each point, and researches answers he doesn’t know. It has also been a great honour when I have been able to share with him things that I have learned or beliefs that I have developed. I don’t strive, as some do with their own fathers, to win his approval. He is proud of me now, and that in part gives me the confidence to take on tasks that may seem insurmountable. He tells people proudly that I am in a program in university studying to “save the world.” I may roll my eyes, but I cannot help but smile because he too thinks it possible. I’m not alone in dreaming that God can do all things. I’m not alone in hoping for a better place for those who are hurting. My dad is there too, and his prayers and confidence mean everything to me.

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Meandering On The Cow Paths of Life

nobody@vox.com(Tia the Mother Goose) — Tue, 05 May 2009 23:52:56 -0700

I'm from a very small town, in a very isolated part of the province. Kitimat, which has a population of 10,000 people on a really generous census day (counting the German tourists fishing at the river, contractors working on mill expansion, college students exiled home for the summer and the usual local suspects) is very much the end of the road (you have to drive out or swim.) Despite being a blip on the map, Kitimat is nothing short of a city planning wunderkind. It's completely planned from top to bottom, and every aspect of it's growth and development had been laid out on paper back in the 50's. All sidewalks lead to out to a street. Every street is in alphabetical order, in each subdivision. The subdivisions are themed: Bird Streets, River Streets, Fish Streets, Founding Pioneer streets etc. All commercial development is located in a core area, ajacent to, but not a part of the residential areas. The industrial portion of the community, is set apart from the town by a bridge and a river, and has no residential areas near or contained within it. There are very few planned communities in the world, and very few that were created for the express purpose of propping up a major industry (in this case, Alcan Aluminum, which is now Rio Tinto Alcan.)

Spot the planned community!

Do you see it? That itty bitty dot on the coast just below Alaska? Sarah Palin can see Kitimat from Main Street, Wasilla. She may even have her eye on it, especially if some of the oil pipelines from The Land of Rig Pig end up in there and the Libs manage to get around the oil tanker moratorium. But I digress...

I spent the first 18 years of my life growing up in this small town - famous for it's aluminum, being a case study in community planning, outstanding fishing, gigantic snowflake emblem, insane snow-fall records and men who love horses in a biblical sense. If you think I'm kidding about horses, find another Kitimat person and ask them about "Rick and Go Go the Horse." Or simply ask a Terrace person what Kitimat people are called during hockey games.

I moved on to New West in 1996, then Toronto for a few years, Marpole for a while, Sandy Lake, ON and Cross Lake, ON with an employer, back to BC and stayed in Richmond for 5 years. I had my babies in Richmond, which is a very tidy, orderly, flat, and well run city. Richmond is a very special city in it's own right, being significantly below sea level yet failing to submerge under the ocean or Fraser each year.It's growth and sustainablity is a tribute to engineering and planning brilliance. While I'm not a fan of the Lower Mainland as a rule, Richmond is the cream of the crop when it comes to livable planning, policing and recreation.Richmond is also gourd-awful expensive in the housing department, and we were forced to find a city in the Lower Mainland where we could afford a home for our family. Enter Chilliwack.

Chilliwack. It is a very beautiful piece of earth. When God created the place, he had a smile on his face, because it is endowed with fertile farmland, vast prairies, soaring mountains, crystal rivers, and glassy lakes. When I get up and look out my window, I am always awed at the beauty and the super-natural treasures around me. Our little piece of Chilliwack is something straight from a movie - kids play in the streets, houses look the same - manicured and well taken care of, new cars everywhere, healthy & active residents who care about their community. This is wonderful. What is not so wonderful about Chilliwack, is the roadways.

Sometime, someone, somewhere had to have made a decision about where roads were going to go, when they were going to be paved, and where intersections would be placed. That person was obviously a raging drunk, recently lobotomized or wasn't supplied with a ruler in his drafting kit. I don't think there is a 90 degree angle in the entire municipality.These roads meander aimlessly, in all directions, with no purpose or planning. Stop signs and lights crop up in the most bizarre places. Roads blend and meld into each other with no warning, and in the older parts of the city, you're totally screwed if a train happens to be passing though. I like to imagine the conversation went like this:

"Frits! Geerd! Vee need to finish deese road-vays before de end of de farmink shheeson. Vaht vill ve do, ja?"
"Corny! Such a verrier! Joost pave de roaad veer de kows like to go! De kows, dey are vise!"
"Gut idea, Frits! Ve vill paave de kow paaths!"

Far fetched? Probably not. Until then, Chiliwack, it's an epic fail for you in regards to infrastructure planning.

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Hail in June

nobody@vox.com(grantalias) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 06:45:15 -0700

Hail in June

cup full of hail

The Montreal region had a pretty big storm the 25th of June. Gusting winds and rain strong enough to knock out the satellite (it doesn't happen that often).

The real surprise was the marbles sized hail that came down near the end of the storm. It must have been pretty localized since not everyone I talked to the next day had seen it.

The boys were very excited (as was I) and wanted to go out during the storm and collect some hail. I got them to wait till after the storm died down. I still remember the huge hail we had in Quebec during the mid 1980's and didn't want them pummeled to death.

Donna collected some off the patio shelter for them as anything that had fallen on the ground had melted as it was like 30 degrees Celsius (or 86 degrees Fahrenheit) that day.

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Canada Day Bike Ride

nobody@vox.com(brianmovinginvan) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 16:20:15 -0700

CanadaDayBikeRace

Wow a Day Off a Bike Ride, a lunch out with friends and then being able to watch a bike race this is living. Brian

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happy canada day

nobody@vox.com(arbed) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 09:30:50 -0700

Should I have known what an ookpik is? Thanks for pointing out my apparent non-Canadian-ness, savage chickens. I'm gonna have to go cry into a maple leaf now.

Chickenookpik

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