JOHN PILGER -- Há outra Hiroshima a caminho... a menos que a impeçamos agora

 

A bomba atômica em Hiroshima foi um ato premeditado de assassinato em massa

 Há outra Hiroshima a caminho... a menos que a impeçamos agora

Texto de John Pilger, no site ICH, com tradução de btpsilveira

 

Julho de 2020 – Information Clearing House – Quando estive pela primeira vez em Hiroshima em 1967, a sombra na escada ainda estava lá. Era uma impressão quase perfeita de um ser humano bem à vontade: pernas abertas, costas flexionadas, uma mão ao lado do corpo, esperando que o banco abrisse.

Às oito e quinze da manhã de 06 de agosto de 1945, ele e sua silhueta foram gravadas a fogo no granito.

Fiquei olhando para a sombra por uma hora, pouco mais, depois fui para a beira do rio, onde os sobreviventes ainda vivem em barracos.

Conheci um homem chamado Yukio, que teve gravado no peito o padrão da camiseta que vestia quando a bomba atômica explodiu.

Ele descreveu o brilho intenso sobre a cidade “uma luz azulada, parecida com um curto circuito” em seguida um vento violento como um tornado e uma chuva negra. “Fui atirado contra o chão e percebi que só restaram os talos de minhas plantas. Tudo estava silencioso e quando me levantei, havia pessoas nuas, ninguém dizia nada. Alguns deles não tinham pele ou cabelo. Tive a certeza de ter morrido”.

American Exceptionalism Driving World to War – John Pilger

American Exceptionalism Driving World to War – John Pilger

Finian Cunningham 

November 27, 2019

© Photo: Flickr / SCU Media Students

Australian-born John Pilger has worked for over five decades as a reporter and documentary film-maker covering wars and conflicts all over the world. In the following interview, the award-winning journalist says the world is arguably at a more perilous geopolitical juncture than even during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 at the height of the Cold War. This is because American “exceptionalism” – which, he points out, mirrors that of Nazi Germany – has developed into a hyper-rogue phase. The relentless denigration of Russia by American and Western media show that there are few red lines left to restrain aggression towards Moscow, as there were, at least, during the past Cold War. Russia and China’s refusal to bow down to Washington’s dictate is infuriating the would-be American hegemon and its desire for zero-sum world domination.

John Pilger also gives his wide-ranging views on the systematic deterioration of Western mainstream journalism which has come to function as a nakedly propaganda matrix for power and corporate profit. He further condemns the ongoing persecution and torture of fellow-Australian publisher Julian Assange who is being held in a maximum-security British prison commonly used for holding mass murderers and convicted terrorists. Assange is being persecuted for telling the truth and for exposing huge crimes by the US and Britain, says Pilger. It is a grim warning of a covert war that is being conducted against independent journalism and free speech, and, more ominously, indicative of a slide towards police-state fascism in so-called Western democracies.

INTERVIEW

Question: In your documentary film, The Coming War on China (2016), you assess that the United States is on a strategic collision path with China for control of Asia-Pacific. Do you still see the threat of war looming between these two powers?

John Pilger: The threat of war may not be immediate, but we know or should know that events can change fast: a chain of incidents and missteps can ignite a war which can spread unpredictably. The calculations are not in dispute: an “enemy” has barely 12 minutes to decide whether and where to order a nuclear retaliation.

Question: Recently, US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo accused China of being “truly hostile to America’s interests”. What in your view is motivating US concerns about China?

JOHN PILGER: Visiting Britain’s Political Prisoner

JOHN PILGER: VisitingBritain’s Political Prisoner

November 29, 2019 • 33 Comments 

“I think I’m going out of my mind,” Julian Assange told John Pilger at Belmarsh Prison. “No you’re not,” Pilger responded. “Look how you frighten them, how powerful you are.”

By John Pilger

I set out at dawn. Her Majesty’s Prison Belmarsh is in the flat hinterland of south east London, a ribbon of walls and wire with no horizon. At what is called the visitors centre, I surrendered my passport, wallet, credit cards, medical cards, money, phone, keys, comb, pen, paper.

I need two pairs of glasses. I had to choose which pair stayed behind. I left my reading glasses. From here on, I couldn’t read, just as Julian couldn’t read for the first few weeks of his incarceration. His glasses were sent to him, but inexplicably took months to arrive.

There are large TV screens in the visitors centre. The TV is always on, it seems, and the volume turned up. Game shows, commercials for cars and pizzas and funeral packages, even TED talks, they seem perfect for a prison: like visual valium.

I joined a queue of sad, anxious people, mostly poor women and children, and grandmothers. At the first desk, I was fingerprinted, if that is still the word for biometric testing.

“Both hands, press down!” I was told. A file on me appeared on the screen.

I could now cross to the main gate, which is set in the walls of the prison. The last time I was at Belmarsh to see Julian, it was raining hard. My umbrella wasn’t allowed beyond the visitors centre. I had the choice of getting drenched, or running like hell. Grandmothers have the same choice.

At the second desk, an official behind the wire, said, “What’s that?”

“My watch,” I replied guiltily.

“Take it back,” she said. 

So I ran back through the rain, returning just in time to be biometrically tested again. This was followed by a full body scan and a full body search. Soles of feet; mouth open.

At each stop, our silent, obedient group shuffled into what is known as a sealed space, squeezed behind a yellow line. Pity the claustrophobic; one woman squeezed her eyes shut.

We were then ordered into another holding area, again with iron doors shutting loudly in front of us and behind us.

“Stand behind the yellow line!” said a disembodied voice.

Belmarsh prison, where Assange is incarcerated.

Another electronic door slid partly open; we hesitated wisely. It shuddered and shut and opened again. Another holding area, another desk, another chorus of, “Show your finger!”

Then we were in a long room with squares on the floor where we were told to stand, one at a time. Two men with sniffer dogs arrived and worked us, front and back.

The dogs sniffed our arses and slobbered on my hand. Then more doors opened, with a new order to “hold out your wrist!” 

A laser branding was our ticket into a large room, where the prisoners sat waiting in silence, opposite empty chairs. On the far side of the room was Julian, wearing a yellow arm band over his prison clothes.