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tv   From Democracy to Freedom and No Wall They Can Build  CSPAN  October 1, 2017 5:10am-5:47am EDT

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the first one up here, if you 16, 15, 14, the first one up here, i'm going to give you this camera. [applause] >> come on down! >> you own it. you own it. >> cool. thank you. >> thank you. [applause] >> we have backs for sale over here. they will be signing over there. the line has already begun and we have -- thanks so much for coming out. grab a schedule. be we'll be here tomorrow as well. [inaudible discussion]
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>> the baltimore book festival continues from the radical book fair pavilion with a discussion of the books, from democracy to freedom, and no wall they can build, authored by the an naar 'tis collective, crime think. >> hey, everybody. we're going to start the event -- we'll have events tomorrow also. so we encourage everybody to come back tomorrow. but this last event is going to be on two books, no wall they can field and from democracy to freedom accidented be anybody offered in the decentralized an naar 'tis project. join me in welcoming them. >> good-good- -- good evening,
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it's nice to speak with everyone else who has spoken and to be in baltimore, city that has distinguished itself by its courage, by the courage of people here, asserting. thes and stabbing up against the police and the authorities. want to speak about our collective, just for starters. crime think is three things. we are a publishing collective. we publish books, we publish pamphlets, posters, a table back over there if you want to pick up anything we publish. in addition to that we arnettwork, a network of organizers and activists stretching around the united states and other parts of the world. so, when there's an uprising in brazil or in turkey, we're in dialogue with participants in these, and we try to circulate information and tactics and knowledge, so that the whole social movement biosphere around the world can be as intelligence and as equipped as every particular social movement. and finally, we represent a
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vision of social change. so, we are not utopians but we believe that it is important to keep a vision of the world you want to live in, in front of you, like a star on the horizon that you can navigate by. right? so, what connects, what connects all of the different struggles we report on and all the different activities we're involved in, is this vision that we call anarchism, we mean opposition to all forms of oppression, a system of values, you could say, like ethics, an idea of what it is that makes life most fulfill, that can connect people, that can make our connections worthwhile. and when i say opposition, all forms of oppression, all of the mechanisms that impose differences in power between people, that make it more difficult for people to carry out self-determination to live their lives on their own terms
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and i mean white supremacy issue mean pate -- patriarchy, the state that concentrate powers in who holds the reins, the 'institution of property that exists to separate the haves from the have-nots. that's what property does on a fundamental level. mean home phobia, all the different mechanisms, some thousands years old that impose power differentials. what we do is we are participant inside social movements. we try to help learn from the struggles going on, and to spread different tactics. so, a tactic, one tactic would be in the ton i come from, we have a monthly market where everything is available for free. if you need somethingor, go take it from the market. if you have something to share, you set it out. a kind of economics that doesn't depend on exchange and it
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doesn't enrich someone at everybody else's expense. another tactic could be support for prisoners, where everybody month you're writing to at the people in prison so they're not disconnected or forgetten by everybody else elf build from the base, bottom up, rather than putting energy into trying to elect a politician or gate political party into power. we believe if we do the work at the grassroots the bait, the politicians have to chase behind us. anything that is valuable or worth doing, we have to do the work ourselves. so, today we published two books of the summer from democracy to freedom and no wall they can build. we'll be focusing more on "no wall they can build." "from democracy to freedom" is out of a series of uprisings over the last teen year, from egypt, that overclue mubarak, to
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the upriding that followed that in other parts of the world, like spain this "occupy" movement and then "black lives matter" in the united states. there were a series of other up risings in slovenia and bosnia in brazil, turkey, online social movements. this book is a product of discussions from participants in those movements, about the ways that decisions were made in those movements and the things that people learned about organizing structures in that. but today, chiefly, what we want to present on, what we want to pitch to you, is this most recent book about "no wall they can build." it's about all of the different structures and forces at work in society that compel people to migrate, whether they want to or not, and all of the different institutions that make that difficult. right? so, an attempt to make it clear why people would travel without documentation, and what it's
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like when you have to do that. this book came out of work that people were doing in arizona on the border between the united states and mexico. people involved in a number of organizations there, one organization is called no more deaths. no more deaths is a group that they work in the desert where people are crossing, they make sure that those people who are crossing get -- have enough food and water and medical care to survive the trip. and there are thousands, tens of thousands of people crossing the space all the tile, and thousands of people die every year in the desert. that's no more deaths is trying to do. another tactic. being positioned in the desert, they have a unique vantage point to see who it is that is traveling in central and north america and why they are. the border patrol, they only see the people they catch. you might cross that border yourself but your only going do it a few times at the most. these comrades of ours are
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positioned there, doing the work day after day, seeing who is traveling, and this book is a work of solidarity to try to convey what they have seen and what they of learned in the process of this. a document of the kind of solidarity that we need in this society where people act together against the forces that would otherwise separate us. that would otherwise turn us against each other. so, the authors of the book, everything they we publish we public anonymously but the authors are at work right now. so what we're going do is read to you the servings from at the book to give you a sense of what is going on there. i appreciate y'all very much being here, and i'll be back in a few minutes to answer questions and talk with you. thank you. [applause] >> i'm going read a few sections
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from book which i'm not the narrator or the author but i adore this book. i think it really presents a lot of great personal narratives what it's like to work mismigrants goings to the border and giving a systemache analysis of the forces that drive migration and the struggles people face. the border is not just wall. it's not just a line on a map. it's not any particular physical location. it's a power structure, a system of control. the border is everywhere that people live in fear of deportation, everywhere mights are deny the rights accordedded? s, every human beings are segregated. the border does not divide one world from another. there's only one world. and the border is tearing it apart. they are coming, they're coming, it was clear and cold
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and the big dipper had been revolving over our heads women were puddled together trying to stay warm. for the first time since i met her maria was panicked. heavy boots were pounding temperatures new can do. one agent threw alas sew around us and grad me by the neck. i'm going to remain silent. i'd like to speak to a lawyer. tried to sound as calm as possible but my voice probably broke. i had been hiking well north of the border in southern california. ran into jose josement they hadn lost for days and getting sick issue by the hour. this is back during the bush years were miles from the car in a desolate place issue didn't know what to do. i decided to stay with them. maria's husband had abandoned her and her four children. she gave to understand she had been doing sex work to put food
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on the table have say had written the freight trains to the perioder and couldn't talk about it itch didn't know what exactly happened to him during the trip. i had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. a helicopter had circled over us earlier. on a cold night like this we let up their infrared like a christmas tree. we were dead meat. are you her husband? what are you doing out sneer what the hell is going on, you're under arrest. i'm going to remain silent. i'd like to speak to a lawyer. they threw us into a van. maria had regained her composure. she put her arm around my shoulder. don't worry, we'll survive. jose dropped his head, shook it back and forth, looked up at me, filed, and dropped his head again -- smiled and dropped his head again. they brought us to the border patrol detention facility. there were 200 of news rows under the lights, waiting to be taken in. they had sprayedded hoe and i maria from me itch could see
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them way over on the other side of the yard wife. never see jose again. the man next to me spoke perfect english. i'm completely fucked. my life is totally destroyed. i'm nose doing to good either issue told him. where are you from? detroit, the said, motown, 313, now know. "wife and kids are there, everybody. this is the third time i've gotten caught trike to get back home. i'm going to jail for sure this time if they cav me again i don't know what they'll do. how my wife will be the bills, who i picking up the kids from school if don't know anything. me neither issue said. i issue wish could but these in my shoes and do them like they're doing me and turn their legs upside-down, make somebody pay for this. i leaked over to a sea of faces. so do i. they put 80 of news intoed a hog cell the side of a bedroom. we were piled on top of each 0 to the point people had to take turns lying underthe toy.
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each arm and leg was stacked underneath or on top of another person. one mass walk wearing a plastic hospital gown. the bandages were soaked through with blood. the dogs had attorney up his jacket and chew up is arm. every once in a while the guard's pull me out of the cell. what do you care about what happens heaps to these people in what re real doing i'm good to remain silent. that it would put me back in with in the others. the heat and stench and overcrowding got bad i thought there would be a right. people were stating for lose it. one person tried to reason with the guard, too many of news here. the people are going to start fighting with each other. we would be easier to control if you split us into two cells. fuck you, wet baeck, shouldn't have gotten picked up on a weekend. one of the younger men tried also. sir, i take psych meds.
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you want your method nations i'll give you you're medication, they took him out of the cell, punched him in the tase and tased him in front of all us. there's your fucing medication, an old are man stood up on the toilet. a younger man falled suit and then another and another and ten gull odds the group kept its composure. after three days of this one guard opened up the door spirited at me. you, u.s. citizen, come with me. they're letting you go. on the way out the facility the guard had to take a phone call. stay here, he told me, and when he left me alone in front of a window of the women's holding expel there was marie-over ya in the back. waved at her me and iraq up to the front of the cell. pointed at myself and made the youthful walking sign. she pointed at me and then toward the exit down he hall
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itch nodded and she nodded book. the put her hand up to the glass and i put my hand up to hers, i made a fist with my other hand and tapped three times. she made a fist and tapped three times back. i could hardly keep it together. she wasn't going to los angeles to send money home to her children and mom. she was going back to sex work in mexicali. it just wasn't right. i broke eye contact at the last possible moment, turn around and tried to look normal. the guard ran in the corner, let's go, buddy, you're going home. and i walked out the door hip hick, blinking back tears, into back into the sun, some years later i moved to arizona. from 2008 until 2015 i worked in southern arizona as part of a humanitarian aid organization named no more deaths. acting in solidarity with migrants and refugees from mexico and central america who walked across the desert into the united states.
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over more than 20 years, the government of the united states had -- increasingly remote areas and many thousands of people have died from heat, cold, sickness, injuries, hunger and theirs, as a direct result. the mission of know mar deaths is to end this death and suffering of the -- on the borderlands. no more deaths was established in 2000 and people from all over the world and all walks of life have volunteered with us since then. we have spent years farmizing hosers with the sew sonoran desert. we provide medical care and we have a base camp in the desert where can provide more extensive care. if the situation is bad enough we can get an plans or helicopter to bring people to hadn't. we have tried to act in accordance with the travelers wishes and we never call bored patrol on those who. our efforts have unquestionably
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helped to reduce the number of deaths on the arizona border. during the time i worked in the desert i was directly involved in many extraordinary situations, and indirectly involved in many more. some things have been water-warming and some deeply sad and wrong. i see people who were too sick to hold down water to badly authority kin to scared to sleep to sad for wood, hopelessly loss, desperately hungry, literally dying of thirst, never going to be able to see their children again, vomiting blood, pennyless and torn shoes 2,000 miles from home can suffering from heath heat stroke, kidney dang, wounds, hypothermia, post-traumatic distress and every a tribulation you can imagine. i have been to places where people are robbed and raped and murdered. my friends have found bodies. in addition to bearing witness to the suffering of others, i myself have gone off a cliff,
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turned my face open on barbed wire, had guns pointed at , mr. headquartered, arrested, jailed, charged by bulls, circled by vultures, stalk beside mountain lion, jumped over rattlesnakes, pulse p.m. peekses of cactus with players. had to pull off my pants because they're full of fire antis, gray hairs and no small amount of my own sweat, blood and tears into the efforts. i have been humbled countless times by the encriminal selflessness and courage of the people i met there. and i have been driven nearly out of my head with rage at the heardless economic and political system that drives people to such lengths to provide for their family. i met thousands of people like jose and maria, each with a unique story to tell but one thing in common. to the people who write border policy their life holds no value and their deaths bring no consequences.
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it's good that you keep the bones here, jesus told me. we're standing in front of a large pile bones that volunteers collected from the desert. the animals severed from hunger and thirst was we do. they're hunted as we are. they die alone as we do and nobody knows or cares. it's good that they should be remembered also. jesus was working at muffer shop in bakerfield when we was deported. his wife and children were waiting for him there, waiting six months when he was stuck back in -- he had been walk neglect desert for six days, alowe alone and half mad. miss shoulder length pair was in a ponytail. he was wear a leather jacket, fadessed bluejeanses, a necklace and a black tv shirt from a motorcycle club. even after such a terrifying ordeal there was no deny agency that man had styled. they treat us like animals, he said.
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jesus is home now, welding mufflers and raising childrenment before he walked out of the camp and back interest the desert he found a gigantic heart shaped piece of driftwood, painted it blood red and placed on a pile of rock. his this-under heart, the heart of the people, of everyone who walks here, everyone who works here, of everyone who has died here. of the cows and the deer and the rabbits, too, maybe some day things will be different. i'll come back down here to visit and we'll all sit around and tell stories about everything that happened. may we live to see that day. and i have a couple other of my favorite sections. thank you for bearing with me. these are incredible stories. >> as i hope i made clear a policy of pushing migrant track into extremely dangerous areas dot not imply an actual expense
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to stop or defer team from entering the country illegally. this complex and perverse strategy has too numerous advantages. it's lous politics to look tougher for cameras while still providing the american economy with the farm workers workers at packers it depends on. it provides ample opportunity to swing huge contracts to giant corporations. to transfer migrantses to their corrections appropriation of america to detain them, to boeing to build surveillance infrastructure, justifies the hefty sal arrives 20,000 people who work for the border patrol and other beneficiaries benefici will speak of shortly. on the hold border militarization is a massive government pork and corporate welfare project that is only surpassed by the war in iraq. like the three kings, nacho showed up just before christmas.
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they had been together through thick and thin. he was from mexico city in this early 20s. big, strong, and iconic. you can tell he knew how to handle this business in a fistfight. chew basically he was a b boy and he would have fit in anywhere around the world where hip-hop is recognize. he had an active social media presence. nacho was in this late 30s and and honduran. he lived and work without papers in mexico for 15 years. he had developed an amazing ability to go between human beingsan and honduran spanish him could sound like a hob touran, he could turn on a dime or calibrate much of his vocabulary in slang, as well as a fair amount of his grammar and sound exactly like mexican to this day i've never met anybody who is quite so good at this.
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additionally nacho was an astoundingly industrious person. he would come everybody breakfast, do all the dishes, clean up the kitchen, sweep up the medical tent, organize all the clothes and back peaks and shoes, check the oil in the truck, take out the crash sort the recycling, fill buckets of compost for the toilets and bags of water for she showers and crawl under the trailer to chase away raccoons with a broom, all before noon. he would do more in an hour than a normal volunteer does in a day. we should have paid to day toe stay at camp. he liked to hug people. would we give me a good morning hug as, a hug when i left camp, hug when i returned, hug for dinner and a hug at night, and never got old. nacho was a truly good are hearted human being and also very short. i've never -- don was the real prize. he was 54 and tougher than a boot. born he had lived for 35 years in the united states, working
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all over the country as a pipe fitter, heavy equipment operator, hard rock miner, oil field roughneck and other hard labor. he wore a moustache so huge so fierce and so virile that it could only be referred to in the honorrivic and be -- he was called mr. mustache or sir mustache. he had a rumbling drawl and had draw-dropping curses and turns of phrase. this first time i saw him with his shirt off he had a bullet wound through this lower back with a matching exit wound in front. some fucking guy shot me in a laundromat in wyoming in 1987, he said and that was bad. the trail had been through hell today and had been around each other 24 hours a day for weeks on end. the dynamics of their partnership were hilarious.
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one time which ru and i were talking about don and what an epic character he was, has he told about the time when the guy whose wife he was sleeping with shot him in haun dre mat? his eyes gleaming help cackled when i told them that don admitted the detail. the mose priceless interactions were between nacho and don. i occasionally don would descend into a truly foul mood if don't blame him. the country eh called home had disopenned and rejected him after accepting 35 years of labor, leave his stranded in the desert on christmas, thousand miles from this family, a narrowly escaping death, his anger was terrifying to behold. at times like these the two men had a ritual. don, natch co would ex-champion you're not well, you're upset, you need a hug. no, i do not. don would respond. staring straight with his fists
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clinched, looking like he wanted to murder god. do not hug me, nacho. yes, yes, i will. i will hug you, don. do not hug me. do not want you to hug me. i am hugging you now, stop hugging me. >> i will not. i will not stop and so on. so, when they left camp i heard fruit what happened to them afterward. in the desert nacho and don were separated from u. hey made today phoenix which ru made it out of the desert on his own. when the truck arrived to pick him up he texted this number of the license plate to don. when the truck arrived at the safe house, he did another very smart thing. the texted the address to don, along with the name and phone number of his point of contact. which hu was no fool. so when the trafficker cans to hick phone tropical storm them and told him they would bet him
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up and leave him in the desert if his family didn't come one $3,000 he stayed calm. the threw what would heap axe. when he stopped answering his phone, don called the number that he sent him. and this is what he said in his rumbling baritone growl. listen to me, julio you piece of shit. you're confused. you do not seem to understand. you don't know me but i know you. you live in a brown adobe house with black shutters and blue door across the street from a tack ria. you dry a gray 2006 shelfy silverado with a lift quick. i have a phone you missed the -- who will i call with hit phone? call the police? perhaps i will think of someone else to call. perhaps i will call someone to drive biure house and see what your wife looks like or where your chin go to school. perhaps i'll find you yourself
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and is a own hand i will hang you biure fucking neck until you dead. i'll tell you what you while. you hill met my friend go free. they let hick worldcom out the door and 20 minutes later don picked him up at a gas station in south phoenix, the last i heard they were planning trips together in texas. thank you. one more. and then we'll do a little q & a, about the book and the others. i think that this last story has a lot of connections with the story i just read about solidarity with each other and about how we can be good comrades to one another. even if it occasionally involves strong swearing, et cetera. one of the founders of no more deaths once told me a story
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called the parable of the river. it made be familiar to readers in the the nonprofit second oror public health. the city nose perfect and metaphor is wrong in one major way. my grants and refugees nor simply helpless victims is i hope i made clear in the preceding texts. most are not babies and the children grow up fast. nonetheless the parable is well known. it speaked to central dilemma of desert aid work and other protecties like it. it goes like this. there's a small village on the edge of a river. one day a villager goes down to river banks to wash clothes. she sees a baby flowing down the river shift jumps into the water and pulls the baby to safety. she carries him to the village and finds someone to care for him. wet and tired she returns to wash the clothes. some see cease another baby flow dog thousand riff, she jumps into the swift current and takes the child into her arms. so before she can climb back
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interest the river bank she views another baby floating towards her and then another and another. she grabs one of them but only had two arms. the last two babies float past her. one dissweeps the water just out of her reach. the other gashed his head open. the woman looks up the river. six more babies are floating toward her. horrified she shouts for help. villagers worn,ing in field nearby run to help her. he babies keep coming. soon the entire village is occupied with the many -- the are there teams strong swimmer to main a watch on the river bank. the ball baby another of the with until anywhere muscles cramp. sometimes even the strongest swimmers going into the cold once too often. they're swept under by the fierce cold current and their bodies are broken on the rocks. there are people who nurse the babies would took health and tend to their wounds. there are foster parents, carpenters, weaves, gardeners, huntsers, tetchers, therapists and cooks.
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it takes a lot of work to ensure that all of these babies are properly fed, clothed, housed, and integrated into the life of the village. there are people who do all of these things and still feel like they're not doing enough. and it's not possible to pull every baby out of the river. men drown, but the villagers feel they're doing well to cope with the crisis as best they can and indeed the village priest blesses foam for the good work. life goes on. eventually, however, it becomes inincreasingly difficult to provide enough food to feed everyone and to find homes for so many babies. the villagers are exhausted and hungry and sad. their nerves or shot. tempers flare, fights break out. winter is coming up. one day two women are seem walking from the village. where are you going? we need you here, we're's. y'all carry on here says unwere the two machete in hand, the
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other woman is holding a picker fork. wore going upstream to stop whoever is throwing all these babies into the river. ing aing ament blakes out. it's about time, one says, we can't afford to go on thick lice forever. count me. in many of the villagers shout their approval. not so fast, says the grave digger, slamming his pick on to the ground. what happens if we leave our post in who will care for the children living among us? while stop the christian -- staff the clinic, more babies will drown. many of the same villagers nod in solemn agreement. this is a false dichotomy protests the teenager who washes the difference dishes some should go up the river and some stay here. most everyone agrees she has a point but this is a smalling village we're talking about. they're not enough of us, says the village priest, and besides, let's say we decide to head upstream.
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you grab a shovel and i'll grab an axe. what will we identified? certainly it's possible there's an accident, perhaps a gaping hole in a bridge interest beside a nursery. that dent seem likely. give the purr pure number of babies most likely explanation is some hateful or ruthless person is throwing him. in who end in n there must be some reason. what will we do if we find the villain? well we reason with him and complain why, all things considered, throwing babies in the river is a bad thing to do? will we push him into the river? are we willing to kill him if that's the only way tend this vial practice? what if he is even bigger then the blacksmith. what he has a gun and is not alone. what heavenmen armed with guns, rifles, are till tries, hanks, fighter jets ballistic missiles and nuclear bombs how can we
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stop him thank film the priest is missing something and so this parable there are millions of people in the river. he have to become capable of helping each other out. [applause] >> thank you. >> i want to emphasized that for us, solidarity is understand that we're not trying to solve other people's problems. we're all in the river together. all in the village and the river and we have to understand ourselves as losing something whenever something is taken from others. we have to understand ourselves as having a common interest, that we're nothing acting out of shame or guilt when we show solidarity to others. we're acting because their liberation is our liberation, right? the world that is the conditions imposed on others are the
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conditions we al have to live in and thing that will happen to us. we understand everybody's liberation is bound together. if anyone has a question or some to say, the book festival is about to conclude but i'd be happen to talk to you or hear something you have to say. [inaudible discussion] >> the other thing we can do is we are right at the table in the back. a lot of literature and posters and book. we're giving therapy at the posters or just talk to us about whatever you want. thank you again to red emma's and everybody for being here. appreciate it. thank you. [applause]
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[inaudible discussion]


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