Newsgroup: it.arti.cinema
Titolo: Baghdad: Year Zero  by Naomi Klein (molto lungo)

From the start, the neocons running Iraq had shown
nothing but disdain for Iraq's state-owned companies.
In keeping with their Year Zero -- apocalyptic glee,
when looters descended on the factories during the war,
U.S. forces did nothing. Sabah Asaad, managing director
of a refrigerator factory outside Baghdad, told me that
while the looting was going on, he went to a nearby
U.S. Army base and begged for help. "I asked one of the
officers to send two soldiers and a vehicle to help me
kick out the looters. I was crying. The officer said,
'Sorry, we can't do anything, we need an order from
President Bush.'" Back in Washington, Donald Rumsfeld
shrugged. "Free people are free to make mistakes and
commit crimes and do bad things."
To see the remains of Asaad's football-field-size
warehouse is to understand why Frank Gehry had an
artistic crisis after September 11 and was briefly
unable to design structures resembling the rubble of
modern buildings. Asaad's looted and burned factory
looks remarkably like a heavy-metal version of Gehry's
Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, with waves of steel,
buckled by fire, lying in terrifyingly beautiful golden
heaps.  Yet all was not lost. "The looters were good-
hearted," one of Asaad's painters told me, explaining
that they left the tools and machines behind, "so we
could work again." Because the machines are still
there, many factory managers in Iraq say that it would
take little for them to return to full production. They
need emergency generators to cope with daily blackouts,
and they need capital for parts and raw materials. If
that happened, it would have tremendous implications
for Iraq's stalled reconstruction, because it would
mean that many of the key materials needed to rebuild
-- cement and steel, bricks and furniture -- could be
produced inside the country.
But it hasn't happened. Immediately after the nominal
end of the war, Congress appropriated $2.5 billion for
the reconstruction of Iraq, followed by an additional
$18.4 billion in October. Yet as of July 2004, Iraq's
state-owned factories had been pointedly excluded from
the reconstruction contracts. Instead, the billions
have all gone to Western companies, with most of the
materials for the reconstruction imported at great
expense from abroad.
With unemployment as high as 67 percent, the imported
products and foreign workers flooding across the
borders have become a source of tremendous resentment
in Iraq and yet another open tap fueling the
insurgency. And Iraqis don't have to look far for
reminders of this injustice; it's on display in the
most ubiquitous symbol of the occupation: the blast
wall. The ten-foot-high slabs of reinforced concrete
are everywhere in Iraq, separating the protected -- the
people in upscale hotels, luxury homes, military bases,
and, of course, the Green Zon -- from the unprotected
and exposed. If that wasn't injury enough, all the
blast walls are imported, from Kurdistan, Turkey, or
even farther afield, this despite the fact that Iraq
was once a major manufacturer of cement, and could
easily be again. There are seventeen state-owned cement
factories across the country, but most are idle or
working at only half capacity. According to the
Ministry of Industry, not one of these factories has
received a single contract to help with the
reconstruction, even though they could produce the
walls and meet other needs for cement at a greatly
reduced cost. The CPA pays up to $1,000 per imported
blast wall; local manufacturers say they could make
them for $100. Minister Tofiq says there is a simple
reason why the Americans refuse to help get Iraq's
cement factories running again: among those making the
decisions, "no one believes in the public sector."[1]
This kind of ideological blindness has turned Iraq's
occupiers into prisoners of their own policies, hiding
behind walls that, by their very existence, fuel the
rage at the U.S. presence, thereby feeding the need for
more walls. In Baghdad the concrete barriers have been
given a popular nickname: Bremer Walls.
As the insurgency grew, it soon became clear that if
Bremer went ahead with his plans to sell off the state
companies, it could worsen the violence. There was no
question that privatization would require layoffs: the
Ministry of Industry estimates that roughly 145,000
workers would have to be fired to make the firms
desirable to investors, with each of those workers
supporting, on average, five family members. For Iraq's
besieged occupiers the question was: Would these shock-
therapy casualties accept their fate or would they
rebel?
* * *
The answer arrived, in rather dramatic fashion, at one
of the largest state-owned companies, the General
Company for Vegetable Oils. The complex of six
factories in a Baghdad industrial zone produces cooking
oil, hand soap, laundry detergent, shaving cream, and
shampoo. At least that is what I was told by a
receptionist who gave me glossy brochures and calendars
boasting of "modern instruments" and "the latest and
most up to date developments in the field of industry."
But when I approached the soap factory, I discovered a
group of workers sleeping outside a darkened building.
Our guide rushed ahead, shouting something to a woman
in a white lab coat, and suddenly the factory scrambled
into activity: lights switched on, motors revved up,
and workers -- still blinking off sleep -- began
filling two-liter plastic bottles with pale blue Zahi
brand dishwashing liquid.
I asked Nada Ahmed, the woman in the white coat, why
the factory wasn't working a few minutes before. She
explained that they have only enough electricity and
materials to run the machines for a couple of hours a
day, but when guests arrive -- would-be investors,
ministry officials, journalists -- they get them going.
"For show," she explained. Behind us, a dozen bulky
machines sat idle, covered in sheets of dusty plastic
and secured with duct tape.
In one dark corner of the plant, we came across an old
man hunched over a sack filled with white plastic caps.
With a thin metal blade lodged in a wedge of wax, he
carefully whittled down the edges of each cap, leaving
a pile of shavings at his feet. "We don't have the
spare part for the proper mold, so we have to cut them
by hand," his supervisor explained apologetically. "We
haven't received any parts from Germany since the
sanctions began." I noticed that even on the assembly
lines that were nominally working there was almost no
mechanization: bottles were held under spouts by hand
because conveyor belts don't convey, lids once snapped
on by machines were being hammered in place with wooden
mallets. Even the water for the factory was drawn from
an outdoor well, hoisted by hand, and carried inside.
The solution proposed by the U.S. occupiers was not to
fix the plant but to sell it, and so when Bremer
announced the privatization auction back in June 2003
this was among the first companies mentioned. Yet when
I visited the factory in March, nobody wanted to talk
about the privatization plan; the mere mention of the
word inside the plant inspired awkward silences and
meaningful glances. This seemed an unnatural amount of
subtext for a soap factory, and I tried to get to the
bottom of it when I interviewed the assistant manager.
But the interview itself was equally odd: I had spent
half a week setting it up, submitting written questions
for approval, getting a signed letter of permission
from the minister of industry, being questioned and
searched several times. But when I finally began the
interview, the assistant manager refused to tell me his
name or let me record the conversation.  "Any manager
mentioned in the press is attacked afterwards," he
said.  And when I asked whether the company was being
sold, he gave this oblique response: "If the decision
was up to the workers, they are against privatization;
but if it's up to the high-ranking officials and
government, then privatization is an order and orders
must be followed."
I left the plant feeling that I knew less than when I'd
arrived. But on the way out of the gates, a young
security guard handed my translator a note. He wanted
us to meet him after work at a nearby restaurant, "to
find out what is really going on with privatization."
His name was Mahmud, and he was a twenty-five-year-old
with a neat beard and big black eyes. (For his safety,
I have omitted his last name.) His story began in July,
a few weeks after Bremer's privatization announcement.
The company's manager, on his way to work, was shot to
death. Press reports speculated that the manager was
murdered because he was in favor of privatizing the
plant, but Mahmud was convinced that he was killed
because he opposed the plan. "He would never have sold
the factories like the Americans want. That's why they
killed him."
The dead man was replaced by a new manager, Mudhfar
Ja'far. Shortly after taking over, Ja'far called a
meeting with ministry officials to discuss selling off
the soap factory, which would involve laying off two
thirds of its employees. Guarding that meeting were
several security officers from the plant. They listened
closely to Ja'far's plans and promptly reported the
alarming news to their coworkers. "We were shocked,"
Mahmud recalled. "If the private sector buys our
company, the first thing they would do is reduce the
staff to make more money. And we will be forced into a
very hard destiny, because the factory is our only way
of living."
Frightened by this prospect, a group of seventeen
workers, including Mahmud, marched into Ja'far's office
to confront him on what they had heard. "Unfortunately,
he wasn't there, only the assistant manager, the one
you met," Mahmud told me. A fight broke out: one worker
struck the assistant manager, and a bodyguard fired
three shots at the workers. The crowd then attacked the
bodyguard, took his gun, and, Mahmud said, "stabbed him
with a knife in the back three times. He spent a month
in the hospital." In January there was even more
violence. On their way to work, Ja'far, the manager,
and his son were shot and badly injured.  Mahmud told
me he had no idea who was behind the attack, but I was
starting to understand why factory managers in Iraq try
to keep a low profile.
At the end of our meeting, I asked Mahmud what would
happen if the plant was sold despite the workers'
objections. "There are two choices," he said, looking
me in the eye and smiling kindly. "Either we will set
the factory on fire and let the flames devour it to the
ground, or we will blow ourselves up inside of it. But
it will not be privatized."
If there ever was a moment when Iraqis were too
disoriented to resist shock therapy, that moment has
definitely passed. Labor relations, like everything
else in Iraq, has become a blood sport. The violence on
the streets howls at the gates of the factories,
threatening to engulf them.  Workers fear job loss as a
death sentence, and managers, in turn, fear their
workers, a fact that makes privatization distinctly
more complicated than the neocons foresaw.[2]
* * *
As I left the meeting with Mahmud, I got word that
there was a major demonstration outside the CPA
headquarters. Supporters of the radical young cleric
Moqtada al Sadr were protesting the closing of their
newspaper, al Hawza, by military police. The CPA
accused al Hawza of publishing "false articles" that
could "pose the real threat of violence." As an
example, it cited an article that claimed Bremer "is
pursuing a policy of starving the Iraqi people to make
them preoccupied with procuring their daily bread so
they do not have the chance to demand their political
and individual freedoms." To me it sounded less like
hate literature than a concise summary of Milton
Friedman's recipe for shock therapy.
A few days before the newspaper was shut down, I had
gone to Kufa during Friday prayers to listen to al Sadr
at his mosque. He had launched into a tirade against
Bremer's newly signed interim constitution, calling it
"an unjust, terrorist document." The message of the
sermon was clear: Grand Ayatollah Ali al Sistani may
have backed down on the constitution, but al Sadr and
his supporters were still determined to fight it -- and
if they succeeded they would sabotage the neocons'
careful plan to saddle Iraq's next government with
their "wish list" of laws. With the closing of the
newspaper, Bremer was giving al Sadr his response: he
wasn't negotiating with this young upstart; he'd rather
take him out with force.
When I arrived at the demonstration, the streets were
filled with men dressed in black, the soon-to-be
legendary Mahdi Army. It struck me that if Mahmud lost
his security guard job at the soap factory, he could be
one of them. That's who al Sadr's foot soldiers are:
the young men who have been shut out of the neocons'
grand plans for Iraq, who see no possibilities for
work, and whose neighborhoods have seen none of the
promised reconstruction. Bremer has failed these young
men, and everywhere that he has failed, Moqtada al Sadr
has cannily set out to succeed. In Shia slums from
Baghdad to Basra, a network of Sadr Centers coordinate
a kind of shadow reconstruction. Funded through
donations, the centers dispatch electricians to fix
power and phone lines, organize local garbage
collection, set up emergency generators, run blood
drives, direct traffic where the streetlights donâ't
work. And yes, they organize militias too. Al Sadr took
Bremer's economic casualties, dressed them in black,
and gave them rusty Kalashnikovs. His militiamen
protected the mosques and the state factories when the
occupation authorities did not, but in some areas they
also went further, zealously enforcing Islamic law by
torching liquor stores and terrorizing women without
the veil.  Indeed, the astronomical rise of the brand
of religious fundamentalism that al Sadr represents is
another kind of blowback from Bremer's shock therapy:
if the reconstruction had provided jobs, security, and
services to Iraqis, al Sadr would have been deprived of
both his mission and many of his newfound followers.
At the same time as al Sadr's followers were shouting
"Down with America" outside the Green Zone, something
was happening in another part of the country that would
change everything. Four American mercenary soldiers
were killed in Fallujah, their charred and dismembered
bodies hung like trophies over the Euphrates. The
attacks would prove a devastating blow for the neocons,
one from which they would never recover. With these
images, investing in Iraq suddenly didn't look anything
like a capitalist dream; it looked like a macabre
nightmare made real.
The day I left Baghdad was the worst yet. Fallujah was
under siege and Brig. Gen. Kimmitt was threatening to
"destroy the al-Mahdi Army." By the end, roughly 2,000
Iraqis were killed in these twin campaigns. I was
dropped off at a security checkpoint several miles from
the airport, then loaded onto a bus jammed with
contractors lugging hastily packed bags. Although no
one was calling it one, this was an evacuation: over
the next week 1,500 contractors left Iraq, and some
governments began airlifting their citizens out of the
country. On the bus no one spoke; we all just listened
to the mortar fire, craning our necks to see the red
glow. A guy carrying a KPMG briefcase decided to
lighten things up.  "So is there business class on this
flight?" he asked the silent bus.  From the back,
somebody called out, "Not yet."
Indeed, it may be quite a while before business class
truly arrives in Iraq. When we landed in Amman, we
learned that we had gotten out just in time. That
morning three Japanese civilians were kidnapped and
their captors were threatening to burn them alive. Two
days later Nicholas Berg went missing and was not seen
again until the snuff film surfaced of his beheading,
an even more terrifying message for U.S. contractors
than the charred bodies in Fallujah. These were the
start of a wave of kidnappings and killings of
foreigners, most of them businesspeople, from a rainbow
of nations: South Korea, Italy, China, Nepal, Pakistan,
the Philippines, Turkey. By the end of June more than
ninety contractors were reported dead in Iraq. When
seven Turkish contractors were kidnapped in June, their
captors asked the "company to cancel all contracts and
pull out employees from Iraq." Many insurance companies
stopped selling life insurance to contractors, and
others began to charge premiums as high as $10,000 a
week for a single Western executive -- the same price
some insurgents reportedly pay for a dead American.
For their part, the organizers of DBX, the historic
Baghdad trade fair, decided to relocate to the lovely
tourist city of Diyarbakir in Turkey, "just 250 km from
the Iraqi border." An Iraqi landscape, only without
those frightening Iraqis. Three weeks later just
fifteen people showed up for a Commerce Department
conference in Lansing, Michigan, on investing in Iraq.
Its host, Republican Congressman Mike Rogers, tried to
reassure his skeptical audience by saying that Iraq is
"like a rough neighborhood anywhere in America." The
foreign investors, the ones who were offered every
imaginable free-market enticement, are clearly not
convinced; there is still no sign of them. Keith Crane,
a senior economist at the Rand Corporation who has
worked for the CPA, put it bluntly: "I don't believe
the board of a multinational company could approve a
major investment in this environment. If people are
shooting at each other, it's just difficult to do
business." Hamid Jassim Khamis, the manager of the
largest soft-drink bottling plant in the region, told
me he can't find any investors, even though he landed
the exclusive rights to produce Pepsi in central Iraq.
"A lot of people have approached us to invest in the
factory, but people are really hesitating now." Khamis
said he couldn't blame them; in five months he has
survived an attempted assassination, a carjacking, two
bombs planted at the entrance of his factory, and the
kidnapping of his son.
Despite having been granted the first license for a
foreign bank to operate in Iraq in forty years, HSBC
still hasn't opened any branches, a decision that may
mean losing the coveted license altogether. Procter &
Gamble has put its joint venture on hold, and so has
General Motors. The U.S. financial backers of the
Starwood luxury hotel and multiplex have gotten cold
feet, and Siemens AG has pulled most staff from Iraq.
The bell hasn't rung yet at the Baghdad Stock Exchange
-- in fact you can't even use credit cards in Iraq's
cash-only economy. New Bridge Strategies, the company
that had gushed back in October about how "a Wal-Mart
could take over the country," is sounding distinctly
humbled.  "McDonald's is not opening anytime soon,"
company partner Ed Rogers told the Washington Post.
Neither is Wal-Mart. The Financial Times has declared
Iraq "the most dangerous place in the world in which to
do business." It's quite an accomplishment: in trying
to design the best place in the world to do business,
the neocons have managed to create the worst, the most
eloquent indictment yet of the guiding logic behind
deregulated free markets.
The violence has not just kept investors out; it also
forced Bremer, before he left, to abandon many of his
central economic policies.  Privatization of the state
companies is off the table; instead, several of the
state companies have been offered up for lease, but
only if the investor agrees not to lay off a single
employee. Thousands of the state workers that Bremer
fired have been rehired, and significant raises have
been handed out in the public sector as a whole. Plans
to do away with the food-ration program have also been
scrapped -- it just doesn't seem like a good time to
deny millions of Iraqis the only nutrition on which
they can depend.
* * *
The final blow to the neocon dream came in the weeks
before the handover. The White House and the CPA were
rushing to get the U.N.  Security Council to pass a
resolution endorsing their handover plan.  They had
twisted arms to give the top job to former CIA agent
Iyad Allawi, a move that will ensure that Iraq becomes,
at the very least, the coaling station for U.S. troops
that Jay Garner originally envisioned. But if major
corporate investors were going to come to Iraq in the
future, they would need a stronger guarantee that
Bremer's economic laws would stick. There was only one
way of doing that: the Security Council resolution had
to ratify the interim constitution, which locked in
Bremer's laws for the duration of the interim
government. But al Sistani once again objected, this
time unequivocally, saying that the constitution has
been "rejected by the majority of the Iraqi people." On
June 8 the Security Council unanimously passed a
resolution that endorsed the handover plan but made
absolutely no reference to the constitution. In the
face of this far-reaching defeat, George W. Bush
celebrated the resolution as a historic victory, one
that came just in time for an election trail photo op
at the G-8 Summit in Georgia.
With Bremer's laws in limbo, Iraqi ministers are
already talking openly about breaking contracts signed
by the CPA. Citigroup's loan scheme has been rejected
as a misuse of Iraq's oil revenues. Iraq's
communication minister is threatening to renegotiate
contracts with the three communications firms providing
the country with its disastrously poor cell phone
service. And the Lebanese and U.S. companies hired to
run the state television network have been informed
that they could lose their licenses because they are
not Iraqi. "We will see if we can change the contract,"
Hamid al-Kifaey, spokesperson for the Governing
Council, said in May. "They have no idea about Iraq."
For most investors, this complete lack of legal
certainty simply makes Iraq too great a risk.
But while the Iraqi resistance has managed to scare off
the first wave of corporate raiders, there's little
doubt that they will return.  Whatever form the next
Iraqi government takes -- nationalist, Islamist, or
free market -- it will inherit a shattered nation with
a crushing $120 billion debt. Then, as in all poor
countries around the world, men in dark blue suits from
the IMF will appear at the door, bearing loans and
promises of economic boom, provided that certain
structural adjustments are made, which will, of course,
be rather painful at first but well worth the sacrifice
in the end. In fact, the process has already begun: the
IMF is poised to approve loans worth $2.5 - $4.25
billion, pending agreement on the conditions. After an
endless succession of courageous last stands and far
too many lost lives, Iraq will become a poor nation
like any other, with politicians determined to
introduce policies rejected by the vast majority of the
population, and all the imperfect compromises that will
entail. The free market will no doubt come to Iraq, but
the neoconservative dream of transforming the country
into a free-market utopia has already died, a casualty
of a greater dream -- a second term for George W. Bush.
The great historical irony of the catastrophe unfolding
in Iraq is that the shock-therapy reforms that were
supposed to create an economic boom that would rebuild
the country have instead fueled a resistance that
ultimately made reconstruction impossible. Bremer's
reforms unleashed forces that the neocons neither
predicted nor could hope to control, from armed
insurrections inside factories to tens of thousands of
unemployed young men arming themselves. These forces
have transformed Year Zero in Iraq into the mirror
opposite of what the neocons envisioned: not a
corporate utopia but a ghoulish dystopia, where going
to a simple business meeting can get you lynched,
burned alive, or beheaded. These dangers are so great
that in Iraq global capitalism has retreated, at least
for now. For the neocons, this must be a shocking
development: their ideological belief in greed turns
out to be stronger than greed itself.
Iraq was to the neocons what Afghanistan was to the
Taliban: the one place on Earth where they could force
everyone to live by the most literal, unyielding
interpretation of their sacred texts. One would think
that the bloody results of this experiment would
inspire a crisis of faith: in the country where they
had absolute free reign, where there was no local
government to blame, where economic reforms were
introduced at their most shocking and most perfect,
they created, instead of a model free market, a failed
state no right-thinking investor would touch. And yet
the Green Zone neocons and their masters in Washington
are no more likely to reexamine their core beliefs than
the Taliban mullahs were inclined to search their souls
when their Islamic state slid into a debauched Hades of
opium and sex slavery. When facts threaten true
believers, they simply close their eyes and pray
harder.
Which is precisely what Thomas Foley has been doing.
The former head of "private sector development" has
left Iraq, a country he had described as "the mother of
all turnarounds," and has accepted another turnaround
job, as co-chair of George Bush's reelection committee
in Connecticut.  On April 30 in Washington he addressed
a crowd of entrepreneurs about business prospects in
Baghdad. It was a tough day to be giving an upbeat
speech: that morning the first photographs had appeared
out of Abu Ghraib, including one of a hooded prisoner
with electrical wires attached to his hands. This was
another kind of shock therapy, far more literal than
the one Foley had helped to administer, but not
entirely unconnected. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not
as bad as it appears," Foley told the crowd. "You just
need to accept that on faith."
[Naomi Klein is the author of No Logo and
writer/producer of "The Take," a new documentary on
Argentina's occupied factories.]
Notes:
1. Tofiq did say that several U.S. companies had
expressed strong interest in buying the state-owned
cement factories. This supports a widely held belief in
Iraq that there is a deliberate strategy to neglect the
state firms so that they can be sold more cheaply--a
practice known as "starve then sell."
2. It is in Basra where the connections between
economic reforms and the rise of the resistance was put
in starkest terms. In December the union representing
oil workers was negotiating with the Oil Ministry for a
salary increase. Getting nowhere, the workers offered
the ministry a simple choice: increase their paltry
salaries or they would all join the armed resistance.
They received a substantial raise.
                                *

 Baghdad: Year Zero
Esticazzi.
Noto che ormai non metti neanche piu' OT, e vabbe'.
Ma almeno taglia i byte.
Bye,
	Red
-- 
"Beh, Stephen, quell'uccello e' senza ali..."
"Si'."
"...allora non si muovera' da li'."

 Esticazzi.
L'hai letto?

AP wrote:

Domanda non pertinente.
Gli sticazzi (e l'OT) sono indipendenti dal fatto che l'abbia letto o no.



cuoco
lotta dura senza paura

 lotta dura senza paura
Scirio, cacchio... se sei tu il primo a intervenire togli credibilita' 
alla lotta :P


 alla lotta :P
Trattandosi di AP, se vuoi intervengo in appoggio anche io, cosě sei
alla frutta... :))
	regards,
		Kazuma
-- 
In campo 22 giocatori, 10000 per gli organizzatori

 alla lotta :P
mi son sempre battuto contro gli ot non miei, soprattutto a quelli senza
tag, con scarsi risultati però :p

 alla frutta... :))
Calma. Quanto hai dato come voto a "La moglie dell'astronauta"? (IT)


scirio wrote:

Quindi la tua partecipazione a questo e' ininfluente. Scio' :P


 Calma. Quanto hai dato come voto a "La moglie dell'astronauta"? (IT)
Assolutamente insufficiente, nonostante Depp e la Theron... credo che
sia uno chei pochissimi film di depp che non mi sia piaciuto.
Se vuoi il voto alla Theron quello č piů alto...


 Quindi la tua partecipazione a questo e' ininfluente. Scio' :P
ti va bene che non c'è in giro la banda degli ot, se no chiederesti anche
l'aiuto dei lurker :p

 l'aiuto dei lurker :p
Ma se sei contro gli OT, perchè li alimenti scrivendo e rendendoli
lunghi? Ignorali.
	Regards,


 l'aiuto dei lurker :p
Rotfl.


 Se vuoi il voto alla Theron quello è più alto...
Mi basta questo.


 lunghi? Ignorali.
ma giusto per fargli notare che non è che siano molto giusti (in quella
quantità), sia mai che essendo loro dei tipi altruisti e per bene....

 
http://harpers.org/BaghdadYearZero.html
E' stato solo dopo essere stata in Bagada per un mese che ho trovato che
cosa stessi cercano.
Avevo viaggiato in iraq un anno dopo l'inizio della guerra, all'apice di
quello che avrebbe dovuto essere il boom della ricostruzione, ma dopo
settimane di ricerca non avvo visto un singolo pezzo di macchinario a parte
ruspe e carri armati. 
Poi lo vidi: una gru.
Era grande e gialla e quando la scorsi dall'angolo di una quartiere
affollato di negozi, ho pensato che stavo per testimoiare quella
ricostruzione della quale avevo sentito parlare cosi' tanto.
Ma quando sono andata vicina mi sono resa conto che la gru non sta
effettivamente ricostruendo nulla.
nessuno degli edifici governativi abbattuti dalle bombe che ancora giacono
in briciole ovunque nella citta'.
Nemmeno una delle molte linee di alta tensione, ancora attorcigliate.
No, la gru ospitava un gigantesco striscione alto 3 piani:
Subulah, miele 100 per cento naturale, fatto in Arabia saudita.
vedendo la scritta non ho potuto fare a meno di pensare a quando il
senatore John McCain aveva detto in ottobre.
Iraq, ha detto, e' un enorme vaso di miele che attira un sacco di mosche.
Le mosche delle quali parlava il senatore erano la
 Halliburtons and Bechtels come tutti i capitalisti di venture che
sciamavano in Iraq sui percorsi puliti dai veicoli Bradley Fighting e le
bombe guidate dal laser.
Il miele che li ha guidati non e' solo contratti senza asta e la ricchezza
del petrolio iraqeno, ma le miriadi di opportunita' di investimento offerte
da un paese che e' appena stato aperto in due dopo che per decenni era
stato sigillato, prima dalle politica nazionaliste di Saddam, poi dalle
sanzioni asfissianti dell'ONU.
Guardando allo striscione del miele, mi veniva in mente una delle piu'
comuni spiegazioni sul cosa e' andato storto in Iraq, un lamento che
echeggia ovunque, da John Kerry a Pat Buchanan: 
Iraq e' impantanato nel sangue e nelle privazioni perche' Bush non aveva un
"piano del dopo guerra".
L'unico problema con questo teoria e' che non e' vera.
L'amministrazione Bush aveva un piano per cosa fare dopo la guerra, messa
semplicemente, era, mettere giu' piu' miele possibile, poi sedersi e
aspettare le mosche.
 * * *
la teoria del miele sulla ricostruzione dell'iraq germoglia dal piu' caro
credo degli architetti ideologici della guerra: che l'avidita' sia buona.
Non solo per essi stessi e i loro amici, ma buona per l'umanita', e
certamente buona per gli Iraqeni.
L'avidita' crea profitto, che crea crescita, che crea lavoro e prodotti e
servizi e ogni altra cosa che si puo' desiderare o volere.
Il ruolo di un buon governo, quindi, e' di creare le condizioni ottimali
per le corporazioni di perseguire la loro avidita' senza fondo.
Cosi' che in cambio possano soddisfare i bisogni delle societa'.
Il problema e' che i governi, persino i neoconservativi, raramente hanno
l'occasione di provare che la lroo sacra teoria e' giusta.
Nonostante le loro enormi potenzialita', persino i repubblicani di Bush
sono, nelle loro stesse menti, perennemente sabotati dalle interferenze dei
democratici, i sindacati intrattabili, gli allarmi degli ambientalisti.
Iraq stava per cambiare tutto questo. In un posto sulla terra, la teoria
avrebbe potuto essere messa finalmente in pratica nella sua piu' perfetta e
senza compromessi forma. un paese di 25 milioni di persone, non sarebbe
stato ricostruito come era prima, sarebbe stato cancellato, scomparso.
Al suo posto sarebbe sorto una scintillante esposizione della economia del
"lasciatemi fare", una utopia come il mondo non ha mai visto.
Ogni regola che avrebbe liberato le multinazionali nel perseguire la loro
ricerca del profitto sarebbe stata messa in pratica: uno stato
rimpicciolito, forza del lavoro flessibile, frontiere aperte, tasse minime,
niente tariffe, nessuna restrizione sul possesso.
la gente dell'iraq avrebbe dovuto, ovviamente, soffriere qualche pena a
breve termine. Le proprieta', precedentemente possedute dallo stato,
avrebbero dovuto essere date via per creare nuove opportunita' di crescita
e investimento.
Il lavoro si sarebbe perso e, come i prodotti stranieri avessero cominciato
a inondare il mercato, l'economia minta e famigliare locale non sarebbe
stata in grado di tenere il passo.
 
Ma, per gli autori del piano, questo sarebbe stato un piccolo prezzo da
pagare per il boom economico che sarebbe sicuramente esploso una volta che
le opportune condizioni fossero installate, un boom cosi' potente che il
paese avrebbe praticamente ricostruito se stesso.
Il fatto che il boom non sia mai arrivato e l'iraq continui a tremare sotto
esplosioni di tipo molto diverso non deve essere incolpato all'assenza di n
piano.
Piuttosto, la colpa resta allo stesso piano, e sulla straordinariamente
violenta ideologia sulla quale era basato.
 
 * * *
I torturatori credono che quando una scossa elettrica...
( mi ha letto qualcuno fino a qui, vado avanti?)
 

 ( mi ha letto qualcuno fino a qui, vado avanti?)
Certo, prosegui pure...



Si', si', vai avanti. Magari se riesci anche a tradurre meglio...
ciao,
bax
-- 
http://bax.blogspot.com
"I BOND sono come le obbligazioni, ma quando compri
un BOND ti senti molto piu' fico. E' come andare al PUB
invece che all'osteria...."
www.iaciners.org

 mi son sempre battuto contro gli ot non miei,
stupenda. Posso metterla come sign?

 Si', si', vai avanti. Magari se riesci anche a tradurre meglio...
Non e' carino farglielo notare. Ricorda che in fondo lui fa questo 
lavoro per noi non capenti.


n3tgan3sh wrote:

certo, aspettavo che qualcuno se ne accorgesse ;-)
-- 
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 lavoro per noi non capenti.
Beh, non volevo alludere a niente, io.


 Beh, non volevo alludere a niente, io.
Hai solo alluso al fatto che gia' che c'era poteva tradurre meglio :)
BYe,



in video :
http://www.chohomio.com/


in video :
http://www.chohomio.com/

............................ wrote:

è questo il punto!



Non è sufficiente se non si trasmuta nel voto al film
Boris
-- 
UFV: Viaggio per la pace nell'aldilà - G. Ghose (7,5)

 Non è sufficiente se non si trasmuta nel voto al film
Fa media.


 Non è sufficiente se non si trasmuta nel voto al film
...ho creato dei mostri...
che bello...mi sento un po' Doctor Frankestiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin
-- 
2/12/72
mi riservo con fermezza il diritto di contraddirmi

 Fa media.
Vale una cosa così?
	Voto Film:							4.75
	Voto generico su C.Theron come donna	7.75
	Voto generico su J.Depp come attore		7.50
	:)


 	Voto generico su C.Theron come donna	7.75
Troppo basso.
Direi che un 12 potrebbe andare.


 Voto generico su J.Depp come attore 7.50
media 6.67
:o)


:o)
Il premio IT è basato sul voto al film. Che è un giudizio complessivo,
comprendente le varie componenti. Alle quali si danno dei pesi.
Quindi 4,75.
Quando Muccini farà il premio IT - Theron/Depp con la lista dei loro
film se ne riparla.
Per il concetto di media, ho dei manuali di statistica da qualche
parte.


 parte.
...ho venduto anche quelli...


>> Voto generico su J.Depp come attore 7.50
Eccoli qui, 2/12, russel e boris.
ma come siete finiti a parlare della Theron in questo thread?

 On Thu, 30 Sep 2004 11:59:02 +0200, Boris wrote:

Il problema di quando killi qualcuno è che poi hai problemi a seguire
i threads...
Scirio è intervenuto, russel gli ha detto che dequalificava la sua
battaglia, io sono intervenuto dicendo che se entravo anche io ai tuoi
occhi la sua battaglia sarebbe stata dequalificata del tutto e lui mi
ha chiesto della moglie dell'astronauta...
Manuale del perfetto "come far diventare IT un OT".
Ma che lo scrivo a fare, tanto tu non mi leggi? 
Chissene, io lo scrivo lo stesso... giusto per occupare spazio su
Google. 
Peccato che non mi leggi, ti sei persa la mia offerta per
"semplificare" e "automatizzare" il discorso delle mini-recensioni dei
film.


 ma come siete finiti a parlare della Theron in questo thread?
Un modo come un altro per portarlo IT.
Ringraziaci.


 film.
Che, diciamolo, messe cosi' sono una mezza cagata.


 Un modo come un altro per portarlo IT.
Si, ma avendomi killato ed avendo deciso di ignorarmi, non riesce a
linkare la sequenza che ha portato alla Theron. (E si perde anche le
mie offerte di sistemi automatici per le minirecensioni). Sono scelte.
Quindi gli devi spiegare la sequenza.


 Manuale del perfetto "come far diventare IT un OT".
...potresti diventare un fantastico IT...???
http://www.iaciners.org/iaciners/I_temerari.htm


 Che, diciamolo, messe cosi' sono una mezza cagata.
Infatti, difficili da gestire, extra lavoro... con una applicazioncina
web sarebbe cosa semplice da gestire, stampare, ottenere...
Ma sai... l'odio è l'odio. Spero che qualcun altro si offra per
sviluppare la stessa cosa... così la potrà leggere.
	Regards,


 Quindi gli devi spiegare la sequenza.
Se la ricostruisca da solo. Perche' facilitargli le cose se se le 
complica da solo?
Oppure gli si potrebbe dire che gia' stanno meditando di fare un film 
sull'Iraq con la Theron.


 punti.
Allora postdata LMDA a dopo Monster e tienine conto.



Ma non dovevi dare la tessera n. 3 a Totò Fanelli?


 Ma non dovevi dare la tessera n. 3 a Totò Fanelli?
...non mi occupo degli aggiornamenti del sito...
come vedi...sei ancora tu il n. 1


 Ma non dovevi dare la tessera n. 3 a Totò Fanelli?
ahhhhhhhhhhh...dimenticavo...
pero' la locandina e' bellizzzzima...vero...? :o)


 Si', si', vai avanti. Magari se riesci anche a tradurre meglio...
Penso che non ci sia bisogno di tradurre di nuovo: č stato gią tradotto in
italiano sul num 555 (3 settembre) di Internazionale.
Hamlet

Hamlet wrote:

Meglio, cosi' facciamo un controllo.


 Meglio, cosi' facciamo un controllo.
Bene, ma se sbagliano tieni la mano leggera, non era un pezzo facile.

 Bene, ma se sbagliano tieni la mano leggera, non era un pezzo facile.
Per quello hai rinunciato a tradurlo tutto?


 Per quello hai rinunciato a tradurlo tutto?
Non ho rinunciato, l'interesse era basso e se poi e' uscito su
internazionale, meglio.

 e se poi e' uscito su internazionale, meglio.
Ma nessuno se l'e' cagato su internazionale, senno' usciva sul ng un 
mese fa.
Invece, grazie a te...
Su, su...


> e se poi e' uscito su internazionale, meglio.
A me interessava e non compro l'internazionale. Al massimo ascolto
radio popolare, ma lě non l'hanno trasmesso...
	regards,


 A me interessava e non compro l'internazionale.
E fai male!
Internazionale e Ratman sono le uniche riviste che mi
sentirei di definire "indispensabili".
-- 
ste
"And crawling on this planet's face, some insects called the human race.
 Lost in time. And lost in space... and meaning."

 sentirei di definire "indispensabili".
Giusto.
E poi che se lo legga in inglese, ha vissuto degli anni in america...

 E poi che se lo legga in inglese, ha vissuto degli anni in america...
Scusa, visto che tu chiedevi se a qualcuno interessava, e poi quando
qualcuno č interessato tu non la posti...
La prossima volta sarebbe piů carino non offrire nemmeno di fare
quella cosa. No?
Come si dice a Parma "di che ti s'abriga" e non offrirlo neanche...
	regards,
		Kazuma
-- 
Alessandro "Kazuma" Garbagnati, kazuma(presso)jguru(punto)com
Tomcat & EJB FAQ Manager, 
http://www.jguru.com
Java User Group Milano - 
http://www.jugmilano.it

 Bene, ma se sbagliano tieni la mano leggera, non era un pezzo facile.
Fai il traduttore di professione?
Hamlet

 Fai il traduttore di professione?
No.