Power of Nightmares

BBC documentary film series, written and produced by Adam Curtis. The series is subtitled The Rise of the Politics of Fear.

The film consists of three 1-hour parts, which were first broadcast in the UK in late 2004. It compares the rise of the American Neo-Conservative movement and the radical Islamist movement, makes comparisons on their origins and suggests a strong connection between the two.

The first part of the series explains the origins of Islamism and Neo-Conservatism.

It shows Egyptian civil servant Sayyid Qutb, the founder of Islamism, visiting America to learn about the education system but becoming disgusted with what he saw as a corruption of morals and virtues in western society through individualism. When he returns to Egypt he is disturbed by westernization under President Nasser and Qutb establishes the Muslim Brotherhood, and after being tortured in one of Nasser's jails comes to believe that western-influenced leaders can justly be killed for the sake of removing their corruption. Qutb is executed in 1966, but he inspires the future mentor of Osama bin Laden, Ayman al-Zawahiri, to start his own secret Islamist group. Inspired by the 1979 Iranian revolution, Zawahiri and his allies assassinate Egyptian president Anwar Al Sadat in 1981 in hopes of starting their own revolution. The revolution does not materialize, and Zawahiri comes to believe that the majority of Muslims have been corrupted by their western-inspired leaders and thus may be legitimate targets of violence if they do not join him.

At the same time in America, a group of disillusioned liberals including Irving Kristol and Paul Wolfowitz look to the political thinking of Leo Strauss after the general failure of President Johnson's "Great Society". They come to the conclusion that the emphasis on individual liberty was the undoing of the plan, and envision restructuring America by uniting the American people against a common enemy through fear. These factions, the Neo-Conservatives, come to power under the Reagan administration with their allies Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld and work to unite the United States in fear and hatred of the Soviet Union. The Neo-Conservatives allege the Soviet Union is not following the terms of disarmament between the two countries, and with the investigation of "Team B" they accumulate a case to prove this with dubious evidence and methods. President Reagan is convinced nonetheless.

The title of this episode is taken from a popular song which Qutb heard played at a church-organised dance for young people, which he saw as symptomatic of the immorality of American society.

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Hope by Brian Quinn

This poem is about an experience of a person who has been through hell.

I'm a member of a 12-Step Program, and I still remember being in the depths of despair, when I had lost all love and all faith. But, there was just a glimmer of hope, and this led to a new life, a fuller live, a more joyful life. I want to share this experience with others, and urge them never to give up hope.

This poem originally was published in Poems on Life

Hope

by Brian Quinn

When all about you is black with gloom, And all you feel is pending doom. When your bones are racked with grim despair - When every breath is a gasp for air. Keep on going, though you need to grope, For around the bend is a ray of hope. A ray of hope is perhaps all that's left, As your will to live has been bereft. You've lost it all, it's just no use! You can end it all, you need no excuse. But throw away that piece of rope, And give yourself a chance of hope. Just give yourself another day, Brushing aside what your thoughts may say. This is your life and you can make a new start, By ignoring the brain - just follow the heart. Taking baby steps in order to cope, And minute by minute you'll build on your hope. Build on your hope,. one day at a time, Though the road be steep and hard to climb. The hurts of the past - they should be dead. The fears of the future are all in your head. Just live in the present and refuse to mope Your life will sparkle for you're living in hope

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou

I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

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