Leonard Washington Quotes

American Indians share a magnificent history — rich in its astounding diversity, its integrity, its spirituality, its ongoing unique culture and dynamic tradition. It's also rich, I'm saddened to say, in tragedy, deceit, and genocide. Our sovereignty, our nationhood, our very identity — along with our sacred lands — have been stolen from us in one of the great thefts of human history. And I am referring not just to the thefts of previous centuries but to the great thefts that are still being perpetrated upon us today, at this very moment. Our human rights as indigenous peoples are being violated every day of our lives — and by the very same people who loudly and sanctimoniously proclaim to other nations the moral necessity of such rights. Over the centuries our sacred lands have been repeatedly and routinely stolen from us by the governments and peoples of the United States and Canada. They callously pushed us onto remote reservations on what they thought was worthless wasteland, trying to sweep us under the rug of history. But today, that so-called wasteland has surprisingly become enormously valuable as the relentless technology of white society continues its determined assault on Mother Earth. White society would now like to terminate us as peoples and push us off our reservations so they can steal our remaining mineral and oil resources. It's nothing new for them to steal from nonwhite peoples. When the oppressors succeed with their illegal thefts and depredations, it's called colonialism. When their efforts to colonize indigenous peoples are met with resistance or anything but abject surrender, it's called war. When the colonized peoples attempt to resist their oppression and defend themselves, we're called criminals. I write this book to bring about a greater understanding of what being an Indian means, of who we are as human beings. We're not quaint curiosities or stereotypical figures in a movie, but ordinary — and, yes, at times, extraordinary — human beings. Just like you. We feel. We bleed. We are born. We die. We aren't stuffed dummies in front of a souvenir shop; we aren't sports mascots for teams like the Redskins or the Indians or the Braves or a thousand others who steal and distort and ridicule our likeness. Imagine if they called their teams the Washington Whiteskins or the Washington Blackskins! Then you'd see a protest! With all else that's been taken from us, we ask that you leave us our name, our self-respect, our sense of belonging to the great human family of which we are all part. Our voice, our collective voice, our eagle's cry, is just beginning to be heard. We call out to all of humanity. Hear us!

A huszadik század kezdetétől fogva rosszul megírt dráma volt. I. felvonás: kapzsiság és képmutatás népirtó háborúhoz vezet; háború utáni igazságtalanság és hisztéria; fellendülés; összeomlás, totalitarianizmus. II. felvonás: kapzsiság és képmutatás népirtó háborúhoz vezet; háború utáni igazságtalanság és hisztéria; fellendülés; összeomlás, totalitarianizmus. III. felvonás: kapzsiság és képmutatás – nem merem folytatni. És mik voltak az ellenmérgek? Logikai pozitivizmus, egzisztencializmus, száguldó technológia, űrhajózás, kételkedés a valóságban, és általános jólnevelt paranoia, az utóbbi időben kiállítási tárgyként Washington legmagasabb posztjain. És személyes ellenmérgeink: együttcsaholás, kábítószer, szubkultúrák és ellenkultúrák, bekapcsolódás, kikapcsolódás. Helybenjárás és pénzhajhászás. Új vallásos mozgalmak rohama guruizmustól Billy Grahamizmusig. És új művészeti mozgalmak rohama, konkrét költészettől John Cage csendjeiig. Katarzis itt, purgatórium ott. És mindez egy jegyben, a planetáris halál angyalának jegyében.

Potentially the weakest link in the long chain that led to Pearl Harbor was actually one of the strongest. This was the busy eyes of Ensign Yoshikawa, the ostensibly petty bureaucrat in the Honolulu consulate of Consul General Nagao Kita. Presenting himself as a Filipino, he washed dishes at the Pearl Harbor Officers Club listening for scuttlebutt. He played tourist on a glass bottom boat in Kaneohe Bay near the air station where most of the Navy’s PBYs were moored. He flew over the islands as a traveler. As a straight-out spy, he swam along the shore of the harbor itself ducking out of sight from time to time breathing through a reed. He was Yamamoto’s ears and eyes. The Achilles heel to the whole operation was J-19, the consular code he used to send his information back to Tokyo. And Tokyo used to give him his instructions. Rochefort, the code breaker in Hypo at Pearl Harbor, besides being fluent in Japanese could decipher eighty percent of J-19 messages in about twelve hours. The most tell-tale of all was message 83 sent to Honolulu September 24, 1941. It instructed Yoshikawa to divide Pearl Harbor into a grid so vessels moored in each square could be pinpointed. This so-called “bomb plot” message was relayed to Washington by Clipper in undeciphered form. The Pan American plane had been delayed by bad weather so 83 wasn’t decoded and translated until October 9 or 10. Washington had five times as many intercepts piling up for decoding from Manila than Honolulu because Manila was intercepting higher priority Purple. When he saw the decrypt of 83, Colonel Rufus Bratton, head of the Far Eastern Section of Army G-2 or intelligence, was brought up short. Never before had the Japanese asked for the location of ships in harbor. Bratton sent the message on to Brigadier General Leonard T. Gerow, chief of the Army’s War Plans Division with General Marshall and Secretary Stimson marked in.

In 1996, Koch Industries created a nonprofit group called the Economic Education Trust. The group did not need to disclose its donors because it was not ostensibly a lobbying or campaign finance organization. Koch funneled money through the Economic Education Trust to state and federal campaigns in Kansas and other states where it did business. In October of 1996, the Economic Education Trust gave $1.79 million to a company in suburban Washington, DC, called Triad Management Services Inc. Triad was supposedly a political consulting firm, but it had a strange business model: it offered its services for free, to Republican candidates. A US Senate report in 1998 concluded that Triad was “a corporate shell funded by a few wealthy conservative Republican activists.

Charles Koch understood now that he needed a political operation in Washington. Up until that point, he operated as if he could stay out of the miasma of the nation’s capital, staying true to his libertarian beliefs and focusing his efforts on the business in Wichita. This left Koch vulnerable. When Ken Ballen was conducting his investigation, he was contacted frequently by high-paid attorneys and experts who worked for companies like Exxon and Chevron. They defended their clients and even helped focus attention on Koch Industries. Koch had no such presence. This would change in the early 1990s.

The address list of Lilygren’s e-mail was instructive. It was sent to every major meat lobbying group in Washington, even to companies that didn’t seem to have a dog in the fight, like Monsanto. Industrial food lobbyists know it’s smart to stick together. A regulation over one of them could open the door to regulation over others. By pooling their money and time, they present a united wall against any legislation that might change the power structure of American agribusiness.

By releasing the GIPSA rule, Vilsack kicked into motion one of the better-funded, better-coordinated lobbying machines in Washington. The meat companies themselves had tremendous resources at their disposal. The biggest meat companies—Tyson Foods, ConAgra Foods, Cargill, Smithfield, and JBS—spent a combined $5.94 million on lobbying during 2010 alone, according to an analysis of disclosure reports. Tyson had the biggest lobbying operation by far, spending $2.59 million. The companies were joined in the effort by their industry front groups, including the American Meat Institute, the National Chicken Council, the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, and the National Pork Producers Council,1 which together spent $1.85 million on lobbying during 2010.

To shape the debate, meat company lobbyists used an increasingly common tactic in the Washington influence industry. They stoked a “grassroots” movement of ordinary people who contacted lawmakers to voice complaints and make suggestions that perfectly mirror the wishes of big business. In the meat business, of course, there was no more effective group to enlist for such an effort than farmers themselves. If farmers opposed GIPSA’s efforts, it was hard to justify them. On August 4, 2010, the National Chicken Council sent out a confidential memo to poultry companies like Tyson Foods and Pilgrim’s Pride. The memo urged the companies to contact their farmers and ask them to oppose the GIPSA rule by sending comments to the agency.

Baker didn’t need much convincing. He was a cattleman and banker from central Arkansas who favored wearing a cowboy hat even in Washington, D.C. He was familiar with the poultry industry and big meatpacking companies, and he tended to think they operated best when left alone. Government rules just impeded the natural functioning of the market. Tabor’s efforts in Iowa, and the parallel efforts in Washington, D.C., and other states, were a bridge too far for Baker. “Don’t get away from the free enterprise system,” Baker said later about Tabor’s speech. “You start infringing on it with regulations like that.

The biggest fight of all was waged out of Iowa, the nation’s strongest farm state, the land of cheap corn and soybeans. In the mid-1990s, Iowa Attorney General Tom Miller launched a fight against vertically integrated meat production that ended up encompassing more than a dozen states and went all the way to Washington, D.C., and the halls of Congress.

the flight back to Washington, D.C., Nixon’s campaign manager, Leonard Hall, told the vice president the Democrats stole the election. They had received reports of voter fraud in a number of key states, including Illinois, Texas, and Missouri. He pressed Nixon to do something about it, maybe even contest the election. Nixon took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to make a hasty decision on something that would divide the nation. No, he’d have to think about that, talk it over with GOP leaders. He didn’t want to be a sore loser.

Transparency and the rule of law will be the touchstones of this administration,” President Obama declared back in 2009. Rarely has there been a greater gap between what a politician said and what he did. Indeed, in the mold of Richard Nixon, the White House asserted dubious claims of executive privilege to avoid scrutiny in the Fast and Furious scandal. But Obama is publicly oblivious to the contradictions. At a media awards dinner in March 2016, President Obama scolded the press for enabling a candidate like Donald Trump and suggested it had a greater responsibility than to hand someone a microphone. But as far as Jake Tapper on CNN was concerned “the messenger was a curious one.” He succinctly reviewed the Obama administration’s deplorable record on transparency and openness and concluded: “Maybe, just maybe, your lecturing would be better delivered to your own administration.” Speaking with some passion, Tapper told his viewers: “Many believe that Obama’s call for us to probe and dig deeper and find out more has been made far more difficult by his administration than any in recent decades. A far cry from the assurances he offered when he first took office.” Tapper noted that Obama promised to run the “most transparent administration in history.” “Obama hasn’t delivered,” ProPublica reporter Justin Elliott wrote in the Washington Post in March 2016. “In fact, FOIA has been a disaster under his watch.” Elliott went on to write: Newly uncovered documents (made public only through a FOIA lawsuit) show the Obama administration aggressively lobbying against reforms proposed in Congress. The Associated Press found last year that the administration had set a record for censoring or denying access to information requested under FOIA, and that the backlog of unanswered requests across the government had risen by 55 percent, to more than 200,000. A recent analysis found the Obama administration set a record of failing nearly 130,000 times to respond to public records requests under the Freedom of Information Act.1 Tapper closed his broadcast by quoting former Washington Post executive editor Leonard Downie, who helped break the Watergate scandal and said in 2013 that Obama had the “most aggressive” administration toward the press since Richard Nixon.

The New York Times and the Washington Post each contain roughly 100,000 words a day—about as many as this book. A typical NBC Nightly News broadcast contains 3,600 words.

Soon after Tyson bought Washington Creamery in 1966, the company began catering to the perception that game hens were some kind of luxury item, calling them “Cornish game hens.” There was an exotic appeal to the product, the air of nobility to it, as if it were the kind of dish that was served by butlers after a fox hunt. Haskell Jackson marveled at the gimmickry of it. All of Tyson’s chickens were Cornish birds, as Jackson and others in the industry knew. The Cornish breed had been selected as the industry standard because it grew fast. The only difference between a Cornish game hen and an ice-packed chicken was that you killed the game hen when it was younger. It was just a smaller chicken, wrapped in plastic and frozen, given a better name and sold at a fixed price. But the strategy worked.

After a decade of U.S. wars and surging defense budgets, an expectation of special treatment had taken root in the Navy. Many officers felt they were owed something extra for enduring long deployments at sea and missions to support the fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. The American people fed such attitudes by placing uniformed personnel on a pedestal, thanking them for their service with discounts and freebies. The further one got from Washington, the easier it became to stretch the norms of acceptable conduct. In Asia, Navy officers pocketed favors they knew would be taboo at home.

ALEC was an umbrella group that coordinated efforts among conservative state legislators around the nation. ALEC’s mission, and its organization, was a novel innovation. State legislatures were often seen as policy backwaters. ALEC stepped into the breach by giving much-needed resources to overworked and underpaid state lawmakers. This innovation was born of necessity in 1973, when liberal politics dominated Washington. ALEC’s founder, a religious conservative activist named Paul Weyrich, felt it would be far more effective to push policy ideas on the state level. He was right.

To do this, Koch employed a tactic known as the “echo chamber,” of which it had become a master. The echo chamber allowed Koch to amplify its message while hiding its hand. The strategy originated from the network of think tanks and academic programs that Charles Koch had been building for almost forty years. In 1974, when Charles Koch laid out his strategy for launching a libertarian revolution in the United States, he listed education as the first of four pillars in his strategy.III He had pursued this strategy with great success, building the Cato Institute think tank and academic centers like the Mercatus Center at George Mason University. These efforts had a philosophical, almost noble, feel to them. The stated goal was to fund scholars and big ideas that would slowly move society toward an understanding of Charles Koch’s political vision. By 2009, the educational enterprise had become a network of shell enterprises and hidden funding streams that gave immediate tactical support to Koch Industries’ lobbying goals. Ideas are the raw material of all legislation. In Washington, DC, there is a surprisingly small congregation of think tanks, policy shops, media outlets, and academic institutions that shape the daily political conversation. Over the decades, Koch Industries became adept at seeding this territory with its own ideas, and its own thinkers, in a way that hid its influence. The echo chamber tactic began when Koch’s lobbyists would commission and pay for an academic study, without claiming credit for it. That study, seemingly independent of Koch, was then fed into a series of think tanks and foundations that Koch controlled. Finally, the work of those think tanks was weaponized into the raw ammunition of political campaigns. Taken together, it had the effect of making the message from Koch Industries’ lobbying shop seem far louder, and far more popular, than it really was. This, in turn, had a surprisingly strong effect on senators and other lawmakers, who paid close attention to public sentiment.

It seemed even more surprising that Charles Koch could keep all of these political operations straight in his own head. The contours of Koch’s political machine were intentionally obscured and complex. Outside analysts would spend years trying to piece together all of its various pieces. The political machine consisted of at least dozens of shell groups funded by anonymous donors, some of them staffed by current and former employees of Koch Industries. The network included the main lobbying office in Washington, DC; all of the contract lobbyists it hired; a relatively obscure activist group called Americans for Prosperity with chapters in several states; at least several private political consultancies; the Koch Industries corporate PAC; various think tanks; academic programs and fellowships; and a consortium of wealthy donors that Charles and David Koch convened twice a year to pool large donations for Koch’s chosen causes. And these elements were just the most visible pieces of the Koch political machine. The entirety of the political apparatus could only be viewed from the top, by a handful of people with the authority to see the entire operation. These people were Charles Koch, David Koch, and their top political operative, Richard Fink. Of the three of them, Charles Koch unquestionably had the most authority.

The think tanks and academic programs were funded through nonprofit foundations such as the Charles G. Koch Charitable Foundation and the Claude R. Lambe Charitable Foundation. In 2008 alone, the Charles Koch Foundation gave out $8.39 million in grants and gifts, while the Lambe Foundation gave $2.56 million. These grants supported conservative scholars and paid for supposedly independent policy reports released by Washington think tanks. The libertarian Cato Institute think tank, which Charles Koch cofounded and continued to support, operated with annual revenue of $23.7 million in 2008, up from $17.6 million in 2001. In later years, this political operation became known as the “Kochtopus,

(Leonard also noted that “Negative Amortization” would make a terrific name for a punk band.)

To build a happy marriage, one must know one’s values and one’s partner, one must work to identify, cooperate, communicate; to wreck one’s marriage, one need merely take it for granted and give one’s partner no thought at all. To sculpt the David, one needs the genius of Michelangelo; to smash it, only some rampaging barbarians. To create the United States required the intellect and the painstaking debates of the Founding Fathers; to run it into the ground, only the crew of anti-intellectuals now ensconced in Washington.

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