Dave Gilson has worked at Mother Jones since 2003. Previously, he worked for the San Francisco Bay Guardian, the Center for Investigative Reporting, and the Northern California bureau of the New York Times.
Julian Assange already hates this movie. That six-word review may be all that his die-hard supporters need to know about We Steal Secrets, Alex Gibney's exhaustive and exhausting new documentary on the rise and fall of WikiLeaks. Apparently without having seeing the film, which hits theaters tomorrow and will be available on demand on June 7, Assange has condemned it as a hatchet job, starting with its name. "An unethical and biased title in the context of pending criminal trials," WikiLeaks tweeted in January when the movie screened at Sundance. "It is the prosecution's claim and it is false."
Assange's preemptive attack one of the film's main themes: What happens when an admirable cause is headed by a thin-skinned, combative prick?
Like many observers of WikiLeaks' short, chaotic history, Gibney (Taxi to the Dark Side, Client 9: The Rise and Fall of Eliot Spitzer) starts out sympathetic before souring on Assange. At first, We Steal Secrets seems enthralled with its subject. When Assange quotes a favorite Midnight Oil song, Gibney obligingly blasts the tune—a haranguing one even by the band's standards—over a title sequence that ricochets through cyberspace.
What follows is a complimentary look at Australia's "most infamous hacker," a peripatetic cryptographic whiz who recognized the promise and threat posed by a site that could publish anonymous leaks from around the globe. Robert Manne, a professor of politics at La Trobe University in Melbourne, gushes that Assange is "a humanitarian anarchist, a kind of John Lennon-like revolutionary, dreaming of better world." Or as Assange declares with casual bravado, "I enjoy crushing bastards."
A "feeding chair" in the Guantanamo medical wing where hunger-striking detainees are force fed.
For more than two weeks, 100 detainees at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba have been on hunger strike to protest conditions at the prison and their indefinite confinement. First denied and downplayed by the military, the strike has now become a full-blown emergency, as the Huffington Post's Ryan J. Reilly reports:
Twenty-three detainees are currently being force-fed. At least twice a day, guards in riot gear tie each detainee to a chair or bed, and medical personnel force a tube up his nose and down his throat, and pump a can of Ensure or other dietary supplement into his stomach. There are so many detainees being force-fed that Guantanamo's medical personnel are working around the clock to keep up with the demand, and approximately 40 additional medical personnel just arrived in Guantanamo to help deal with the growing crisis.
Though they do not show any of these frantic scenes, recently released military photos offer a window onto how Guantanamo has been dealing with the unprecedented protest: A "feeding chair" where detainees are force-fed sits next to a tray of feeding tubes and a bottle of butter pecan Ensure; guards deliver meals through "bean holes" in detainees' cells, only to throw away the uneaten food; hospital beds behind chain-link fences with rings for shackles beside them.
Other images in the series, taken in early April by Sgt. Brian Godette of the Army 138th Public Affairs Detachment, depict scenes from Camps V and VI, where most prisoners are held: a sign asking soldiers to respect praying detainees, a stuffed recliner in the "media room" that looks almost normal until you notice the ankle restraints. Original photo captions are in quotes. (h/t Public Intelligence)
"Feeding chair and [internal] nourishment preparation inside the Joint Medical Group where the detainees receive medical care."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Internal nourishment preparation inside the Joint Medical Group where the detainees receive medical care."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Overnight medical stay area inside the Joint Medical Group."
"Shackles restraint point between hospital beds inside the Joint Medical Group."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Guard Force soldiers unload and wheel in food items delivered to Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp V to prepare for breakfast disbursement to detainees."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Dated boxes and marked containers designate items and freshness."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Fresh olives are part of standard food items delivered."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Guard Force soldier distributes lunch to detainee through a bean hole in Camp V cell."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Guard Force soldier discards breakfast delivered earlier in the morning which was refused by detainees in Camps V and VI."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"The Behavioral Health Unit where the detainees receive psychological medical care."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Detainees religious rights are respected throughout the detention camps as well as inside the Joint Medical Group."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Standard issued items to restricted detainees inside detention Camp V."
Sgt. Brian Godette
"Media room inside Camp V Detention Facility which provides detainees access to television and movies."
Perhaps the most unusual thing about the Boston Marathon bombing is that it happened at all. While we've seen all manner of terrorist bomb plots since September 11—the Times Square bomber, the underwear bomber, even the guys who fantasized about destroying the Sears Tower—all have been thwarted by the FBI, the perpetrators' own bumbling, or both. If one or both of the suspects in last week's attack, Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, were motivated by radical Islamic beliefs, then they will have the dubious distinction of being the first jihadists to have set off a bomb on American soil since the 1993 World Trade Center bombing.
While America has been fixated on the threat of Islamic terrorism for more than a decade, all but a few domestic terror plots have failed. Between September 11, 2001, and the end of 2012, there were no successful bomb plots by jihadist terrorists in the United States. Jihadists killed 17 people in the United States in four separate incidents during this time, according to data collected by journalist Peter Bergen and the New America Foundation. All four of these incidents involved guns, including Nidal Hassan's shooting rampage at Fort Hood, which killed 13 people. In contrast, right-wing extremists killed 29 people during those 11 years.
The jihadists' record as bomb makers would probably be even worse if not for the FBI, which has reeled in dozens of would-be terrorists with its controversial informant program. Of the 203 jihadist terrorists counted by the New America Foundation, just 23 got their hands on explosives or materials to make a bomb; more than half of those obtained the components (often nonfunctioning) from federal informants or agents as part of a sting. Of the 174 nonjihadists, 51 right-wing terrorists and 5 anarchist terrorists tried making bombs. Only five of the right-wing terrorists got their bomb-making supplies via sting operations.
Using a slightly different methodology than Bergen, Brian Michael Jenkins of the RAND Corporation also found that "homegrown" jihadist terror plots have had little success. Most post-9/11 plots, he writes, most "never got beyond the discussion stage, and most of those that did were stings in which the FBI provided fake bombs." A Mother Jones examination of the cases of more than 500 defendants charged in terrorism-related cases after 9/11 found that 31 percent were nabbed in a sting, while 10 percent were lured by an informant who controlled the conspiracy. Perhaps one reason the Tsarnaev brothers' alleged plot went as far as it did was that they did not seek out collaborators, avoiding tipping off the FBI—which had already checked out Tamerlan but apparently decided not to investigate him.
From my cold, dead, sticky hands…Pete Marovich/ZUMAPress (LaPierre); M. Unal Ozmen/Shutterstock (ice cream)
Among the revelations in last weekend's New York Times profile of National Rifle Association chief executive Wayne LaPierre was this delicious nugget: "His fantasy," according to a former colleague, "was to retire from the NRA and open an ice cream shop in Maine." Should LaPierre ever beat his swords into ice cream scoops, here are a few suggestions for flavors that will set him apart from Ben & Jerry's:
Second Amendmint
S'more Guns, Less Crime
Glocky Road
Concealed Carry Garcia
Mmmmmm-16
Stand Your Grounds (with real espresso beans!)
Jamoca Ammo Fudge
Freeze, M*****f*****!
Shall Not Be In-Fridged
Banana Clip Chip
License to Chill
Jackfruited Thugs (exotic sorbet flavor)
Wayne Swirled
What, no hand-packed pints of Gun Nut? The Star Spangled Ice Cream company beat him to it a decade ago—and even scored an endorsement from NRA board member Ted Nugent.
For much of its more than 140-year history, the National Rifle Association promoted gun ownership, shooting, and hunting as good, clean, constitutionally-protected fun. That changed in the past four decades as the NRA transformed into a hardline group closely allied with the gun industry and the conservative establishment whose only solution to gun violence is evermoreguns. Watch the shift unfold in this collection of ads promoting the organization from the early 20th century to the present.
1920: "Rifle shooting is a mighty fine sport." This Remington ad in Boys Life declared that the NRA was "a United States Government organization." It wasn't, but that gives you a sense of just how tight the gun group and the government once were—before the NRA entered its current state of perpetual freak-out about the feds coming for Americans' guns.
1951:"A 50-Cent Junior Membership" Sure, you might shoot your eye out if you got a Red Ryder air rifle. But you'd also get the chance to join the NRA and win some of its "beautiful, official" marksmanship awards. The NRA-product tie-ins continue to this day: Several gun makers automatically enroll buyers in the organization.
1957: "More fun with your guns!" The NRA described itself as a "great sportsman's organization" in this ad from Guns magazine. Among the benefits of NRA membership: a "distinctive" lapel pin and the "right to buy government surplus gun equipment."
1970: "Hunters Beware!" Sounding more like the contemporary NRA, this ad warned about "powerful forces—possibly well-intentioned but ill-informed—working eagerly yet relentlessly to curb and eventually abolish the hunting rights, privileges and freedoms you enjoy today." Bonus: A guest appearance by future pro football Hall of Famer Chris Hanburger.
1973: "Only you can save hunting…" The tone is ratcheted up in this ad, which urged hunters to fight those who "want hunting stopped forever" by joining the NRA. "Tomorrow will be too late."
1982: "I'm the NRA" This famous campaign, launched in 1982, was intended to demonstrate the NRA's broad appeal. Ads included kids (such as eight-year-old BB-gun enthusiast Bryan Hardin), women, African Americans, cops, and clergy. A more recent version of the campaign has featured NRA celebrity board members Tom Selleck and Karl Malone.
Late 1980s: "Why can't a policeman be there when you need him?" Fears about violent crime fueled these ads promoting concealed-carry laws. The notion that gun laws are ineffective because criminals break them remains a core NRA argument, as does the idea that armed citizens routinely fend off attackers.
Late 1980s: "This is the most dangerous place in America." "These streets, once ruled by Jefferson, Lincoln, Truman, are now ruled by criminals," intoned newly minted NRA spokesperson Charlton Heston while walking the gritty alleys of Washington, DC. "A few blocks away our leaders sleep in safety." That line presaged the NRA's post-Newtown ad accusing Obama of being an "elitist hypocrite" hiding behind armed guards (see further down).
1993: "What's the first step to a police state?" The photo of goose stepping Nazis in this foreshadowed NRA executive vice president Wayne LaPierre's infamous description of federal agents as "jackbooted government thugs" two years later.
1993: The "Laughing Criminal" ad. If you think House of Cards is realistic, you'll enjoy this TV spot, conceptualized by LaPierre, which suggested that gun control is promoted by cynical politicians unwilling to get tough on crime. It also suggested that career criminals are discerning news watchers. Bonus: Watch for the appearance of the stereotypical '80s nerd, who just happens to be pro-gun control.
1995: Bill Clinton is "daffy." With the number of hunters on the decline, you'd think the NRA would embrace high-profile recreational shooters. Yet in this poster sold to its members, the NRA unintentionally distanced itself from its longtime stance that hunting was central to gun rights, declaring that "Mr. Clinton, the Second Amendment is not about duck hunting."
1997: "Gun rights are lost on our kids." Heston promised to lead a $100 million, "three-year crusade…to restore the Second Amendment to its rightful place as America's First Freedom." For the kids, of course.
2013: "Are the president’s kids more important than yours?" All the anti-government paranoia, fear-mongering, and liberal-baiting of the past few decades culminated in this video, produced in the wake of the Newtown massacre. By opposing putting armed guards in every school in America, Obama proved himself to be "just another elitist hypocrite" whose kids are protected by the Secret Service.
