Jul 28, 2021

Prof PLO Lumumba - Why China keeps Running To Africa

 

Scientific and trade cooperation between China and Africa - Modern Diplomacy

Dr Lumumba is always on point in his speeches. His brutal honesty is the bitter tonic that must be swallowed if Africa is to rid itself of its mental enslavement to outside powers & its own mentally-enslaved African people who erroneously think that "Western education" is the best & only avenue to empowerment. I have no doubt that Africa will one day unite & rid itself of its burdensome chains.

Dr. Pradip Jamnadas: Fasting For Survival

 

AylinEr on Twitter: "#Science #Medicine #Biology #Health #Intermittent  #Fasting #Benefits… "

Wake up & LIVE!

Jul 21, 2021

The Great White Hoax: Racism, Divide-and-Conquer, and the Politics of Trumpism

 The Great White Hoax | White Privilage & Race Relations Documentary | Media  Education Foundation

(Note: Trump's fat butt was kicked out, but Trumpism is still bubbling venomously below the surface....stay aware & RESIST the Darkness with love & courage)

WATCH DOCUMENTARY: The Great White Hoax

Jul 19, 2021

Can Civilization Survive What’s Coming? by Jeff Goodell

 

Climate change: 'We've created a civilisation hell bent on destroying  itself – I'm terrified', writes Earth scientist

Source: Rolling Stone

 

A thousand years from now, when some vaguely human-like machine digs through the ashes of the Twenty-First century and tries to figure out what happened to those once-thriving animals called Homo sapiens, it may be confused about why an intelligent species that could build rockets and write songs like “Imagine” couldn’t heed warnings of its own destruction. A key question for future historians of the universe: How stupid were those humans anyway?

A 2018 report from the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), the gold standard of climate science, outlined in frightfully stark terms what it would take to keep the earth’s temperature below 1.5 C of warming, which is the threshold for avoiding catastrophic climate change like the collapse of rain forests and coral reefs, rapid melting of the ice sheets that would swamp coastal cities around the world and heat extremes that could lead to millions of climate refugees.

Here’s what this IPCC report says, in a nutshell: To avoid blowing through the 1.5 C target, nations of the world need to cut carbon pollution as fast as humanly possible. To be more precise, nations of the world need to get to zero carbon emissions by 2050.

Let me underscore this: It’s not enough that Portland, Oregon, or Berkeley, California, get to zero carbon emissions by 2050. Or the entire state of California, for that matter. Or even the entire United States. The entire world must eliminate (or offset) carbon pollution by 2050.

“It’s like a deafening, piercing smoke alarm going off in the kitchen. We have to put out the fire,” Erik Solheim, executive director of the U.N. Environment Program, told the Washington Post.

Is anyone listening to the alarm? Do you see a stampede of coal plant operators rushing to shut down operations to save civilization? Are cattle farmers lining up to transform their stockyards into tofu ranches? Are commuters dumping their SUVS for good?

I don’t think so.

Still, this is a groundbreaking report, if only because it lays out in such stark terms just how dire our predicament truly is.

The world our parents and grandparents grew up in — is gone forever. There is no going back.

Here are two important takeaways:

First, although it’s true that the challenge of getting to zero emissions by 2050 is daunting, this is no time to let up on the push to eliminate fossil fuels from the world’s energy system. “Climate defeatism,” writes futurist Alex Steffen, “is absolutely a form of denialism.” Cutting carbon pollution remains the most important task, and the best way to preserve a stable climate. Climate scientist Gavin Schmidt paraphrases Eliud Kipchoge, the recent winner of the Berlin Marathon:

“The best time to start [reducing emissions] was 25 years ago. The second best time is today.”

The other big takeaway from this report is that it’s time to get serious about adapting to a rapidly changing world. If we don’t, a good percentage of civilization as we know it today won’t survive.

Until recently, adaptation has been a dirty word for many climate and clean energy activists. If you talk about adaptation, the argument goes, it undercuts the urgency to cut carbon pollution. That’s always been a slippery argument, but, given the predicament we’re in, now it’s downright self-destructive.

As this IPCC report makes clear, it’s too late to stop climate change. Our world is changing fast, and those changes are only going to accelerate — no matter how rapidly we cut carbon pollution (although cutting carbon pollution can have a big impact on the pace and trajectory of those changes).

From a purely economic point of view, the cost of climate denial is already enormous. In 2017, damages from extreme weather hit $306 billion in the U.S. alone. If we don’t rethink how and where we build homes and infrastructure, those costs will only grow.

What does adaptation mean? In the broadest sense, it means thinking differently about where we live, how we live, what we eat, how we travel. More specifically, it means things like adapting coastal cities to rising seas by rethinking the boundary between land and sea and enacting policies that encourage retreat from low-lying areas, raising taxes to fund infrastructure improvements, reforming flood insurance, changing zoning laws to prevent building in wildfire zones, and perhaps most important, fighting to be sure that the billions of dollars that are sure to flow into climate adaptation projects aren’t focused on protecting the rich. Climate adaptation is already a profound social justice issue, and the division between the saved and the doomed is likely to grow as climate impacts increase.

But adaptation also means talking openly about geoengineering (often defined as the large-scale manipulation of the earth’s climate to reduce the risks of warming). There are different technologies that might be useful, but the most powerful — and controversial — is known as solar radiation management. To put it simply, you inject tiny particles into the stratosphere to help reflect away a small amount of sunlight, which would then cool the planet. There are many complexities to this, especially in the realm of governance and social acceptability (to learn more about it, check out my book How to Cool the Planet, or Oliver Morton’s excellent The Planet Remade). And it’s certainly not a quick fix for many of the problems caused by too much carbon in the atmosphere (it does nothing, for example, to reduce ocean acidification). But done intelligently (i.e., guided by good science and a big dose of humility), it might be a way of taking the edge off a radical warming and buy a little more time to eliminate fossil fuels.

The IPCC report makes little mention of solar geoengineering, beyond saying that there is high agreement that it could keep temperatures below 1.5C. And that is not surprising, given how controversial geoengineering is, and how new the science is that informs it.

In a 2011 Rolling Stone profile I wrote of Lowell Wood, a Pentagon weaponeer who was an early advocate of geoengineering, he put it bluntly:

Wood believes that geoengineering the climate is inevitable, if only because politics and economics will demand it. Geoengineers, he says in a recent e-mail, will just have to wait patiently until the “political elites” decide that it is in their best interest to act. Once they realize that geoengineering is the cheapest solution, he predicts, “they’ll swiftly & reliably beat a bath to the Geoengineering Door. 🙂 The future is ours, Comrades – history (well geophysics & economics is on Our Side! :-)”

Of course, you could argue that, given that we can’t even get it together to shut down coal plants, monkeying around with the earth’s climate is a surefire way to fuck up our planet even more than we already have. And you might be right.

But that’s the dilemma we find ourselves in today. If nothing else, the IPCC report tells us that the world we all grew up in — and the world our parents and grandparents grew up in — is gone forever. There is no going back. We are plunging into a rapidly changing world, one that is unlike anything humans have experienced before, and those changes will only accelerate in the coming years. We know this to be true, as surely as we know the sun will rise tomorrow.

What’s still unclear is what, if anything, we are prepared to do about it.

Jul 18, 2021

Why America May Go To Hell by Martin Luther King Jr.

 



And I come by here to say that America, too, is going to hell if she doesn’t use her wealth. If America does not use her vast resources of wealth to end poverty and make it possible for all of God’s children to have the basic necessities of life, she, too, will go to hell. And I will hear America through her historians, years and generations to come, saying, “We built gigantic buildings to kiss the skies. We built gargantuan bridges to span the seas. Through our spaceships we were able to carve highways through the stratosphere. Through our airplanes we are able to dwarf distance and place time in chains. Through our submarines we were able to penetrate oceanic depths.”

It seems that I can hear the God of the universe saying, “Even though you have done all of that, I was hungry and you fed me not, I was naked and you clothed me not. The children of my sons and daughters were in need of economic security and you didn’t provide it for them. And so you cannot enter the kingdom of greatness.” This may well be the indictment on America.




Musings

 

White Anti-Racist Culture Building Toolkit — AWARE-LA

Jul 15, 2021

Masters of Reality (..the mania of white truth) by Tope Folarin

 

History lessons whitewash history – The Evanstonian

Source: The Baffler

 

One of the immediate casualties of Trump’s rise to power, or so we were constantly told, was the truth. Scores of pundits appeared on television and discussed Trump’s habit of obscuring or ignoring the truth altogether. Journalists here and abroad catalogued and constantly updated Trump’s register of lies; we were informed in tones both solemn and (let’s be honest) ecstatic that no inhabitant of the White House had ever lied so fluently. A rabble of Democratic candidates for the presidency made the restoration of truth a centerpiece of their campaigns. Indeed, candidate Joe Biden often ended his stump speeches with a version of the same refrain: “We choose hope over fear,” he’d declaim. “Unity over division. Science over fiction. And truth over lies.”

At the beginning of Trump’s first campaign for the presidency I found myself among those who were shocked by his cavalier relationship with the truth. I agreed in a distracted almost thoughtless way that Trump was a liar, that he was shameless and detached from reality, that he frequently went too far. But as the clamor heightened, and then as national figures such as Biden argued that what our society required more than anything else was a return to the status quo, a recommitment to a supposedly common conception of the truth, I began to wonder if that was really such a good idea.

The Emperor of Ice Cream

I must have been eleven years old. Maybe twelve. I was out with my father selling ice cream. My father had recently started his own business, something he had dreamed about his whole life. He had purchased a mail truck and converted it into an ice cream truck, and he spent his summer days driving up and down the streets of Ogden, Utah, where we lived. My siblings and I accompanied him on his trips through the city, but for some reason it was only him and me this time. I could not remember a time when I’d been happier.

Someone flagged us down and my father pulled over to the curb. An older white man approached our truck. We’d never met him before, but he smiled, and my father, ever the salesman, smiled back and told him our specials of the day. The man stroked his chin and selected an ice cream. He handed my father a twenty-dollar bill. I found the ice cream and passed it to the man while my father collected the change. He handed it over and thanked the man for his purchase, and as he was putting the truck into gear the man held up his hand and shook his head. “This isn’t enough,” he said. I quickly glanced at my dad, and his contented expression had not changed, save for a slight wrinkle in his brow. “Excuse me?” my father said. “This isn’t enough,” the man said again. “The change. I gave you a hundred and this ice cream was only seventy-five cents. You owe me a lot more.”

I was completely confused. I reached for the twenty-dollar bill where it lay in the cash box at the front of the truck and passed it to my father but he ignored me. His face had shifted by now. I knew what his face was saying though I didn’t have a word for it then. I do now. Resignation. “Please,” my father said, as calm as I’d ever heard him. “Maybe some other day I could do this, but not today.” The man smiled again, and I could tell that this was actually his true smile, that what he had offered us before was, well, a lie. “I don’t care about your sad story,” the man said, or something like this. I’m not sure about any of this dialogue because to this day my memory of this incident is clouded with anger. I remember my father quietly insisting that he had given the man the proper change, and the man growing angrier, an unstated threat murmuring just beneath the surface of his words. Finally my father grabbed the cashbox and I grabbed his arm at the same moment and pleaded with my eyes. My father shook my hand off and counted out all the money we had made, starting with the twenty dollars the man had given us, a few tens, a few singles. Not enough. My father gave the man all our money. “That’s all I have,” he said. The man counted it slowly, then looked up at us. I wanted to choke him. The man’s anger was gone, his smile was back, but dimmer. He had no need to gloat. He was white and we were Black. He had power and we had none. “This’ll do for now,” he said, folding up the bills and tucking them into his breast pocket. “I’ll get the rest when I see you next.” My father ignored him and screeched away.

Dad drove us to a parking lot. He switched off the ignition and placed his head on the steering wheel. He did not move for many minutes. I didn’t know what to do, so I rubbed his back. His shirt was sticky with sweat and heat. He eventually sat up and gave me a stern look. I knew what he was saying—this was between him and me. Then he drove back out and we began selling ice cream once more. He was just as jovial as he had been before, but we remained outside longer than normal, well after dark, and when we arrived home, he proudly showed Mom our haul. “A little less than yesterday,” he said. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

For years I was deeply ashamed of the way my father had handled the situation, and I imagined how I would have responded if I were in his shoes. In my fantasies I was a tiny Nigerian-American Bruce Lee, nunchucking the man into brutal submission. Now, of course, I get it. What my father instantly understood was that our rogue customer held our lives in his hand. More than that, he was the master of our reality. All he had to do was place a call to the city and complain that we had somehow mistreated him and my father would lose everything—his business, his ability to pay the mortgage and feed his family, all of it. This man had power and we did not, so he had the privilege of deciding what was true.

The Other Side of Power

America has always been a country of alternative facts. Perhaps Trump’s most important and lasting contribution to the American political dialogue was to expand the number of people who now realize what many of us—members of minority groups especially—have always known: that “truth” is not always an objective principle. Of course there are certain active truths—for example, a water molecule is made up of one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms—but societies are not, and probably never will be, ordered according to scientific precepts. There were, after all, successful societies on Earth before scientific thinking emerged. No, truth in a particular society is not based on fidelity to a suite of facts that can be tested and proven in a laboratory; truth flows from a set of values that have been developed by powerful people over time.

The man smiled again, and I could tell that this was actually his true smile.

Another way of saying this is that one’s relationship with truth is simply a proxy for one’s relationship with power. The powerful and their charges long inhabited a reality in which truth was a relatively stable concept. For them the truth was identifiable and consistent, and its opposite was immediately apparent. Reality was comfortable and comprehensible for this reason, and anyone who lied was aware of the barrier they had breached; they and they alone harbored responsibility for their failures, and if they simply exhibited a willingness to play by the rules all would be right for them once more.

For the marginalized and dispossessed, however, truth has always been a moving target. Consider for a moment the plight of a Black man who has been falsely accused of a crime because of the color of his skin. Or the Indigenous American groups whose treaty with the federal government have been broken. Or the woman who spends years trying to convince the authorities she was raped. Or the immigrant who is forced to part with his earnings simply because his customer tells him to. These people and millions more have inhabited a realm in which alternative facts weren’t extraordinary or unexpected but simply an inevitable component of their engagement with reality. They understood they would often encounter situations in which external truths, imposed and enforced by the powerful, would supplant their own truths, and their truths would be converted into lies.

For those who benefitted from the American conception of truth, the idea of truth was bound with a corresponding belief in the intrinsic goodness of the American project. This belief was grounded in a series of narratives about America’s formation that positioned the colonialists as underdog heroes who vanquished oppressive enemies, and the founding fathers as moral men who established a new republic based on progressive ideals such as universal equality. The belief was sustained by the creeds that emerged from these narratives, such as American exceptionalism and the American Dream. Historical events that undermined these creeds, such as the brutal suppression of the indigenous population of America, or the fact that many of the founding fathers were slaveholders, were minimized or explained away as the understandable actions of men of their time. As a result, the Americans who benefitted from these creeds, mainly white Americans, chose to ignore, disbelieve, or moderate any contradicting information they received. This practice extended to our adventures abroad as well, and the worst sins we committed around the world—political assassinations, illegal war, collateral damage—were invariably described as justified actions by a government that was mainly interested in the pursuit of good.

Many Americans based their understanding of reality—of what was true, and what was not—on the belief that America was a fundamentally moral place. One objective of the various social justice movements of the twentieth century—the women’s suffrage movement, the civil rights movement, and the labor rights movement among many others—was to challenge this idea. Civil rights activists adopted the practice of staging protests that attracted authorities who conducted themselves in immoral ways; images of these protests and their brutal aftereffects were beamed across the country and validated the claims that Black Americans had been making for centuries. Historians began to interrogate America’s foundational narratives. They unearthed evidence that our founding fathers had not always lived by the ideals they had so enthusiastically espoused. Though many Americans continued to believe that America was and had always been a moral country, others recognized that they would have to reshape their sense of reality—and their corresponding understanding of truth—to account for what they had learned.

The consequence of these developments (and many more, including our misadventures in Vietnam) was that—slowly—some Americans began to decouple their understanding of reality from the notion that America was intrinsically good. Their evaluation of reality was guided by a more nuanced understanding of American history and its enduring effects on marginalized populations. As time passed, a determination about the truthfulness of a particular claim was less likely to be guided—or you could say shrouded—by a belief that the powerful were acting according to moral principles that were designed to benefit everyone.

This evolution in the relationship between truth and power represented an obvious threat to elites who benefitted from the status quo. Their immediate response was to protect the status quo; to insist that their claims about American history, capitalism, racism (or, according to them, the lack thereof), and power were all true because America was good. Two critical events during George W. Bush’s presidency epitomize this trend: his decision to initiate a war with Iraq, and his government’s response to Hurricane Katrina.

In the case of Iraq, the thrust of Bush’s argument, based largely on false evidence that Iraq was stockpiling weapons of mass destruction, was that his administration had an obligation to rid the world of a despot who was committed to harming America and his own people. In other words, Bush asked Americans to trust he was invading Iraq for morally justifiable reasons. Bush failed to mention any other motivation for invasion, such as our desire to secure Iraq’s oil reserves. In the case of Katrina, an event that disproportionately battered Americans of color, Bush assured Americans that his administration would use the recovery as an opportunity to address longstanding racial and economic inequality issues in the region, a promise that contained within it echoes of earlier promises by earlier leaders to atone for America’s mistreatment of African Americans. Sixteen years on, it has become clear that the recovery, overseen by the federal and local governments, has only exacerbated those issues. In light of these and many other events, the moral force of the arguments made by the powerful waned as more evidence—both historical and contemporary—emerged that the protection and projection of power, and not hazy notions of goodness or morality, has largely been the guiding force in American life.

White Elephants

And then came Donald Trump. One reason he achieved success so quickly is that he offered Americans with cultural and economic power—in particular white men and women—a method of maintaining their power by reversing the relationship between morality and truth. His gambit: instead of arguing that a claim was true because of the goodness of America, he premised his case on the idea that Americans who defend what might be called traditional truths about America are good.

For the marginalized and dispossessed, truth has always been a moving target.

The through line of the various cultural foments initiated or amplified by Trump, including his Muslim ban (“we have no choice”), and his defense of the Charlottesville rioters (“very fine people”), is that his supporters need not feel any guilt or hesitation about upholding their traditional beliefs, like the importance of maintaining a predominantly white and Christian American population, or the truths that flow from these beliefs, like the idea that immigrants from non-European countries are more likely to be criminals than their European counterparts, or that reverse racism exists. To the contrary, Trump’s “Make America Great Again” rhetoric provided his followers with the confidence that they occupied the moral high ground because they were committed to moving American culture back in time to an era when American greatness was more or less unquestioned and America’s ability to do great things (according to them, anyway) was unmatched.

This was an especially effective political maneuver because Trump removed the truth from the realm of evidence and verification. The truth no longer had to be defended or proven and, more important, the truth as they conceived it could no longer be threatened by those who offered contradictory evidence because the truth now existed in some realm beyond evidence. The truth was the truth, self-evident and immune to counterargument, and anyone who believed otherwise had to be defeated, politically or otherwise.

Trump’s political opponents frequently commented on his habit of lying, yet they offered rhetoric that seemed just as inaccurate. During her second presidential debate against Donald Trump in 2016, Hillary Clinton argued that America was great “because we are good.” In other words, her efforts at countering Trump’s divisive rhetoric were grounded in the same unquestioning belief in American morality that had long been a staple of American political rhetoric and a core element of the American definition of truth before Trump. During the past four years, Biden was among many politicians who offered an iteration of Clinton’s statement in response to Trump’s actions: “this is not who we are,” they constantly intoned, as if diverging histories of the various inhabitants of this country could be neatly captured in six small words.

In America, “we” is a presumptuous term. It is deployed by politicians to unify us, to connect us to one another, yet so much is lost when it is flippantly used to reference our shared past, an era in which we did not share burdens or bounty equally. “We” becomes a dangerous term when it forms the basis for establishing a shared understanding of truth, a version of truth that often benefits whiteness and entrenched power at the expense of everyone else.

Trump’s version of the truth is so intoxicating for so many because, just like the conception of truth that has existed since the founding of this country, it centers whiteness with the added benefit of being immune to counterevidence or critique. Trump provided his followers with a seemingly failsafe method for perpetuating the past into the future: simply insist, Trump argued in his own inimitable way, that the truth is the truth because it has always been the truth. A rejoinder that relies on the same circular logic, that does not peer deep into history beyond the myths that have defined us, will inevitably fail simply because it cannot be as compelling and persuasive as a version of truth that permits the powerful to simply ignore the problems of the past.

The most startling and inevitable consequence of Trump’s reconceptualization of the truth occurred on January 6, 2021, when a mob of his supporters, acting on the idea that the election had been stolen from Trump, stormed the U.S. Capitol. Though many of his supporters knew his claims were without merit, they wagered that Trump’s efforts to destabilize and refashion the meaning of truth had granted them a unique superpower: the ability to simply overlay their ideal version of reality on the reality we currently share. While some tech bros and Wall Street speculators are convinced that virtual and augmented reality will be among the dominant technologies of the twenty-first century, Trump has proven our reality, shaped as it is by a pervasive commitment to the maintenance of order and an awareness of how earlier societies succumbed to destructive mobs, remains eminently manipulable, and you don’t need a complicated algorithm to change things. You simply need to believe. Or act as if you believe. And while many of us celebrate the gains that various groups have made by scrupulously adhering to the rules, by gathering evidence of historical wrongs and offering statistical proof of contemporary discrimination, the Capitol rioters demonstrated how a small, determined group of people might go about changing the rules altogether, especially if their efforts are underwritten by media networks that are willing to perpetuate lies until they become gospel. Here’s the truth: we can never take “we” for granted; we must build toward it. And we cannot passively accept lofty rhetoric that seeks to bind us without accounting for how much many of us have suffered.

To this day I still think of the moment when my father’s customer stole money from him, and the moment, only a few days later, when we saw him again. This time my two younger siblings were in the van with us, and the man was accompanied by his daughter. He spoke with my father as if they were great friends, and my father responded in kind. When the man left my father did not respond to the look I gave him; he simply kept on selling. Now I realize that my father already knew the lesson that the man taught him, and that men like Trump would teach the entire country a several decades later: the meaning of truth is not and has never been fixed. And if you aren’t aware of how the meaning of truth has been constructed in your society, who benefits, and why, the moment might come when someone arrives to inform you that everything you know is a lie.

Poet's Nook: "Nakba" by Haifa (Translated by Fady Joudah)

 

 

 

My mother is three years younger than Nakba.
But she doesn’t believe in great powers.
Twice a day she brings God down from his throne
then reconciles with him
through the mediation of the best
recorded Quranic recitations.
And she can’t bear meek women.
She never once mentioned Nakba.
Had Nakba been her neighbor,
my mom would’ve shamelessly chided her:
“I’m sick of the clothes on my back.”
And had Nakba been her older sister,
she would’ve courted her with a dish
of khubaizeh, but if her sister whined
too much, my mom would tell her: “Enough.
You’re boring holes in my brain. Maybe
we shouldn’t visit for a while?”
And had Nakba been an old friend,
my mom would tolerate her idiocy
until she died, then imprison her in a young picture
up on the wall of the departed,
a kind of cleansing ritual before she’d sit to watch
dubbed Turkish soap operas.
And had Nakba been an elderly Jewish woman
that my mom had to care for on Sabbath,
my mom would teasingly tell her
in cute Hebrew: “You hussy,
you still got a feel for it, don’t you?”
And had Nakba been younger than my mom,
she’d spit in her face and say:
“Rein in your kids, get’em inside,
you drifter.”

Jul 9, 2021

Jul 6, 2021

No Time to Relax: Dark Clouds in Biden’s America by Paul Street

 

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The sense of relief that came over many Americans after the malignant pandemo-fascist Donald Trump’s removal from power seems increasingly misplaced......Continue

Jul 1, 2021

Racism as Zoological Witchcraft

 “Racism as Zoological Witchcraft: A Guide to Getting Out” Provides a New  Vision for Our Social Justice Movements – The Catalyst

 

 

Author and activist Aph Ko explains her novel and insightful ideas on race and animality to foster multidimensional liberation for all human races and animal species, based on her book Racism as Zoological Witchcraft: A Guide to Getting Out  

In this podcast "In Tune to Nature" , host Carrie Freeman asks Aph to explain concepts from the book, such as how racism is a form of "zoological witchcraft" where "white supremacy uses both minoritized bodies and animality to communicate and reinscribe a mythical fantasy of racial superiority". She also explains the value of concurrently fighting racism and animal oppression (as a form of animal oppression) through an "afro-zoological resistance" or "multidimensional liberation" movement. Her advice is pertinent to anyone interested in racial justice, animal liberation, or vegan advocacy.

Musings

 

The New Corporation

  The New Corporation ​is a 2020 documentary directed by Jennifer Abbott and Joel Bakan, law professor at the University of British Columb...