Operation Gladio, or How to Run a Secret Paramilitary Force

A stay-behind operation is essentially the last line of defense against an occupying power. During the Cold War, the CIA and NATO feared that many countries in Europe could fall to communism, be it democratically or with Soviet "assistance." Stay-behind networks were covert groups tasked with destabilizing any future government deemed communistic by either the CIA or NATO.

 

Stay-behind groups were trained in disinformation, political assassinations, and false-flag attacks -- false-flag attacks are violent acts attributed to an uninvolved party. If a country became socialist through democratic channels was of no concern to stay-behind groups. Their job was to terrorize by any means, and as a result the CIA and NATO often recruited from the far-right of society, from its fascist elements.

 

These paramilitary groups were based all throughout Europe, had underground arms-caches, trained with US Green Berets and the SAS, and answered to the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe (SAUCER.) As per tradition, the SAUCER is a US general that answers to the Pentagon. The Pentagon exercised very effective control over many Gladio operations.

 

It was not until 1990 that the first of these secret paramilitary armies was revealed to the public, and later proved to have existed in nearly every country in Europe, with the Dutch stay-behind group being the only one independent of NATO. A 1990 European resolution condemned Gladio as being a parallel clandestine service escaping all democratic scrutiny.

 

In Italy and in Turkey, where communism had the potential to become a majority democratic movement, Gladio operatives carried out terrorist attacks which were meant to convince the population of the need for a dictatorial, pro-Washington regime. According to the Guardian, "US intelligence agents were informed in advanced about several right-wing terrorist bombings, including the Dec. 1969 Piazza Fontana bombing in Milan, and the Piazza della Loggia bombing in Drescia five years later, but did nothing to alert the authorities or prevent the attacks."

 

The number of attacks carried out by Gladio operatives is too long to list, but it proves how false-flag attacks have been used by the CIA to further Washington's international agenda.

 

Given history, and the increasing powers that have been given to the CIA since the start of The War Against Terror (TWAT,) it stands to reason that there are stay-behind groups in countries where the CIA fears an Islamist takeover. The files from Operation Gladio, fortunately for the CIA, can neither be confirmed nor denied.

Who is Cutting Off the Audio to the 9/11 Trials?

In a democracy, isn't a judge suppose to be in control of his court? During the Moscow Trials, when Stalin worked to eliminate his competition, he would sit in a secret cabin and observe the trial. Eventually, some of the most prominent men in the founding of the USSR were eliminated. Imagine if all the founding fathers of the United States had been executed 20 years after the war of independence for conspiring to return America to the king of Britain.

The similarities between the Moscow Trials and the current Guantanamo trials are too long to list, but the most damning one of them is the use of torture. At the mere mention of the CIA torture sites -- or "Black Sites" as they are more happily called -- the audio feed to the trial was cut off. Judge Pohl was slightly displeased at the mysterious, unnanounced interruption of the audio feed. A court officer is the one who is supposed to be in control of the audio feed, but he was not the one who turned off the audio.

Judge Pohl promised that he would have a talk with whatever powers-that-be had hijacked his court without his knowledge. However, I'm sure that censored trials will be the new main course of action in the Land of the Free. Afterall, how can we remain free if the world learns of our Black Sites? Freedom means we have to sacrifice, and in this case we're sacrificing merely minutes from a trial.

The Dominican/Jewish Atonement

The Dominican Republic, though a Spanish colony for most of its Eurocentric history, did not actually gain independence from Spain itself. The era of "España Boba" (Foolish Spain) from 1809-1821, saw Spain heavily taxed by a war on its imperial peninsula, as well as independence movements in wealthier colonies.

 

The Dominican Republic -- neglected by Spain -- became independent in 1821, but was quickly invaded by Haiti, its neighbor to the west. From 1822 until 1844, what is now the Dominican Republic was part of Haiti. Eventually, Spanish customs, lighter skin, and Catholicism clashed with French customs, darker skin, and voodoo. In 1844, the Eastern side of the island proclaimed independence, expelled their French/Creole-speaking neighbor, and established the Dominican Republic.

 

In elementary school, we were taught that out liberation from Haiti was cosmically righteous, that we were chosen by God to free ourselves from the forces of voodoo and Africanism. After independence there were several more invasions, and indeed we were taught to always be on the lookout for a potential Haitian invasion.

 

In 1937, the then-dictator of the Dominican Republic, Generalissimo Trujillo, decided that he needed to solidify his rule. Since nothing centralizes power more than war, he ordered a Shibboleth, for his forces to massacre all black individuals near the border who couldn't pronounce the word "perejil" (parsley) -- French speakers can't roll the R, and can't aspirate the strong Spanish "J."

 

Over 20,000 Haitians were hacked to death with machetes for failing to pronounce the word "parsley," without consideration for how long they had lived near the border, or how many generations their families had been there. The dictator failed to get the expected response -- war -- and was instead condemned by the international community, and forced to atone by paying $ 525,000. Each survivor only got a few cents due to corruption, but I digress.

 

Trujillo, whose rule can be seen as a totalitarian pigmentocracy, decided to not only import European whites, but also further atone for the Parsley Massacre. The next year, at the Evian Conference, when the fate of European Jewry was being decided, the Dominican Republic was the only country that offered visas to European Jews.

"100,000 visas and a city!" shouted Trujillo's brother while stealing the show at the Evian conference. The country at the time had less than 2 million people, so it was a very generous offer.

 

The city of Sosua was founded, and arriving Jews were greeted by a friendly, welcoming people who even gave each new refugee 80 acres of land, 10 cows, a mule, and a horse. To this day, Sosua maintains a synagogue and prominent Jewish families.

 

In elementary school, I never learned about the Parsley Massacre or the Evian Conference. Balaguer -- Trujillo's vice-president -- was in power and he knew how to stoke fear of a Haitian invasion, rallying the population behind him as protector of the country's Hispanic traditions. I grew up fearing Haitians. I was told that they kidnapped children and practiced voodoo, a satanic art which made them enemies of God.

 

One of my earliest memories was of my sitting in my town's main square and seeing two soldiers with shotguns jump off a cattle truck and grab a very black man who couldn't produce identification. He was forced to board the truck along with 30 or 35 other individuals. They were squeezed together and only processed after the truck finished its route, with them paraded for everyone to see as proof of a hard-working government that kept its population safe from evil.

 

I felt no sympathy when I looked into the teary eyes of those dark-skinned man on that cattle truck -- even though many would no longer be able to provide for their families. I was taught that it was right because they practiced evil and were the enemy. To me they were not human, and indeed I saw no problem with them being paraded in a cattle truck.

 

Dominican atonement at the Evian Conference was not enough; it did not wash the hate away. Today I am very familiar with that hate. I recognize very well the eyes of a man who does not see humanity in another man's eyes.

 

Leonel Fernandez, the Dominican president until last year, was criticized for saying, "Dominicans of darker-skin are discriminated against in school." He was brave and took political risk in publicly speaking the truth, but he was not up for re-election. Fernandez also spoke openly against attempts by a strong political movement to build a wall to keep out the Haitians. Fernandez didn't use the term "security barrier." He didn't sugarcoat reality.

 

However, when I hear Netanyahu speak, when I look into his eyes, I see a familiar face. I see a man who does not recognize the humanity of his neighbor. I see a man who sugarcoats and uses terms like "security barrier." I see a population that turns a blind eye to the parsley and the machete, to the Shibboleth.

 

Like the Jews, the Dominicans have too suffered greatly. During the Taino holocaust in the 16th century, Spanish occupying forces annihilated the island's entire native population. Today, no Tainos survive. Like the Jews, we were oppressed, and it is true that people who are oppressed also learn to oppress back. Nations are like individuals; a child who was abused and learned that it was right and good, will likely also do it to his children, to the weakest.

My Personal Gsus

I found myself somewhere in the center of Amsterdam. It was Friday at noon, and I was sober. I presumed the afternoon would be like other fashion outings with my girlfriend: we would go to a fashion show; meet a lot of loud, excited, beautiful people; see some nice threads; and interact with businessmen trying to get my girlfriend to buy their lines.

 

Naturally, I decided to stop for a drink at Warmoesstraat and let her go ahead. I wanted to at least be a bit relaxed for the whole ordeal. I wanted to show up mostly for the freebies. I needed a new t-shirt and wasn't in the mood for shelling out two euros and ninety nine cents. Don't judge, I'm weird when it comes to spending money on certain things.

 

So, the fashion show was not too far from Haarlemmerdijk -- Amsterdam's answer to SOHO -- meaning that I had to walk about half an hour from Warmoesstraat to the end of Haarlemmerdijk. I was to meet my girlfriend at some tent in a park by Haarlemmerdijk, but the beer got me better than I expected. I got lost, stumbled in the middle of a snowfield, and, after finding the tent for Amsterdam Fashion Week, tried entering through the back. After making it to the front entrance, I learned that the Gsus fashion show, for which my girlfriend had been invited, had already started.

 

My girlfriend waited for me until the very last minute, and it was my delaying her that changed her fate and mine. She was the last one to enter the fashion show stage, and her third-row seat was already occupied. A guy in an orange suit approached her and was not only kind enough to give her front-row seating, but also the goodie bag that came with that privilege.

 

The fashion show was merely 20 minutes, and afterwards I joined for the after-party. My girlfriend handed me two kickass t-shirts, exceeding my expectation. They were sophisticated, but inside held cutting lines in case you ever wanted to customize them with a pair of scissors. When the t-shirt fades, you turn it inside out, and customize it.

 

Gsus had my attention; they had prepared a product with consideration for its afterlife, for the potential of a t-shirtical revival. Bang! Cheapskate Jose now not only had 2 t-shirts with an afterlife as fancy wifebeaters, but also some wine tokens. Gsus had delivered wine, and the wine was good. I raised my glass -- my girlfriend did the same -- and I made a toast, ""to long life and good health," right as a 172 centimeter man approached from the shadows behind a mannequin.

 

He knew my girlfriend and introduced himself. Noticing that my wine glass was near-empty just after one toast, he said, "let one among you who is without wine, ask for more tokens." He handed me a handful of tokens, and I knew that my Friday afternoon wouldn't be as sober as I had predicted.

 

"You're a criminal," I said; "Wine is my enemy!"

I don't remember much of what happened after that, but I do remember he said, "love thy enemy."

America Declares Drone War Against North Africa

Now America can follow its former arch-foe -- the freedom fries-hating French -- into the fray created by NATO bombardment of Lybia. As soon as NATO started bombing Lybia, his mercenaries saw the writing on the wall and started fleeing south, to Mali, where they established the Azawad state.

 

The United States has recently announced that it is looking to build a base in Niger, and was also possibly looking at sites in Burkina Faso. One of these two poor African countries -- or likely both -- will soon find themselves in the same situation as Djibouti, which is used to launch drone attacks against Yemen and Somalia. Make no mistake about it, the construction of these bases means that the United States will soon start targeting Boko Haram in Nigeria, as well as the Islamist rebels in North Mali (Azawad.)

 

How long this new two drone wars will last, no one can tell. However, everyone is certain that there will be collateral damage, and we will have disgruntled civilians in both countries seeing us as enemies. Fortunately we have a black president who was selected by fate to drone the world.

The Iranian Empowerment

I knew who Osama Bin Laden was on 9/11. I was in Ms. Gross' 9th grade history class, and had just turned 14 three days earlier. We started discussing what was going on, and I said, "This is the work of Osama Bin Laden," much to the confusion of everyone else in class. I knew him because on a daily basis I saw a poster of the victims of the USS Cole -- attributed to Bin Laden -- in the first floor of my middle school. The poster read: "They died for your freedoms," and contained a portrait of the victims of the attack. 

What I did not know, however, was where exactly Afghanistan was located on the map. The next day, in Ms. Hammer's art class, we were asked to draw something describing how we felt about the whole situation involving the Twin Towers. I drew a crude map of the Old World and, not knowing exactly where Afghanistan was, I simply drew an American flag dripping blood and stretching all the way from Morocco to India. "Disturbing," Ms. Hammer concluded.

I felt like a lot of Americans that day; I wanted blood and revenge. But it was not lost on Ms. Gross that no one in class knew where our advanced bombs would soon be targeted, and she gave us a lot of maps to color on a daily basis. I spent more time coloring maps that year than I did studying for my weekend calculus class at City College.

I found the work of drawing rather tedious and more suitable for elementary school, not high school. Nonetheless, coloring maps on a daily basis is something that every American should be forced to do. Maps put the world in perspective. Maps help us understand the world in a similar way to how a military general looks at the world. If we were to look at a map of Iran, we would notice that the country is already surrounded by the follies of American military adventurism.

View American military bases near Iran in a larger map

Iran is completely surrounded by US bases, and it only serves to empower and legitimize the Iranian Islamic regime. People forget that Iran was a progressive country with a democratically-elected leader who wanted to nationalize the oil companies and distribute the wealth to his people. However, what Mossadeq failed to realize was that it is a serious crime to take food out of starving oil stockholders. 

The CIA waged a campaign against Mossadeq and installed the Shah of Iran, a vicious tyrant who terrorized and stole from his people. The Shah will serve as perpetual proof in the Iranian consciousness of how greed leads American subversive diplomacy. The Shah of Iran was overthrown, the Ayatollahs who led to his downfall thereafter established an Islamic Shiite state, and the fear of America is enough to give the Ayatollahs a massive base of support.

American support of Israel is also another element in the Iranian equation that serves to legitimize the Ayatollahs. The constant threat of sabotage, assassinations, and bombardment at the hands of Netanyahu, coupled with a map of Israel's expansionism, is more than enough to frighten the average Iranian.

As it stands, the Iranian Islamic regime is far more powerful today than it was on 9/11. The Shias and the Sunnis already had a tense history until the US decided to divide and conquer. In so doing, they encouraged Shiites everywhere, and particularly in Iraq and Syria, to swear allegiance to Iran instead of their own countrymen. 

Saddam Hussein was a Sunni, and likewise his government was Sunni-led. Today, the Sunnis in Iraq feel marginalized, and want to possibly break away from the Shiite-led government. Were Iraq to break along Sunni, Shiite, and Kurdish sectarian lines, it would basically allow the Ayatollahs in Iran to gain a new, Shiite state right near their border. Even as it stands, Iran, simply by being Shiite-led, has today more influence in Iraq than it ever did under its archfoe: Saddam Hussein. Hussein had a bloody war with Iran in the 1980s, so in a way the US invasion of Iraq eliminated an enemy and gained them allies.

Iran will soon get a nuclear weapon; it is only a matter of time. They are unlikely to use it, but it is a sad state of affairs that being a nuclear power is the only thing that makes people around the world feel safe from America and its "coalition of the willing."

Fortunately, the Persians don't have a tribal culture where vengeance runs deep like their Yemeni counterparts. The truth is, we should worry more about Yemen. When they finally do rise, and their time is coming -- as it always does -- there will be no mercy for Americans. When they finally do rise, they will not only acknowledge collateral damage, they will celebrate it.

Portrait of an Artist "Respawned"

"I'm high as hell, and haven't eaten anything. I can't promise that I'm going to tell you the truth," the Artist told me. "Now I'm going to make toast in the kitchen."

He left for the kitchen, but immediately returned to remind me that he hadn't found the lighter. He has been looking for the lighter since we woke up at 4am. This is the 5th one in 10 days, and the "magical" disappearance of the lighter is something that greatly disturbs him. 

Eventually, at 8 or 9am, after tiring of him ranting on the subject and searching under every crevice, I conceded that I'd lost the lighter, but to no avail. "I'll get a new on for you; I have butane at home and can give you some too," I reminded him. 

In the kitchen I hear him making toast. I don't have to see him working in the kitchen, but I already know what's coming: bread warmed on a pan, with sugar sprinkled on top. It'll come with some Moroccan mint tea dipped in weed branches. 

"The branches are organic," he proudly proclaimed to me once. 

This will be our only meal for the day, but we're low on Euroshopper beer, so when we go to the supermarket, we might also consider getting some of that 50 eurocent popcorn. But we're low on cash so we may just settle for beer and art. Life is good; he's got weed and a loving Japanese dog. 

He returns from the kitchen and I turn out to be wrong about the tea; a cup of orange juice instead. I thanked him and proceeded to the task at hand: interviewing the artist.

"I like to become the character," I told him so he'd understand my questions better. He reached for the boombox and "Across 110th Street" came on the radio.

The song changed his facial expression. He was impressed with the memories the song brought him. His trip to New York in the 90s was life-altering. He learned graffiti techniques that still inspire his art. He met individuals much like me on his trip to the Bronx. Not many Dutch people have been to the Bronx, so he actually did seem to understand me better than most. 

The artist finished reminiscing about the song and produced vitamins from the bathroom. I thanked him, wondering how much we were actually concerned about our health and safety. "What does respawn mean to you?" I began asking.

"Hey, I don't want this story to elevate you, man. Normally I make myself a good breakfast and walk the dog," he noted.

"Well, I do it from time to time too, with me you are not misunderstood," I informed him before continuing. 

"So, respawn," I reminded him.

"It's about getting smacked down in life and then getting back on my feet. From being flat out on my face 5 years ago. And, more importantly, back on the track I know I belong, which I wasn't on before. I refound my creativity 3 years ago; it was lost 10 years ago, so I'm living happy as a child now. Now, I finally feel I am living the life I was supposed to be living. It all originated by fighting the system when I was young and rebelling, but I gave that struggle up and thought it would make life easier to adapt to the system and my surrounding. The day I made that decision, I gave away and sold my inner child. I went down immediately from there. Years of alcohol, drugs, and prescription drugs followed. For approximately a 7-year-period, until the man with the hammer arrived. Form there on, the curtains opened and a whole 'nother show started rolling: my path back to creativity, my revelation."

I read the story back to the Artist. "Good, you think there's a twist coming, but it's just a straightforward life," he decided.

"I'm too lazy to google who wrote it, but someone said that the difference between reality and fiction, is that fiction has to make sense," I told him..

Barely had I finished my quote, when he heard a ring and stood up proclaiming: "that's the water for the tea!"

My Worse April Fool's

The need to fool others is something that has allowed the most cunning to survive, while the fooled starved to death. Most people who play pranks on others, however, are not doing so out of a necessity for food, but rather a necessity to kill boredom. Boredom and starvation are similar conditions. The voracious influence of American culture has cannibalized the global stage, making April Fool's into almost a global holiday. 

Throughout my travels, I have encountered countless people who've proclaimed wild things in an attempt to fool me. They managed to not only confuse me, but also surprise me. I love pranks! Scaring people is something that entertains me as much as the average Japanese salaryman. I don't think I could come to hate someone who jumps out of a bush, suddenly appears from a dark corner, or jumps down on me from a tree. Hell, I probably would laugh at myself if I ended up in the same situation as the Japanese fellow in this sniper prank:

However, I've learned that some pranks don't always go well when different cultures are involved. The Japanese sniper prank would probably result in many lawsuits and serious social fallout for whoever would be so bold as to orchestrate it in mass-shooting-happy America.What is seen as a funny, forgivable prank in one culture, can be a cruel, mean act in another.

It was April 2006, and I was off to Danbury, Connecticut with the rest of my Portuguese class. Danbury is a Brazilian colony in the heart of Connecticut and, as such, our professor took us there to enjoy non-vegan things that I couldn't eat. Careless as I am, I didn't bother to pack a lunch or to close my dorm room door in Lawrence. I was also too careless to remember that it was April Fool's, something that in the Bronx for me never translated into anything beyond something said in school.

When I returned from Danbury, I walked into my room and sat at my computer, barely realizing what had happened. Two of the girls on the 3rd floor had decided to swap my wardrobe with one of my suitemates. This means that not only did they walk into my bedroom, but they also opened my closet and removed every single item, opened every single drawer, and upturned every corner. They also did the same to my poor Vietnamese suitemate. 

To the girls on the 3rd floor it was a hilarious prank: the Vietnamese's flamboyant wardrobe had been swapped for the Dominican's monotonous, repetitive black, leaving them both perplexed. I didn't find it funny, however. I saw their intrusion into my closet as a criminal act of trespass, and the overturning and emptying of my closet as a puerile act that laid bare my poverty for all of Yale to laugh at. 

My closet freshman year consisted of 20 black t-shirts, 5 black cargo pants, one flight jacket (everyone from the Bronx has had one) and Foot Locker underwear. I paid a total of 150 dollars for every item in my closet, with money I received from a scholarship for disadvantaged minorities. 

After getting my closet back in order, I simply stopped talking to the two girls from the 3rd floor and never again acknowledged their presence; at least not until nearly three years later. It was February 2009, and I was at Feb Club -- a month-long drinking marathon for Yale seniors -- when we ended up in the same drunken circle. 

Eventually the topic of whether we knew each other because we were in the same residential college came up.

"We played a prank on you freshman year and you never spoke to us again. It was hard, 'cause I thought we were such good friends," said the Mexican one of the two. I could tell she was sincere. 

I never expected her to consider me a good friend, and at the time I didn't have the capacity to articulate why I couldn't handle a conversation with her. I realized that it was difficult for me to see anyone at Yale as a "good friend" even if they saw me as such. In my eyes, the only friend I needed was absolute, unwavering pride, and it had taken me from the Bronx to Yale; pride had not failed me, but friends almost always had. It's only now, after being so many years away from the Bronx, that I've come to understand the world from the perspective of someone who's never had to worry on a daily basis about getting stabbed on their way to and from school, or of arriving home to a beating.

In the Bronx I learned that you couldn't forgive a "serious transgression." To do so while also being the teacher's pet would be tantamount to asking for life-long victimization. It's been difficult to get out of that absolutist mentality, and it has often resulted in me discarding people that cared about me in cold, unforgiving ways that truly hurt them deeply. If there's one thing I learned at Yale, it was that emotional expression, or lack thereof, can be the biggest social barrier.

 

A Man in His 20s Could Start the Third World War

Kim Jong-un, born in 1983 or 1984, is the absolute ruler of North Korea. Rumors circulating in the Chinese media speculate that Mr. Kim, beyond just molding his Mao suit and hair style, has also undergone plastic surgery in order to resemble his grandfather, the late Kim Il-Sung: founder of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, hero of the Korean war, and the man who started it. But just what else is the young Mr. Kim trying to do like his grandfather Kim Il-Sung?

If recent speech is to be believed, the young Mr. Kim wants to start another war, just like his grandpa'. In the face of no UN support from China, Kim faces a rather serious problem: he is young and not widely supported in North Korea. He is seen by many as a young prince. North Koreans see his belly as a sign of laziness, and, worse, compare him to a character from a 90s children cartoon; a child general that makes goofy mistakes. 

Besides the rocket launch which on the 11th of December proved that North Korea could deliver a 500kg warhead up to 10,000km, potentially having the capability to reach San Francisco, Kim has no other accolades. Fortunately, the North has does not have a nuclear warhead under 1500kg, nor have they shown they have the technology needed for atmosphere re-entry.

The young Mr. Kim needs to prove to his people that he is strong and that the South fears him. He has threatened war with the South if it presses ahead with UN sanctions. If the South does not press ahead with sanctions, it will be lauded by the regime as proof of how strong and feared the young Mr. Kim is.

However, should the South proceed with sanctions, Kim Jong-Un will be seen as weak by his people. According to analysts, Kim has the intellectual capacity to fully understand that he is young and needs to prove himself. The sinking of the Cheonan -- that resulted in the death of more than 50 South Korean sailors -- and the bombardment of Yeongpyeong island were orchestrated by father and son to prove to the older military leadership that Kim was a dangerous genius feared by the imperialist powers. 

That there was no retaliation from the South for the attacks, only served to prove the young Mr. Kim. Although the first two strikes were tolerated, president Lee Myung-Bak of the South changed military procedures, allowing the South to bomb the North with jets in the event of another attack. 

As it stands, the South has strict procedures for defending itself in the event of another aggression. The possibility of aggression is very high. Kim Jong-Un has under his command a million man army -- the third largest in the world -- and he has continued nearly all of his father's psychopatic human rights abuses, and since he wants to be seen as the reincarnation of his grandfather, perhaps he is also willing to sacrifice a few million people in order to cement his rule. 

There are 28,000 US soldiers in South Korea, but the US is in little condition to stomach another sustained war. The North has stockpiled enough fuel to endure a two-month military campaign, and also enough food to sustain its military for many months more. 

If the young Mr. Kim is calculating his best odds -- for the survival of his regime -- he needs to sacrifice his most disloyal units and "win" a war against the South. The South does not want to see Seoul destroyed -- 25 million souls living there -- so Mr. Kim could very likely get away with destroying a smaller city. He doesn't care about his infrastructure-barren country getting bombed for a month or two. The South will likely try to reach an armistice after proper "retaliation."

Though the Korean war ended in an armistice and the two Koreas are still technically at war, North Koreans still laud it as a victory against the US. Mr. Kim believes he can do the same again. If he is successful, he will have an immense base of support. Kim is a gambling man, and this is a gamble he feels he needs to take. At this point, we can merely hope that the South does not push ahead with new UN sanctions. 

After that, we can only hope that Mr. Kim only destroys a small city. And, after that, we can only hope that the South calls for an armistice after a bombing campaign or less. 

If Kim fails to follow through on his promise to go to war over the South pushing for UN sanctions, the very real possibility remains that his regime may collapse and 23 million starving, modernity-disoriented refugees flock the South and also the Chinese border.

Given the current escalation between China, Taiwan, and Japan over the Senkaku islands in the East China Sea, the very real possibility remains that the world powers could be dragged into Mr. Kim's need to preserve his regime.

A Man in His 20s Could Start the Third World War

Kim Jong-un, born in 1983 or 1984, is the absolute ruler of North Korea. Rumors circulating in the Chinese media speculate that Mr. Kim, beyond just molding his Mao suit and hair style, has also undergone plastic surgery in order to resemble his grandfather, the late Kim Il-Sung: founder of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, hero of the Korean war, and the man who started it. But just what else is the young Mr. Kim trying to do like his grandfather Kim Il-Sung?

If recent speech is to be believed, the young Mr. Kim wants to start another war, just like his grandpa'. In the face of no UN support from China, Kim faces a rather serious problem: he is young and not widely supported in North Korea. He is seen by many as a young prince. North Koreans see his belly as a sign of laziness, and, worse, compare him to a character from a 90s children cartoon; a child general that makes goofy mistakes. 

Besides the rocket launch which on the 11th of December proved that North Korea could deliver a 500kg warhead up to 10,000km, potentially having the capability to reach San Francisco, Kim has no other accolades. Fortunately, the North has does not have a nuclear warhead under 1500kg, nor have they shown they have the technology needed for atmosphere re-entry.

The young Mr. Kim needs to prove to his people that he is strong and that the South fears him. He has threatened war with the South if it presses ahead with UN sanctions. If the South does not press ahead with sanctions, it will be lauded by the regime as proof of how strong and feared the young Mr. Kim is.

However, should the South proceed with sanctions, Kim Jong-Un will be seen as weak by his people. According to analysts, Kim has the intellectual capacity to fully understand that he is young and needs to prove himself. The sinking of the Cheonan -- that resulted in the death of more than 50 South Korean sailors -- and the bombardment of Yeongpyeong island were orchestrated by father and son to prove to the older military leadership that Kim was a dangerous genius feared by the imperialist powers. 

That there was no retaliation from the South for the attacks, only served to prove the young Mr. Kim. Although the first two strikes were tolerated, president Lee Myung-Bak of the South changed military procedures, allowing the South to bomb the North with jets in the event of another attack. 

As it stands, the South has strict procedures for defending itself in the event of another aggression. The possibility of aggression is very high. Kim Jong-Un has under his command a million man army -- the third largest in the world -- and he has continued nearly all of his father's psychopatic human rights abuses, and since he wants to be seen as the reincarnation of his grandfather, perhaps he is also willing to sacrifice a few million people in order to cement his rule. 

There are 28,000 US soldiers in South Korea, but the US is in little condition to stomach another sustained war. The North has stockpiled enough fuel to endure a two-month military campaign, and also enough food to sustain its military for many months more. 

If the young Mr. Kim is calculating his best odds -- for the survival of his regime -- he needs to sacrifice his most disloyal units and "win" a war against the South. The South does not want to see Seoul destroyed -- 25 million souls living there -- so Mr. Kim could very likely get away with destroying a smaller city. He doesn't care about his infrastructure-barren country getting bombed for a month or two. The South will likely try to reach an armistice after proper "retaliation."

Though the Korean war ended in an armistice and the two Koreas are still technically at war, North Koreans still laud it as a victory against the US. Mr. Kim believes he can do the same again. If he is successful, he will have an immense base of support. Kim is a gambling man, and this is a gamble he feels he needs to take. At this point, we can merely hope that the South does not push ahead with new UN sanctions. 

After that, we can only hope that Mr. Kim only destroys a small city. And, after that, we can only hope that the South calls for an armistice after a bombing campaign or less. 

If Kim fails to follow through on his promise to go to war over the South pushing for UN sanctions, the very real possibility remains that his regime may collapse and 23 million starving, modernity-disoriented refugees flock the South and also the Chinese border.

Given the current escalation between China, Taiwan, and Japan over the Senkaku islands in the East China Sea, the very real possibility remains that the world powers could be dragged into Mr. Kim's need to preserve his regime.

The Paradox of Our Time

Perestroiska -- Russian for "structure" -- was a political movement seeking to reform the Soviet Union in the 1980s. The Soviet Union was suppose to be reborn, but instead Chernobyl exploded in a fiery, radioactive rage, the Berlin wall was smashed to bits, and the Cold War ended.

The decay of the Soviet Union has left us with an ever-lasting reminder of the evil in humanity's soul. America taught us to hate and fear Russians, while proclaiming us the "good guys." And, yes, the Soviet Union was evil, but we are not so good ourselves. By we, I don't mean Americans. Instead I refer to the human collective.

If the Soviet Union had a divine purpose in its less than 70 years of existence -- shy of a man's lifetime -- it was to perpetually remind us of what we can do not only to each other, but also the environment. The eternal gift of the Soviet Union is: Chernobyl. The 30-kilometer exclusion zone around the Chernobyl nuclear power plant is considered to be the dirtiest radioactive site in Europe. It will not be safe for humans for another 20,000 years -- multiple times longer than the existence of human civilization.

It was feared that no life would ever return to Chernobyl, and very few of the city's 300,000 inhabitants have returned. The absence of humans, however, has led to an explosion of wild life. Chernobyl today is the largest animal sanctuary in Europe. Though the flora still suffers -- with mushrooms very dangerous -- the fauna have spoken.

It's as if the future is speaking back to us, telling us that we humans today are worse for the planet than radioactive fallout. In a 1,000 years, long after we are all dead and our names are but echoes in history, our progeny will proclaim: "they were worse than radiation."

The Paradox of Our Time

Peretroiska -- Russian for "structure" -- was a political movement seeking to reform the Soviet Union in the 1980s. The Soviet Union was suppose to be reborn, but instead Chernobyl exploded in a fiery, radioactive rage, the Berlin wall was smashed to bits, and the Cold War ended.

The decay of the Soviet Union has left us with an ever-lasting reminder of the evil in humanity's soul. America taught us to hate and fear Russians, while proclaiming us the "good guys." And, yes, the Soviet Union was evil, but we are not so good ourselves. By we, I don't mean Americans. Instead I refer to the human collective.

If the Soviet Union had a divine purpose in its less than 70 years of existence -- shy of a man's lifetime -- it was to perpetually remind us of what we can do not only to each other, but also the environment. The eternal gift of the Soviet Union is: Chernobyl. The 30-kilometer exclusion zone around the Chernobyl nuclear power plant is considered to be the dirtiest radioactive site in Europe. It will not be safe for humans for another 20,000 years -- multiple times longer than the existence of human civilization.

 

It was feared that no life would ever return to Chernobyl, and very few of the city's 300,000 inhabitants have returned. The absence of humans, however, has led to an explosion of wild life. Chernobyl today is the largest animal sanctuary in Europe. Though the flora still suffers -- with mushrooms very dangerous -- the fauna have spoken.

 

It's as if the future is speaking back to us, telling us that we humans today are worse for the planet than radioactive fallout. In a 1,000 years, long after we are all dead and our names are but echoes in history, our progeny will proclaim: "they were worse than radiation."

La Sonora Matancera, or How to Suffer Happily

How the province of Matanzas got its name, I do not know. Matanza is the Spanish word for "slaughter," so I always had this image in my mind of Matanzas, Cuba as a place that was forged in blood and passion. The music produced by the region's artists seems to mirror that history of pain, slavery, and happiness in the face of suffering.

 

In "Who Shot Mr. Burns?" Chief Wiggum decides to pay Tito Puente a visit in order to determine if he's the culprit. Tito Puente breaks out in song, proclaiming, "words won't last long, but an insulting song Burns will always carry with him. So, I settle my score on the Salsa floor with this vengeful Latin rhythm." Chief Wiggum happily and immediately agree that he's innocent. Though Puerto Rican, there's a reason why Tito Puente was frequently confused for Cuban: his music often has that Cuban duality of happiness in misery.

 

No other group is more representative of Cuban music than La Sonora Matancera. Though officially started in 1935, the group's history stretches to the early 1920s under other names and incarnations. The number of artists that have at one point or another played for La Sonora Matancera is too great to list. However, that list includes some of the biggest names in Cuban music: Perez "The King of Mambo" Prado, Bienvenido Granda, Daniel Santos, Celia Cruz, and Manuel "Caito" Diaz.

 

Celia Cruz, in particular, would continue producing hits until her death in 2003. In the near eight decades of the group's existence, the thousands of recording -- many lost -- deal with nearly every subject imaginable. Most songs deal with Afro-Cuban struggle, Santeria, lost love, betrayal, family difficulties, and, somehow, pure happiness. 

 

The two songs I feel most encapsulate La Sonora Matancera are "Obsesions" and "En El Mar." The former deals with the impossibility of love, the latter with pure joy simply for the sake of living near the sea.

 

They just don't make simple, moving recordings like this one anymore. The cigarette alone is enough to move you.

 

 

 

La Sonora Matancera, or How to Suffer Happily

How the province of Matanzas got its name, I do not know. Matanza is the Spanish word for "slaughter," so I always had this image in my mind of Matanzas, Cuba as a place that was forged in blood and passion. The music produced by the region's artists seems to mirror that history of pain, slavery, and happiness in the face of suffering.

 

In "Who Shot Mr. Burns?" Chief Wiggum decides to pay Tito Puente a visit in order to determine if he's the culprit. Tito Puente breaks out in song, proclaiming, "words won't last long, but an insulting song Burns will always carry with him. So, I settle my score on the Salsa floor with this vengeful Latin rhythm." Chief Wiggum happily and immediately agree that he's innocent. Though Puerto Rican, there's a reason why Tito Puente was frequently confused for Cuban: his music often has that Cuban duality of happiness in misery.

 

No other group is more representative of Cuban music than La Sonora Matancera. Though officially started in 1935, the group's history stretches to the early 1920s under other names and incarnations. The number of artists that have at one point or another played for La Sonora Matancera is too great to list. However, that list includes some of the biggest names in Cuban music: Perez "The King of Mambo" Prado, Bienvenido Granda, Daniel Santos, Celia Cruz, and Manuel "Caito" Diaz.

 

Celia Cruz, in particular, would continue producing hits until her death in 2003. In the near eight decades of the group's existence, the thousands of recording -- many lost -- deal with nearly every subject imaginable. Most songs deal with Afro-Cuban struggle, Santeria, lost love, betrayal, family difficulties, and, somehow, pure happiness. 

 

The two songs I feel most encapsulate La Sonora Matancera are "Obsesions" and "En El Mar." The former deals with the impossibility of love, the latter with pure joy simply for the sake of living near the sea.

 

They just don't make simple, moving recordings like this one anymore. The cigarette alone is enough to move you.

 

 

 

Kidnapped and Tortured by the Land of the Free

Khalid El-Masri, a German national, took a casual vacation to Macedonia in 2003. Though an innocent man, Khalid was confused for a high-level Al-Qaeda operative, and the CIA requested he be handed over. Macedonia never held an extradition hearing for Khalid, nor was he afforded any of the rights of due process guaranteed to a free man -- a European citizen no less.

After being apprehended by Macedonian authorities at the behest of their masters at the CIA, Khalid was flown to a CIA black site in Afghanistan. Khalid was beaten, sodomized, frightened, and confused. His CIA captors informed him that he was in a land where the rule of law did not apply. 

For many months, Khalid was subjected to sleep deprivation, sexual degradation, beatings, and other forms of "enhanced" interrogation. It took nearly 40 days of hunger strike for the CIA finally to come to terms with the fact that Khalid's passport was genuine; he had already lost more than one third of his body weight by that point.

It was the Wikileaks diplomatic cables that proved beyond a doubt that Khalid was innocent. A 2007 diplomatic cable reads: "It was a mistake to take El-Masri." The cables also show that the US pressured the Germans into avoiding charges against the CIA, lest bilateral relations be heavily damaged. I guess the Germans would rather an innocent man be tortured than risk an economic war by the US.

Nonetheless, on the 13th of December, 2012, a European court of human rights found the CIA guilty of "torture." It represented the first time that CIA practices have been defined not as "enhanced interrogation," but torture as fact. 

Let us process the fact that a European court just found the CIA guilty of torturing, kidnapping, and indefinitely detaining an innocent European citizen. It goes without stipulating that Obama has consistently worked to cover-up the crimes of the Bush administration. In many ways, Obama has continued many of his predecessor's policies and has entrenched them as law.

Obama just gave the CIA carte blance to continue carrying out its drone war in Pakistan for a year, even in the face of the "playbook" of death that he is crafting to continue his extrajudicial assassination program. 

We can joke about North Korea kidnapping a South Korean to make a Godzilla ripoff, but what can we joke about El-Masri?

Kidnapped and Tortured by the Land of the Free

Khalid El-Masri, a German national, took a casual vacation to Macedonia in 2003. Though an innocent man, Khalid was confused for a high-level Al-Qaeda operative, and the CIA requested he be handed over. Macedonia never held an extradition hearing for Khalid, nor was he afforded any of the rights of due process guaranteed to a free man -- a European citizen no less.

After being apprehended by Macedonian authorities at the behest of their masters at the CIA, Khalid was flown to a CIA black site in Afghanistan. Khalid was beaten, sodomized, frightened, and confused. His CIA captors informed him that he was in a land where the rule of law did not apply. 

For many months, Khalid was subjected to sleep deprivation, sexual degradation, beatings, and other forms of "enhanced" interrogation. It took nearly 40 days of hunger strike for the CIA finally to come to terms with the fact that Khalid's passport was genuine; he had already lost more than one third of his body weight by that point.

It was the Wikileaks diplomatic cables that proved beyond a doubt that Khalid was innocent. A 2007 diplomatic cable reads: "It was a mistake to take El-Masri." The cables also show that the US pressured the Germans into avoiding charges against the CIA, lest bilateral relations be heavily damaged. I guess the Germans would rather an innocent man be tortured than risk an economic war by the US.

Nonetheless, on the 13th of December, 2012, a European court of human rights found the CIA guilty of "torture." It represented the first time that CIA practices have been defined not as "enhanced interrogation," but torture as fact. 

Let us process the fact that a European court just found the CIA guilty of torturing, kidnapping, and indefinitely detaining an innocent European citizen. It goes without stipulating that Obama has consistently worked to cover-up the crimes of the Bush administration. In many ways, Obama has continued many of his predecessor's policies and has entrenched them as law.

Obama just gave the CIA carte blance to continue carrying out its drone war in Pakistan for a year, even in the face of the "playbook" of death that he is crafting to continue his extrajudicial assassination program. 

We can joke about North Korea kidnapping a South Korean to make a Godzilla ripoff, but what can we joke about El-Masri?

Yes, This is my Real Laugh

It was The Onion that so wisely quipped in one of their famous headlines: "Nation's Slicked-Back-Hair Men Rally Against Negative Hollywood Portrayal." Though satire, the simple truth is that Hollywood does play with our perceptions of what is evil. It's fair to say that I've never seen a good guy in a Hollywood movie who laughs like me. 

It was in 6th grade that I first began to realize that I was born for a life of meeting people who would make prejudicial assumptions about me. I was in Mr. Torres' classroom, and it was career day. We had a nice, liberal-minded white lady passionately talking about her work with drug addicts. As your typical ADHD 11-year-old, I was half-daydreaming, half-concentrating when the nice woman said, "some babies are born addicted to crack."

The transition from daydreaming to hearing her talk about crack-addicted babies was all I needed to start laughing. I laughed -- loudly -- and, yes, in a very "evil" way. 

"I don't think babies being born addicted to crack is funny," she angrily snapped back, making me laugh even more maniacally. Mr. Torres finally came around to intervening: "José, deja de reirte por favor." Damn, he busted out the Spanish; that's when I knew it was something serious.

My laugh before puberty was much more subdued and high-pitched that it currently is. It was in 6th grade when it started going the cartoon villain route. I think it's pretty fair to say that if I had been attending school in a suburb full of sheltered individuals instead of in the Bronx, people would have been extremely afraid of me. Nevermind that I usually daydream about funny things. 

When I daydream I sometimes smirk, and I often wake up in hilarious, unpredictable situations. It was when I got to Yale and started living around people too afraid to venture two blocks from where they live, that I began to understand the power of my laugh. 

I was at some frat party with my Taiwanese suitemate when a British girl from California started talking about the war in Iraq and all the suffering and dead. I was daydreaming, smiling, when she angrily interrupted me: "Why are you smiling at dead Iraqis!?"

Not only had she in an angry tone woken me from my daydream, but she had also put me in the spot, making me look evil. I hate being put on the spot, especially by an angry person I don't know. To say that it took everything in me not to smash my bottle across her pretty, freckled face would be an understatement. You can take the man out of the South Bronx, but that night I was forced to prove that you can also take the South Bronx out of the man. 

Some people are more discreet and polite when they make presumptions about your face. During my freshman year Environmental Economics 117 class, the professor  -- a newly-arrived Greek who always seemed to sweat profusely and nervously -- told me after class, over a month into the semester, "excuse me, you're always smiling and it keeps me from concentrating."

I was thereafter too nervous to attend the class, and decided to drop it before it appeared in my transcript.  At the time, I had no idea I was ADHD and couldn't even begin to deal with the complexity of the situation that the professor had placed me in.

I've since come to learn that making presumptions about people's emotions based on learned cultural facial expressions is tantamount to discrimination. In Cambodia, people laugh and smile in the face of tragedy. Tell a person in Cambodia that your father just died, and the nervousness of the situation will likely make them laugh. Friending Cambodian people has helped me dealt with the rage that used to overcome me when someone made prejudicial assumptions about my emotions. 

However, I'm certain that somewhere out there, some kid is being angrily placed on the spot for daydreaming and laughing out of turn. Unlike me, however, that kid may not be living in a place like the Bronx, and he is slowly becoming angrier and angrier because the adults don't understand him.

Yes, This is my Real Laugh

It was The Onion that so wisely quipped in one of their famous headlines: "Nation's Slicked-Back-Hair Men Rally Against Negative Hollywood Portrayal." Though satire, the simple truth is that Hollywood does play with our perceptions of what is evil. It's fair to say that I've never seen a good guy in a Hollywood movie who laughs like me. 

It was in 6th grade that I first began to realize that I was born for a life of meeting people who would make prejudicial assumptions about me. I was in Mr. Torres' classroom, and it was career day. We had a nice, liberal-minded white lady passionately talking about her work with drug addicts. As your typical ADHD 11-year-old, I was half-daydreaming, half-concentrating when the nice woman said, "some babies are born addicted to crack."

The transition from daydreaming to hearing her talk about crack-addicted babies was all I needed to start laughing. I laughed -- loudly -- and, yes, in a very "evil" way. 

"I don't think babies being born addicted to crack is funny," she angrily snapped back, making me laugh even more maniacally. Mr. Torres finally came around to intervening: "José, deja de reirte por favor." Damn, he busted out the Spanish; that's when I knew it was something serious.

My laugh before puberty was much more subdued and high-pitched that it currently is. It was in 6th grade when it started going the cartoon villain route. I think it's pretty fair to say that if I had been attending school in a suburb full of sheltered individuals instead of in the Bronx, people would have been extremely afraid of me. Nevermind that I usually daydream about funny things. 

When I daydream I sometimes smirk, and I often wake up in hilarious, unpredictable situations. It was when I got to Yale and started living around people too afraid to venture two blocks from where they live, that I began to understand the power of my laugh. 

I was at some frat party with my Taiwanese suitemate when a British girl from California started talking about the war in Iraq and all the suffering and dead. I was daydreaming, smiling, when she angrily interrupted me: "Why are you smiling at dead Iraqis!?"

Not only had she in an angry tone woken me from my daydream, but she had also put me in the spot, making me look evil. I hate being put on the spot, especially by an angry person I don't know. To say that it took everything in me not to smash my bottle across her pretty, freckled face would be an understatement. You can take the man out of the South Bronx, but that night I was forced to prove that you can also take the South Bronx out of the man. 

Some people are more discreet and polite when they make presumptions about your face. During my freshman year Environmental Economics 117 class, the professor  -- a newly-arrived Greek who always seemed to sweat profusely and nervously -- told me after class, over a month into the semester, "excuse me, you're always smiling and it keeps me from concentrating."

I was thereafter too nervous to attend the class, and decided to drop it before it appeared in my transcript.  At the time, I had no idea I was ADHD and couldn't even begin to deal with the complexity of the situation that the professor had placed me in.

I've since come to learn that making presumptions about people's emotions based on learned cultural facial expressions is tantamount to discrimination. In Cambodia, people laugh and smile in the face of tragedy. Tell a person in Cambodia that your father just died, and the nervousness of the situation will likely make them laugh. Friending Cambodian people has helped me dealt with the rage that used to overcome me when someone made prejudicial assumptions about my emotions. 

However, I'm certain that somewhere out there, some kid is being angrily placed on the spot for daydreaming and laughing out of turn. Unlike me, however, that kid may not be living in a place like the Bronx, and he is slowly becoming angrier and angrier because the adults don't understand him.

Life in Range of North Korean Artillery

North Korea is effectively the biggest mafia in the world. Though described by the Western media as the last Stalinist dictatorship on earth, the reality of what goes on inside North Korea is much more complex. 

The latest North Korean constitution omits all references to the word "communism." Instead, Juche, the philosophy developed around Kim Il-Sung, and Songun, the philosophy developed aroung Kim Jong-Il, are the official state ideology. Kim Il-Sung, the country's founder, passed away in 1994, but he is eternally recognized as the president of NK. It's a serious faux pas for a North Korean to utter the name of their leader without also mentioning their leader's title. A gulag may await anyone who simply says "Kim Il-Sung" instead of "President Kim Il-Sung."

His recently deceased son, Kim Jong-Il, must also be treated with rigid deference: dear leader, or general secretary. There are no higher offices in North Korea, meaning that Kim Jong-Un, the grandson and anointed supreme leader, must give himself the lower position of first secretary.

The level of obedience and loyalty that must be displayed to the leader surpasses that of most fictional exaggerations of any mafia don. When a North Korean ship caught fire in November 2009, the sailors who were most rewarded for bravery were the ones who sacrificed themselves upon portraits of the dear leader, lest it be ruined by fire. Life has an irrational value in North Korea. 

It was after the fall of the Soviet Union and the death of Kim Il-Sung that North Korea sank into poverty. Kim Jong-il, his son, was a hermit, who spoke publicly only once, in 1992, uttering merely a few words: "Glory to the heroic soldiers of the Korean People's Army!" Kim Jong-Il didn't have the charisma to be a statesman like his father, but he was a far more cunning survivor. To sustain the regime at any cost, Kim Jong-il established Office 39. Office 39 is tasked with providing black money for the regime. 

The Secret Service describes North Korea as the biggest counterfeiter of US currency on earth. Likewise, NK is a manufacturer of meth -- with use rampant in the country -- not to also mention that the country is an exporter of banned weapons to other renegade regimes. 

Though seemingly a failed state, the power of NK comes mostly from its proximity to Seoul. South Korea's capital has 25 million people and is one of the world's most important mega-cities. Along the border, less than 50 kilometers away, North Korea maintains over 5,000 pieces of artillery, with strategic targets already pinpointed for destruction. NK could within a matter of two hours level nearly all of the important seats of government, media, education, technology, and transportation in Seoul. 

The very existence of NK is much owed to blackmail, to the fear that their national infrastructure is so barren that leveling their country would mean nothing to them. The latest North Korean rocket -- that put a satellite in orbit -- ran on red fuming nitric acid, a fuel used in scud-missiles by the Soviet Union. And indeed, after witnessing the fall of Saddam Hussein's arsenal at the hands of the US, NK knows that all of its Soviet-era equipment (tanks, ships, aircraft, etc.) is obsolete.

The North's only hope for preventing an attempt to destabilize their country is the fear of asymmetrical warfare: 70,000 special forces, chemical and biological weapons, infiltration tunnels, and the good fortune of their mortal enemy, the South, having built all its eggs near their basket.

The funniest thing for me, however, is that while in South Korea, I was not at all afraid. Most South Koreans rarely even think or talk about the North. When Kim Jong-Il started bombing Yeongpyeong Island, my students remained largely unfazed. One rising college freshman told me, "you're going to die anyway, so why worry?" to large class approval. 

I learned from my student that people in the US were more afraid of the North than the very people who would receive the first blow. That day, CNN and other news channels in the US made it seem as if the apocalypse had just begun, with the Four Horseman having made their first appearance in Korea. In the South, however, my life continued largely unaffected, and I began further shifting away from the American culture of fear.

Life in Range of North Korean Artillery

North Korea is effectively the biggest mafia in the world. Though described by the Western media as the last Stalinist dictatorship on earth, the reality of what goes on inside North Korea is much more complex. 

The latest North Korean constitution omits all references to the word "communism." Instead, Juche, the philosophy developed around Kim Il-Sung, and Songun, the philosophy developed aroung Kim Jong-Il, are the official state ideology. Kim Il-Sung, the country's founder, passed away in 1994, but he is eternally recognized as the president of NK. It's a serious faux pas for a North Korean to utter the name of their leader without also mentioning their leader's title. A gulag may await anyone who simply says "Kim Il-Sung" instead of "President Kim Il-Sung."

His recently deceased son, Kim Jong-Il, must also be treated with rigid deference: dear leader, or general secretary. There are no higher offices in North Korea, meaning that Kim Jong-Un, the grandson and anointed supreme leader, must give himself the lower position of first secretary.

The level of obedience and loyalty that must be displayed to the leader surpasses that of most fictional exaggerations of any mafia don. When a North Korean ship caught fire in November 2009, the sailors who were most rewarded for bravery were the ones who sacrificed themselves upon portraits of the dear leader, lest it be ruined by fire. Life has an irrational value in North Korea. 

It was after the fall of the Soviet Union and the death of Kim Il-Sung that North Korea sank into poverty. Kim Jong-il, his son, was a hermit, who spoke publicly only once, in 1992, uttering merely a few words: "Glory to the heroic soldiers of the Korean People's Army!" Kim Jong-Il didn't have the charisma to be a statesman like his father, but he was a far more cunning survivor. To sustain the regime at any cost, Kim Jong-il established Office 39. Office 39 is tasked with providing black money for the regime. 

The Secret Service describes North Korea as the biggest counterfeiter of US currency on earth. Likewise, NK is a manufacturer of meth -- with use rampant in the country -- not to also mention that the country is an exporter of banned weapons to other renegade regimes. 

Though seemingly a failed state, the power of NK comes mostly from its proximity to Seoul. South Korea's capital has 25 million people and is one of the world's most important mega-cities. Along the border, less than 50 kilometers away, North Korea maintains over 5,000 pieces of artillery, with strategic targets already pinpointed for destruction. NK could within a matter of two hours level nearly all of the important seats of government, media, education, technology, and transportation in Seoul. 

The very existence of NK is much owed to blackmail, to the fear that their national infrastructure is so barren that leveling their country would mean nothing to them. The latest North Korean rocket -- that put a satellite in orbit -- ran on red fuming nitric acid, a fuel used in scud-missiles by the Soviet Union. And indeed, after witnessing the fall of Saddam Hussein's arsenal at the hands of the US, NK knows that all of its Soviet-era equipment (tanks, ships, aircraft, etc.) is obsolete.

The North's only hope for preventing an attempt to destabilize their country is the fear of asymmetrical warfare: 70,000 special forces, chemical and biological weapons, infiltration tunnels, and the good fortune of their mortal enemy, the South, having built all its eggs near their basket.

The funniest thing for me, however, is that while in South Korea, I was not at all afraid. Most South Koreans rarely even think or talk about the North. When Kim Jong-Il started bombing Yeongpyeong Island, my students remained largely unfazed. One rising college freshman told me, "you're going to die anyway, so why worry?" to large class approval. 

I learned from my student that people in the US were more afraid of the North than the very people who would receive the first blow. That day, CNN and other news channels in the US made it seem as if the apocalypse had just begun, with the Four Horseman having made their first appearance in Korea. In the South, however, my life continued largely unaffected, and I began further shifting away from the American culture of fear.

The US Empire of Bases

On a daily basis, over 30 flights come-and-go from Camp Lemmonnier in Djbouti. Since the Obama administration upped the use of drones in Yemen and Somalia, air traffic has become problematic for the tiny, impoverished African nation. Though massive by African standards, Camp Lemmonnier represents a relatively new and small addition to the United States' behemoth collection of bases around the world.

According to the Department of Defence, the United States has a total of 668 bases, circling the world in every place but Antarctica. The number 668 is a decrease from the official number of 702 in the year 2003. The fact is, the Pentagon doesn't list the number of bases that it has in Afghanistan in its current report. The total number of US bases is thus a mystery to just about everyone.

The CIA -- which since the advent of the war on terror has morphed beyond its origins as an intelligence gathering operation into a paramilitary force that operates a classified number of drones out of classified number of locations -- has also exploded the number of US installations abroad.

Most Americans that you'd come across could never even begin to imagine just how massive some US bases are. Yongsan US Army Garrison in South Korea has over 20,000 personnel -- bigger than many American towns -- despite the Korean war having ended nearly 60 years ago.

Likewise, Japan has become a vassal states to American military supremacy. Around most military bases, American military police can be seen patrolling establishments frequented by off-duty soldiers. In essence, the US army has powers on the streets of Seoul that would be in America in contravention of the Posse Comitatus act of 1878. Basically, it's illegal for the US army to do in the streets of America what it can casually do in its vassal states. It's ridiculous to presume that a country with a massive, foreign army within is borders is truly free.

Beyond land installations, of which the US just established one in Australia, one could argue that aircraft carriers are in essence floating bases. Bases project power and serve as infiltration units into all levels of a subjugated society. When New Zealand decided that it didn't want nuclear ships in its waters, the US downgraded it status from "ally" to "friend" because the anti-nuclear law effectively banned US nuclear vessels from its territorial waters.

The truth is that no one can truly say how many facilities the United States operates outside of its borders, but it represents the most massive show of shadow force by any empire since the British. The cost to the American taxpayer is also a mystery. In the American Democracy, the citizens are not allowed to know what its armed forces and paramilitary unit (CIA) call home.

The US Empire of Bases

On a daily basis, over 30 flights come-and-go from Camp Lemmonnier in Djbouti. Since the Obama administration upped the use of drones in Yemen and Somalia, air traffic has become problematic for the tiny, impoverished African nation. Though massive by African standards, Camp Lemmonnier represents a relatively new and small addition to the United States' behemoth collection of bases around the world.

According to the Department of Defence, the United States has a total of 668 bases, circling the world in every place but Antarctica. The number 668 is a decrease from the official number of 702 in the year 2003. The fact is, the Pentagon doesn't list the number of bases that it has in Afghanistan in its current report. The total number of US bases is thus a mystery to just about everyone.

The CIA -- which since the advent of the war on terror has morphed beyond its origins as an intelligence gathering operation into a paramilitary force that operates a classified number of drones out of classified number of locations -- has also exploded the number of US installations abroad.

Most Americans that you'd come across could never even begin to imagine just how massive some US bases are. Yongsan US Army Garrison in South Korea has over 20,000 personnel -- bigger than many American towns -- despite the Korean war having ended nearly 60 years ago.

Likewise, Japan has become a vassal states to American military supremacy. Around most military bases, American military police can be seen patrolling establishments frequented by off-duty soldiers. In essence, the US army has powers on the streets of Seoul that would be in America in contravention of the Posse Comitatus act of 1878. Basically, it's illegal for the US army to do in the streets of America what it can casually do in its vassal states. It's ridiculous to presume that a country with a massive, foreign army within is borders is truly free.

Beyond land installations, of which the US just established one in Australia, one could argue that aircraft carriers are in essence floating bases. Bases project power and serve as infiltration units into all levels of a subjugated society. When New Zealand decided that it didn't want nuclear ships in its waters, the US downgraded it status from "ally" to "friend" because the anti-nuclear law effectively banned US nuclear vessels from its territorial waters.

The truth is that no one can truly say how many facilities the United States operates outside of its borders, but it represents the most massive show of shadow force by any empire since the British. The cost to the American taxpayer is also a mystery. In the American Democracy, the citizens are not allowed to know what its armed forces and paramilitary unit (CIA) call home.