MALICE AFORETHOUGHT

When i was a child, at the height of the "red scare," we were taught at school, had drummed into our heads, that America is the great land of freedom and democracy. We were taught to cherish and revere our freedoms and rights, especially freedom of speech. We were taught that a just and democratic government honors and protects our freedoms--freedom of speech, freedom to assemble and petition for a redress of grievances; to be secure in our persons, houses, papers and effects against unreasonable search and seizure; that no warrants shall be issued except upon probably cause supported by oath or affirmation; that no one shall be charged with a capital or infamous crime without indictment of a grand jury; that no one may be held without right of habeas corpus; that no one can be deprived of life, liberty or property without due process of law; that no private property shall be taken for public use without just compensation. We were taught that it was our right--nay, our sacred duty--to protest the unjust or immoral actions of government.

Yet it appears that this is not so. Our conservative fellow citizens tell us that there must be no criticism of the President (this one, at least), that it is unpatriotic to criticize the war, that we are traitors to our soldiers, sailors and Marines if we do so, that the government may hold whom they please, how they please, for as long as they please. We are told to object is unpatriotic, that we must love it and sit down and shut up.

You might well imagine my confusion. Why does the Right hate America and its freedoms?

Also provide proof of Americans homes being invaded and searched and the people being hauled away without due course?

I would like to have news stories of Americans homes being taken and people being arrested for speaking out. Also provide proof of Americans homes being invaded and searched and the people being hauled away without due course?

Baldimo wrote:

Also provide proof of Americans homes being invaded and searched and the people being hauled away without due course?

Brandon Mayfield comes to mind.

...Yet it appears that this is not so. Our conservative fellow citizens tell us that there must be no criticism of the President (this one, at least), that it is unpatriotic to criticize the war, that we are traitors to our soldiers, sailors and Marines if we do so...

Patriotism is overrated.

Baldimo, what a short memory you have. I won't cite a news article to remind you. I will post a true story I wrote in 1995 to improve your knowledge. Cicerone Imposter can confirm these events as he and his family were interred in US concentration camps at the beginning of WWII.

MEMORIES OF A BEST FRIEND
By BumbleBeeBoogie
April 13, 1995

The 50th anniversary of President Roosevelt's death brings back painful memories of a terrible time in America when unjustified (and illegal?) actions were taken against Japanese- American citizens in war time hysteria. We need to remember so it never can happen again.

Tazako became my best friend in 1939 when her family, who owned the area's only plant nursery, moved to my town. We both were in the 6th grade. Her father and mother immigrated from Japan in 1936, bringing their three little girls with them to make a new life and to escape the war they knew was coming.

Tazako's father was a shy thin man with gray-streaked black hair. His face was sun-tanned from hours spent out doors transplanting flower seedlings from the green house in the back of the nursery. He spoke little English, but we talked for hours about the flowers and how to grow them. When his English failed, he showed me how to plant seeds, transplant them into larger containers, and prune shrubs and trees to promote their growth.

Tazako's mother, a sweet petite woman, sold plants and cut flowers in a little office tucked away in the corner of the nursery where she taught me how to arrange flowers in the Japanese style. Her English was little better than her husband's. When they were not in school, the three daughters helped her with customer translations.

After school, Tazako and I often walked to the small house the family rented at the rear of the nursery's lot. Although we were from different cultures, we were alike in what eleven year old girls all over the world like to do---play games and talk about boys. I was one of the few caucasians welcomed into their home because they knew I loved their close-knit family and their old-country customs.

Tazako and her two older sisters, who had quickly become fluent English speakers, were impatient with their parent's Japanese old-country ways. It was a time when immigrants believed they had to give up their heritage and assimilate into the American culture. The girls never invited their parents to school functions because they were embarrassed by their poor English. They insisted that English be spoken in their home, which was hard for the parents, and they resisted.

When the birth of their mother's forth child drew near, the three girls, Michiko, Umiko and Tazako, pleaded that the baby, the family's first child to be born in America, be given an American name. When a robust boy was born, he was named Harry.

My close friendship with Tazako was shattered on Sunday, December 7, 1941, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. We all were scared. I never will forget my fifteen year old brother sitting on the front porch of our home, defiantly challenging the unseen enemy, pointing his 22 rifle at the evening sky to protect his family. "Let them come," he snarled, "I'll shoot them out of the sky!"

The three girls did not come to school on Monday after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Our homeroom teacher discussed with the students how embarrassed the girls would be when they returned on Tuesday. She said we should treat them with kindness because they had nothing to do with what happened at Pearl Harbor. It was painful for the girls when they returned to school and most of the students were kind, but a few made their lives miserable. I got into a fist fight with one boy who taunted Tazako, accusing her of being a traitor.

Several weeks went by. Gradually calm returned and the girls settled into their school routines. Our homes now had block warden-approved black-out curtains hanging in their windows. Our town's young men didn't hesitate to enlist in the army and navy. (Later, thousands of young Japanese-American men would enlist in the army's Rainbow Division and be sent to Europe to fight and die for the United States.)

Then, without warning, came President Roosevelt's order to move all ethnic Japanese regardless of whether or not they were American citizens, to "relocation camps" in the mid-west. I was heart-broken when I learned what was to happen to my friends. Frantically, I pestered my mother and father about what could be done. They offered no answers. I thought about the girls insisting their parents abandon their Japanese ways and become real Americans and now the government wanted to send them away. In my twelve-year old mind, I hoped the only president I had ever known would not send the family away if he knew they were good, simple people.

One afternoon I sat down at the dining room table and wrote a letter in despair to President Roosevelt. I described Tazako's family and what good loyal Americans they were and pleaded with FDR to let my friends stay in their home. I walked to the postoffice and mailed my letter to the White House in Washington, D.C. I never received a reply.

Tazako's family was frantic because their nursery could be lost because there was no time to find someone to take over the lease. The family were told they would be allowed to take only what possessions they could carry with them on the train to the camp. What to take? What part of their lives could they leave behind? I cried for my friend as I helped her choose what to take. They packed clothing and family photographs into suitcases and boxes tied with twine. They didn't even know where they were going and no address was known for receiving letters. (Years later, I learned they were afraid to receive letters from friends because of fear they would be censored and the friends might be investigated by the government.) Tazako's family just disappeared one day after the soldiers took them to the train depot to begin their journey to the concentration camps in a mid-western state.

Finally in 1946, after the war was over, the family was released from the camp and they returned to our town. Tazako, Michiko, Umiko and Harry finally were considered American enough to live among us. By that time Tazako and I were in our senior year at High School. The nursery had been gone for a long time, converted into retail stores surrounded by concrete where once beautiful trees and shrubs had grown. The family had no resources to start over again.

I never told Tazako about my letter to the president in 1942---it would have been meaningless. We were older and soon to be graduated from high school, but Tazako's trust was gone. Nothing was the same between us again.

boomerang wrote:

Baldimo wrote:

Also provide proof of Americans homes being invaded and searched and the people being hauled away without due course?

Brandon Mayfield comes to mind.

This so-called botched arrest had merit in this difficult period of time.

"The affidavit that helped secure his arrest made much of the fact that he had converted to Islam, is married to an Egyptian-born woman and had once briefly represented a member of the "Portland Seven" in a child-custody case."


http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5092810/site/newsweek/

he FBI has blamed the mistake on the poor quality of a digital copy of the print Spain provided, which confused even its best analysts. The bureau points out that an independent fingerprint analyst hired by Mayfield's defense team also agreed that the print was a match to Mayfield (a claim Mayfield's lawyers confirm). The Feds have further claimed that Spain also believed the FBI had a good match.

But Spanish authorities insist that they always doubted the Mayfield connection. "At no time did we give our approval," a Spanish police official told NEWSWEEK. "We kept working on the identification ... Obviously we wouldn't have kept working on it if we were already 100 percent convinced."