The road to revolution via…Julia Davis?

standing_rock_3The TV cameras are gone now. So are most of the veterans I was tracking and wrote about for Guernica, upon the request of the Standing Rock elders. Everyone knows that last week’s decision was only a battle won, and that the struggle continues: the drilling below Sioux land isn’t even completely stopped, the company having decided that it’s easier to pay fines to the Army Corps of Engineers even at $50,000 a day. But there seems to be a pause in the satyagraha at that location, as everyone regroups.

Me?  I’m still in Philadelphia, musing about the big picture. I told my wife as she left for work, “I’m going to show that the Oceti Sakowin protests all began in Philadelphia.” By Philadelphia I mostly meant Chester native Bayard Rustin, who said long ago:  ““Our power is in our ability to make things unworkable. The only weapon we have is our bodies, and we need to tuck them in places so wheels don’t turn.” And I meant Quakers, who’ve been making trouble since before Philly was founded in 1682.

The thread I’m noticing now traces at least back to Thoreau, who told peers he was “more of a Quaker than anything else, and anti-slavery iconWilliam Lloyd Garrison, a non-Quaker but a fellow traveler like me (I call myself an “aspiring Quaker.”) Garrison, who got his start editing a Quaker anti-slavery newspaper, urged and practiced “nonresistance,” a kind of proactive pacifism based in part on Thoreau’s “On Civil Disobedience.”

I knew “nonresistance” from how it was used by World War I conscientious objectors like Evan Thomas, but if I’d been an actual historian I’d have known how ubiquitous a term it was among progressive types in the 19th century. It was even global, a favorite word of War of 1812 veteran Leo Tolstoy, who  wrote a letter to America, praising Thoreau and Garrison as pioneering visionaries:

I’d like to ask the American people why they do not “>pay more attention to these voices (hardly to be replaced by those of financial and industrial millionaires, or successful generals and admirals), and continue the good work in which they made such hopeful progress.

 

Tolstoy went on to become a leading exponent of radical Christianity, and a pen pal of a young South African named Mohandas Gandhi.

From Gandhi we can go back to talking about Bayard Rustin, Quaker thanks to his eminent and charismatic grandmother, Julia Davis Rustin.  Julia mentored Rustin as he went to work for the Fellowship of Reconciliation, which had been practicing the Quaker “peace witness” since 1915 and sent Rustin, the FOR’s “youth secretary,” across the country as a “Peace Ambassador.” She visited Rustin in prison when he went there instead of serving in World  War II, and cheered him on when he went in 1948 to India, newly freed by Gandhi’s movement.

 

Rustin arrived in India right after Gandhi died, but he met with many of those who’d helped him perfect the technique they had named satyagraha. The Indian activists admired Rustin’s own nonresistance, including the very first Journey of Reconciliation in 1947. And he came back bursting with ideas about using satyagraha on behalf of African-Americans. Soon, he was crossing the country to talk about how to use nonviolence to fight both militarism and racism.

His workshops were electric, one of its participants said years later. They had “actually talked about the history of nonviolence, the history of Gandhi…Thd whole philosophy of the use of nonviolent direct action to accomplish your goals and your purposes: That really appealed to me.” Once trained, many put it to use trying to integrate lunch counters, restaurants, pools.  From that phase of the civil rights movement to now is too much for one essay, and includes both Philip Berrigan and ACT-UP, which was founded in 1987, a few years before Rustin died. 

I haven’t included anything here about Native American practice of nonresistance, or wondered if any contemporary Native activists have any use for Rustin or the Quakers.  However,  I suspect that this peace might be incomplete without it.

(Photo: Joe Brusky, Flickr.)

The sins we carry: Eric Fair’s CONSEQUENCE

http://www.npr.org/player/embed/472964974/473004679

consequencecoverI pre-ordered this book after seeing an op-ed by its author, and spent the past day and a half tearing through it. The name of his former employer, CACI,had long since been for me code for “detainee abuse,” and I had tried to write an article based on the company’s misdeeds when applying for a business-reporting fellowship for J-school (won by the far more deserving and-kick-ass Moira Herbst).  By then, the Center for Constitutional Rights’ 2004 lawsuit against CACI on behalf of detainees was in the news, and going through the now-familiar paces of wars over classified information and webs of culpability.

The New York Times calls CONSEQUENCE “profoundly unsettling.” I think I can safely say that or those of us for whom the words “Abu Ghraib,”CACI” and even “torture” have become drearily familiar, it’s also quietly mindblowing.

In prose that simultaneously recalls Michael Herr,  Charles Bukowski (the latter for the use of profanity) and Pilgrim’s Progress, Fair’s narrative makes you feel for this young Presbyterian who joins the Army to prepare for a career in law enforcement and ends up an employee of CACI, described by Fair as a mixture of Kafka and the Keystone Kops. But just as the reader is trying to absorb this new picture of CACI, Fair takes you to Abu Ghraib — first the muddy tents that shocked Aidan Delgado, then a moment in the “hard site” we all think we’ve seen.

There’s an aha! moment after CID tries to talk to everyone working in that site and Fair’Bs team realizes by elimination which soldier is about to blow the whistle: Joe Darby, who several months later “the Army will then place in protective custody” after SecDef Rumsfeld publicly thanks him for leaking those damaging Abu Ghraib photos.
I’ve been trying to embed Fair’s interview with Terry Gross above; if that doesn’t work you might want to click on the link and just listen. She gets him talking about the heart condition that almost killed him (for real), his faith journey and so much more.

I, of course, want to ask him different questions. I want to know if he’s ever spoken to a New York attorney named Aidan Delgado, who completed an entire conscientious-objector claim while working at another part of AG, and whether his pastor-wannabe self has touched base with the Brite Divinity School’s Soul Repair Center. He never uses the term “moral injury,” and I’d like to know why. I’d also encourage him to accept the help my friend Joshua Phillips has offered him, since we both see common agonies as described in Joshua’s book about soldiers who’ve tortured, None of Us Were Like This Before.  After reading the latter book, I did wonder about the inner lives of contractors like Fair, and am both glad and deeply sorry to have been so richly answered.

Would also LOVE to curate a discussion among Fair, Delgado and Phillips, in which my words would be the least important.

 

TheWarHorse.org is taking on the hardest questions

warhorse

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but this ambitious, mostly soldier-driven journalistic project is already going some unexpected places. (Full disclosure: I hope to write for them sometime on a freelance basis. I can take NO credit for the thorough, startling work they’ve already produced.) Talk about testing what new ways nonfiction storytelling can go.

And checking in there today, I was blown away by this piece, whose authors take on “the ambiguity of war” – from a front-line NCO’s split-second decisions, especially after “it’s your friend that yxploeou were just talking to that morning and you have to fight birds for the pieces of his body”- to  legal analysis of what’s behind the question, Did X constitute a war crime?

The “principle of distinction” is a foundation of humanitarian law that obligates all parties in conflict to distinguish between combatants and civilians, according to the Georgetown Law Review. But while it would greatly reduce civilian casualties if fighters adhered to that principle, but they don’t, which is why the IBC is so staggeringly high. What complicates that for fighters is that the Protocol of the Geneva Convention, which is intended to prevent non-combatant casualties, states that “Intentionally directing attacks against the civilian population as such or against individual civilians not taking direct part in hostilities” constitutes a war crime.

Read the whole piece. I find myself wanting to send it to half the people I know, and 75% of the veterans. As our understanding of those complexities deepens, it makes questions of war and peace even more perplexing, I think.

Happy 45th Anniversary, Daniel Ellsberg — or why he belongs in my book

Ellsberg-Daniel-TruthinMedia.com_I spent a lot of time incorporating the story of the founder of  the Freedom of the Press Foundation into my understanding of the movement to end the Vietnam War, including a brief phone interview of the guy himself about his Marine Corps roots. My editor has now just persuaded me that that his story shouldn’t foreground in my way-too-cramped Vietnam chapter. But today, almost exactly 45 years after a Marine Corps vet finally rocked the world, here’s what I wrote about him. Now you know why I tried,  and why my fantastic ex-colleague Judith Ehrlich followed her landmark CO movie with one about Ellsberg.

Daniel Ellsberg’s Story Mirrors Almost Exactly  That of the Vietnam Anti-War Movement

1963 was  four years after a young State Department operative and ex-Marine named Daniel Ellsberg had visited South Vietnam, tasked with examining “problems with non-nuclear, limited warfare.” Young Ellsberg was already starting to work with the Rand Corporation, helping Washington contemplate the region’s role in the chessboard of global military strategy….

In 1964, as a civilian adviser to the Pentagon, Ellsberg was the one who first received the cable from Tonkin in which naval captain John J. Herrick “said he was under attack by North Vietnamese patrol boats and had opened fire on them. He was in international waters, over sixty miles off the coast of Vietnam.”i The resultant political firestorm led to the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, the first step to all-out war.

By all accounts April 17, 1965, was a perfect spring day, described by Daniel Ellsberg in his memoir Secrets as “blue skies over the cherry blossoms and anti-war banners.” Then still working at the Pentagon, Ellsberg retains sharpened memory of that day because it was also the first weekend he spent with his wife-to-be Patricia Marx, who was covering the protests for her Boston radio program. Quietly dubious about the war he was helping prosecute, Ellsberg carried Marx’ tape deck as they marched, silently agreeing with Joan Baez and the Nation’s I.F. Stone. “I would have been glad if all of this had enough influence to get the bombing stopped and put a lid on our involvement,” he writes. But when it was over, he had to call the Pentagon just to check in.

Ellsberg doesn’t mention that Howard Zinn spoke that day, or that the march portion was led by veterans of the Good War. 

As the year ended, a group of intellectuals and military experts was meeting secretly in Bermuda, convened by former national security advisor McGeorge Bundy and asked to develop some alternatives to more massive bombing. Among the group was Dan Ellsberg, who found quiet common cause with and another veteran as opposed to the war as he: Charles G. Bolte, now executive director of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

Bolte was newly hired, though he’d known since AVC the endowment’s director Joseph E. Johnson from working together at the United Nations. Ellsberg knew all about Bolte’s status as a wounded veteran, that his role at the Bermuda retreat was largely administrative, and that Bolte needed to be more cautious than he. Still, Ellsberg told me, the older man “was definitely against the war.”

Both Ellsberg and Bolte thought the panel should recommend withdrawal. But the majority simply developed a strategy of enging civilians, “without surrender or a wider war.”i They urged McBundy to reach “hearts and minds.”

Ellsberg went back to the Pentagon and kept hammering on his contribution to Rand’s multi-author history of U.S. policy in Indochina. That 7,000-page document, United States–Vietnam Relations, 1945–1967, would later come to be known as the “Pentagon Papers.”

In 1968, the civilian movement partnering the military one had disparate responses to that year’s disorientation. Daniel Ellsberg had returned from 18 months in Vietnam determined to end the war, and was working with Council on Foreign Relations president Charles G. Bolte (of the e World War II-era American Veterans Committee) to try to release the records of the war’s planning.

He was still trying when millions came together a year later for the Vietnam Moratorium:  William Sloane Coffin described the Moratorium as an alternative to the dance of violence playing itself out in Chicago and elsewhere: ““We yearned for a revolution of imagination and compassion. We were convinced nonviolence was more revolutionary than violence.”i Soldiers were far from absent that day: VVAW placed a full-page ad in the New York Times, signed by 1365 current GIs.

In New York on October 15, “a student nurse from Mount Sinai tried to present a handbill to a soldier who was wearing a green beret. He declined it, with a grin, but gave her a peace sign in return. The nurse stopped dead in her tracks. ‘He did it,” she said incredulously. “A Green Beret gave me the peace salute.’”ii

Read aloud at the October 15 march was a letter drafted by Daniel Ellsberg, who was shaken after hearing, at an August anti-draft conference, testimony from William Sloane Coffin protege Randy Kehler. After Koehler asserted how happy he would be to join his fellow draft resisters in prison, Ellsberg “left the auditorium and found a deserted men’s room. I sat on the floor and cried for over an hour, just sobbing.”iii Still on the Rand payroll, Ellsberg had gone back to Washington and began to try to persuade his peers in the establishment, at Rand and the Carnegie, to issue a public statement in favor of ending the war.

Ellsberg had wanted a letter that would urge an end to “the bloody, hopeless, uncompelled, hence surely immoral prolongation of US involvement in this war.” He reached out to Charles G. Bolte at the Endowment. But when Bolte took Ellsberg’s letter to his boss, the latter’s only response was: “We can’t invite Ellsberg to any more of our meetings. He’s lost his objectivity.”iv Nonetheless, Bolte was a signatory to the letter Ellsberg wrote, published in September in the New York Times before it was read aloud at the Moratorium.

By March 12, 1971, when Daniel Ellsberg sat in a borrowed apartment in Cambridge, Massachusetts, he was at peace with becoming a prankster.

Across from him was Neil Sheehan of the New York Times, paging through the binders containing the 7,000 pages of US-Vietnam Relations. Sheehan knew that these were highly classified documents, and had consulted his paper’s lawyers before flying into Boston. He and his wife had even registered at the Treadway Inn in Cambridge under assumed names..i

Ellsberg had by then spent close to a year in confidential briefings with antiwar Democrats from Senator Fulbright on down, showing them these pages and finding none willing to blow the whistle, before finally contacting Sheehan.. He reiterated now: “You know you can’t make copies.” Sheehan agreed, and went back to New York to do just that.

Ellsberg then went home and worried, while Sheehan read and verified the documents, writing and consulting again with counsel. On June 13, the Times would publish the first of nine excerpts of the Papers. While the Times never revealed their source, Ellsberg turned himself in on June 30, and was charged under the Espionage Act. In the stream of mail that followed — most of it calling him a “traitor” — Ellsberg was struck and warmed by the supportive letters from fellow Marines, who “had all along hated the job that the Corps had been given.”

The series, the rest of which was famously delayed until the Supreme Court ruled they could be published, showed at the very least that the Pentagon’s confident narrative of the war had been distorted. The message, wailed President Nixon’s chief of staff, was “You can’t trust the government, an idea that damaged America’s “implicit infallibility of presidents.”ii That ‘infallibility’ was already being questioned by the GI resistance movement, which had long ago given up on the authority of their commander-in-chief.

Persuade those twelve people on the jury that Dan Ellsberg and Tony Russo were right in what they did.”

On January 27, 1973, the long-awaited Paris Peace Accords were announced, within them an agreement on exchanges of prisoners of war. A few months later, the trial of the man who’d exposed that war as a fraud ended unexpectedly, with due to “government misbehavior.”

Ellsberg’s defenders had come up with a strategy that they thought might work – thanks to Arthur Kinoy, Bill Kunstler’s law partner and CCR co-founder. Legal niceties, Kinoy told the defense team, were not the point when talking to a jury, especially one that included at least one decorated Marine. “You need to do just one thing,” Howard Zinn remembers Kinoy telling him and the others. “Persuade those twelve people on the jury that Dan Ellsberg and Tony Russo were right in what they did.i But the jury never even rendered a verdict – the trial was stopped, and all charges dismissed, after it emerged that the Nixon Administration had wiretapped the office of Ellsberg’s psychiatrist in 1971.

On May, 11, 1973, a mistrial was declared; Ellsberg was free to return home, while much of the legal team was expected in Florida for one more trial, that of the Gainesville case. In the latter, the testimony of star witness Arthur Lemmer “left the chief prosecution witness looking like a violence-obsessed, confused, and irrational psychopath”ii . And just as with Ellsberg, as with the Panther 21 trial two years before, all charges were dropped.

iZinn, Moving Train, op. cit., p. 160.

iiNicosia, Home to War, op.cit., p. 208.

iDavid Rudenstine, The Day the Presses Stopped: A History of the Pentagon Papers Case (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), p. 52.

iiWatergate Tapes, June 14. Via Sheehan.

iWilliam Sloane Coffin, Once to Every Man: A Memoir ( Atheneum, 1977), p. 299.

iiElizabeth Kolbert et al, “Moratorium.” The New Yorker, October 25, 1969, p. 54.

iiiTestimony, PP trial.

ivEllsberg, Secrets, op. cit. p. 283.

iGeorge Herring, “Tet and Prague.” In Carole Fink, Philipp Gassert, Detlef Junker (eds.), 1968, the World Transformed ( Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 36.

iDaniel Ellsberg, Secrets: A Memoir of Vietnam and the Pentagon Papers (Penguin, 2003), p.7.

 

Dear Mr. Snowden

I wrote this letter nearly a year ago, in the hope that Edward Snowden — unlikely to talk to a minor journo like me – would answer some questions to help me make my portrait of him as accurate as possible, (if not as three-dimensional as Laura Poitras’ Oscar-winning one, or Oliver Stone’s will be). Posted now as part of that effort, and in the hope you might know some of the answers too.AintMarchincoverbyAlex

Dear Mr. Snowden,

I can only write this as a letter to you — as a writer to whom your story is important, both for what it’s done for our democracy AND as part of the story in a book I’ve been working on for far too long. At the bottom of this memo are some questions based on what I’ve already gleaned; if you could say anything in response to them, I’d be even more in your debt than I already am as a U.S. citizen.

About the book, and why I think you belong in it: I first signed a contract (with University of California Press) in 2007 for the book, entitled I Ain’t Marching Anymore. It’s a history of soldiers who dissent, whose honor roll starts with the War of 1812 and includes Dan Ellsberg, Chrlsea Manning, Bobby Seale and Bayard Rustin. I’ve long been intrigued by people who at one point or another in their lives was part of the U.S. military and went on to make real social change; that fascination started when I was a counselor on the G.I. Rights Hotline, where my job was to answer questions from young men and women who’d signed up to be part of something bigger by enlisting in the miitary.

By the time they talked to me they usuallly wanted out, for reasons ranging from conscience to medical issues to abuse, and taught me there wasn’t that much difference between me (an idealist writer-activist) and these folks who were equally earnest and needed help.

Ain’t Marchin began when, years later, I proposed to folks at Columbia Graduate School of Journalism that I write a book about the Hotline, and was instead charged with a history that includes the vets I worked with, John Kerry et al., and the newest generation of post-9/11 vets.(A sense of my overall approach is in this piece I did for the Ochberg Society for Trauma Journalism: http://www.ochbergsociety.org/soldierswhodissent/.)

The book has required hundreds of interviews, document research, and reporting on the post-9/11 scene. When you first met with Laura Poitras and the others, I was trekking back ans forth to Fort Meade, MD, as trial proceedings began in the trial of Chelsea (nee Bradley) Manning. So many of these servicemembers and vets have often used language similar to yours in interviews, insisting that the country they signed up to serve live up to the values they learned doing so.

As instinctively supportive of your work as I was from the beginning, it took awhile for me to piece together,from press reports, that I could include you, since your career of service began with you brief time training for the Special Forces before you were injured and went to the CIA. I’m writing to ask if i can learn some more from you on that experience. and what parts of it remained with you as your own story moved forward

I know you don’t identify as a soldier, but I do think you’d find some common ground with the Iraq/Afghan vets I’ve been talking to for years — like those in this Al-Jazeera America op-ed http://america.aljazeera.com/opinis/2014/11/iraqveteransagainstwarisis.html. I know an interview is near-impossible, but it felt irresponsible for me not to TRY to touch base with you before I finished writing narrative that includes you.

In addition to those provided, you can see other clips on my portfolio site at http://chrislombardi.me; I can also give you references from Samuel Freedman at the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism (in whose Book Seminar the book was conceived) to editors at The Nation and my agent Sam Stoloff of Frances Goldin Literary Agency.

Thank you so much for reading this far. And for responding to the questions below, in as much detail or not as you care to. If you wanted to just talk your answers instead of writing them and could somehow get Ben or Jessamyn to send me the audio file, I swear I’d guard it with my life. I could also find a land line for you or someone (Ben?) to call into, if writing your responses just feels like too much work.

These questions are roughly in chronological order. I look forward to including Ed the soldier in my book to the fullest extent possible.

========================================================

Growing Up/Family

Your dad was a Coast Guard warrant officer; what was that like, growing up in a Coastie house? (My partner’s dad was also a CG warrant officer, much earlier).

  • Did he ever talk about it as a career path for you?

  • Did he ever tell you those CG Values of“honor, respect, devotion to duty?”

  • As your career has taken this maverick path, did he ever refer to his military background? How about when you were considering enlisting in 2004, or when you were in HI contemplating your most recent actions?

Recruitment and Training

  • Where exactly did you enlist? What were your ASVAB scores? How did they pitch Special Forces to you?

  • You were 20, and had been deeply impacted by the 9/11 attacks. You have said that “I still very strongly believed that the government wouldn’t lie to us, that our government had noble intent, and that the war in Iraq was going to be what they said it was, which was a limited, targeted effort to free the oppressed. I wanted to do my part.” Were you also deeply impressed with President Bush as commander-in-chief?

  • Did the recruiters mention specifically becoming a “ Special Forces Communications Sergeant,” so you could use your technical skills?

  • What are your initial memories of Fort Benning? How aware were you of areas outside your OSU – the reception battalion, the Warrior Transition Units, the School of the Americas?

  • How big were your drill sergeants?

  • Did they drill hard on those ‘Army Values’ – loyalty, duty, respect, personal courage, integrity, honor, selfless service? How seriously did you or they take them? Have you had occasion to think of them in the decade since? (Many of the young vets I know will rattle their “Values” off with a mixture of irony and not.)

  • Did you get to meet any serving SOF troops or Army Rangers? What were your impressions?

  • Did you have any opportunities to excel?

  • You’ve spoken of your disappointment w/yr fellow recruits: “Most of the people training us seemed pumped up about killing Arabs, not helping anyone,” you told Greenwald et al. Did you talk to anyone about your feelings – yr 1st Sgt or the chaplain?

  • When did the recruits learn the word “hajji” as shorthand for the enemy? Did they use it in training exercises?

  • Any particular chants stand out in your memory?

  • Were you ever bullied – either by peers or superiors? Were subsets of your training company ever singled out? Was there any sexual abuse going on w/that particular class of recruits?

  • Were your DIs or peers aware of your dissatisfaction with the racism you saw in some of training?

  • Did you break your legs in AIT or airborne? Any details you felt OK to share could be important.

  • What was your overall medical condition by this time, were you mostly fit?

  • How long did the discharge process take? Was there talk of recycling or transferring anywhere?

  • Did you stay in touch w/your family throughout training? How did they help you thtough?

  • What was your exact discharge characterization? Any chance I could see your DD214 (unlikely, I know…)

After discharge

  • You told WIRED that your military experience helped you get the job as a security guard at the CIA, which then discovered your IT potential. Was the mention of Ft. Benning on your resume mentioned when they hired you, then? Were those hiring you veterans?

  • At Langley, did you have access to SIPRNET and CIDNE?

  • You were in Geneva when the Iraq war started; you’ve said that many CIA ops were opposed to it, not just you. Were any of them veterans, or have kids serving?

  • When you went to Tokyo w/the CIA, where did you live? How aware were you of anti-U.S. sentiment on Okinawa and elsewhere?

  • What was your early response to the Wikileaks disclosures, and to the arrest of Private Manning?

  • You were in HI when Manning was held in isolation, forced to sleep naked, etc. Did any of his treatment bring on flashbacks to the worst aspects of BCT? When you were considering your own disclosures, how did his treatment influence your actions, if at all?

  • Was Booz Allen Hamilton full of ex-military types? What was that like for you?

Too many questions, I know, and some pushing the limits. Thank you for reading them and considering my request.

Congratulations again on all the well-deserved accolades for your incredible public service.

news: the Monday dozen

AintMarchincoverbyAlexI know I haven’t posted one of these in a few days, but that’s not because there wasn’t much to note. Below is a full baker’s dozen, though some are echoes of stories already on our radar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

News mix: a house of cards

AintMarchincoverbyAlexAs ever, my not-quite-daily roundup of items that caught my attention, and still might yours.

  • In Winona, MN, a veteran artist enacts war’s suffering by lying on a bed of nails.
  • 160 retired Israeli defense officials speak out against PM Netanyahu’s address today to the US Congress. The group reminds me a little of the Vietnam-era ‘Brass Lambs‘: ” ” Commanders for Israel’s Security, an organization of 200 retired and reserve senior officers from the Israel Defense Forces, the Mossad secret service, the Shin Bet domestic security agency and the national police force […], was created last year to push Netanyahu forward on a regional peace agreement aimed at ending the conflict with the Palestinians.”
  • In The Nation, George Black revisits Quang Tri province 50 years after the USAF tried to bomb it, and Vietnam, back to the Stone Age.
  • Transgender vets raise a concrete issue for SecDef Carter: “If Carter is serious about revisiting the ban on transgender troops, he also needs to turn his attention to another issue: how the Defense Department responds to transgender veterans who need to update official military records to reflect their new [true] gender.”

 

As for this post’s title; Last night, in our slow binge of House of Cards season 3, an unexpected death reminded me simultaneously of the veteran suicide crisis and of Evan Thomas, who in 1918 refused special treatment to protest the treatment of COs in prison. I’m guessing that plot point was suggested by Pussy Riot.