Uneasy lies the head that wears a turban?: armies, coups, and revolutions

The New Neo Posted on by

I’m going to talk about Iran and regime change.

But first I’m going to take a detour for some news of the day. The latter may seem totally unrelated to the former, but please bear with me: though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.

A military coup is going on in Thailand right now. For most of us who were not especially conversant with politics in Thailand prior to this–and I most definitely count myself among them–it’s catch-up time. Reports indicate that the military has taken over from Thai’s Prime Minister Thaksin, who was widely seen as corrupt. What’s more, there’s been unrest in the country for quite some time now; last April, after demonstrations against Thaksin resulted in a special election, the results of that poll were abrogated by the courts, leaving the country without a functioning legislature.

Now, there are those who might say that the phrase “functioning legislature” is somewhat of an oxymoron. But it does seem as though the situation in Thailand–a country which also faces a violent Moslem insurgency in its south–was ripe for change. The army took charge, as it often has in Thailand; there’s a history of military coups there. Stability is provided by Thailand’s 78-year old monarch Bhumibol, who has limited powers but has in the past used those powers, as well as his personal influence, to force compromise and allow Thailand to continue to function despite its history of coups.

This time the Thais are hoping it will happen again. Bhumibol, by the way, is the world’s longest-reigning monarch, having been king of Thailand for 60 years (little- known piece of trivia: he was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts).

The fact that the military is behind the coup is not surprising. Not only does Thailand have a recent history of military coups, but coups are in general far more common around the world than revolutions coming from what Marxists like to call “the masses.” That’s especially true in countries where the people don’t generally–or are not allowed to–bear arms, and in which the government is willing to gun down the opposition. Since those governments against which people might most want to rebel often have those two characteristics, that leaves those who would revolt (and those who would support them) in a quandary: how can it be successfully done?

Which brings us to Iran and regime change. Those who would like to avoid a repetition of the invasion of Iraq (and I think that includes virtually all of us) and who also consider the mullahs’ fall a consummation devoutly to be wished (ditto), have puzzled over the conundrum of how such a change–which would amount to a revolution, or the undoing of a revolution that many in Iran now regret–could be accomplished.

Not only is it unclear how it might happen, but there’s a sense that we’re running out of time. Michael Ledeen’s refrain “faster, please!” has taken on greater and greater urgency.

I was reading an interview with Ledeen recently. He’s far from a warmonger, although he’s sometimes portrayed as such; Ledeen believes in political change through encouraging the people of Iran to overthrow the regime. Although this may sound naive, he’s no dummy. And as I read the interview, the following passage caught my eye:

How far would the regime go to retain power? Nobody knows. But the regime does not believe the army would kill large numbers of Iranians, and the regime has its doubts about even the Revolutionary Guards, whose leadership changes quite often. Today the regime is shutting down any publication that expresses even the vaguest criticism, which to me suggests the regime is insecure.

Because the military in the US has a tradition of absolute loyalty to whatever “regime” is in office, we often forget that the military constitutes a separate force in many countries, a loose cannon of sorts (in fact, I seem to recall that this was used as an argument against the all-volunteer military when the draft was about to end). Even the most repressive regimes have to keep their militaries in line, because the military represents a potential danger. After all, one thing the military does is to bear arms. And those arms can work against any regime in several ways: either by action, such as supporting a coup (as in Thailand); or by inaction, refusing to enforce the will of the leaders (as in Iran in 1979), or through some combination of the two.

Ledeen’s commentary in the interview rang a bell for me. In one of my recent pieces on the 1979 Iranian revolution that got us into this mess in the first place, I wrote:

But as things escalated, and the Shah eventually lost the support of the army and the police (a turning point), few seemed to be prescient enough to predict what forces would replace his regime.

Hmmm. There’s also this statement from commenter “ForNow” on the SAVAK thread on this blog:

…I had heard from an Iranian whom I knew back during Carter’s presidency when the Shah was still in power…Back then, this Iranian said he was son of one of the Shah’s generals, a claim which I was able by chance to corroborate…He said that all sectors of Iranian society hated the Shah and his secret police, and that his own father — a general under the Shah — hated the Shah…

When hatred of a ruler or rulers is so widespread that it has become rampant among those who would protect those rulers or enforce their edicts, then those rulers may be in big trouble, no matter how repressive and brutal they are willing to be to suppress dissent. Because they cannot do it alone; they must have a cooperative armed apparatus in place to enforce their will.

The 1979 revolution had a course that was not only difficult to predict, it also occurred rather swiftly once the Shah lost the support of those bearing arms. Could this happen now, with the mullahs? Faster, please.

[ADDENDUM: This is Thailand’s 20th coup since 1932, when it established democracy over a previously absolute monarch. That’s a lot of coups. And I seem to recall something about that absolute monarchy in Thailand (originally Siam); wasn’t it the topic of the musical “The King and I?” This is not a joke, although it sounds like one; the lyrics to the song “Is a Puzzlement” contain a fairly serious discussion of the burdens and decisions an absolute monarch faces in times of cultural transition.]

Going gentle into that good night

The New Neo Posted on by

The memorial service for the father of a good friend of mine was held at the retirement community where he and his wife had lived for the last couple of years. The place is one of those spectacularly lovely and well-designed “total life care” environments, independent living and assisted living and skilled nursing care in one facility, with movement from one section to another possible as time and health dictates.

My son is about the same age as this friend’s children, and during the twenty-five years I’ve known her we’ve shared several Thanksgivings and Christmases and weddings. That’s where I met her parents.

So I already knew that her father had been a great raconteur with a seemingly endless supply of funny stories, and a skilled craftsman who loved to build things around the house. But at the service I learned he’d been much more. As we entered the room we saw a display of photos of her parents and the family–parties and trips and good times, and several of her father when he’d served in the army with Patton during World War II. During the service I heard warm and loving recollections from his children and grandchildren, and from colleagues and friends.

But one person was mysteriously missing: his wife. They’d met at the age of thirteen and been married for sixty-six long and happy years. I looked around the room but could not find her. Then during the service, the minister explained that no, his wife would not be attending.

I’d known that she was in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s disease. But I also knew that she’d been told about her husband’s death, and since they’d still been living together in an assisted living apartment, surely she felt his absense, whether she could recall it or understand it. But the minister noted that experts in Alzheimer’s had suggested that her attendance at a service such as this would be a pointless cruelty: she would only be saddened by it and yet would not remember it. It would reopen the wound of her husband’s death freshly from moment to moment, to no purpose. And so it had been recommended she stay away, and come down only for the reception and luncheon, which would seem to her a sort of party.

And a sort of party it was, actually. When a 90-year-old dies after a rich full life, that life can mostly be celebrated, although of course there’s grieving, as well.

My friend’s mother looked very well when she arrived, greeting all with a smile, clearly happy to see the assembled crowd of relatives and old friends. Someone such as myself–a very tangential figure in her life–no longer was identifiable, although graciousness still ruled her behavior and she greeted me warmly.

But for now she still knows her close family and dearest friends, although that will fade, sadly enough. Throughout the luncheon her smile seemed genuine, seated next to her older sister on her right and her younger brother on her left, all looking far younger than their 90-or-so years. And even when, because of her Alzheimer’s, she forgot to use her fork, and picked up pieces of her salad with her hand, her fingers grasped the lettuce leaf oh-so-delicately in a gesture that could only be described as polite and refined.

Gone are the days she used to hold forth with strength and vigor, speaking on many subjects, giving advice and counsel. Now she seems tentative and childlike, with a sweetness about her that makes everyone want to protect her. But protection can only go so far; although I hope it surrounds her to the end.

Years ago I read Dylan Thomas’s famous admonition to his father to fight against the vagaries of age and the coming of death:

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Perhaps that way is best for some. But for others, perhaps it’s best to try to say with Ecclesiastes:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…

Dennis Ross on The Missing Peace

The New Neo Posted on by

What went wrong at Camp David? Read Pejman Yousefzadeh’s review of Dennis Ross’s exhaustive book The Missing Peace, a description of what led to the failure of the 2000 negotiations.

It’s difficult to believe that it was only six short years ago that a negotiated peace in the Middle East seemed possible, around the corner, close at hand. Ross, who was Middle East negotiator for the US at Camp David and during the twelve years leading up to it, feels there’s plenty of blame to go around.

But there’s no doubt who the major obstacle was, and that was Arafat. According to Ross, Arafat simply could not countenance ending the conflict; his whole life was built on it as the foundation of his power, and, as Ross stated, to end the conflict is to end himself. So, no deal, no matter how reasonable the concessions, how hardworking and accommodating the diplomats.

Arafat himself is now ended, since no one is immortal, even supreme egotists and power-mad tyrants. But the conflict he refused to end–or to at least ameliorate–shows no signs of abating.

Next “change” post gone AWOL

The New Neo Posted on by

No, I haven’t forgotten my “A mind is a difficult thing to change” series, even though it might seem that way. I haven’t posted a segment in quite a while, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. What it does mean is I’m a bit frazzled and overextended with everything else I’ve been doing (including intermittent but valiant attempts to “have a life”).

So, although I make no promises, I want to acknowledge that I intend and hope to write the next installment within the next month or so.

Fallaci goes a few rounds with Khomeini

The New Neo Posted on by

In honor of Oriana Fallaci, the fearless and uniquely outspoken correspondent who died yesterday in Florence Italy, I’m posting excerpts from her 1979 interview with Ayatollah Khomeini, which occurred not long after he came to power (these quotes appeared as part of a piece written by the New Yorker’s Margaret Talbot that was published in June of 2006, just a few months before Fallaci’s death).

The feisty Fallaci never pulled her punches, even with the grim Ayatollah:

Fallaci had travelled to Qum to try to secure an interview with Khomeini, and she waited ten days before he received her. She had followed instructions from the new Islamist regime, and arrived at the Ayatollah’s home barefoot and wrapped in a chador. Almost immediately, she unleashed a barrage of questions about the closing of opposition newspapers, the treatment of Iran’s Kurdish minority, and the summary executions performed by the new regime.

Fallaci kept pressing Khomeini with questions about the dreadful treatment of women under his regime, including ones about the chador. He replied, “If you do not like Islamic dress you are not obliged to wear it. Because Islamic dress is for good and proper young women.”

Fallaci knew an opportunity when she saw one; she thanked the Ayatollah and proceeded to dump her chador. Her little strip tease (at least, in Islamist terms) was the final straw for Khomeini–he ordered her out and fumed for a day or two before he deigned to resume the interview. But Fallaci was ready for him:

When Khomeini let her return, his son Ahmed gave Fallaci some advice: his father was still very angry, so she’d better not even mention the word “chador.” Fallaci turned the tape recorder back on and immediately revisited the subject. “First he looked at me in astonishment,” she said. “Total astonishment. Then his lips moved in a shadow of a smile. Then the shadow of a smile became a real smile. And finally it became a laugh. He laughed, yes. And, when the interview was over, Ahmed whispered to me, ”˜Believe me, I never saw my father laugh. I think you are the only person in this world who made him laugh.’ ”

But a rare moment of affability displayed by the old tyrant didn’t make Fallaci a fan. She told Talbot:

“…it did not take long to realize that in spite of his quiet appearance he represented the Robespierre or the Lenin of something which would go very far and would poison the world. People loved him too much. They saw in him another Prophet. Worse: a God.”

Upon leaving Khomeini’s house after her first interview, Fallaci was besieged by Iranians who wanted to touch her because she’d been in the Ayatollah’s presence. “The sleeves of my shirt were all torn off, my slacks, too,” she recalled. “My arms were full of bruises, and hands, too. Do believe me: everything started with Khomeini. Without Khomeini, we would not be where we are. What a pity that, when pregnant with him, his mother did not choose to have an abortion.”

Fake but accurate: what if it’s turtles all the way down?

The New Neo Posted on by

Here’s the joke:

A well-known scientist (some say it was Bertrand Russell) once gave a public lecture on astronomy. He described how the Earth orbits around the sun and how the sun, in turn, orbits around the centre of a vast collection of stars called our galaxy.

At the end of the lecture, a little old lady at the back of the room got up and said: “What you have told us is rubbish. The world is really a flat plate supported on the back of a giant tortoise.”

The scientist gave a superior smile before replying, “What is the tortoise standing on?”

“You’re very clever, young man, very clever,” said the old lady. “But it’s turtles all the way down.”

I thought of this story the other day, while discussing the France2 case with an exceptionally intelligent young man. He was open to the idea that France2 had been guilty of promulgating a lie in the al Durah affair, but asked me whether it really mattered so very much that it was a lie in that particular instance because, after all, Israel does target Palestinian children. The old, “fake but accurate” argument.

A brief discussion about the nature of collateral damage in asymmetrical warfare ensued, and he agreed that it’s probably unavoidable no matter how careful a military is. But he insisted that Israel must purposely have targeted children in some instance or other, because it was such a well-known fact.

I asked the young man the following question: what if all the reports he’d read about Israelis purposely targeting children were based on lies? If enough reporters truly believed that “fake but accurate” was a reasonable way of reporting things, then what was to stop them from lying about this to make a point they felt to be essentially true?

In other words, what if–like the turtles–it’s lies all the way down?

[NOTE: As a bit of background on journalistic standards for reporting about Israel, here’s a point-by-point debunking of the famous and influential Chris Hedges Harper’s article that alleged Israeli soldiers killed Palestinian children “for sport.” And here’s an excellent overview on the entire topic of the NY Times’s distorted and misleading coverage of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict, written by Tom Gross of National Review. The more I’ve learned about the media, the more I’ve come to believe that Hedges was operating under the “fake but accurate” rubric.]

Roya Hakakian and SAVAK: another changer

The New Neo Posted on by

When I was writing about the 1979 Iranian revolution I asked the following question:

The Shah’s secret police–SAVAK, usually referred to with an adjective such as “dreaded” or “hated” before the acronym–was active in Iran to stifle those who would oppose him. There is a great deal of controversy over just how dreadful SAVAK actually was in the larger scheme of things. Was it a wide-ranging and indiscriminate effort to track down, torture, imprison, exile and/or murder all those who dissented, or who even were thought to dissent, much like the operations of the Soviet KGB? Or was it far more benign, only dealing with those who would violently overthrow the government (such as Khomeini and his henchmen), and using torture only sparingly?

Recently I read the book Journey From the Land of No by Iranian-American writer and poet Roya Hakakian. She was raised in Iran in a Jewish family, and as a twelve-year old she experienced the 1979 revolution. Her book is a meditation on the profound dislocations of that time for herself, her relatives, and her friends.

Hakakian touches on her childhood memories of whispers about the dread SAVAK, which became a sort of boogie man to her. She writes:

Like God, SAVAK was ubiquitous and omnipresent in the national imagination…Dignity was what SAVAK deprived the nation of most…To escape its ominous attention, every citizen hid what was on his mind and learned to talk in a way that his true thoughts would not be obvious.

Certainly a frightening portrait.

Right before the Revolution she listened to a revered young woman friend named Bibi talk about the wonderful Ayatollah Khomeini (she refers to him as “Agha”). As in a fairy tale, he would make everything better:

Agha is the one who will set us free…Agha is the angel who’ll chase the devil away…He’ll not have cronies like the evil Shah…A revolution is on the way. Agha will make poverty history. We’ll be free to say and write anything we want because when Agha comes, SAVAK will be history too.

A sensitive and literary child, Roya loved the renowned Iranian children’s classic The Little Black Fish, which she read over and over. But Bibi told her a terrible tale of what had happened to its author:

SAVAK killed him…They snatch you away, torture you, even kill you if you say something against the shah. That’s what they did to the writer of The Little Black Fish. They put his feet in a block of cement and dropped him into the River Aras in Azerbaijan.

Of course, as we now know–and Roya learned–the Revolution betrayed the trust of Roya’s friends and family. Roya reports that by 1984, at the time of Iran’s war with Iraq, she dreamt every night of murdering the Ayatollah. And by then the Shah’s SAVAK had been replaced by the even more dreaded and intrusive SAVAMA, secret police of the mullahs.

And what of Bibi and her veneration for Agha? Kakakian meets an old friend who tells her the news. Just a few disillusioned months after the Revolution, Bibi had joined the People’s Mujahideen, an opposition movement. She’s written a protest essay and read it in class and was reported by a fellow student, imprisoned, and tortured.

Roya suggests visiting Bibi in prison and bringing her a copy of The Little Black Fish, a book they both had loved. But her friend explains that wouldn’t be a good idea. It might depress Bibi too much, because of what she’d learned in prison, to wit:

[The book’s author] Samad Behrangi had not been drowned. There had been no cement blocks. No cruel interrogation by SAVAK. A poor swimmer, he had drowned on his own. When news of the drowning reached several leading anti-shah intellectuals of the time, they saw it as an opportunity to pin it on the shah to fuel the public’s resentment of him. One of the pivotal legends that had tormented a generation and ignited the revolution had been nothing but a hoax. A strategic maneuver! A little lie between revolutionary friends! What of it?

What of it, indeed? Fake but accurate, no doubt.

And I wondered what happened to those anti-shah intellectuals who’d thought up the brilliant deception. Did they end up like so many others, swallowed by the revolution they helped bring about, perplexed at the strange and horrific turn events had taken?

[NOTE: I tried researching the story of the death of author Behrangi to see if I could determine the truth. It was impossible to do so. Different versions are offered, depending on the politics of the writer. Perhaps Wikipedia summarizes it best:

Behrangi drowned in the Aras river. It is rumored that he was killed by the agents of the Pahlavi government of Iran, because of his outspoken manner regarding the corruptness of the regime, while others believe that his death was accidental.]

RIP, Oriana

The New Neo Posted on by

The utterly unique and seemingly fearless Oriana Fallaci has died.

Charismatic, beautiful, outspoken, iconoclastic, articulate, fiery, controversial, in recent years Fallaci had been battling cancer, but she continued speaking out against Islam’s violent incursions into Europe.

Fallaci never was one to pull her punches. Even though she didn’t get quite as much press as the Pope for it, she was far harder on Islam.

[I will write more later on Fallaci.]

The Big Story, according to Google: the Gates of Regensburg

The New Neo Posted on by

My home page is Google, which always contains a feature entitled “Top Stories,” listing what Google considers the five biggest stories of the hour. Usually it has a variety–I’ve never seen it with the same story five times before. But right now it looks like this:

Fadlallah Demands Personal Apology from Pope Over Remarks on Islam
Naharnet – all 706 related »

Key excerpts: The Pope’s speech
BBC News – all 706 related »

Muslims Enraged by Pope’s Remarks on Spreading Islam by Violence
CNSNews.com – all 706 related »

Pontiff’s quote on Islam draws criticism, anger
Minneapolis Star Tribune (subscription) – all 706 related »

Pope’s remarks anger Muslims
United Press International – all 706 relate

So, what’s new? That Moslems are angry? That Moslems are angry at someone suggesting their religion might have some flaws? That Moslems are angry at someone suggesting their religion might have some connection with the jihadist violence certain groups of Moslems commit in its name? Or is it the fact that it’s the the Pope who made the remarks in question?

[Here are some excerpts from the Pope’s controversial remarks about Islam, for those who aren’t familiar with what he said.]

Update: the wheels of French justice grind fine…

The New Neo Posted on by

…and maybe not so slowly, after all.

Nidra Pollner’s second report, this one focusing on the trial, sounds very, very promising:

It was a beautiful trial. It was held in an atmosphere of respect for justice…

And here is part of Richard Landes’s post on the same subject:

Wow. French Republican values have scored a great first round victory today. This is the France that I fell in love with as a kid, and as a student reading Jules Michelet, and doing medieval history with intellectually vibrant people, the great souled people with wise and fair-minded institutions, and real ideals and commitment to integrity”¦ the people of the Peace of God, and the early, heady days of the French Revolution.

Not to get too excited too soon”¦

Francophiles should be happy, and those who love truth and justice should be cautiously optimistic as well. The verdict will be delivered on October 19, and a few days later the second trial against the second defendant will begin–that is, if there is a second trial.

Of course, judges are notorious for their poker faces. It ain’t over till the fat lady sings.

Dreyfus and the France2 case: history doesn’t repeat, but it rhymes

The New Neo Posted on by

The great Mark Twain wrote, in one of his pithiest and most insightful aphorisms:

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

Not all the rhymes of history are beautiful poetry, of that we can be sure. Case in point: the ongoing France2 defamation trial, which has resonance with the famous Dreyfus affair.

The current trial–or trials; there are three–is a story the MSM is virtually ignoring. So once again it falls to the blogosphere to publicize it. Nidra Pollner and Pajamas Media are attempting to emphasize the “rhyme” by channeling Emile Zola and the newspaper L’Aurore (The Dawn), respectively. Pollner’s excellent first article on the case appears here.

The trial begins today. It manages to combine a number of huge issues in one seemingly small package: Palestinian fauxtography, the role of the mainstream press in promulgating it, how to distinguish between what is truth and what is propaganda, and the defamation laws of the French legal system. The overarching question, of course, is whether justice and truth will prevail.

Please read this previous post of mine and the linked Pollner article to get the details. But if that’s too much for you, here’s the briefest of recaps: in September of 2000, the French TV station France2 broadcast videotape allegedly showing the killing of 12-year old Mohammed al Durah by Israeli troops in a Gaza exchange of fire with Palestinians. The tape and the publicity that ensued were instrumental in inflaming international–especially European, and particularly French–public opinion against both Israel and Jews, and was heavily used by the Palestinians as justification for the bloody Second Intifada.

But it turns out the overwhelming evidence indicates the whole thing to be a hoax. What’s more, France2 knew this early on, or should reasonably have known it. The station lied about other aspects of the tape as well, alleging there was even more footage–unshown because it was too graphic and upsetting–proving the death of Mohammed. But there was no such tape. In fact, the tape in question demonstrates quite the opposite: almost a half-hour of blatantly staged scenes, with only a minute of al Durah footage, the end of which catches the boy making voluntary hand gestures after he was supposedly dead.

In the sharpest of ironies, these trials are being brought by the French TV station and its employees under a law originally designed to shield individuals against defamation by the press. Philippe Karsenty, founding director of the online media watch enterprise Media-Ratings, is being sued for public defamation of the honor and reputation of an “individual”–that individual being France 2 and its employees Arlette Chabot and Charles Enderlin.

It’s as though Dan Rather, acting as an individual, had sued Charles Johnson of Little Green Footballs for Johnson’s online debunking of the forged the National Guard memos. A French law designed to protect individuals against the power of false press accusations has turned the tables, looking-glass like, and enabled the press to sue online individuals for criticizing lies promulgated by the media itself.

Writers keep invoking the famous Dreyfus Affair, but I’m hoping the better parallel will be to the David Irving trial, in which Irving sued writer Lipstadt for defamation when she accused him of lying and Holocaust denial. He ended up the loser, with his reputation in tatters after the trial proved the truth of her charges against him.

The Irving trial was relatively brief and the verdict against Irving swift. Not so the Dreyfus case; although Dreyfus was exonerated in the end, it took twelve long years for his rehabilitation, and he endured a great deal of suffering along the way.

The Dreyfus Affair demonstrated, among other things, the power of the pen: writer Zola was instrumental in getting the case the public scrutiny that ultimately helped to release Dreyfus. The entire episode also caused a huge and lasting rift in French society and government. But Zola himself, in an example of uncanny “rhyming” with the present case, did not get off scot-free. He–much like the defendants here (and possibly under the same statute?)–was charged with libel in 1898, the same year in which he had written “J’accuse,” his famous piece calling attention to the Dreyfus Affair.

What’s more–and here I sincerely hope that history does not end up rhyming–Zola was found guilty, and forced to flee the country and take exile in England for a few months until granted amnesty.

There are two other famous quotations about history that spring to mind in relation to these matters. One was uttered by James Joyce’s fictional character and alter ego Stephen Daedulus:

History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.

Yes, history has its horrors. But we are part of it, and it of us, and we ignore it at our peril. We can’t change it; we can only try to learn from it. Which brings us to the second quote, by George Santayana:

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.

Of course, even those who do remember the past are often condemned to repeat it, unless enough people remember it and act wisely on its lessons. Sometimes it’s difficult to know what those lessons are. Other times they seem clear, and this is one of these times.

[ADDENDUM: I just came across Richard Landes’s pretrial post, in which he mentions that Dreyfus was tried under the same 1881 law that is operating in this trial.]