Killing any captive is to send a message, and a pretty blunt one at that, to others. It is to say, in this case, that if you transgress the Pax Americana, if you dare to expose America’s war crimes, this is what you and your family can expect.
As such songs go, this song by SCF columnist Finan Cunningham is fine. It summarizes the plight of Julian Assange, political prisoner #A9379AY, HM Prison Belmarsh, Western Way, London SE28OEB and asks listeners to take a stand for this apostle of freedom, who is caged in Britain’s most notorious Category A prison. As such movies go, this film about the suffering Julian Assange’s family endures is fine. And, though the Guardian undoubtedly feels they should be applauded for giving it this tiny review, if Assange is guilty of helping to expose war crimes and deserves to be extradited to be broken in America’s penal system as a consequence, well so should they, as everything Assange did he did in conjunction with them.
But the Guardian and all others who have signed up to NATO’s endless wars care nothing about that. To them Assange is an irritant, a scapegoat who must be sacrificed to keep others in line. Kill the chicken and scare the monkeys, as the Chinese say. But Assange is more a coal miner’s canary than a Chinese chicken, a weathervane on what passes for our ever so polite society. Although Cunningham’s song and Ithaka have their place and decent human beings like Pamela Anderson, Roger Waters and Jeremy Corbyn, who have been steadfast in defense of Belmarsh’s Bird Man, deserve all the garlands we can muster, there is something very amiss in our collective souls when Britannia’s screws have carte blanche to crush such butterflies of freedom on our prison yard’s wheel.
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