Tag "séamas carraher"
Back to homepageWAR ON AFRIN: The First Seven Days
Just over a week into the Turkish military assault on Rojava, conflicting reports give varying updates on the situation in the Afrin canton
Read MoreTURKEY (NOT) CONDEMNED (ENOUGH) FOR ROJAVA INVASION
Turkish military invasion (with the Orwellian title “Operation Olive Branch”) of the Afrin Canton in Rojava continues
Read More2017 Another BEATING for Press Freedom in Turkey
For the second year running CPJ, (the Committee to Protect Journalists) finds Turkey tops the list in its diligence in oppressing journalists and writers, only matched by China and Egypt
Read MoreON A DAY THIS WEEK. The Assassination of Sakine Cansiz, Fidan Dogan and Leyla Saylemez
On a day this week, January 9th, 2013, Sakine Cansiz (Sara), Kurdistan National Congress (KNK) Paris Representative Fidan Doğan (Rojbin), and Leyla Şaylemez were shot dead in their Paris office
Read MoreCIZRE: TWO YEARS ON STILL WAITING
Post Views: 88 “For 79 days, the people of Cizre witnessed an exceptional massacre in history. For the sake of a humane and free life, they lost their daughters and sons during the resistance. Yet they have not surrendered, and
Read MoreBOOK. ‘The Design of Everyday Life’ by Adam Greenfield
Last June 2017, Verso (formerly New Left Books founded in 1970 by the staff of the New Left Review) released ‘Radical Technologies – The Design of Everyday Life’ by American writer, Adam Greenfield
Read MoreON A DAY THIS WEEK in December, 1961. Frantz Fanon
On a day this week, December 6, 1961, the writer and revolutionary-marxist Frantz Fanon, author of the ‘The Wretched of the Earth’ (among other works of philosophy and biting critiques of colonialism), died from leukemia
Read MorePoem in November. In memory of Tahir Elçi & Sergio Finardi
Tahir Elçi, Kurdish Lawyer and Human Rights defender, assassinated November 28, 2015 in Diyarbakir; Sergio Finardi, human rights defenders, died 03 December, 2015, Chicago
Read MoreWalter Benjamin. A poem by Séamas Carraher
That time too, Walter, has left, like a painting or a book that hangs, birdlike, from your mouth, wide-open in surprise: your death mask’s endless labouring
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