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EDWARD JACOBS

Author: Ed Jacobs

  • 28 January, 2025

    Aquilino Gonell is an immigrant and former sergeant in the Washington DC Capitol Police force. Below is an excerpt from his recently published op-ed piece in The NY Times. Worth the full read:

    “For my efforts doing my duty as a Capitol Police sergeant, I was beaten and struck by raging rioters all over my body with multiple weapons until I was covered in my own blood. My hand, foot and shoulder were wounded. I thought I was going to die and never make it home to see my wife and young son.

    Over the last four years, it’s been devastating to me to hear Donald Trump repeat his promise to pardon insurrectionists on the first day he’s back in office. “It will be my great honor to pardon the peaceful protesters, or as I often call them, the hostages,” he said in a speech last year. But all of us who were there and anyone who watched on TV know that those who stormed the Capitol were not peaceful protesters. Pardoning them would be an outrageous mistake, one that could mean about 800 convicted criminals will be back on the street.

    It could also put me in danger, as I’ve continued to testify in court and I’ve given victim statements in cases against dozens of the rioters who assaulted me and my fellow officers.

    I was one of the fortunate ones that day; nine people wound up dead as a result of the rampage. Two protesters had fatal medical episodes, one rioter overdosed during the uproar and another was fatally shot by a policeman while forcing her way into the House Chamber. One of my colleagues, 42-year-old Officer Brian Sicknick, suffered two strokes after the trauma of fighting off multiple protesters who sprayed him with a chemical irritant. He didn’t survive. Four D.C. policemen harmed in the riots later died by suicide.

    My friend Harry Dunn, the first law enforcement member to prominently condemn the brazen uprising, testified about our primitive hand-to-hand fighting against improvised weaponry like flagpoles, metal bike racks and projectiles, with officers bleeding, blinded and coughing from bear spray. Harry, who was called racial slurs, has since retired his blue uniform. My co-worker Michael Fanone was beaten, burned and electrically shocked. He suffered a heart attack, concussion and traumatic brain injury that caused him to also leave his position at the Metropolitan Police. While physically recovering, he’s been the target of constant harassment from Trump supporters and has struggled to find steady work. Steven Sund, who was the Capitol Police chief, has been scapegoated and resigned under pressure.

    I required multiple surgeries, years of rehab and treatment for recurrences of the post-traumatic stress disorder I was diagnosed with in the Army. I was vilified and called “a traitor,” as Mr. Trump and some of his fellow Republicans called the riot a “day of love” and a “peaceful protest” by “warriors,” “patriots,” “political prisoners” and “mistreated hostages.”

    Although I left the Capitol Police force, I remain haunted by that day. Now Mr. Trump’s promised actions could erase the justice we’ve risked everything for.

    I never wanted to be a whistle-blower or a troublemaker. I grew up poor in the Dominican Republic, came to this country legally at age 12 and became the first in my family to finish high school and college. I lived in Brooklyn, just a few miles from where Mr. Trump grew up in Queens, yet the metaphoric distance between us was vast. My dad was a taxi driver who could give me only $100 to help pay for college. Mr. Trump’s father was a real estate developer who bequeathed him at least $413 million over the years. While Mr. Trump escaped the Vietnam draft with a medical exemption for bone spurs and never served in the military, I finished my degree with the help of the G.I. Bill after I enlisted and served in the Middle East. What I experienced defending the Capitol against rioters was worse than the combat I saw in Iraq.

    What helped me was bearing witness. In the four years since the riot, about 1,561 defendants have been federally charged with Jan. 6 crimes, many of them serious felonies ranging from unlawfully entering restricted grounds with weapons to seditious conspiracy. Approximately 590 defendants have been charged with assault on a federal officer and 169 have been charged with crimes involving serious bodily harm to a police officer, including assault using a deadly or dangerous weapon; the weapons included swords, axes, knives, Taser-like devices, baseball bats, hockey sticks and reinforced knuckle gloves. More than 300 pleaded guilty to felonies and more than 200 were found guilty at trial.

    Releasing those who assaulted us from blame would be a desecration of justice. If Mr. Trump wants to heal our divided nation, he’ll let their convictions stand.

    Although I don’t blame all Trump supporters — some of my own relatives support him — I do detest what MAGA extremism did to me and my team on Jan. 6. I resent the ongoing whitewashing of the barbarity and the collective amnesia of right-wing politicians who aren’t willing to hold Mr. Trump accountable. I can’t bear to hear Republicans describe themselves as the “law and order” party.

    Mr. Trump is returning to the presidency at 78, while I had to leave the career I’d worked for my whole life at 42 as a result of injuries suffered while doing my job. I sometimes wonder why I risked my life to defend our elected officials from a mob inspired by Mr. Trump, only to see him return to power stronger than ever. It’s hard to witness a rich white man get rewarded for treachery while I’m punished for fulfilling my duty. Maybe that’s why so many people don’t do the right thing — because it’s hard and it hurts.

    When Mr. Trump recently proclaimed that members of the House Jan. 6 committee should go to jail, Representative Jamie Raskin responded, “In America, we jail people only for having committed criminal offenses that they are found guilty of by a unanimous jury of their peers. We don’t jail people for doing their jobs and living up to their constitutional oaths of office.”

    It gave me hope when Mr. Raskin further reminded everyone that Mr. Trump was impeached for his role in inspiring a violent insurrection against the Constitution. I admire Republicans like Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger who put fairness before party, despite being censured and threatened for their work on the committee.

    At least I get to hear my son call me his hero, as we remember the people who put everything on the line to protect our democracy and continue to tell the truth about Jan. 6.”

  • 27 January, 2025

    Someone asked “Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?”

    Nate White, an articulate and witty writer from England, wrote this magnificent response:

    “A few things spring to mind.

    Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem.

    For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed.

    So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.

    Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever.

    I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact is particularly disturbing to the British sensibility – for us, to lack humour is almost inhuman.

    But with Trump, it’s a fact. He doesn’t even seem to understand what a joke is – his idea of a joke is a crass comment, an illiterate insult, a casual act of cruelty.

    Trump is a troll. And like all trolls, he is never funny and he never laughs; he only crows or jeers.

    And scarily, he doesn’t just talk in crude, witless insults – he actually thinks in them. His mind is a simple bot-like algorithm of petty prejudices and knee-jerk nastiness.

    There is never any under-layer of irony, complexity, nuance or depth. It’s all surface.

    Some Americans might see this as refreshingly upfront.

    Well, we don’t. We see it as having no inner world, no soul.

    And in Britain we traditionally side with David, not Goliath. All our heroes are plucky underdogs: Robin Hood, Dick Whittington, Oliver Twist.

    Trump is neither plucky, nor an underdog. He is the exact opposite of that.

    He’s not even a spoiled rich-boy, or a greedy fat-cat.

    He’s more a fat white slug. A Jabba the Hutt of privilege.

    And worse, he is that most unforgivable of all things to the British: a bully.

    That is, except when he is among bullies; then he suddenly transforms into a snivelling sidekick instead.

    There are unspoken rules to this stuff – the Queensberry rules of basic decency – and he breaks them all. He punches downwards – which a gentleman should, would, could never do – and every blow he aims is below the belt. He particularly likes to kick the vulnerable or voiceless – and he kicks them when they are down.

    So the fact that a significant minority – perhaps a third – of Americans look at what he does, listen to what he says, and then think ‘Yeah, he seems like my kind of guy’ is a matter of some confusion and no little distress to British people, given that:

    * Americans are supposed to be nicer than us, and mostly are.

    * You don’t need a particularly keen eye for detail to spot a few flaws in the man.

    This last point is what especially confuses and dismays British people, and many other people too; his faults seem pretty bloody hard to miss.

    After all, it’s impossible to read a single tweet, or hear him speak a sentence or two, without staring deep into the abyss. He turns being artless into an art form; he is a Picasso of pettiness; a Shakespeare of shit. His faults are fractal: even his flaws have flaws, and so on ad infinitum.

    God knows there have always been stupid people in the world, and plenty of nasty people too. But rarely has stupidity been so nasty, or nastiness so stupid.

    He makes Nixon look trustworthy and George W look smart.

    In fact, if Frankenstein decided to make a monster assembled entirely from human flaws – he would make a Trump.

    And a remorseful Doctor Frankenstein would clutch out big clumpfuls of hair and scream in anguish:

    ‘My God… what… have… I… created?

    If being a twat was a TV show, Trump would be the boxed set.”

  • 25 January, 2025

  • 22 January, 2025

  • 20 January, 2025

    Martin Luther King, Jr. Day brings to mind so very many concerns, so many issues both historical, institutional, and still in dire need of being addressed by our entire society.

    But I continue to wonder if the nature of humanity is such that equality and “justice for all” are truly possible. MLK, Jr. said that “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” I will admit that I fear that the arc of humanity’s nature bends further towards injustice with each passing day.

    And today, one where the United States of America brings a convicted felon to highest seat of its governmental power, a petty figure driven by vengeance, is not a day that believes any better of humanity’s nature.

  • 18 January, 2025

    We have been travelling, this time to St. Croix. A lovely island, with very warm people, and a contagiously relaxed vibe. We’ll likely go back, but at a different time of year.

    As for the diving, well, I made a rookie mistake and really should have researched better. We were not there at a good time of year, with prevailing “Christmas Winds” making for pretty treacherous shore entries and exits. We got in some diving without serious injuries, but getting in/out wasn’t necessarily pleasant. When we headed to Frederiksted, the west side of the island, for its calmer waters and the highly recommended pier, it was always busy with cruise ships–and diving isn’t allowed when ships in port at the pier. So it wasn’t really a successful dive trip. But we did enjoy the people we met there, and are likely to return.

    We stayed in Cane Bay, mid-island on the north shore. We were at The Landing, which was all we needed. Perfectly comfortable–which to us means it had a/c–and we enjoyed meeting others staying there. Many of the folks we met seem to be annual visitors, for many years/decades.

  • 6 January, 2025

    The year has begun the way that ’24 went out, with opportunities to simultaneously review and anticipate.

    I can’t make sense of so much going on in the world of late; I still have trouble accessing the news on a regular basis. It is still inconceivable to me that so much of the world has turned to a Nationalist ideal that prizes isolation; an economic and political model that prizes oligarchic authority; and a xenophobic perspective that refuses to acknowledge the wealth brought to all by the views of those who have experienced life in other places.

    And so, with a strong distaste for the state of the world, I also self-isolate. I turn further and further inward, only wishing to engage with family and a very few friends. If I choose to share time with others, it is only to pursue the single interest of SCUBA, or perhaps talking about our dogs. I’ve noticed the tendency to talk about larger issues has decreased among all of us since November, when so many of us held tight to the hope that, at least here in the U.S., things might not continue the trends of so many other places. But hopes were shown naive, and we’ve closed up like scared snails.

    I’ve been asked to evaluate a pile of submissions for a music/composition prize. And that experience has been truly remarkable–surprisingly so. The first phase of this adjudication involves reviewing materials on my own, and somehow selecting a very small “top” list. As I have spent almost a month reviewing alot of music on my own, I have heard so many interesting ideas, so many expertly executed works, so much inventiveness. This has really been inspiring, and I find my own musical ideas arising during quiet moments of the days, during the early morning hours of dog-walking. And I welcome those moments just as I did decades ago.

    The second phase is for that list to be shared with other judges’ “top” lists; then we’ll meet/discuss to agree on a final list of just a few. As each individual has a unique list of submissions to review (though enough overlap so that every submission has several reviewers), I know that my list cannot be exactly the same as any other single judge’s. So that means that the next phase will bring even more exceptional music and ideas into my view.

    But it also means that I will have to engage with others to try to reach a point of agreement. That is, after all, the point of the task we all face. I don’t personally know the others on this panel. I will admit that I am not looking forward to this next phase, as I simply don’t want to engage others with whom I may disagree. I have retreated so much into my shell that I am dreading having to meet with them at all. And that is just ridiculous and immature.

    I spent many years in academia, where working out disagreements is baked into the processes. I used to relish the task of working things out, of finding points of agreement that could build into new views and future paths of progress. But now I feel a bit paralyzed. We’ll see how it all works out, and how I deal with the meeting of minds that emerge during the next phase.

    But I do look forward to hearing the submissions of the other panelists’ “top” lists. While it will be a challenge to pluck the top of the top, it is likely to bring interesting ideas to my ears. And it will also bring new stimulation and, possibly, inspiration, to my composer’s ear.

    I do have a piece brewing, and the excitement of hearing the ideas I’m working out is like a boiling pot. I am enjoying this feeling again, after avoiding it for some months now.

    The past few weeks have also brought some “blasts from the past” my way. Some friends from decades ago have reached out and reconnected, and we’ve shared some newsy exchanges. I am in awe of what some of these folks have faced in their lives, of how they’ve survived and thrived, and how we all gain experience through our tests–some of theirs far more challenging than my own.

    And that reminds me that even those I may disagree with have had their own tests. Perhaps that’s the best I can do right now.

  • 25 December, 2024

    Special message

  • 17 December, 2024

    Exactly so, from today’s NYTimes:

    “This unfortunate fact remains: We have a fundamentally broken process for choosing federal judges,” Mr. Mangi wrote. “This is no longer a system for evaluating fitness for judicial office. It is now a channel for the raising of money based on performative McCarthyism before video cameras, and for the dissemination of dark-money-funded attacks that especially target minorities.”

    Adeel Mangi, a New York lawyer picked for a spot on the Philadelphia-based U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit…after Democratic senators cut a deal that in effect left him and other Biden appeals court nominees with no path to confirmation.

  • 16 December, 2024

    more pix from Thailand!