#NOT A DRAG on any academic that is doing any work with real rigor!!!!!!

[presidentkamala]

I went to columbia a few years ago and all my professors fucking railed against chatgpt, what a progression it's been lol. of course they also would probably give an A+ to al qaeda at this point if they submitted essays analyzing western decadence so wtf do i know

SCREAM Columbia has really entered the Vortex like idek what to think!! Back in my youth the folks that did go were a little more ~~radical~~ ig but it was early obama/ending the war on terror years and felt proportional! But now i guess they all grew up and have been laundering their opinions through academic studies through various "lenses" and managed to scrape by enough to effect some of the academic culture at these schools

[rubiatinctorum]

During my second bachelor's degree, a year-long program, a lot of strange (and often unpleasant) things happened, in part by virtue of putting ninety people used to academic rigor and student silence during lectures together in a program with all the intensity of a social club, where school becomes a great deal of filling out children's worksheets asking us to call ourselves 'smart.' But one series of things in particular happened during the year that I'm still not sure the nature of, but one way or another, it's unkind to someone.

There was a student in some of the classes that was often rather polite to me, but an early experience set us off on, in my mind, not the best of notes. He was telling a personal anecdote that I think had to do with his home and family, and my friend sitting next to me happened to sneeze. No fault of her own; most people don't choose when they do that. At best, a person can feel it coming a few seconds in advance and try to aim the blast away from their peers/electronics/general area. And, like I generally do, I passed her a quiet "bless you." I thought nothing of it. That is what I do when people sneeze, in part out of habit, and in part because I don't want any of my friends to end up being the person at the table whose sneeze is unaddressed. It's the little things that count when it comes to letting your friends know you cherish them. Anyway, class ends, or the mid-class break starts; either way it's not instructional time. And this student approaches the table and solemnly informs us that someone was disrespectful and laughed (and it sounded like it came from this table). I manage to slip out before I can hear much of the rest, but it sounded like my friends got a little talking to about respecting others. I don't think he blamed them overtly, but the implication was there.

Why didn't I tell him it was a sneeze and a response? Well, to be honest, it took a while for me to connect what he heard as a laugh to what really happened. I didn't understand that day why he told off my friends at my table. Only pieced it together later.

We had a few conversations after that, because as much as you here may know me to be an asocial, somewhat unpleasant, and deeply suspicious person, I try to be cordial in real life. I care a great deal for decorum when I must, and I didn't want to give him any more suspicion toward myself or my friend group. Then, one day on an awful two-week work term, one of my classmates told me to watch out for him, that he was a womanizer, and he wasn't respectful to women.

I trust her. She was one of the first people in the program to show me kindness often, and throughout the year, she was generous with her compliments, company, and a clementine. I miss her greatly. And, girls watch out for each other, right? Much of me still does not disbelieve her.

The work term went by, and thankfully ended. The rest of the fall semester dragged along with troubles with transportation and at home, and the rapid decline of my mental wellbeing bleeding into my interpersonal connections puts the patience of my friends to the test. By the start of the spring semester, the social lineup was clear. The group of three from our table in the first term turned into a group of two and one desperate satellite.

(I'm sure they wouldn't think of it that way. I know I wasn't the easiest to be around in those days, either. But for the rest of the program, I no longer enjoyed the same degree of company with them I had before. I was surprised at convocation that they were disappointed I wasn't sticking around long enough so they could get some pictures with me.)

Between the in-class semesters, I had another, longer work term. They were the best of times and the worst of times. This isn't the time or place to elaborate.

And then, the spring semester. Somewhere along the way, numbers dropped from ninety to eighty-four. Part of me was amazed I wasn't among the number missing, after that work term. What's relevant to this right now is that one of the students was no longer a student, but listed under a different category I can't remember the name of, basically meaning he'd observe class, but not have to do the assignments. I don't know if he observed many classes, but the social justice one was the only one I ever saw him in after.

At some point in the program, another student passed this information along to me, like a secret. There seemed to be speculation among classmates as to what this meant. I can't say I didn't wonder. Every now and then he'd try to converse with me. I can't say I didn't feel guilty, harbouring a suspicion of him since the very first term after my friend's allegedly insensitive sneeze, trying to be careful due to my other friend's warning about him, and having accepted speculation through the grapevine about his enrollment status in the program.

Did I start trying to avoid him when I'd hear him in the hallway? Perhaps. He's not the only one I did it to. There were a couple or a few people, for different reasons. Frankly, I didn't often feel very talkative in my limited time between classes, or before them. I did spend my mornings hammering away on a mobile rhythm game alone at the end of the hall, nervous when strangers would come to speak to me because I guess there was no one else around, and I was there day after day for an hour or more. In a program that only got more and more based on social connections and group projects, I had basically given up trying to be social, except with a few people.

One morning, while I waited at the end of the hall for classes to begin, one of the professors talked to someone I think was also a professor. He had the reputation in the program of being grandfatherly, but I didn't find that at all. If he was, I'd hate to know what kind of grandfathers they had. This guy had already told the cohort he would only say nice things during our observations, didn't say a single nice thing during mine, and then breached my data by giving the shitty review to the email address of a student he wouldn't even tell me the name of, so he'd already blown my chances at being #1 Prof. Anyway, one day I heard him talking about the student (or, the whatever the term is I forget when someone is taking the lectures but not the assessments) to this other prof. Saying that he's difficult, that he's rude, and complaining a lot about him in a way I'd never heard him speak so directly in a negative manner before, even in my awful observation report. I don't know if he realised I was at the end of the hall, and indeed, listening, or not.

I've seen the fellow since, at work once when I was called in to the same building as he was for the day. I never ever asked what the whole deal was about the status on the enrollment that didn't say 'student' when everyone else's did. It's not my business. I didn't think people could get their work cert without doing the program as a student, but what the hell do I know?

I can't make sense of all of it. Either everyone was telling the truth, and this guy was rude to everyone who mentioned him (except for me?), and a womanizer, and suspicious, and to be gossiped about, and condemned by academic staff that pretended otherwise to adore everyone. OR. (and this is where the conspiratorial part of my brain kicks in; I don't thoroughly believe this, but I'm paranoid about it) it was a social experiment to plant someone in the cohort that students and staff were put up to spreading gossip and rumours about as part of the plan, to see who would take the bait and therefore was unfit to work in such a people-oriented profession. Did the other people give those warnings and complaints because they meant it and were fine with the gossip, or did they do it because they were instructed to in order to test the social mettle of the potential candidates for the profession? Probably the former, but sometimes, I can't help but to wonder if it's the latter, because of my paranoid nature. Was someone trying to catch me, and probably other students too, out on a crime of morality, to prove we will believe unproven warnings about a person who has otherwise appeared polite for the sake of mitigating personal risk? Was it a damn social experiment? Or did I somehow get the nice treatment from someone many others in the cohort including one of the profs had seen to be a menace?

It makes me uneasy to think about.

As courses start again, and I'm going into only my second September since I was a very young child where I do not have to attend courses or classes as a student, I sometimes miss university. But, what I feel nostalgic for isn't that program, or that year. It's the early days, when I was taking dry 9 am lectures with other people my age rather than getting tangled in the gossip and fraught social dynamics of people few to many years my senior.

[telli1206]

You’re So Fine, You Blow My Mind (Part 4)

Tourney player Jay is smitten with the new cheerleader, and Evie and Mal help get them together.

Click here for Part 1: Jay

Click here for Part 2: Mal

Click here for Part 3: Evie

Part 4: Carlos

Carlos doesn’t have much time for dating. With his rigorous academic schedule, cheer practice and games, as well as the tutoring he squeezes in for extra cash, his free time is, well, sparce, to say the least. Dating is an activity he can easily put on the backburner while he focuses his attention on more...important things.

That’s not to say he doesn’t get asked out on dates. He’s aware that he’s at least somewhat attractive. Cheerleading keeps him fit and toned, and he’s gotten his fair share of compliments on his brown doe eyes and bright smile. And based on his initial impressions, the attention his looks garnered at his old school would likely continue at Auradon Prep.

As a matter of fact, he was asked out the first day he set foot on campus.

Aziz had given him his tour, and after seeing the campus, the classrooms, and finally, his room, the boy had offered to show Carlos around the city that night too, after he got settled in. And maybe after seeing the sights...they might see the backseat of his car, he had offered with a suggestive wink.

But these conceited jocks were all the same, and Carlos had become a master at the polite decline, careful not to bruise their tender egos. He easily scooted away from Aziz and his overly cocky grin, apologizing and blaming his already busy schedule. He suggested revisiting the idea once he had time to acclimate, and though Aziz was taken aback at the refusal, the hint at future potential kept him intact and smiling when he left. 

The boys that showed interest in Carlos were all the same, really. Types just like Aziz. The hot, boastful athletes, too obsessed with the game, and themselves, to bother with any kind of meaningful relationship. They could offer Carlos nothing more than a fun time and to be their ultimate accessory as they worried about silly things like their popularity, how their hair looked and the number of friends they had. Carlos found it easy to say no to boys like that. 

But Jay was...different. Intriguing. 

He didn’t want to mention it when they first met, but Carlos had caught a glimpse at Jay’s...less than stellar performance at practice the previous day. He had to stifle his laughter a few times when he saw him - the boy could barely manage to stay on his feet! He definitely did not look like the “star player” all the cheerleaders fawned about when someone would mention the infamous Jay.

But Carlos was still impressed with him. Despite all the setbacks, Jay had simply cursed his luck and kept going, too determined to let a bad practice stop him. Carlos has seen more than a few tourney players throw a fit or pout like immature babies when they think they look bad, so the fact that the dark haired boy refused to quit, or even complain, definitely caught Carlos’ attention.

Well, that, and he was pretty fucking handsome. There’s just no denying that. (Trailing his fingers along smooth, tanned skin, or running them through silky locks may have already crossed Carlos’ mind once or twice).

And that’s why, even though he’s not usually that forward, Carlos decided to call  his plans with Jay...a date. It just, seemed right to him in the moment, and he decided to go with it. Why not? Jay’s sweet, shy behavior was so endearing, and it made Carlos feel empowered and bold to be the one to bring up the idea of a date between them. 

And when Jay tried to hide his bright flush and wide smile when Carlos uttered the word, he only felt that much more excited to spend time with the jock, to get a chance to know him better.

----

Their dinner at Auradon City Grille had been quiet, but not uncomfortable. Carlos was mainly responsible for keeping the conversation going, randomly dropping questions between bites of his veggie burger, a still timid Jay picking at his fries quietly as he responded. The intermittent light chatter was smattered through soft smiles and breathy laughter as they ate and revelled in each other’s company.

Carlos thoroughly enjoyed talking to Jay. His knowledge of the tourney team’s stats, plays and strategies was interesting, and his passion for the game was alight in his eyes and occasional lively hand gestures, which made Jay thrilling to watch when he talked about it. And when conversation drifted to cheerleading, Carlos felt warm under Jay’s attention, the boy staring at him in awe and hanging onto his every word as Carlos detailed the dance routines and cheers he was already working on with Evie, and their plans to unveil a new routine at the next game.

“So, you can really do a back handspring?” Jay’s eyes are wide and fixed on Carlos as they get up to leave, pausing to drop some cash on the table.

Carlos nods as he stands, throwing in a tiny shrug.

“Once you nail it the first time it’s actually pretty easy.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Jay chuckles. “Either way, I’m impressed. You’ve got some real skill, De Vil.”

Carlos smiles warmly, looking away briefly when he feels the heat rise in his cheeks. They walk slowly, bumping shoulders lightly as they make their way out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk.

Carlos stops suddenly once they step outside. He cranes his neck to look down each side of the street, trying to spot their next stop.

Jay turns his body towards Carlos, crowding him a little as he places a wide palm on the small of his back. Carlos straightens up slightly, feeling a jolt up his spine at the gentle touch. Jay leans closer to Carlos’ face. stretching his arm across his body to point across the street.

“Mrs. Pott’s is right over there,” he breathes calmly. “That is, if you’re still interested in grabbing a cupcake. Chocolate right?”

Carlos’ smile lights up his face. “Yes! Of course I’m still interested. I’ve been thinking about that cupcake all day,” he replies with a giggle.

Jay rubs at the back of his neck, turning his face away slightly. “Well, I’ve been thinking about something, or someone, else all day.”

His words take a few seconds to register, but when they finally do, Carlos’ expression turns coy as he leans in to nudge Jay on the shoulder.

“Oh stop it,” he teases. “You’re such a charmer, aren’t you?”

Jay snickers softly, avoiding Carlos’ eyes. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I don’t? So what are you saying? You charm everyone more than you do me?” Carlos asks, quirking a brow.

Before he can answer, they reach Mrs. Pott’s Coffee & Tea. Jay silently steps forward to pull the door open, and Carlos grins at him as he steps inside, Jay’s hand returning to the small of his back to guide Carlos to the front to order.

Once their cupcakes and coffee are decided on and paid for, Jay and Carlos claim a booth in the back, Carlos scooting in with Jay close behind. Their eyes meet for a moment before a flustered Jay has to look away again.

“I-I...th-thought-” He starts to stutter, slowly stumbling over his words. Even sitting next to Jay, Carlos has to strain a little to hear his faint mutterings.

Jay stops, and takes a deep breath, sighing it out loudly. “-I, thought, I was smooth. A flirt. You’re not the first to...call me a-a...charmer.”

He starts fidgeting with the ends of his hair, twirling it between his fingers as he braves a glance at Carlos. Carlos’ lips are perked into a tiny smile, but there’s confusion in his eyes, and his head is tilted as he studies Jay.

“But I’m just, I’m a mess,” he sighs, a tinge of sadness in his tone. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.”

Carlos reaches over and covers Jay’s hand with his own, caressing it gently as he offers a sweet smile. Jay smiles back, timid, but eyes sparkling with hope.

"You’re not ruining anything, I’m having a great time. Thank you for showing me downtown Auradon. I think I’m really going to like it here.”

Carlos’ eyes crinkle with delight when he notices Jay’s pinking cheeks. They share a smile for a moment, but are interrupted when steaming cups of coffee and sparkling cupcakes are placed down in front of them.

“Now I know I’m going to like it here,” Carlos exclaims happily, lifting the frothy whipped chocolate confection up close to his face. He swipes his finger across the frosting, picking up a few glitter sprinkles along the way, and quickly sucks the finger into his mouth, pulling it out from between his pursed lips with a quiet pop.

He dares a peek at Jay, and grins smugly at the success of his action. Jay’s pink has burned to a deep red on his face, eyes widened in suprise.

Carlos keeps the smile on his face as he turns back to his dessert to take an actual bite. He can’t hide a tiny moan of pure joy that escapes him at the rich sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue. 

But before he can dive in for more, a loud chortle stops him in his tracks. Jay’s pointing at Carlos/ face, his own mouth dusted with white vanilla frosting and purple glitter. A tiny chunk of frosting sits on one corner of his mouth.

“Are you trying to douse your face in chocolate? I think you missed a spot,” he jokes, pointing at a spot on Carlos’ chin.

Carlos perks his eyebrows at Jay, and takes a long swipe across his lips with his tongue. Jay swallows audibly, eyes fixed on Carlos’ mouth.

“You might need a mirror, you’re not doing much better than me,” he giggles, waving at Jay’s face.

In a sudden, impulsive move, Carlos decides to bring a finger to Jay’s cheek, scooping the stray frosting off the corner of his mouth. He darts out his tongue, slowly dragging across the digit to clean away the excess dessert. His eyes never leave Jay’s as he hums his approval.

“Hmm. Not gonna lie, the vanilla is pretty good too. Thanks for letting me have a taste,” he says, throwing a flirty wink.

Jay straightens his back, smiling wider than ever, with a mischeivous glint in his eye.

“Well what about you? Aren’t you going to share with me then?”

Before Carlos can respond, Jay’s bringing him closer with a hand at the back if his neck. Their lips brush softly, and Jay dips down to pull Carlos’s bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it lightly. Carlos breathes a faint whimper at the sensation, letting his eyes slip shut as Jay pulls away.

“Was that, ok?” He asks, searching Carlos’ face, his eyes popping back open at Jay’s words.

“Yes,” Carlos replies, too dazed and happy to think of more words.

Jay snickers, drawing his hand from Carlos’ neck to thumb away some more frosting on his cheek.

“Would it...be safe to say...that I’ll be getting a second date?”

Carlos grins brightly. “Depends. Are you going to man up and actually do the asking this time?” He laughs, shoving Jay playfully in the chest.

Jay grabs at Carlos’ hand before he can withdraw it, pressing it between both of his palms as he smiles.

“You better fucking believe I will.”

[qqueenofhades]

You have given such great advice to so many, so I want to ask you my strange question. I have to write a story . . . a long one . . . a memoir . . . about this terrible thing that happened, that was overcome by grit pretty much, and lead to changes for the better in society. I've been putting it off for 5 years now, and need to do it. For reasons. I already have an interested publisher but am hesitant to get into this world I know nothing about. Any advice? Any good memoirs out there you love?

Oh wow. First of all, that sounds like a lot, and good for you for tackling it. I’m not sure how much I can say to your situation specifically, but I’ll see what I can do?

First, and while this may be obvious: write it only if you feel like you can in fact really do it. If you feel like you should do it, but don’t want to, or are still not ready for it or whatever, then it will be a huge drag on you, and it won’t be as good as it could be, and it sounds like a project on this scale should be done when you’re ready to commit serious time and attention to it. Maybe you’re in fact ready but need a push to get going, in which case great! Consider yourself gently nudged and greatly encouraged. But I’m also a believer that things have their place and season, so if you need a little more time, even though it’s already been five years, you should take that. On the other hand, if you know you’re ready to do it but just are having trouble breaking the procrastinating cycle, then find some way to ease yourself in. You can’t think about writing the whole thing at once, it will probably go through many rounds of revisions and edits, and you’re not going to end up with a finished project on day one. As someone who just finished a PhD dissertation that took three years, still has some final stuff to be added, and underwent COUNTLESS rewrites/critiques/edits/reworkings along the way, I know what a slog it is. But you can’t think of The End Result on day 1. Write parts of it, or scenes, or ideas, or lines. Whatever you need to start moving yourself into that space and to make tangible progress on it.

Next, I have had my run-around with the traditional agent/editor/publisher thing, though in the realm of fiction rather than memoirs, and it’s really frustrating, takes forever, and seems to involve endless effort and submission for very little result. If you already have an interested publisher: great! That will save you a whole lot of time and struggle in terms of finding who is going to give a platform to this once you’re done. Is this someone you feel like you can work with? Do they understand the project and are they willing to commit to working with you (rather than over you or around you) for the time that it will take to tell the story? You should still ask yourself these questions, since they’re not your ONLY option. If it was a case where they’re an okay fit but maybe not the best, or you wanted things tweaked, or didn’t know if you would feel comfortable with the working relationship, or anything – you still have the right to shop around. That is, if you’re not already physically under contract/have a deadline/etc. Before you do sign anything, see if you can find a lawyer friend or family member, or someone with experience in that department, to read it for you. Read it yourself too, of course, but also get an expert eye on it if possible.

With memoirs, and especially ones which apparently deal with sensitive topics like this one, there’s also a question of ethics. Are you going to change/conceal the names of real people you write about? Are there personally identifiable details or situations you can’t disclose? Are there possible legal restrictions about what you can say and how? I am a scholar, so my approach to do things like this is by evidence and documentary and citations, but that might not be your style. Nonetheless, there will be a reasonable expectation on the part of your readers that you are presenting them with a factual account of things that happened. There have been several high-profile cases recently where best-selling memoirs were discovered to have been partly or entirely fictionalised. Which…. is fine, if you’re writing fiction, but if this is marketed as a memoir and contains a claim to biographical or factual accuracy, how are you going to organise and present the materials you are working with, even if just for your own benefit? Unlike in an academic monograph, you don’t have to give a list of citations at the end, but even if you’re writing from your own memory about things that happened to you (presumably), there are going to be things you don’t remember/don’t know about/etc. Is there a way to provide supporting evidence to your reader? Were there news articles written about it? Is there somewhere else they can go apart from you, in other words, to verify this account?

If you’re interviewing people or including substantial portions that represent the thoughts/words of others, you’ll also want to make that clear and have some kind of system for referencing. Journalists would also advise you to use audio recorders when interviewing in a formal context, so you can go back and check words later (and also have physical proof if there’s ever any question about what was said). You also have to provide your subjects with some assurance that their words and views will be represented accurately, which may necessitate some kind of brief legal document or waiver for them to sign to give you permission to do that (and once again, about having a paper trail for your own benefit and legal protection). Once again, if you have a lawyer you can consult about this somewhere, especially someone who’s used to this kind of work, that would be helpful. I am not one and therefore am not going to give any kind of legal advice, but I can say that it could be definitely something for you to look into, and might help you feel more confident about what can be used and how.

I’m trying to think if there’s anything else I can say off the top of my head. I obviously write a certain kind of rigorously researched nonfiction with my academic stuff, though that’s not the same as personal memoir. I do think organisation, preparation, and general attention to starting off on a solid foot will help you, and like I said, you’re not expected to have it all written immediately. Some drafts or notes or outlines of the whole thing, however rough and subject to revision, will also help you.

Good luck!

[clubofinfo]

Expert: Ask anyone on the streets of Kabul about the revolutions that in recent years transformed huge parts of Latin America, and the chances are you’ll encounter a blank stare. Perhaps mentioning Cuba could evoke at least some recognition, but definitely not Venezuela, Ecuador or Bolivia. I know because I tried on several occasions, and I failed. Ask in the marvelous historic city of Herat, with its huge minarets and Italian military contingent, about Western imperialism, or about NATO and its murderous campaigns all over the world, and chances are that your question won’t even be understood. “Chances are that those Afghan people who can speak English or other Western languages, are now actually working for the Westerners; either for their military, or for their ‘defense’ contractors… or for the embassies, the United Nations, or perhaps some NGO”, explained an Asian reporter who is based in Afghanistan for more than two decades. “These people are not going to rock the boat, dwelling on crimes committed by the West, here and all over the world.” That appears to be the case. After more than 15 years of brutal Western occupation, Afghanistan appears to be thoroughly ruined. Not only in terms of its infrastructure and standards of living, and not only when it comes to all basic indicators like life expectancy (15th lowest in the world, according to the WHO, 2015) or education: all those things I expected. But perhaps even more significantly, the country is destroyed morally and intellectually. The only resistance the West is facing here comes from extremist groups and movements such as the Taliban and Daesh (ISIS). All intellectual and artistic struggles against the occupation have been destroyed, contained, bought, or frightened into near absolute silence. In fact, the occupation’ is not even called ‘occupation’, anymore. Pragmatic, opportunistic definitions are increasingly taking over those once mainstream narratives. As I was informed by a wealthy family on an outing in the Panjshir Valley: We are fully dependent on the presence of NATO troops in our country. Only foreigners are offering us well-paid and stable jobs. If they leave, we’d have to follow them; to emigrate to the United States or Europe. This is far from the once proud and brave Afghanistan, which managed to defeat British invaders, after that delivering a mortal blow to the Soviet Union. While in the country, I tried to investigate and to analyze; how on earth did Afghanistan end up on its knees? What force, what strategy was applied to break what appeared to be shatterproof? It was clear that the West has managed to unleash and to uphold a very complex and tremendously successful indoctrination campaign, enslaving the nation by applying various ‘weapons’, which it has used in all corners of the world. One of those ‘weapons’ is, of course, ‘education’. For instance, the American University of Kabul is literally regurgitating thousands of young sons and daughters of the elites, who are set on staying, after the proper dose of indoctrination and colorful diplomas, permanently loyal to the West. The nation’s curriculum, I was told, has been defined during long meetings at the US Embassy and at the offices of the World Bank. There is virtually an absolute control of information and media. As in all countries occupied by the West, as well as in all client states, the so-called social media plays a vital role, setting tendencies and directing discussion patterns. There is rigorous grooming of oppressive local governments, military and police, the institutions that are then always ready to suppress any open criticism of the Western occupation, or even the word ‘occupation’ itself. Then, naturally, as in all neo-colonies, there is that deadly interdependency between the elites and the West. An academic Prof Jawid Amin from the Academy of Social Sciences of Afghanistan explained to me, bitterly, during our short encounter in Kabul: We don’t have anyone openly critical of the US or the West here, because it is simply not allowed by the government. I personally don’t like the Americans, but I can’t tell you anything else… Even I work for the government. My brother and sister, as well as other relatives, are living in the United States. About critical arts: nothing could be exhibited here without permission from the government and since Karzai, the government is controlled by the West… ***** To discredit the former Soviet Union as well as the present-day Russia, and to smear China by all available indoctrination means, is one of the main goals of the Western propagandists and their local lackeys. It is because, if unchecked, both China and Russia could steal the hearts and minds of the local people. China’s impressive plan for virtually all Central Asian countries, called OBOR (“One Belt One Road”), was never allowed to be fully presented for discussion to the local population. It is particularly absurd, even grotesque, considering that China considers Afghanistan to be an extremely important potential partner in the region. The OBOR puts great accent on supporting local cultures, on true independence of the countries of Central Asia and beyond, and on the massive development of infrastructure, from telecommunication super highways, to real highways, railroads and airports, as well as ‘social infrastructure’, which would include schools, hospitals, public housing and sport facilities. Implementing OBOR would create millions of new jobs for the local people, something crucial in a country like Afghanistan, where even in the capital Kabul (according to many calculations) the unemployment rate has reached about 50%, and over 80% in many provincial capitals and the countryside. For the West, smearing China is essential. It has been building huge hospital wings, instead of watchtowers, which means it has been providing the wrong example to Afghan people, raising wrong expectations. The best example of the toxic anti-Chinese propaganda has been Mes Aynak. This ancient archeological site contains many priceless cultural treasures, some over 5,000 years old. It is also located in the area of arguably the greatest copper deposits in the region. Several years ago, a Chinese state-owned company (MCC) signed a MOU with the Afghan government. The company paid for the mining rights, but until now has not extracted one single kilogram of copper, despite pressure from the Afghan Ministry of Mines and Petroleum, which has been pushing for an immediate start to the excavation work. Why? Because the Chinese government gave orders to MCC to wait, so the archeological treasures could be safely excavated and preserved for the sake of Afghanistan and the world. I was explained by various international experts based in Kabul, that the Chinese President Xi Jinping declared at the Preliminary Session of the UN General Conference in New York, in November 2016, that his idea of OBOR is, in fact, a New Silk Road, and that it is based on the economic cooperation and on the promotion of the cultural preservation in the countries of the former Silk Road. Again, Afghanistan is clearly one of the most significant countries. The Afghan Ministry of Mines and Petroleum has for years been locked in a dispute with the hopelessly inept and disorganized (according to several of my sources who prefer to remain anonymous) Ministry of Information and Culture. Corruption also appears to be a serious issue. Until now, MCC has absolutely not done anything, except for some preliminary geological surveys conducted in 2008 and 2009. The company is losing a substantial amount of money, annually, but the orders from Beijing are clear: first the preservation of cultural treasures, and only then, economic interests. A similar approach would, of course, be unthinkable from any Western mining company, many of which are murdering and displacing the local population, in such places as Papua or South America. That is why the professional propaganda has to be applied, and all good intentions dragged through dirt. This sort of ideological warfare is actually one of the mightiest weapons of Western imperialism, implemented in virtually all corners of the globe. In March 2017, the Head of the Culture Unit of UNESCO, Mr. Masanori Nagaoka, told me clearly and frankly: “The Chinese company (MCC) has not yet commenced any copper exploitation activity at the site … It is because they respect the Afghan government’s wish to preserve the cultural artifacts of Mes Aynak.” UNESCO is now deeply involved in the process of saving all the valuable finds of the site. I was shown several up to date photographs, proving that no work has yet begun, and that at Mes Aynak, absolutely no damage has been done to the cultural heritage of Afghanistan. However, the more evidence there is proving that nothing sinister has happened, the more toxic the eruption of propaganda against China and its presence in Afghanistan, virtually all coming from Western and West-sponsored outlets. Entire ‘documentary films’ have been produced and broadcast, recounting the non-existent ‘crimes’ which have been, or ‘could soon be’, committed by China against Afghan culture. The most notorious is a documentary film by Brent E. Huffman, which was broadcast, among others, by Al-Jazeera. To quote from its own site, the film is addressing “A race against time to save a 5,000-year-old archaeological site in Afghanistan threatened by a Chinese state-owned copper mine.” Ms. Hiromi Yasui, a Kyodo News reporter who is based in Afghanistan since 1993, confirmed what I already heard from several independent sources: At Mes Aynak, there is no digging whatsoever… The Ministry of Mines and Petroleum wants work to commence soon. Therefore, there is a clash between them and the Ministry of Information and Culture. Lots of money disappeared, too… there is corruption… Regarding China, whenever there is a slightest chance that it could be doing something wrong, an anti-Chinese propaganda gets immediately activated. Now several legendary Chinese institutions of learning, including Renmin University and Northwest University in Xi’an, are getting involved, trying to help with the preservation of the site. This news is, however, hardly ever heard in Afghanistan and abroad. “The propaganda against China or Soviet Union now Russia, is of course nothing new”, explained a renowned Afghan intellectual, Dr. Omara Khan Masoudi, who used to be, among many other things, the former head of the National Museum: During the Cold War, the propaganda was truly extreme. Even such publications like ‘Le Monde’; they were writing that some of our greatest treasures were looted and siphoned to Moscow… We knew it was a lie, because we had hidden the treasures ourselves, in the premises of the Presidential Palace, and in the Ministries. And what was our answer to the Western propaganda? We created a small, one-day exhibition of our Afghan treasures, just 50-60 of the most important pieces, displayed for 2-3 hours, demonstrating that they are all still on the territory of our country. ***** While other countries are trying to build and preserve, the United States and the west could hardly show any coherent strategy for how to help the country they have been persistently ruining for decades and centuries. Despite the huge sums of money spent, almost nothing tangible was constructed here since 2001. That is, if the monstrous air force bases like the one at Bagram do not particularly impress you, or those bizarrely tall concrete walls that could be seen everywhere, or the endless surveillance cameras, towers and drones, as well as the military centers at every corner, stuffed with grotesquely overpaid foreign ‘contractors’. Andrew J. Bacevich wrote for the New York Times on 14 March 2017, trying to define (in the “Opinion” column) the chaos and perplexity of the ‘longest American war’: Despite appropriating over three-quarters of a trillion dollars on Afghanistan since 2001, Afghan security forces continue to be plagued by the problem of inflated rolls, with local commanders pocketing American-supplied funds to pay for nonexistent soldiers… Large-scale corruption persists, with Afghanistan third from the bottom in international rankings… Adjusted for inflation, American spending to reconstruct Afghanistan now exceeds the total expended to rebuild all of Western Europe under the Marshall Plan; yet to have any hope of surviving, the Afghan government will for the foreseeable future remain almost completely dependent on outside support. And things are getting worse. Although the United States has invested $70 billion in rebuilding Afghan security forces, only 63 percent of the country’s districts are under government control, with significant territory lost to the Taliban over the past year. Though the United States has spent $8.5 billion to battle narcotics in Afghanistan, opium production there has reached an all-time high. After this, Andrew J. Bacevich makes a dramatic conclusion: For this, over the past 15 years, nearly 2,400 American soldiers have died, and 20,000 more have been wounded. Oh, that bad, terrible Afghanistan – money guzzling, ungrateful and corrupt monster-state! Of course, anyone who has recently visited the country, and who is in possession of at least some ability of thinking objectively, must be rolling on the floor, dying from laughter, after consuming such reports. Where is ‘over a three-quarters of a trillion dollars’ visible ‘on the ground’? Ask the internally displaced people who are pouring into Kabul from all corners of the country, escaping misery, joblessness and fighting. They have nothing; absolutely nothing! Let’s do some simple math: three quarters of a trillion is 750 billion. Dollars. Afghanistan has almost 32 million inhabitants (estimate, 2014). Divide 750 billion by 32 million and you get 23,437 dollars and 50 cents, per capita per 15 years. Even a tiny Afghan family of two adults and two children could then count on $93,750! Which would be $6,250 per basic tiny family unit per year, for 15 consecutive years. Lucky, lucky country, Afghanistan! Just a reminder, that with those mountains of money, since 2001, the United States didn’t build a single mile of a railroad, no large public hospital or a public housing block. So where did the money go? Could it be possible that the West itself has wasted it on its greatest addiction – a perpetual conflict and chaos? Could it be that the Afghan people are simply being used, even sacrificed – that their nation is sinking into deeper and deeper poverty, their culture changing or disappearing altogether, their hope for recovery and better life now almost gone – just so that this tremendous ‘recycling action’ of three-quarters of a trillion dollars could go on and on? The Afghanistan war, ‘the longest in the US history’, is yet another ‘secret war’ of the Empire. Everyone knows that it exists, but no one seems to understand what it is all about. In the meantime, 2,400 American ‘boys and girls’ have already died. If anything, this seems to be the only preoccupation in the West. I’m wondering how many Afghans have died? How many millions have been forced to become refugees, how many millions are now internally displaced? Do they matter; do they count? Nobody seems to talk about them. How many lives were lost, really; how many were broken, thoroughly ruined? In the meantime, many Western reports and documentary films are more preoccupied with such issues as a Chinese mining company and the worries that ‘one day it may actually start digging’. First published by NEO http://clubof.info/