íntegra do discurso de Sarah Palin na Convenção Republicana

04/09/2008 - 11h16

Leia a íntegra do discurso de Sarah Palin na Convenção Republicana

da Folha Online

No discurso mais aguardado da terceira noite da Convenção Republicana, a candidata republicana à Vice-Presidência dos Estados Unidos, Sarah Palin, rebateu as críticas feitas pela imprensa e a divulgação de notícias sobre sua vida pessoal.

"Mas eis uma notícia para todos esses repórteres e comentaristas: não vou a Washington em busca de sua opinião favorável. Vou a Washington servir o povo do meu país", disse, sob aplausos.

Leia abaixo a íntegra do discurso feito por Palin:

"Senhor presidente, delegados e concidadãos: ser considerada para indicação à vice-presidência dos Estados Unidos é uma grande honra para mim. Aceito o convite para ajudar o nosso indicado à presidência a servir e defender a América. Aceito o desafio de uma luta dura nessa eleição... contra oponentes confiantes... em um momento crucial para o nosso país.

E aceito o privilégio de servir com um homem que já realizou missões muito mais difíceis, e enfrentou desafios muito mais árduos, e sabe com que dificuldade surgem as vitórias o próximo presidente dos Estados Unidos, John McCain.

Apenas um ano atrás, os especialistas consideravam que o nosso indicado estava descartado, porque ele se recusou a atenuar seu compromisso para com a segurança do país que ele ama.

Com sua certeza usual, eles nos informaram que tudo estava perdido que não havia esperança para um candidato que declarou que preferiria perder uma eleição a ver seu país perder uma guerra. Mas os especialistas e os sabichões desconsideraram apenas uma coisa ao descartá-lo.

Desconsideraram o calibre do homem que ele é a determinação, a resolução, a coragem indomável do senador John McCain. E os eleitores conheciam tudo isso.

E isso talvez se deva ao fato de que eles reconheçam que existe um momento para política e um momento para liderança... um momento para fazer campanha e um momento para colocar nosso país adiante de tudo. Nosso indicado para a presidência é um verdadeiro exemplo de coragem, e pessoas como ele são difíceis de encontrar.

Ele usou o uniforme de nossas forças armadas por 22 anos, e se recusou a abandonar seu compromisso para com os soldados no Iraque, que nos colocaram à beira da vitória.

E, como mãe de um desses soldados, esse é exatamente o tipo de homem que desejo como comandante-em-chefe. Eu sou apenas uma daquelas mães que dizem uma oração a mais a cada noite por nossos filhos e filhas que estão enfrentando o mal em nosso nome.

Nosso filho Track tem 19 anos. E dentro de uma semana --em 11 de setembro-- ele será transferido ao Iraque para servir o país com a infantaria do exército. Meu sobrinho Kasey também se alistou, e serve em um porta-aviões no Golfo Pérsico. Minha família se orgulha dos dois, e de todos os excelentes homens e mulheres que servem às forças armadas do país. Track é o mais velho de nossos cinco filhos.

Em nossa família, são dois meninos, e três meninas no meio --minhas fortes e generosas filhas Bristol, Willow e Piper. E em abril, meu marido Todd e eu recebemos o nosso mais novo no mundo, um menino perfeitamente lindo chamado Trig. De dentro, nenhuma família parece típica. E é esse o caso para nós.

Nossa família passa pelos mesmos altos e baixos que qualquer outra, pelos mesmos desafios e as mesmas alegrias. Ocasionalmente, até mesmo as maiores alegrias acarretam desafios. E crianças com necessidades especiais inspiram um amor especial.

Às famílias de crianças com necessidades especiais em todo o país, tenho uma mensagem: há anos vocês vêm tentando fazer dos Estados Unidos um país que receba melhor os seus filhos e filhas. Prometo que, caso eu seja eleita, vocês terão uma amiga e uma defensora na Casa Branca. E Todd merece uma história só para ele.

Trabalhou a vida toda como pescador comercial, como operador de produção nos campos de petróleo de North Slope, no Alasca, como orgulhoso membro do sindicato dos siderúrgicos... e como campeão mundial em corridas de snowmobile. Se acrescentarmos suas origens que remontam aos esquimós Yup'ik, é fácil perceber que ele é algo de especial.

Fomos apresentados no segundo grau, e cinco filhos mais tarde ele continua a ser o homem da minha vida. Minha mãe e meu pai trabalhavam ambos na escola primária de nossa cidadezinha. E entre as muitas coisas que lhes devo está uma simples lição: a de que estamos nos Estados Unidos, e toda mulher pode encontrar abertas as portas da oportunidade.

Meus pais estão aqui na noite de hoje, e tenho orgulho por ser a filha de Chuck e Sally Heath. Muito tempo atrás, um jovem agricultor e proprietário de uma loja de roupas do Missouri também seguiu um percurso improvável até a vice-presidência.

Um escritor observou que "nós cultivamos boas pessoas em nossas pequenas cidades, pessoas honestas, sinceras e dignas". Eu conheço exatamente a espécie de pessoas que o escritor tinha em mente ao elogiar Harry Truman. Foi com pessoas como essas que cresci.

São elas que executam alguns dos mais difíceis trabalhos do país, que cultivam nossos alimentos, trabalham em nossas fábricas e combatem em nossas guerras. Elas amam seu país, nos bons e nos maus tempos, e sempre têm orgulho da América. Tive o privilégio de viver a maior parte da minha vida em uma cidade pequena.

Fui uma mãe média, daquelas que levam os filhos para jogar hóquei, e me inscrevi na Associação de Pais e Mestres porque queria melhorar a educação pública que meus filhos recebiam. Quando disputei um posto no Legislativo municipal, não precisei de grupos de opinião e perfis de eleitores para me orientar, porque conhecia os eleitores e suas famílias pessoalmente.

Antes de me tornar governadora do grande Estado do Alasca, fui prefeita da minha cidade natal. E porque os nossos oponentes na eleição presidencial parecem desconsiderar essa experiência, permitam-me explicar a eles o que esse trabalho envolve.

Creio que o prefeito de uma cidade pequena seja uma espécie de "organizador comunitário", se excetuarmos o fato de que ele tem responsabilidades reais. Eu poderia acrescentar que, nas pequenas cidades, não sabemos direito o que pensar sobre um candidato que despeja elogios aos trabalhadores quando eles estão ouvindo e depois diz que eles se apegam amargamente à sua religião e às suas armas, quando não estão ouvindo.

Tendemos a preferir candidatos que não falem sobre nós de uma maneira em Scranton e de outra em San Francisco.

Quanto ao meu companheiro de chapa, podem estar certos de que, onde quer que ele vá, e quem quer que o esteja ouvindo, John McCain é sempre o mesmo homem. Eu não sou membro permanente da elite política. E aprendi rapidamente, nos últimos dias, que se você não for um membro bem aceito da elite de Washington, há pessoas na mídia que podem considerá-lo como desqualificado para um cargo apenas por isso.

Mas eis uma notícia para todos esses repórteres e comentaristas: não vou a Washington em busca de sua opinião favorável. Vou a Washington servir o povo do meu país. Os norte-americanos esperam que vamos a Washington pelas razões certas, e não apenas para fazer contato com as pessoas certas.

A política não é apenas um jogo de confronto entre partidos e de interesses conflitantes.

O motivo certo é desafiar o status quo, servir ao bem comum e legar um país melhor do aquele que recebemos. Ninguém espera que todos nós concordemos sobre tudo. Mas a expectativa é de que governemos com integridade, boa vontade, convicções claras e com o coração daqueles que almejam a servir.

Prometo aos norte-americanos que me esse espírito orientará meu comportamento como vice-presidente dos Estados Unidos. Foi essa espécie de espírito que me conduziu ao posto de governadora, quando decidi confrontar a política ao modo antigo que costumava ser feita em Juneau. Eu enfrentei os interesses especiais, os lobbies, as grandes empresas de petróleo e a rede de conexões do clubinho dos velhos políticos.

Reforma súbita e incansável jamais cai bem junto aos interesses instalados e aos intermediários políticos. É por isso que é tão difícil realizar reforma real.

Mas com o apoio dos cidadãos do Alasca, nós mudamos as coisas. E em pouco tempo colocamos o governo do nosso Estado uma vez mais a serviço do povo. Assumi o cargo prometendo uma grande reforma ética, e pôr fim à cultura da busca de vantagens pessoais. E hoje essa reforma ética é lei.

Enquanto cuidava disso, me livrei de algumas coisas no gabinete do governador que me pareciam despesas desnecessárias para o povo. O jatinho de luxo era exagero. Eu o vendi no eBay. Também dirijo meu carro para o trabalho.

E confiei em que seria possível sobreviver sem os serviços de uma cozinheira pessoal para a governadora --ainda que eu admita que meus filhos de vez em quando sintam falta dela. Cheguei ao cargo prometendo controlar os gastos --apelando ao bom senso, se possível, e usando meu poder de veto, se necessário.

O senador McCain também promete usar o poder de veto em defesa do interesse público --e, como chefe de um Executivo, posso lhes garantir que isso funciona. Nosso orçamento estadual está sob controle. Temos um superávit. E protegi os contribuintes vetando despesas perdulárias: quase US$ 500 milhões em vetos.

Suspendi o imposto estadual sobre o combustível e defendi reformas que pusessem fim aos abusos no que tange às propostas de dispêndios aprovadas pelo Congresso. Respondi ao Congresso que "obrigada, mas não", quando me ofereceram aquela Ponte para o Nada.

Se o nosso Estado quiser uma ponte, nós mesmos a construiremos. Quando os preços do petróleo e do gás natural subiram dramaticamente e os cofres do Estado ficaram abarrotados, destinei boa parte dessa receita àqueles que a merecem --o dinheiro foi restituído diretamente ao povo do Alasca.

E a despeito da feroz oposição do lobby petroleiro, que gostava das coisas como eram, nós rompemos seu monopólio sobre a energia e os recursos naturais.

Como governadora, insisto em competição e em equanimidade básicas de forma a pôr fim ao controle deles sobre o nosso Estado, devolvendo-o ao povo. Lutei para realizar o maior projeto de infra-estrutura já realizado nos Estados Unidos pelo setor privado. E quando o acordo para ele foi fechado, demos início à construção de um gasoduto de quase US$ 40 bilhões que pode ajudar a conduzir os Estados Unidos à independência energética.

O gasoduto, quando sua última seção estiver instalada e as válvulas estiverem abertas, deixará os Estados Unidos um passo mais distante da dependência quanto a perigosas potências estrangeiras que não levam nossos interesses em consideração. O que está em jogo para o nosso país não poderia ser mais grave.

Quando um furacão atinge o Golfo do México, este país não deveria depender tanto de petróleo importado que sejamos forçados a utilizar a Reserva Estratégica de Petróleo.

E as famílias não devem desperdiçar porção cada vez maior de sua renda pagando pela gasolina e pelo óleo de aquecimento.

Com a Rússia desejando controlar um oleoduto vital no Cáucaso e dividir e intimidar nossos aliados europeus ao usar a energia como arma, não podemos nos colocar à mercê de fornecedores estrangeiros.

Para confrontar a ameaça de que o Irã possa tentar cortar quase um quinto dos suprimentos mundiais de energia... ou de possíveis ataques terroristas às instalações de Abqaiq, na Arábia Saudita... ou de que a Venezuela suspenda suas vendas de petróleo... nós, nos Estados Unidos, precisamos produzir mais petróleo e gás natural. E escutem o que uma garota que conhece a North Slope do Alasca tem a dizer: há muito de ambos os recursos a explorar.

Nossos oponentes não se cansam de repetir que a prospecção não resolverá todos os problemas de energia da América --como se todos nós já não soubéssemos disso. Mas o fato de que a prospecção não seja capaz de resolver cada problema não é desculpa para a inação.

A partir de janeiro, no governo McCain-Palin, vamos construir mais oleodutos, construir mais usinas de energia limpa, criar empregos com o carvão limpo e avançar com a energia solar, eólica, geotérmica e outras fontes alternativas.

Precisamos de recursos de energia norte-americanos, trazidos a nós pela engenhosidade norte-americana e extraídos por trabalhadores norte-americanos. Eu percebi um padrão naquilo que diz o nosso oponente. Talvez vocês também tenham percebido. Todos nós ouvimos seus dramáticos discursos diante de seguidores dedicados. E há muito a admirar e de que gostar em nosso oponente.

Mas ao ouvi-lo discursar, é fácil esquecer que se trata de um homem que já escreveu dois livros de memórias e no entanto não redigiu nenhum grande projeto de lei ou reforma --nem mesmo no Senado estadual. Trata-se de um homem capaz de dedicar um discurso inteiro às guerras em que os Estados Unidos estão envolvidos e jamais usar a palavra "vitória", exceto em referência à sua própria campanha.

Mas quando a nuvem da retórica se vai, quando o rugido da multidão desaparece, quando os holofotes do estádio se apagam, e quando as colunas gregas de isopor são recolhidas a um depósito --qual é exatamente o plano de nosso oponente? O que exatamente ele deseja realizar depois que tiver dominado ás águas da enchente e salvado o planeta? A resposta é tornar o governo maior. Tirar mais de seu dinheiro. Dar a vocês mais ordens vindas de Washington. E reduzir a força dos Estados Unidos em um mundo perigoso. O país precisa de mais energia, e o nosso oponente se opõe a que ela seja produzida.

A vitória no Iraque está enfim próxima, e ele quer abandonar a luta.

Estados terroristas estão procurando armas nucleares o mais rápido possível, e ele deseja se reunir com eles sem impor precondições. Terroristas da Al Qaeda ainda planejam infligir danos catastróficos aos Estados Unidos, e ele está preocupado por eles não serem informados de seus direitos? O governo já é grande demais, e ele deseja que cresça ainda mais. O Congresso gasta demais, e ele promete mais.

Os impostos são altos demais, e ele quer aumentá-los. Os aumentos de impostos que ele propõe estão nas letrinhas miúdas de seu plano econômico, e permitam-me ser específica.

O indicado democrata à presidência apóia planos que elevarão o imposto de renda, o imposto sobre os salários, o imposto sobre a receita de investimento, o imposto sobre espólios, o imposto sobre as empresas e carga tributária com que o povo norte-americano arca, e em centenas de bilhões de dólares. Minha irmã Heather e seu marido construíram um posto de gasolina que acaba de ser inaugurado --como milhões de outras pessoas que operam pequenas empresas.

Como é que eles vão melhorar de vida se os impostos subirem? O mesmo pode ser dito sobre os esforços para manter empregos em uma fábrica em Michigan ou Ohio, ou para criar empregos no setor de carvão limpo na Pensilvânia ou Virgínia Ocidental, ou para manter uma pequena fazenda familiar bem aqui em Minnesota.

Como é que vocês poderão melhorar de vida se o nosso oponente acrescentar uma imensa carga tributária à economia norte-americana? Eis o que penso sobre a escolha que os norte-americanos terão de enfrentar nessa eleição. Na política, existem alguns candidatos que usam a mudança para promover suas carreiras.

E há aqueles que, como John McCain, usam suas carreiras para promover a mudança.

São esses que colocam seus nomes em leis e reformas históricas, e não apenas em faixas e cartazes de campanha ou selos presidenciais que eles mesmos criaram. Entre os políticos, existe o idealismo dos discursos retóricos, nos quais as multidões são convincentemente convidadas a apoiar grandes coisas.

E há o idealismo de líderes como John McCain, que efetivamente realizam grandes coisas. São eles que fazem mais do que falam. É com eles que sempre pudemos contar para servir e defender a América. O histórico de realizações e reformas reais do senador McCain ajuda a explicar porque tantos grupos de interesses especiais, lobistas e presidentes de comitês que se sentem confortáveis em seus postos no Congresso combatem a perspectiva de vê-lo na presidência das primárias de 2000 até hoje.

Nosso indicado não acompanha o rebanho em Washington.

Ele é um homem que está aqui para servir o país, e não apenas ao seu partido. Um líder que não está procurando briga, mas não tem medo de enfrentá-la. Harry Reid, o líder da maioria no Senado inepto que hoje temos, não muito tempo atrás resumiu seus sentimentos sobre o nosso indicado.

Ele disse: "Não suporto John McCain". Senhoras e senhores, talvez nenhum dos elogios que ouvimos esta semana seja melhor prova de que escolhemos o homem certo. É evidente que aquilo que o líder da maioria queria dizer é que ele não consegue suportar a competência de John McCain. E essa é apenas mais uma razão para que tiremos esse líder conhecido pela independência do Senado e o conduzamos à Casa Branca. Meus concidadãos, a presidência dos Estados Unidos não deveria ser "uma jornada de descoberta pessoal". Esse mundo de perigos e ameaças não é apenas uma comunidade, e não precisa apenas de um organizador.

E ainda que os senadores Obama e Biden tenham repetido muitas vezes nas semanas recentes que eles sempre "lutarão por vocês", vamos ser honestos sobre o assunto.

Nesta eleição, existe apenas um homem que realmente lutou por vocês, em lugares onde a vitória significava sobrevivência e a derrota morte, e estou falando de John McCain. Em nossa era, os políticos se dispuseram a revelar histórias de adversidade muito menos severas do que o pesadelo que este homem, e outros homens corajosos como ele, enfrentaram a serviço de nosso país.

A distância entre o medo, a dor e a miséria de uma cela de dois por um metro em Hanói à Casa Branca é muito grande. Mas, caso o senador John McCain seja eleito presidente, é esta a jornada que ele terá percorrido. É a jornada de um homem probo e honrado --a espécie de sujeito cujo nome encontramos nos memoriais de guerra das pequenas cidades deste país. A exceção é que ele conseguiu voltar para casa.

No mais poderoso posto do planeta, ele exerceria a compaixão surgida do fato de que um dia esteve indefeso, a sabedoria que surge até mesmo entre os cativos pela graça de Deus, a confiança especial daqueles que viram o mal e perceberam que é possível derrotá-lo. Um de seus colegas como prisioneiro de guerra, Tom Moe, de Lancaster, Ohio, lembra de observar por uma fresta na porta de sua cela os guardas que conduziam o tenente-comandante John McCain pelo corredor da prisão, dia após dia.

Da maneira como a história é relatada, "quando McCain voltava das sessões de tortura e interrogatório, ele voltava o rosto para a porta da cela de Moe e sorria, erguendo o polegar", como se estivesse dizendo "vamos sobreviver a isso". Meus concidadãos,, é esse o tipo de homem de que o país precisa para nos comandar nos próximos quatro anos.

Um orador inspirado pode inspirar o país por uma temporada com suas palavras.

Mas John McCain nos inspirou a vida toda com seus atos.

Se o caráter é a medida a ser empregada nessa eleição, se a esperança é o tema e a mudança o objetivo que compartilhamos, peço que se unam à nossa causa. Unam-se à nossa causa e ajudem os Estados Unidos a eleger um grande homem como seu próximo presidente.

Obrigado a todos, e que Deus abençoe os Estados Unidos.

Tradução de Paulo Migliacci

Pure Torture - Tom Moe (Hanoi Hilton survivor)

Pure Torture

By Tom Moe

I was hiding under a log. Doing my best to masquerade as North Vietnam terrain, I'd pulled branches on top of me, smeared mud on my face, and arranged leaves and other foliage to stick out of my clothes. I was 20 miles behind enemy lines, having parachuted out of my F-4C fighter aircraft when a weapon malfunction blew it, along with my wingman, to bits. So far my terrain act was working; a group of North Vietnamese soldiers had passed, unaware of my presence, within six feet of me.

I'd heard on my survival radio that two other pilots had been rescued on the day of our mishap. Now, after three days in the cold and rainy jungle, I knew planes were on their way for me. It looked like a question of who would find me first.

I was eventually betrayed by a small hole in my camouflage through which I poked my radio antenna. Within seconds a zillion rifles were pointed straight at my head. Thus began a month-long, 100-mile journey to the "Hanoi Hilton" to begin my five years as a prisoner of war -- where I would get to know pain on a personal basis.

North Vietnamese policy was that POWs were war criminals, a policy that supposedly justified brutal treatment and total control. That control was reflected by a list of regulations posted in each cell. Rule number one was the catchall: "Criminals will strictly follow all regulations or be severely punished."

The scenario was quite simple. An interrogator would tell you to do something, like give out military information. When, predictably, you would refuse, you were told you had violated the regulations and had to be punished. The word "punish" still evokes in me a slight feeling of nausea since it meant, at the very least, beatings that would last several days and nights. Punishment ultimately meant torture, and to torture was to extract submissiveness. I found you could be tortured for accusing them of using torture.

Torture is methodically applied pain to produce a wearing effect -- to make you submit. Usually the pain would reach a level just short of stopping vital functions, although it could continue even after one lost consciousness.

Its preliminary stages could start with something as simple as being sat on a stool, dressed in long pajamas (in summer) or just shorts (in the winter). The summer jungle air was suffocating; the damp, cold winter air was penetrating. After a while, you became a lump of huddled misery, sitting in the heat or biting cold. During a single session I sat on a stool in the same position 24 hours a day for 10 straight days.

Sometimes the guards would tie you to the stool with your wrists strapped to your ankles, but usually you were left untied and told not to move, only being allowed to get up to visit the putrid waste bucket in the corner. And the guards were always nearby. If you moved a muscle, they'd pummel you with their fists and gun butts until they tired. I don't remember sleeping during these periods -- just pain and the interminable passage of time.

After I spent days being worn down, interrogators would enter the scene, curiously almost a welcome break from "stool time." Tired and numb, many of us prisoners at first would give name, rank, and serial number -- like you see in the movies. But this is fool's play and contrary to our military training, because this open belligerency would earn some pretty tough knocks. To survive you had to get your mind going and overcome the tendency to react with your emotions. You had to fight through the haze of fatigue to recall the specialized training, and it worked. Although the interrogations and torture rarely lightened up, with the resistance techniques we were taught we were able to avoid giving any useful or classified information.

I was fortunate because, as a young lieutenant fresh out of pilot training on my first assignment, I didn't know anything of real worth. The senior officers were really under the gun. If the enemy wanted something and knew you knew it, they would stop at nothing to get it. Thus we were trained to be clever, an actor, under stress.

What I was not prepared for were the effects of solitary confinement. For the first nine months of my captivity, and sporadically later, I didn't see, hear or talk to another American. Although physical pain was inflicted on me deliberately and effectively, I would discover what an incredible burden mental pain would add to my suffering, how a dark fog slowly could creep over my consciousness, trying to rob me of my remaining power of reasoning. I saw that the mind could convince life itself to slip away through the beckoning black hole that pain created. I learned how vital it was to keep the mind as sharp as possible.

This was necessary to get through interrogations and also for survival. If you didn't keep your mind clear, the "V," as we called the North Vietnamese, would crush you through a steady dose of pain that eroded mind and body like a vicious chemical.

The body is first to give up. You cannot keep yourself from passing out, throwing up, screaming. I discovered that the more the body convulsed involuntarily, the more I could observe it as though it belonged to someone else. I found I could intellectualize pain, which allowed me to take a quantum leap in my tolerance of it. Sometimes, though, the problem was staying in touch with reality enough to keep alive. Detaching oneself too much has an insidious narcotic effect that invades one's reason and dulls normal danger signals. This is probably the way nature helps us die without being all tensed up.

I walked a psychic tightrope between too much pain and too much mental retreat from reality. That meant fighting back against the siren lure of pain-free death. Sometimes I knew I needed to feel pain. Pain could keep my senses sharp, my contact with reality stronger. I recalled the saying, "Pain purifies." This may not be entirely sensible, but it was curiously relevant then. Sometimes I would try to observe the pain process and translate the feeling into some sort of metaphysical experience -- something interesting to contemplate, something detached. Sometimes when the pain got to be too much for the physical side of me, nature would take over and I would simply pass out.

I based my mental retreats not on fantasy but on real things. I designed and built homes, about 10 of them -- some dream houses, others more practical. First I made a floor plan, then the exterior, and then I would build them in my mind nail by nail, down to the most minute detail. I'd design it, lay the cement, put up the two-by-fours, drive each nail, and even saw each board -- slowly. If it progressed too fast, I would envision a bad cut on a board and resaw it.

I made lists. I made a list of every country I could think of, then every capital. I even made a list of all the candy bars I could think of. I tried to think of everything I had ever learned; once I reviewed everything I'd learned about trees. Sometimes I'd derive mathematical formulas, spending hours in the process. I could get completely wrapped up in this, completely escaping into my mind. With mental exercise came resolve -- if I could help it, this was not going to be the place where I cashed it in.

Isolation lasted about nine months, until I was moved to another prisoner of war camp in Hanoi. There I got a roommate, Myron Donald from Moravia, New York. For more than a year we lived together in a windowless concrete bunker we called the Gunshed. During that time Myron would save my life.

It was a hot box, the Gunshed, so hot we could hardly breathe. It was so stifling that just to breathe we often lay by a small slit under the door through which our jailers slid food.

The food itself was used against us like everything else. It usually consisted of watery green soup (we called it weeds) and a chunk of tasteless bread. The soup was delivered boiling hot in the summer and stone cold in the winter. When it was hot we couldn't take a mouthful, since eating raises the body metabolism and thus body heat. If the guards didn't return too quickly, we would let the food sit until dark and the room temperature had slacked off to, maybe, 110 degrees.

We perspired so much our skin became waterlogged, looking like pale cheese, a crumbling coat of slimy flesh often festering with rash and fungus. Horribly dehydrated, we got only two little teapots of putrid water a day, and we used some of it to dampen our faces and wash off the crumbling skin. On top of this, mosquitoes were thick, their wings creating a constant chorus, and the room stank of the waste bucket. Rat droppings seasoned the food along with razor blades, glass, stones and pieces of wire. Actually some of this unexpected booty came in handy.

After about a year of captivity when, oddly, I was getting accustomed to the harshness, my journey took me down an even darker path. The situation developed slowly. First I was told I might win an early release if I would cooperate and meet with some visiting delegations -- anti-war groups or radical Hollywood personalities -- and tell them I had been treated well. I refused these special favors and at any rate would not participate in their propaganda. When they kept pressuring me, I went on a hunger strike -- an emaciated prisoner would not make good propaganda I reasoned. This got me off the go-home-early list but angered my jailers if only because I was not submissive. Thus began the really hard stuff.

Things started with long sessions of standing immobile around the clock; next I was put on my knees for three, four, six hours at a time. This went on for days. It was the first phase, sort of a limbering-up session to wear me out and take the edge off my powers of reasoning. Then I was told to write a war-crimes confession, saying I was sorry I'd participated in the war. When I refused, I got to serve as a stress reliever for about 20 guards -- each took his turn beating me to a pulp. They pounded me for six or eight hours. By then I was getting pretty shaky. Then they got serious. I was introduced to a bowl of water, some filthy rags and a steel rod. The guards stuffed a rag in my mouth with the rod, then, after putting another rag over my face, they slowly poured the water on it until all I was breathing was water vapor. I could feel my lungs going tight with fluid and felt like I was drowning. I thrashed in panic as darkness took over. As I passed out, thinking I was dying, I remember thanking God that we had made a stand against this kind of society.

When my senses returned I discovered I had been blindfolded and trussed into the "pretzel" position. Thick leg irons shackled my ankles, my wrists were tied behind me, and a rope bound my elbows just above the joints. The guards tightened the bindings by putting their feet against my arms and pulling the ropes until they couldn't pull any harder. Then they tied my wrists to my ankles and jammed a 10-foot pole between my back and elbows. After a few hours the leg irons began to press heavily on my shins and feet like a vise. The ropes strangled my flesh, causing searing pain and making my arms go numb and slowly turn black.

In the middle of the night, one of the less hostile guards, whom we called Mark, sneaked in and loosened the ropes a little. If he hadn't, I'm sure I would have lost both arms. In this case I would have vanished with the other badly injured POWs who never were repatriated.

After a few hours, the guards came back and jerked up on the pole, lifting me up and down by my elbows then slamming me to the floor on my face or backward on my head. This went on through the early morning hours.

At dawn two Vietnamese officers casually strolled in. I told them they might kill me, but I still wasn't interested in their propaganda. They laughed and calmly said, "It's easy to die but hard to live, and we'll show you just how hard it is to live."

Indeed the pain got to the point where I truly wanted to die. My mind games weren't sufficient to help me manage any more pain. I tried screaming to relieve the stress until the grimy rag was stuffed back into my mouth. I tried doing anything to take my mind away from what was happening, but I couldn't. My prayers became desperate gasps. The only solution was to stop living, but what can you do when you're tied up? You can't will your heart to stop beating.

After about a week I finally told the guards I'd write the confession. I had to get out of the ropes, collect my thoughts, and perhaps muster a bit more strength to still do nothing or at least moderate what would happen. My hosts knew exactly what I was thinking and simply said, "It's too late." They brought in a guard who sported the only leather boots I ever saw in North Vietnam. I don't know what they told him, but he looked like he wanted to kill me. He looked insane, his eyes wide open, and he practically jumped up and down when they turned him loose on me.

From my point of view, what went on next didn't last long. He began by kicking me in the back with all the strength he could exert. After this first savage kick, just one kick, I knew I'd been badly injured, maybe mortally. The pain was grave, more of a deep sickening feeling. My mind floated free of my body as if I were a spectator, not a participant. I was beyond pain.

Sometime the next day the guards untied me, and I sprawled on the bloody floor, red fluid oozed out of every opening in my body. I had no strength to sit or stand; I just sort of unrolled. In spite of my sorry state, I did not want to look undignified, so I tried to get up. I managed to crawl to a corner and sit leaning against the wall, trying desperately to gather my thoughts.

We spent the next three days working on the war-crimes confession, but the guards would wave whatever I wrote in my face and scream that it wasn't satisfactory. Were they seeing through my innuendos and double meanings? I could feel myself starting to panic as I could feel my last remaining defenses slipping.

The demands increased now to a taped confession. Somehow I still found the strength to refuse -- perhaps a little bit too resolutely, because they reverted to the hard stuff again. I was having trouble remembering those precious resistance techniques I had been taught so many light years ago. I started making a tape, pushing my sluggish brain to come up with ideas to show acceptable submissiveness to my wards yet useless for propaganda. My attempts were not convincing, so the torture continued. I told myself just to make it one more day, and then just one more. ... Anyone trained in such affairs knows that constant torture can make captives reach a point where they can't maintain mental equilibrium, and my captors knew it too. They could break me, and I was becoming frantic, fearing my strength would not last.

Then, they stopped -- just like that. Some weeks had gone by, and perhaps they had other business. Maybe they figured I might not make it. Although they had murdered prisoners, I believe most of my colleagues who died were accidentally tortured to death. The North Vietnamese knew they could not win the war militarily, but they might succeed if they garnered world sympathy. It would be difficult for them to look good if too many POWs "died in captivity." But I came pretty close, as did many of my mates.

My immediate challenge was to recover from the kidney and chest injuries from that wild night of "kick the Yankee." My entire body was bloated, my eye sockets two puffy slits. You could stick your finger into me up to your knuckle and pull it out leaving a hole that would slowly fill with fluid. Myron didn't recognize me at first when I was thrown back in our cell. He set my broken ribs with his fingertips and used our shirts to bind my chest. Occasionally the ribs would click out of place, and he would reset them. But it didn't take long after I was on the mend for the torture sessions to resume.

As I grew more and more weary, I had to cope with one of the most corrosive elements of the human spirit -- hate. Hate is a terrible distraction, a horribly destructive human enterprise. Hate invades the consciousness when the mind's reasoning power fades. Hate is a way we assign blame for our plight when our faith weakens and our resolve becomes clouded. Pain intensifies hate, making us want to strike out at something.

I stumbled into this blackness and, with vivid flashes of bitter invectives, cursed everything I had held sacred. I bathed in self-pity and resolved all my sufferings with the most wicked solutions. Although I drew some strength from hate, I finally realized I was drawing it from the devil. I journeyed into the lowest point in my life. And then I was truly exhausted.

I "came to" after a particularly horrific torture session, alone, lying on a stone floor, more naked than clothed, bruised, filthy, gaunt, and panting in little puppy breaths. I felt surprisingly free of pain and acutely aware of every inch of my surroundings. I knew I wasn't very healthy, and I was startled at how my body looked like a bag of leftover chicken bones.

My knees looked huge compared to the rest of my scrawny legs. Lying on my side, I could place a fist between my thighs and touch only air. But I didn't hurt anywhere. I thought maybe I was dead. I thought about many, many things as I lay there almost motionless for days. I prayed and prayed and prayed. ...

Finally the cell door peephole quietly opened and an eyeball squinted into the darkness. Then it was gone. A few minutes later the heavy wooden door opened with a clanging of keys and sliding bolts. An enamel plate skittered across the floor and halted just short of my slowly blinking eyes. On it was a mound of raw salt crystals piled on top of some rice. "The salt is for beriberi," the voice said, and the door banged shut.

I thought for a moment: Does he mean the salt will give me beriberi or prevent it? I chuckled to myself. My feeble attempt at humor was an elixir. Even though I would spend several more years as a guest of Uncle Ho, I knew I was over the hump. Humor, faith and mental focus would allow me to endure. I felt human, mentally whole and refreshed.

Maybe there is something to that old saying about pain purifying, but I would not prescribe the treatment.

* * *

Captured in North Vietnam in January 1968, Thomas Moe was released in 1973. Two years later he earned a master's degree from Notre Dame, where he eventually served as professor of aerospace studies and commander of the Air Force ROTC program. He retired from the Air Force in fall 1995.

Independentes e Dependentes

Independentes e Dependentes

Ainda hoje é possível ouvir da boca de um professor de ensino médio no Brasil a expressão "Império Informal". Ela é atribuída a uma teoria que rondou os meios acadêmicos da década de 1960, segundo a qual, o Brasil pós 1808 se tornou um "Império Informal" inglês. Às vezes penso que esse era o necessário ad animum dos intelectuais (se assim se pode chamar, já que a teoria de verdadeira só tem intenção) da esquerda brasileira, que não viam outra forma para desabafar o ódio guardado pela situação política em que se encontrava o país. E o maneirismo que encontraram foi esse: "romper com o verdadeiro e ter a liberdade de inventar". No caso do Maneirismo de Miguel Angel, com tendência ao diferente e belo, foi um sucesso. Mas na arte não há mentiras, o diferente é somente diferente. E história se faz com documentos primários, e essa tentativa de revisionismo bem comum da história crítica ou propriamente de historiadores de esquerda, não deu certo. Aliás, dar certo nesse caso seria uma mentira se passar por verdade. E não passou. O Brasil nunca se tornou uma colônia indireta do Reino Unido.

Os britânicos barravam a entrada do açúcar brasileiro em seu mercado, compravam a maior parte do algodão dos Estados Unidos (depois de 1815) e bebiam muito pouco café. Embora tenham alguns cidadãos britânicos lucrado bastante com o café brasileiro, não foram eles que criaram esse lucrativo negócio de exportação, assim como não foram essenciais para a sua continuidade. Nós brasileiros tampouco éramos dependentes das importações provenientes da Grã-Bretanha; com o dinheiro recebido de nossas importações para os Estados Unidos e para Europa continental, comprávamos os manufaturados naquele país porque era lá que se conseguia os melhores preços. Simples assim. A vantagem tarifária imposta durante os anos 1808-1844, esteve longe de ser suficiente para transformar o Brasil num domínio britânico.

Em resumo, as pessoas que lutaram pela liberdade no Brasil não foram marionetes manipuladas por uma potência estrangeira, e todas aquelas estórias que insistem em repetir, não somente a nível colegial e sim, também, universitário, ao que mais parece é vestígio daquilo que foi um orgasmo retraído da esquerda pós período militar brasileiro.

Postado por Maldinni Garcez, Victor

Monarquia a Preço de Banana.

Monarquia a preço de banana.

Claro, dependendo do ponto de vista, sim, a Monarquia hoje é barata. E tendo como objeto de análise a República Federativa Brasileira, veríamos que o título que escolhi não seria em nada um exagero.

Apesar de nosso presidente acarretar os papéis de Chefe de Governo e Estado - ao contrário de um Monarca que é somente Chefe de Estado -, me parece sobressalente ver que os gastos republicanos chegaram em 2004 aos gritantes R$ 372,8 (1,5 milhão por dia útil de trabalho). Para quem acha que já não basta, os negos tiveram a cara-de-pau de aprovar isso. É, mais gastos. Essa é a plena democracia e igualdade constitucional de direitos daqueles que defendem a tese de que a família Imperial é um grupinho-não-escolhido-de-privilegiados, enquanto muitos vivem do "frio, fome e miséria" e toda aquela empalhação intrínseca da cartilha republicana moderna. Além, claro, dos "desprivilegiados", como nossos ministros, juízes, parlamentares, presidentes (e suas respectivas viúvas e familiares, que sempre que podem tiram uma casquinha do governo).

Os dados atrasados de 2004 apontam que a República Brasileira custava - e nem quero saber hoje - cerca do quíntuplo da monarquia do Reino Unido, já que esta, ano passado, custou aos cofres públicos ingleses entre R$ 75-80 milhões. Obviamente, esses valores não correspondem à dotação do presidente ou Rainha, e sim aos gatos pertinentes a manutenção, compras, serviços, etc... E mais interessante ainda é saber que no website oficial Monarquia Inglesa se pode ver com detalhes o custo anual necessário para mantê-la, ao contrário de nós, que não temos acesso a sequer um dado no website oficial da República Brasileira.

Não são poucos os exemplos de monarquias que, comparados seus gastos com os nossos, dão inveja. Monarquia Espanhola; entre 25 milhões. Monarquia Sueca; 32 milhões. Belga; 29 milhões. Holandesa; 38 milhões.

E ainda tenho que ler em livros didáticos que estamos no apogeu da democracia brasileira, e que nossos imperadores não foram mais que ladrões, déspotas e mulherengos. Mas, Viva a igualdade, Viva a República Brasileira!

Postado por Maldinni Garcez, Victor

Ah! Se fosse os ingleses.

Ah! Se fosse os ingleses.

O grande desenvolvimento e enriquecimento vivido no último século pelos EUA, devido principalmente a Segunda Guerra Mundial, criou de uma maneira geral em qualquer tema discutido sobre a história deles, uma auréola de grandeza, de tal forma, que pensamos que tudo que ocorreu na cronologia de criação da nação norte-americana foi um rio de prosperidade e organização política, urbanística, cultural, assistencial e econômica. E como é de se pensar, países que hoje se encontram longe das determinações de avanço, cai a margem lógica da análise histórica, o que de costume trás várias mentiras ou interpretações grosseiras e tendenciosas. E esse caso ocorre com nós, brasileiros.

Um dos argumentos mais conhecidos para justificar a situação norte-americana em paralelo com a brasileira , é a de que ingleses e portugueses tinham estratégias diferentes em relação as suas colônias. Enquanto Portugal visava somente "extorquir" matérias primas do Brasil, a Inglaterra, tinha como um dos principais pilares em seus planos de colonização, o "povoamento". Duvido que alguém que tenha completado seu ensino-médio - ou que ainda esteja cursando - no Brasil, não tenha ouvido essa famosa afirmação. Se a resposta é não, te considero um afortunado, por que eu já.

Não pretendo me estender muito, quero me centrar principalmente nesse argumento de suposta estratégia de povoamento inglesa. Segundo nos conta André Maurois na página 81 de sua História dos Estados Unidos: "as cidades eram raras e por volta de 1770 somente 5 dentre elas tinham mais de 8 mil habitantes, vindo a Filadélfia em primeiro lugar com 10 ou 12 mil habitantes, em seguida por Boston e Nova York. As fábricas eram modestas e raras, porque a Inglaterra procurava desanimar sua criação. Para os ingleses suas colônias não passavam de empresas lucrativas, servindo de plantações destinadas a lhes fornecer produtos para não dependerem de outros países e de escoamento de seus manufaturados, cuja a produção ficava a cargo da Metrópole". Esse mesmo autor nos diz novamente na página 68 do mesmo livro que em 1763, nas vésperas da Independência, a população americana não passava dos 1.250.000 habitantes brancos e 230.000 negros. Além de que, o território ocupado por eles, era inferior a de 1 milhão de quilômetros quadrados. O mais curioso é que, no Brasil submisso a calamidade das intenções portuguesas, encontrávamos na mesma época, uma população estimada em 4 milhões de habitantes e desde o início do século XVIII uma área aproximada a 8 milhões de quilômetros quadrados, que fora conquistada pelos colonos. Ou seja, população 4 vezes e território 8 vezes maior que o norte-americano.

Agora me pergunto, existe algo relevante em matéria de estabelecimentos culturais, de ensino e de saúde, em cinco cidades com 8 ou 10 mil habitantes? Cidades desse tamanho, tem em si uma simples estrutura, se parecendo mais a uma vila, que poderia comportar no máximo escolas que não ultrapassariam o ensino do ler e do escrever.

Um outro historiador, Robert Southey, em sua obra História do Brasil, que em 1810 foi publicada através de 6 volumes, nos fornece informações valiosíssimas sobre as cidades brasileiras daquela época. Considero essa obra digna de grande confiança, essencialmente por ser o autor contemporâneo de boa parte dos acontecimentos.

Segundo as descrições das folhas 303 a 306 do volume 6, a população de Salvador em 1790 correspondia a de 100 mil habitantes, sendo toda a capitania da Bahia formada por 600 mil. Prosseguindo, diz que na cidade além de vários conventos, também possuía uma biblioteca pública, um hospital de misericórdia, um hospital para lázaros, um recolhimento para órfãos, um seminário para órfãos, um teatro, casa da moeda, vários tribunais, aulas régias de grego, latim, filosofia, retórica e matemática, além de vários livreiros, ouvires e lapidários. Somente a Capitania baiana alcançava quase a metade de toda a população das 13 colônias inglesas. E isso sem contar a cidade do Rio de Janeiro, que já em 1748 contava com 27 mil habitantes, que final do século chegaria aos 100 mil.

Acredito não ser necessário fazer nenhum discurso depois do apresentado. Nos próximos artigos pretendo seguir com esse mesmo tema, fazendo paralelo entre ambas colonizações, tentando o máximo possível apresentar documentos primários, para que assim, a comparação e análises parta mais de vocês que de mim. E por isso que digo, "ah! Se fosse os ingleses"...

Postado por Maldinni Garcez, Victor

COMENTÁRIO:
é bom lemrar que nós brasileiros não spodemos fazer parte dessa confusão afinal nossa formação enquanto estado é bem diferente de qualquer estado americano pelo simples fato de termos sido colonizados por portugueses e estes terem uma formação enqunato estado nacional bem distinta dos demais da europa..."

In an Indian Village, Signs of the Loosening Grip of Caste

In an Indian Village, Signs of the Loosening Grip of Caste
Despite Impediments, Life Visibly Improving For Dalit Communities

By Emily Wax
Washington Post Foreign Service
Sunday, August 31, 2008; A14

GADDOPUR, India -- Rubbing his salt-and-pepper stubble, Lasla Ram, 60, stretched out on his wide porch overlooking a fertile knoll in this village of Dalits, the lowest caste in India's social pecking order. His children and grandchildren were gathered at his side as he told his story.

He had been born an indentured serf, he told them. Like his father and grandfather before him, he spent his youth toiling in the fields of upper-caste landlords, cleaning up cow dung and dead animals. He was paid only in millet, the same low-quality grains used to feed pigs and cows.

But 30 years ago, he recalled, he and some friends decided to throw off the shackles of the caste system. They were Dalits, formerly known as untouchables. They didn't stage a revolt. They simply sneaked onto a train headed to New Delhi, 500 miles to the west.

Since then, generations of Dalits have sought to escape the confines of caste by taking trains to India's vast, roiling cities. Today, in this village in eastern Uttar Pradesh state, a survey has found that 68 percent of families, including Ram's, have at least one member who left a landlord's farm for the factories of New Delhi or Mumbai. Although lower castes still suffer discrimination in cities, caste is more easily escaped there. Many Dalits change their last names. They also have greater access to new and better-paying jobs.

"I arrived in New Delhi an illiterate boy, but I was free," Ram said, outside the brick house he built from his earnings. In the capital, he worked as a brick maker. Later, he went to Iraq to manage construction sites. When he came home, he had enough money saved to open a textile business.

India's rapid economic expansion and urbanization since 1991 -- and the new job opportunities generated by those changes -- have loosened the grip of caste, some economists believe. Under the centuries-old system, occupation and social status are inherited at birth. Preliminary research from the first and largest nongovernment study of economic gains made by Dalits in India's strengthening economy, including a survey of 20,000 Dalit households, shows that migration to urban centers is helping one of India's most impoverished and ostracized communities break free from such constraints. The survey is being funded by the University of Pennsylvania.

"The untouchable has been touched by India's growth. Dalits are coming out from hunger and humiliation," said Chandra Bhan Prasad, a popular Dalit newspaper columnist and childhood friend of Ram's.

"Capitalism is beginning to break the caste system," said Prasad, who is conducting the survey.

At the same time, some analysts say, Dalits' economic advancement has been much slower than that of higher castes. For the most part, their rise has been modest -- from landless serfs to low-paid laborers -- with many still living in tin-shack urban slums. They have yet to really share in India's new prosperity, these analysts say, and India's soaring inflation rate, bringing steep rises in the cost of food and fuel, appears to be erasing some of their meager gains.

Dalits still slog away in jobs that no one else wants. An estimated 1.3 million Dalit women, for example, work as manual scavengers, carrying away human waste from dry-pit latrines. In this status-obsessed society, some upper-caste Indians still refuse to eat food prepared by a Dalit.

But to Prasad and Ram, the migration of Dalits to the cities has led to a power shift in the countryside. Upper-caste landlords no longer have anyone to care for their plow-pulling oxen, a burden on the Dalits for centuries. Now they have to hire tractors.

"To me, this is the greatest social change India has ever witnessed in its known history," Prasad said. "The Dalit has been unchained. The answer was found in the machine."

Small Emblems of Progress

The driver of Prasad's rented sport-utility vehicle swerved through rain-filled potholes and maneuvered around goat herders and past computer training centers. Prasad was taking two American journalists on a tour of several of the villages in the study.

Chain-smoking and enthusiastically pointing out the bustling markets, he said he believes that the Dalit's increasing empowerment can be seen in one of capitalism's greatest pastimes: shopping.

Sachets of name-brand shampoos and detergents have started to appear in the markets of Dalit villages. A native son of the region, Prasad measures Dalits' economic progress in terms of their ability to acquire these brightly packaged amenities, however tiny the portions. According to his survey, less than 0.85 percent of Dalit families used shampoo in 1990. In 2007, 81 percent said they use it regularly.

Prasad said he first noticed the increasing prosperity six years ago when he returned home for a family wedding. In the past, he would be asked for cash, saris or radios. He was expected to treat for various feasts, the slaughtering of a piglet and "VIP sweets made from milk," laughed Prasad, patting his expanding waistline to attest to his weakness for desserts.

But this time, he said, the relatives didn't ask him for anything. Many had family members living in cities, and their remittances flowed back into the village. "I was in touch with the countryside, but I was surprised this change was happening so fast," said Prasad, who is considered a maverick for departing from the Dalits' habit of looking to the government to drive change.

India has the world's largest and oldest affirmative action program. Dalit intellectuals have long hoped that quotas for jobs and university places would help lift the community out of poverty. But those programs have been both controversial and corrupt. They are credited with helping create a small Dalit middle class but also criticized for perpetuating the entrenched societal structure.

Prasad's parents were illiterate, land-owning Dalits. His grandfather had worked for the British colonial government and saved enough money to put Prasad and his siblings through school, rare for Dalit families at the time. Later, as a college student, Prasad became angered by the injustices of the caste system and joined the Naxalite movement, a Marxist insurgency against India's government.

But after four years, his life took a major turn. He watched a family happily eating ice cream one afternoon, and that changed his life. "It got me thinking, and I made a quantum jump," he said. "I never developed a hatred for those who live well. Everyone wants a good life. I came to believe that it was not going to happen through the gun. If there was going to be serious conflict in this country, it would be Dalits who would suffer."

'From Horrible to Bad'

Dalit empowerment is so incremental as to be almost invisible to outsiders. Dalits still have the country's highest malnutrition rates, which are also among the highest in the world. Violence and discrimination against lower castes are common, although reports usually end up on the inside pages of India's newspapers. In a recent incident, a Dalit working in Mumbai drove a new car back to his village, where some higher-caste people pulled him out and beat him to death, telling police later that they assumed the car had been stolen. They thought a Dalit could not afford a new car.

But Prasad's survey results showed that discrimination is decreasing, at least in this village. In 1990, 88.1 percent of families questioned in Gaddopur were seated separately during public dinners organized by upper castes. Now, only 30 percent said they were asked to sit apart.

Dalit villages are less likely than others to have paved roads, reliable electricity, running water or health clinics. But where some see squalor, others see progress. In many Dalit villages, brick hovels are replacing mud huts.

"It's gone from horrible to bad. But it's like saying that you have to climb a 10,000-foot mountain and you've have climbed 1,000 feet," said Devesh Kapur, director of the University of Pennsylvania's Center for the Advanced Study of India. "Still, the fact that we have seen a change of this magnitude after hundreds and hundreds of years of this community being crushed is really amazing."

Accompanied by Prasad, Kapur recently visited one of the villages in the study and met a Dalit village elder. He asked him if things had changed since he was a boy. "He said, 'It's like the difference between the land and the sky.' "

Unfazed by Setbacks

After working for many years in construction, Ram started his own textile business, which prospered. He was able to afford a grand wedding for his son and build a spacious house.

Like many Dalit households, the family painted a mural at the entrance depicting a studious-looking man in a three-piece suit and glasses: Dalit leader B.R. Ambedkar, author of much of India's constitution. Ambedkar often urged Dalits to leave their villages.

With Ram's earnings, his wife, Sola Hanna, no longer had to labor in the fields for the landlord. She recently ran into her former boss. "I saw her once in the market. We didn't speak. But we shared a quiet moment," Hanna said softly. "I had a memory of her shouting at me, calling down to me in front of other neighbors to fetch things. When I realized she could no longer do that, I felt proud."

Beaming as he listened to the story, Prasad said he wanted to check out Ram's nearby pharmacy.

Chandra Bhan Prasad, a Dalit, said goods sold in a village market reflect the caste's progress. (By Emily Wax -- The Washington Post)

As Prasad perused the shelves, stocked with mouthwash, headache pills and thermometers -- items that he said Dalits could not afford in the past -- the power went out.

Undependable power, like the rutted dirt roads and lack of running water, is one of the remaining impediments to economic growth in Dalit villages. Unfazed, Prasad cheerfully continued examining bags of pricey beans, cellphone chargers and dented boxes of cornflakes. All were proof of Dalit progress, and Prasad smiled in the darkness.

DoTheRightThing wrote:

It's unbelievable that this article did not mention the Hindu riots going on these past few days in India in which 13 Catholic workers, nuns and priests were killed by the rioters angry over the murder of one of their own religious leaders reportedly by a Maoist terrorist. Some Hindus resent the Catholics because when an Untouchable converts to Catholicism he is no longer an Untouchable and (apparently) is free to do better-paying work. So the Hindus lose their large supply of cheap labor to do the most menial jobs, and have to pay more for the same services, which impacts their pocket books and their cultural lives. Shame on the WaPo for not mentioning the murders of these 13 Catholics who were nonviolently serving their fellow human beings in India. It's no wonder the main stream media (MSM) is losing readership/viewers -their former market base has discovered the sad truth that the MSM does not now (and probably never did) report all the important news of which it was aware.

Defend the Orphan: An Age-Old Christian Lesson

HOUSES OF WORSHIP

Defend the Orphan: An Age-Old Christian Lesson Gets a New Lease on Life

By NAOMI SCHAEFER RILEY
August 29, 2008; Page W9

If John McCain is looking for a way to shore up his support among evangelical voters, he might start talking about adoption. In 1993, the McCains adopted a daughter from Mother Teresa's orphanage in Bangladesh, and the senator has co-sponsored legislation to aid adoption, including measures that would provide tax credits for expenses and would remove barriers to interracial and interethnic adoption. But his efforts are rarely mentioned on the campaign trail at a time when adoption is a hot topic in the evangelical community.

Earlier this month, Rick Warren, the best-selling author and pastor of the Saddleback megachurch in Lake Forest, Calif., asked both presidential candidates if they would consider some kind of emergency plan to help the 148 million orphans around the world, something along the lines of President Bush's AIDS efforts. Both said yes, but a number of Christians and their organizations are not waiting for the next administration to act.

Associated Press

A nun kisses a handicapped baby at Shishu Bhavan, a home for orphaned children, founded by Mother Teresa in Calcutta, India.

Russell Moore, the dean of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky., is the author of a forthcoming book called "Adopted for Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families and Churches." A few years ago, Mr. Moore and his wife adopted two boys from Russia, and he notes that his church has posted a large map showing which countries member families have adopted children from. "In any given church," he notes, "you rarely see only one family who has adopted. . . . It becomes part of the culture of the congregation."

Tony Nolan, an adoptee himself, now travels with Christian bands and speaks to their massive audiences about adoption. During "Winterjam," a 30-city tour that recently concluded, Mr. Nolan recounted his story to some 350,000 people. His biological mother was homeless, mentally ill and a prostitute. A month before she died, he visited her in the hospital. "She grabbed me by the hand, looked at me and said, 'The doctors told me not to have you,' " Mr. Nolan says. On tour, he conveys the message that "God knew what he was doing." And after every concert, money is collected to help a local family with its adoption expenses.

Several groups are trying to remove the financial barriers to adoption. The Abba fund in Charlotte, N.C., sets up families with no-interest loans for adoption fees and travel expenses. Others are spreading the news that many children need to find loving Christian homes. The Cry of the Orphan -- a campaign co-sponsored by several Christian adoption agencies, ministries and awareness groups, including Focus on the Family -- ran Internet, TV, radio and print ads that reached 19 million people last year.

The theme was "You Are God's Plan for the Orphan," which represents something of a shift, says Kelly Rosati, who oversees Focus on the Family's adoption and orphan-care division and is the mother of four adopted children. "The traditional way of viewing adoption was something you considered if you were facing infertility." You could call it God's Plan B for the Couple. But now, according to Ms. Rosati, "the commitment to adoption is part of a holistic sanctity-of-human-life ethic."

This fall, Focus on the Family (whose leader, James Dobson, has been slowly warming to Sen. McCain) will be launching a different sort of adoption campaign. In cooperation with the state of Colorado, where the Christian organization is based, it will be shining its media spotlight on the 127,000 children in the U.S. who are considered unadoptable -- kids, typically over the age of 8, who are languishing in foster care. Many are racial minorities.

"There is much more openness to transracial adoption today," Ms. Rosati says. And Mr. Moore has been very vocal about this issue. Groups like the National Association of Black Social Workers have taken a strong stand against placing black children in the homes of white parents, a position that outrages Mr. Moore. He recently compared social workers who oppose transracial adoption to George Wallace. "Both are saying the same thing, 'Segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever.' And both pretend they're just being realistic about racial discrimination."

The command to "defend the orphan" (Isaiah 1:16-17) has always been vital to the Christian message, Mr. Moore tells me. One thing that distinguished early Christians from their pagan neighbors was their treatment of unwanted children. And adoption is also the literal manifestation of a metaphor that Christians use to describe themselves all the time. "Every one of us who follows Christ was adopted into an already existing family," says Mr. Moore.

So what could Sen. McCain, who has been reluctant to mention his faith explicitly, add to these efforts? For one thing, his example. There are very few serious people on the national stage who are encouraging adoption. Madonna and Brangelina are not exactly the perfect role models.

But the issue goes beyond do-goodism. Adoption is most often mentioned in the second clause of a sentence that begins with abortion. Democrats have long made the specious argument that Republicans opposed to legalized abortion want to leave women with only two options: public shaming and dangerous back-alley surgeries. Sen. McCain could highlight the real choice that Christian organizations provide every day.

Finally, the subject would give Sen. McCain a chance to talk about the importance of religious liberty. It may be recalled that the maverick flubbed a question on George Stephanopolous's show about whether gay adoption should be legal. After a little back and forth, he finally concluded that the matter should be up to the states.

But this solution creates its own set of problems. Earlier this year, the Archdiocese of Boston stopped offering adoption services because the state of Massachusetts was going to force it to provide them to gay couples. The local bishop was unwilling to violate basic church teachings on the family. If Sen. McCain sticks to his position of leaving gay-marriage decisions to the states, he might also emphasize that those states need to allow religious organizations to operate according to their own beliefs, lest we lose the vital social services that they provide.

Who knows? With a little luck, religious folks may adopt John McCain as one of their own.

Ms. Riley is the Journal's deputy Taste editor.

Understanding Taqiyya - Islamic Principle of Lying for the Sake of Allah

Understanding Taqiyya ― Islamic Principle of Lying for the Sake of Allah

by Warner MacKenzie

30 April, 2007

Lying and cheating in the Arab world is not really a moral matter but a method of safeguarding honor and status, avoiding shame, and at all times exploiting possibilities, for those with the wits for it, deftly and expeditiously to convert shame into honor on their own account and vice versa for their opponents. If honor so demands, lies and cheating may become absolute imperatives.” [David Pryce-Jones, “The Closed Circle” An interpretation of the Arabs, p4]

“No dishonor attaches to such primary transactions as selling short weight, deceiving anyone about quality, quantity or kind of goods, cheating at gambling, and bearing false witness. The doer of these things is merely quicker off the mark than the next fellow; owing him nothing, he is not to be blamed for taking what he can.” [David Pryce-Jones, “The Closed Circle”, p38]

The word "Taqiyya" literally means: "Concealing, precaution, guarding.” It is employed in disguising one's beliefs, intentions, convictions, ideas, feelings, opinions or strategies. In practical terms it is manifested as dissimulation, lying, deceiving, vexing and confounding with the intention of deflecting attention, foiling or pre-emptive blocking. It is currently employed in fending off and neutralising any criticism of Islam or Muslims.

Falsehoods told to prevent the denigration of Islam, to protect oneself, or to promote the cause of Islam are sanctioned in the Qur'an and Sunna, including lying under oath in testimony before a court, deceiving by making distorted statements to the media such as the claim that Islam is a “religion of peace”. A Muslim is even permitted to deny or denounce his faith if, in so doing, he protects or furthers the interests of Islam, so long as he remains faithful to Islam in his heart. (See endnotes)

Like many Islamic practices, taqiyya was formed within the context of the culture of Arab tribalism, expansionary warfare, Bedouin raiding and inter-tribal conflict. Taqiyya has been used by Muslims since the 7th century to confuse, confound and divide 'the enemy’.

A favoured tactic was ‘deceptive triangulation’; used to persuade the enemy that preparations for a raid were not aimed at them but at another tribe altogether. The fate in store for the deceived enemy target was an unexpected plunderous raid, enslavement of the women and death to the post-pubescent males.

The core foundation of hyper-masculine Arab culture is bound up in perceptions of "honour and shame". At all times, he (it's usually a male) must avoid having his face "blackened" by words or actions which are a slight upon, a challenge or affront to, his status in the family or broader social / tribal group. To be open, frank and forthright or to make self-damning admissions in his dealings (particularly with the infidel enemy) is to leave himself open and vulnerable to humiliating shame and to the subsequent disrespect from his peers. Tongues will wag in the bazaar’s coffee shops and rumours will rapidly spread that so-and-so has lost his "manliness" and status. In short, he is no longer worthy of deferential respect; to an Arab, this is worse than death itself.

The higher one is placed in the social order (or rather, on how important the individual perceives himself to be), the more imperative it becomes to strenuously avoid “loss of face”. The male's perceived loss of honour and status, must be redressed and his face "whitened", i.e. his honour regained and restored, at any cost; even to the extent of (as in the honour killing of daughters) murdering the person “responsible” for causing the initial humiliation. When taqiyya is used to avoid making an admission or concession it is simply an essential means of ensuring that ones honour and standing remain intact and untarnished. Blood feuds and vendettas, caused by an ancient humiliation of a long dead ancestor, can persist, fuelled and propelled by shame and honour, for generations. Muhammad, who is promoted as every Muslim’s exemplar, set the precedent for vengeful retaliation when he ordered the murder of those who mocked or satirised him and, as he was an Arab, caused him potential loss of face. [See link, “Muhammad’s Dead Poets Society”]

Outwitting:

Islamic spokesmen commonly use taqiyya as a form of 'outwitting'. The skilled taqiyya-tactician doesn’t want the matter at hand to be debated or discussed; so his opponent must be outwitted or preemptively outflanked by the use of taqiyya. The objective is to divert attention away from the subject through duplicity and obfuscation.

The claim is often made that difficulties in translating from Arabic to English makes the meaning of what they say or write difficult or impossible to convey….this is simply another subterfuge. Keysar Trad has repeatedly claimed that Sheikh Hilali’s obnoxious, inflammatory and misogynistic comments have been “mistranslated”, misquoted or “taken out of context”. The aim of this ploy is to dilute or neutralise public opprobrium. The use of independent translators has, in the past, disproved his assertions. The Sheikh states what he believes to be correct according to Islamic precepts and his “interpreter” reconfigures the statement to make it palatable to the unwitting listener.

Consider the following statement by Mr. Trad on the February 24 2006.

Keysar Trad, president of the Islamic Friendship Association of Australia, told Reuters that Australian Muslims

agreed with Costello's (Australia’s Treasurer, Peter Costello) sentiments about being good, law abiding citizens.

"But to continually single out the Muslim community like this is very unhelpful, it's very divisive and it does stir up Islamophobia”,

Trad said.

"We're proud to be Australian and our religion strongly stipulates that if you make an oath, whether it's an oath of citizenship or any other oath, that you honour it, abide by it."

However, the Prophet Muhammad seems to have a different idea on the subject.

Sahih Bukhari, Volume 7, Book 67, Number 427:

“By Allah, and Allah willing, if I take an oath and later find something else better than that. Then I do what is better and expiate my oath.' "

Role playing as the victim:

When placed under scrutiny or criminal investigation, (even when there is overwhelming, irrefutable evidence of guilt or complicity), the taqiyya-tactician will quickly attempt to counter the allegation by resorting to the claim that it is, in fact, the accused who are the 'the victims'. Victims of Islamophobia, racism, religious discrimination and intolerance. Currently, this is the most commonly encountered form of distraction and 'outwitting'….. Defence by offence.

Manipulative ambiguity and Semantics:

Sheik Hilali and the late Yasser Arafat are both on public record as (a) 'condemning' the 9/11 attacks, in ambiguous terms, to the Western media and (b) praising suicide bombings, or “ martyrdom operations”, to their Arabic speaking audiences .

Islamic spokesmen will rarely unequivocally condemn a specific act of terrorism and direct questions will be skillfully evaded.

(NB: because Muslims regard Islamic attacks as “jihad”, and not terrorism, their spokesmen can truthfully deny any support for terrorism.)

Interviewers would be better advised to ask the more precise question “do you believe in jihad against the unbelievers?

However, a direct question requiring a simple "YES" or "NO" reply is rarely forthcoming and is usually deflected by responding with a tangentially irrelevant rejoinder or, in an attempt to neutralise the original question, counter-challenging with another question such as “are you in favour of killing children in Iraq?”…..Touché and Checkmate!

Diversion, deflection and "tu quoque”:

Questions relating to the 9/11 terrorist attacks will usually be diverted by either making outrageously wild conspiracy claims “the CIA did it to give the U.S. an excuse to attack Muslims,… Mossad was the perpetrator… No Jews came to work at the World Trade Centre on September 11” etc. or by making an irrelevant counter reference to “the plight of the Palestinians”,.. Iraqis,.. colonialism,.. the crusades, or US foreign policy’s support for Israel” as the 'root causes' of terrorism.

Then, of course, there’s the ever popular, specious allegation that George Bush is a bigger terrorist than Osama bin Laden.

Diversionary “tu quoque” response ploys usually start with the words “but” or “what about…?” in an attempt to turn, and transfer an equal culpability back on their interlocutor.

Demanding 'evidence':

Islamic spokesmen practice a form of taqiyya defined in psychology as 'cognitive denial' by repetitive and persistent demands of 'where is the evidence!' and 'prove it!' whenever there is Muslim complicity in terrorist acts, evidence, which they know very well, for security or legal sub-judice restraints, can not be disclosed. If indeed the “evidence” were to be publicly presented, they would then move on to the familiar “prejudicial to the defendant receiving a fair trial--grounds for a mistrial” default position.

Tactical denial:

Rather than admitting that a proposition concerning a subject under discussion can be partly true, an Islamic spokesman will flatly deny a claim or proposition in absolute terms. For example, "It is impossible to be a Muslim and a terrorist”; this semantic argument is purely a matter of definition, because radical Islamists don’t define their violent attacks as terrorism, but jihad. (i.e. holy war in the way of Allah) .Another popular assertion is that 'Islam forbids suicide', which is true, but by virtue once again of definition, irrelevant, because suicide bombings are regarded as “martyrdom operations” and are therefore not forbidden, but on the contrary, admirable and praiseworthy. Muslim spokesmen are also fond of using extreme hyperbole. Their refutations regularly include the word “percent”. e.g. “I am 150% certain that Jews orchestrated September 11”…. “I guarantee the accused is 200% innocent”.

Exploiting cognitive dissonance:

Islamic spokesmen regularly perplex and baffle interviewers and their audiences as they resort to double talk, 'clichés and platitudes' concerning Islam. A state of cognitive dissonance (i.e. holding two contradictory beliefs and attempting to resolve them) is therefore induced in viewers and readers as they attempt to mentally process the claim that Islam is a peaceful religion despite the indisputable evidence before them of Islamist involvement in terrorist acts or criminal conduct.

The Islamic 'defence' script:

Islamic spokesmen repeat the same predictable duplicitous clichés concerning Islam in Europe, as do their counterparts in Australia and America. They appear to follow a well prepared script as they repeat "Islam is tolerant and peace loving”. In instances where they find themselves presented with, and cornered by, undeniable evidence that murderous radicals are indeed guilty as charged the spokesman will then fall back on the old chestnut that the culprits are only a “small minority” and not “true Muslims” anyway. Islamic spokeswomen use taqiyya when making the somewhat Orwellian claim that wearing the hijab, niqab, burqa etc. is “liberating” and “empowering”, and that, for reasons known only to them, these symbols of submissive exclusion offer them more freedom than Western women, thereby implying that women in Muslim countries are somehow 'freer' than women in the West. This ruse is designed to preclude further examination into the well documented inferior status of females in Islamic societies. Being put on the spot, and having to admit their true obedient and subservient status, would be embarrassing and therefore shame inducing so resorting to denial and exaggerative taqiyya is their only option.

There’s a common and oft repeated lie that “Islam” means peace”, it doesn’t, it translates as “submission” (to Allah).

Islamic falsehoods are echoed uncritically by Western politicians and other apologist dupes, for example "A small group of fundamentalists have hijacked a great and noble religion”. This timely, skilful, misleading and diversionary theme of the 'hijacking' of Islam was introduced into public, political and media discourse by an Islamic 'spokesman' in the United States shortly after the 9/11 terrorist attacks and has become an “accepted fact” repeated, ad nauseum, ever since.

The "Islam has been hijacked” myth is now a clichéd media and political reference which serves to deflect attention from the empirical proof of a fourteen hundred year continuity of the doctrinal, political and religious nature of Islamic jihad.

A related theme that “a small minority of Muslims are engaged in terrorism” is utterly irrelevant as terrorism is always perpetrated by 'small minorities' or more accurately small groups or cells. Surveys consistently reveal that between 10-15% of all Muslims sympathise with the aims and methodology of this radical strain of Islam which has been “hijacked”. This means, that within an estimated world population of 1.2 billion Muslims, there are 120-180 million people prepared to fund, facilitate and in general, give moral and financial assistance to the jihadists….. “a small minority”?....you decide!

The indisputable truth is that there has been no “hijacking” of Islam. Islamic extremists can, and do, find ample inspiration, justification and encouragement for their violent ideology in the Quran and Hadith.

Taqiyya as impressions and perception management

Pathos and the tactical use of children:

Australian television viewers may recall that interviews with terrorist suspects raided by ASIO (Australian Security Intelligence Organisation) and AFP (Australian Federal Police) frequently featured women in hijabs holding small children or a crying baby as they plaintively protested their husband's innocence and attested to his innate piety, decency and kind-hearted nature.

Trembling fingers and quavering voices pointed out damage, disruption and disarray to the family home. In some interviews the suspect / father holds the child, whilst denying any involvement in, or knowledge of, radicalism .

Sheikh Hilali’s daughter, in a newspaper interview, played the taqiyya pathos card by claiming that, because the cold northern winter was imminent, her father was travelling to Lebanon to “hand deliver” thousands of blankets to “orphanages” and homeless victims of the war between Israel and Hizbollah.

In the same Israel /Hezbollah war, a photojournalist filmed a Lebanese man, strewing, for the purpose of emotional impact, the contents of a large cardboard box full of children’s stuffed toys amongst the wreckage and debris. This was obviously for the benefit of a large contingent of international TV film crews who were about to be taken on a guided tour of the bombed buildings later that morning.

Photos of carefully placed baby’s bibs and dummies (pacifiers) also appeared to be extraordinarily abundant on the internet, as were “staged” photos of a “body” being removed from the piles of collapsed concrete. One sequence of photos clearly shows the “body” in question, alive and well, walking around with his “rescuers” before and after the “retrieval” of his dusty, “lifeless body”. This is taqiyya by imagery!

The above are examples of taqiyya in the age of impressions and perception management and are designed to, dupe, play on the emotions of, and elicit sympathy from, the compassionate, unwitting public.

Taqiyya and the Deceptive definition of Jihad:

The contemporary political meaning of jihad is clear: it is “Jihad of the sword” and not the peaceful internal struggle for spiritual improvement as their spin-doctors would have us believe. Islamic fundamentalists consider jihad to be the sixth pillar of Islam, a binding duty and integral to the faith. Claiming that Jihad is a subjective and psychological state to become a better person is taqiyya. In contemporary terms, Jihad means – HOLY WAR - against the unbelievers and it is in this context that Al Qaeda training manuals and other radical preachers use and refer to jihad.

The study of taqiyya is crucial to an understanding of Islamic fundamentalism and terrorism. Its use ranges from the issuing of false terrorist threats, operational and strategic disinformation issued by Al Qaeda in the form of 'intelligence chatter' for the purpose of throwing national defence groups into confusion. Terrorist in captivity resort to taqiyya during interrogation. It is most frequently used by Muslim 'spokesmen' whilst intentionally making misleading public statements concerning Islam and terrorism.

The Arabs have a story which exemplifies subtle, semantic dissimulation (taqiyya) perfectly. Legend has it that Mohammed’s nephew, son-in-law and future Caliph, Ali, was sitting on a stool outside his dwelling when one of his allies ran red-faced and gasping into the village and hid in Ali’s home. Perceiving that the man was being pursued, Ali promptly got up and sat on another nearby stool. A few minutes later, a group of angry pursuers ran into the encampment and asked Ali if he had seen the man they were pursuing. Ali responded with the statement “AS LONG AS I HAVE BEEN SITTING ON THIS STOOL I HAVE SEEN NO ONE”

This story demonstrates why nothing an Islamist says can be taken at face value. Every statement and utterance needs to be thoroughly analysed, or “unpacked”.

After yet another violent incident in Sydney, involving “Males of Middle-Easter Appearance”, a spokesman for the Muslim community appeared on a Sydney television evening newscast. In the brief soundbight he defensively declared “our religion teaches us that we must be kind to one another” ….and indeed it does, it simply depends on how we are to interpret the words “one another”, as these verses from the Quran demonstrate:

Muslims are harsh against the unbelievers, merciful to one another. – (Q 48:25)

Muhammad is Allah's apostle. Those who follow him are ruthless to the unbelievers but merciful to one another.

Through them, Allah seeks to enrage the unbelievers*. – (Q48:29)

So, was this spokesman lying?

Or was he telling the truth?

The answer is both, YES,… and NO! –Or, perhaps neither, and if you are confused by this apparent contradiction?,. You’re meant to be, because he was practising taqiyya; ……where the devil is ALWAYS in the detail.

* The precise identity of the “unbelievers” in the above references requires no further explanation.

---

Endnotes

1. Imam Abu Hammid Ghazali says: "Speaking is a means to achieve objectives. If a praiseworthy aim is attainable through both telling the truth and lying, it is unlawful to accomplish through lying because there is no need for it.

When it is possible to achieve such an aim by lying but not by telling the truth, it is permissible to lie if attaining the goal is permissible." (Ahmad ibn Naqib al-Misri, The Reliance of the Traveller, translated by Nuh Ha Mim Keller, amana publications, 1997, section r8.2, page 745)

2. Bukhari Vol 3: 857 “Narrated Um Kulthum bint Uqba”:

That she heard Allah's Apostle saying, "He who makes peace between the people by inventing good information or saying good things, is not a liar."

3. Bukhari Vol 4: 269 “Narrated Jabir bin 'Abdullah: The Prophet said, "War is deceit."

4. Bukhari Vol 5: 668 “Narrated Zahdam:

“When Abu Musa arrived (at Kufa as a governor) he honored this family of Jarm (by paying them a visit). I was sitting near to him, and he was eating chicken as his lunch, and there was a man sitting amongst the people. Abu Musa invited the man to the lunch, but the latter said, "I saw chickens (eating something (dirty) so I consider them unclean." Abu Musa said, "Come on! I saw the Prophet eating it (i.e. chicken)." The man said "I have taken an oath that I will not ea (chicken)" Abu Musa said." Come on! I will tell you about your oath. We, a group of Al-Ash'ariyin people went to the Prophet and asked him to give us something to ride, but the Prophet refused. Then we asked him for the second time to give us something to ride, but the Prophet took an oath that he would not give us anything to ride. After a while, some camels of booty were brought to the Prophet and he ordered that five camels be given to us. When we took those camels we said, "We have made the Prophet forget his oath, and we will not be successful after that." So I went to the Prophet and said, "O Allah's Apostle ! You took an oath that you would not give us anything to ride, but you have given us." He said, "Yes, for if I take an oath and later I see a better solution than that, I act on the later and gave the expiation of that oath"

5. Bukhari Vol 6: 138 Narrated Aisha:

“That her father (Abu Bakr) never broke his oath till Allah revealed the order of the legal expiation for oath. Abu Bakr said, "If I ever take an oath (to do something) and later find that to do something else is better, then I accept Allah's permission and do that which is better, (and do the legal expiation for my oath ) ".