Francis A. Boyle
Law Building
504 E. Pennsylvania Avenue
Champaign IL 61820 USA
217-333-7954 (voice)
217-244-1478 (fax)
(personal comments only)
 

________________________________

From: Boyle, Francis
Sent: Sat 4/14/2007 11:26 AM
To: sissel
Subject: FW: ZNet Free Update essay from Howard Zinn


and  Romney, currently running for President, sought to reinstate the Death 
Penalty in Massachusetts even after we had both studied this case in Criminal 
Law together at Harvard Law School. fab
 
Francis A. Boyle
Law Building
504 E. Pennsylvania Avenue
Champaign IL 61820 USA
217-333-7954 (voice)
217-244-1478 (fax)
(personal comments only)
 

________________________________

From: Michael Albert [mailto:sy...@zmail.zmag.org]
Sent: Sat 4/14/2007 10:38 AM
To: undisclosed-recipients
Subject: ZNet Free Update essay from Howard Zinn



Hello,

Apologies that we haven't sent many free ZNet Updates recently. We
have been working hard on the coming upgrade of all our online
systems. Their implementation is getting close, now, at last...but
there is still much work to be done. We have been keeping up with
the sites themselves, however, and we hope you will pay a visit to
http://www.zmag.org/weluser.htm to utilize the new materials we
place there daily.

At any rate, for this mailing, below is an eloquent piece from
Howard Zinn, an excerpt from his new book, A Power Governments
Cannot Suppress, published earlier this year by City Lights. For
Howard's upcoming speaking schedule, see the City Lights Web site:
http://www.citylights.com <http://www.citylights.com/> .

Sacco and Vanzetti by Howard Zinn

The following is an excerpt from Howard Zinn's new book, A Power
Governments Cannot Suppress, published earlier this year by City
Lights. For Howard's upcoming speaking schedule, see the City Lights
Web site: http://www.citylights.com <http://www.citylights.com/> .

Fifty years after the executions of Italian immigrants Sacco and
Vanzetti, Governor Dukakis of Massachusetts set up a panel to judge
the fairness of the trial, and the conclusion was that the two men
had not received a fair trial. This aroused a minor storm in Boston.

One letter, signed John M. Cabot, U.S. Ambassador Retired, declared
his "great indignation" and pointed out that Governor Fuller's
affirmation of the death sentence was made after a special review
by "three of Massachusetts' most distinguished and respected
citizens-President Lowell of Harvard, President Stratton of MIT and
retired Judge Grant."

Those three "distinguished and respected citizens" were viewed
differently by Heywood Broun, who wrote in his column for the New
York World immediately after the Governor's panel made its report.
He wrote:

It is not every prisoner who has a President of Harvard University
throw on the switch for him..If this is a lynching, at least the
fish peddler and his friend the factory hand may take unction to
their souls that they will die at the hands of men in dinner jackets
or academic gowns.

Heywood Broun, one of the most distinguished journalists of the
twentieth century, did not last long as a columnist for the New
York World.

On that 50th year after the execution, the New York Times reported
that: "Plans by Mayor Beame to proclaim next Tuesday 'Sacco and
Vanzetti Day' have been canceled in an effort to avoid controversy,
a City Hall spokesman said yesterday."

There must be good reason why a case 50-years-old, now over
75-years-old, arouses such emotion. I suggest that it is because
to talk about Sacco and Vanzetti inevitably brings up matters that
trouble us today: our system of justice, the relationship between
war fever and civil liberties, and most troubling of all, the ideas
of anarchism: the obliteration of national boundaries and therefore
of war, the elimination of poverty, and the creation of a full
democracy.

The case of Sacco and Vanzetti revealed, in its starkest terms,
that the noble words inscribed above our courthouses, "Equal Justice
Before the Law," have always been a lie. Those two men, the fish
peddler and the shoemaker, could not get justice in the American
system, because justice is not meted out equally to the poor and
the rich, the native born and the foreign born, the orthodox and
the radical, the white and the person of color. And while injustice
may play itself out today more subtly and in more intricate ways
than it did in the crude circumstances of the Sacco and Vanzetti
case, its essence remains.

In their case, the unfairness was flagrant. They were being tried
for robbery and murder, but in the minds, and in the behavior of
the prosecuting attorney, the judge, and the jury, the important
thing about them was that they were, as Upton Sinclair put it in
his remarkable novel Boston, "wops," foreigners, poor workingmen,
radicals.

Here is a sample of the police interrogation:

Police: Are you a citizen?

Sacco: No.

Police: Are you a Communist?

Sacco: No.

Police: Anarchist?

Sacco: No.

Police: Do you believe in this government of ours?

Sacco: Yes; some things I like different.

What did these questions have to do with the robbery of a shoe
factory in South Braintree, Massachusetts, and the shooting of a
paymaster and a guard?

Sacco was lying, of course. No, I'm not a Communist. No, I'm not
an anarchist. Why would he lie to the police? Why would a Jew lie
to the Gestapo? Why would a black in South Africa lie to his
interrogators? Why would a dissident in Soviet Russia lie to the
secret police? Because they all know there is no justice for them.

Has there ever been justice in the American system for the poor,
the person of color, the radical? When the eight anarchists of
Chicago were sentenced to death after the Haymarket riot (a police
riot, that is) of 1886, it was not because there was any proof of
a connection between them and the bomb thrown in the midst of the
police; there was not a shred of evidence. It was because they were
leaders of the anarchist movement in Chicago.

When Eugene Debs and a thousand others were sent to prison during
World War I, under the Espionage Act, was it because they were
guilty of espionage? Hardly. They were socialists who spoke out
against the war. In affirming the ten-year sentence of Debs, Supreme
Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes made it clear why Debs must go
to prison. He quoted from Debs' speech: "The master class has always
declared the wars, the subject class has always fought the battles."

Holmes, much admired as one of our great liberal jurists, made clear
the limits of liberalism, its boundaries set by a vindictive
nationalism. After all the appeals of Sacco and Vanzetti had been
exhausted, the case was put before Holmes, sitting on the Supreme
Court. He refused to review the case, thus letting the verdict
stand.

In our time, Ethel and Julius Rosenberg were sent to the electric
chair. Was it because they were guilty beyond a reasonable doubt
of passing atomic secrets to the Soviet Union? Or was it because
they were communists, as the prosecutor made clear, with the approval
of the judge? Was it also because the country was in the midst of
anti-communist hysteria, communists had just taken power in China,
there was a war in Korea, and the weight of all that could be borne
by two American communists?

Why was George Jackson, in California, sentenced to ten years in
prison for a $70 robbery, and then shot to death by guards? Was it
because he was poor, black, and radical?

Can a Muslim today, in the atmosphere of the "war on terror" be
given equal justice before the law? Why was my upstairs neighbor,
a dark-skinned Brazilian who might look like a Middle East Muslim,
pulled out of his car by police, though he had violated no regulation,
and questioned and humiliated?

Why are the two million people in American jails and prisons, and
six million people under parole, probation, or surveillance,
disproportionately people of color, disproportionately poor? A study
showed that 70% of the people in New York state prisons came from
seven neighborhoods in New York City-neighborhoods of poverty and
desperation.

Class injustice cuts across every decade, every century of our
history. In the midst of the Sacco Vanzetti case, a wealthy man in
the town of Milton, south of Boston, shot and killed a man who was
gathering firewood on his property. He spent eight days in jail,
then was let out on bail, and was not prosecuted. The district
attorney called it "justifiable homicide." One law for the rich,
one law for the poor-a persistent characteristic of our system of
justice.

But being poor was not the chief crime of Sacco and Vanzetti. They
were Italians, immigrants, anarchists. It was less than two years
from the end of the First World War. They had protested against the
war. They had refused to be drafted. They saw hysteria mount against
radicals and foreigners, observed the raids carried out by Attorney
General Palmer's agents in the Department of Justice, who broke
into homes in the middle of the night without warrants, held people
incommunicado, and beat them with clubs and blackjacks.

In Boston, 500 were arrested, chained together, and marched through
the streets. Luigi Galleani, editor of the anarchist paper Cronaca
Sovversiva, to which Sacco and Vanzetti subscribed, was picked up
in Boston and quickly deported.

Something even more frightening had happened. A fellow anarchist
of Sacco and Vanzetti, a typesetter named Andrea Salsedo, who lived
in New York, was kidnapped by members of the Federal Bureau of
Investigation (I use the word "kidnapped" to describe an illegal
seizure of a person), and held in FBI offices on the 14th floor of
the Park Row Building. He was not allowed to call his family,
friends, or a lawyer, and was questioned and beaten, according to
a fellow prisoner. During the eighth week of his imprisonment, on
May 3, 1920, the body of Salsedo, smashed to a pulp, was found on
the pavement near the Park Row Building, and the FBI announced that
he had committed suicide by jumping from the 14th floor window of
the room in which they had kept him. This was just two days before
Sacco and Vanzetti were arrested.

We know today, as a result of Congressional reports in 1975, of the
FBI's COINTELPRO program in which FBI agents broke into people's
homes and offices, carried out illegal wiretaps, were involved in
acts of violence to the point of murder, and collaborated with the
Chicago police in the killing of two Black Panther leaders in 1969.
The FBI and the CIA have violated the law again and again. There
is no punishment for them.

There has been little reason to have faith that the civil liberties
of people in this country would be protected in the atmosphere of
hysteria that followed 9/11 and continues to this day. At home there
have been immigrant round-ups, indefinite detentions, deportations,
and unauthorized domestic spying. Abroad there have extra-judicial
killings, torture, bombings, war, and military occupations.

Likewise, the trial of Sacco and Vanzetti began immediately after
Memorial Day, a year and a half after the orgy of death and patriotism
that was World War I, when the newspapers still vibrating with the
roll of drums and the jingoist rhetoric.

Twelve days into the trial, the press reported that the bodies of
three soldiers had been transferred from the battlefields of France
to the city of Brockton, and that the whole town had turned out for
a patriotic ceremony. All of this was in newspapers that members
of the jury could read.

Sacco was cross-examined by prosecutor Katzmann:

Question: Did you love this country in the last week of May, 1917?

Sacco: That is pretty hard for me to say in one word, Mr. Katzmann.

Question: There are two words you can use, Mr. Sacco, yes or no.
What one is it?

Sacco: Yes

Question: And in order to show your love for this United States of
America when she was about to call upon you to become a soldier you
ran away to Mexico?

At the beginning of the trial, Judge Thayer (who, speaking to a
golf acquaintance, had referred to the defendants during the trial
as "those anarchist bastards") said to the jury: "Gentlemen, I call
upon you to render this service here that you have been summoned
to perform with the same spirit of patriotism, courage, and devotion
to duty as was exhibited by our soldier boys across the seas."

The emotions evoked by a bomb that exploded at Attorney General
Palmer's home during a time of war-like emotions set loose by the
violence of 9/11-created an anxious atmosphere in which civil
liberties were compromised.

Sacco and Vanzetti understood that whatever legal arguments their
lawyers could come up with would not prevail against the reality
of class injustice. Sacco told the court, on sentencing: "I know
the sentence will be between two classes, the oppressed class and
the rich class.That is why I am here today on this bench, for having
been of the oppressed class."

That viewpoint seems dogmatic, simplistic. Not all court decisions
are explained by it. But, lacking a theory that fits all cases,
Sacco's simple, strong view is surely a better guide to understanding
the legal system than one which assumes a contest among equals based
on an objective search for truth.

Vanzetti knew that legal arguments would not save them. Unless a
million Americans were organized, he and his friend Sacco would
die. Not words, but struggle. Not appeals, but demands. Not petitions
to the governor, but take-overs of the factories. Not lubricating
the machinery of a supposedly fair system to make it work better,
but a general strike to bring the machinery to a halt.

That never happened. Thousands demonstrated, marched, protested,
not just in New York City, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, but in
London, Paris, Buenos Aires, South Africa. It wasn't enough. On the
night of their execution, thousands demonstrated in Charlestown,
but were kept away from the prison by a huge assembly of police.
Protesters were arrested. Machine-guns were on the rooftops and
great searchlights swept the scene.

A great crowd assembled in Union Square on August 23,1927. A few
minutes after midnight, prison lights dimmed as the two men were
electrocuted. The New York World described the scene: "The crowd
responded with a giant sob. Women fainted in fifteen or twenty
places. Others, too overcome, dropped to the curb and buried their
heads in their hands. Men leaned on one anothers' shoulders and
wept."

Their ultimate crime was their anarchism, an idea which today still
startles us like a bolt of lightning because of its essential truth:
we are all one, national boundaries and national hatreds must
disappear, war is intolerable, the fruits of the earth must be
shared, and only through organized struggle against authority can
such a world come about.

What comes to us today from the case of Sacco and Vanzetti is not
just tragedy, but inspiration. Their English was not perfect, but
when they spoke it was a kind of poetry. Vanzetti said of his friend
Sacco:

Sacco is a heart, a faith, a character, a man; a man lover of nature
and mankind. A man who gave all, who sacrifice all to the cause of
liberty and to his love for mankind: money, rest, mundane ambition,
his own wife, his children, himself and his own life.. Oh yes, I
may be more witful, as some have put it, I am a better babbler than
he is, but many, many times, in hearing his heartful voice ring a
faith sublime, in considering his supreme sacrifice, remembering
his heroism I felt small, small at the presence of his greatness,
and found myself compelled to fight back from my eyes the tears,
quench my heart throbbing to my throat to not weep before him-this
man called chief and assassin and doomed.

Worst of all, they were anarchists, meaning they had some crazy
notion of a full democracy in which neither foreignness nor poverty
would exist, and thought that without these provocations, war among
nations would end for all time. But for this to happen the rich
would have to be fought and their riches confiscated. That anarchist
idea is a crime much worse than robbing a payroll, and so to this
day the story of Sacco and Vanzetti cannot be recalled without great
anxiety.

Sacco wrote to his son Dante: "So son, instead of crying, be strong,
so as to be able to comfort your mother.take her for a long walk
in the quiet country, gathering wild flowers here and there, resting
under the shade of trees.But remember always, Dante, in this play
of happiness, don't you use all for yourself only.help the persecuted
and the victim because they are your better friends.. In this
struggle of life you will find more love and you will be loved."

Yes, it was their anarchism, their love for humanity, which doomed
them. When Vanzetti was arrested, he had a leaflet in his pocket
advertising a meeting to take place in five days. It is a leaflet
that could be distributed today, all over the world, as appropriate
now as it was the day of their arrest. It read:

You have fought all the wars. You have worked for all the capitalists.
You have wandered over all the countries. Have you harvested the
fruits of your labors, the price of your victories? Does the past
comfort you? Does the present smile on you? Does the future promise
you anything? Have you found a piece of land where you can live
like a human being and die like a human being? On these questions,
on this argument, and on this theme, the struggle for existence,
Bartolomeo Vanzetti will speak.

That meeting did not take place. But their spirit still exists today
with people who believe and love and struggle all over the world.



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