Like many other (non)-Indigenous nations across the globe who were dispossessed from their country or were deported to other so-called promising land, Aboriginal Australian and African American peoples have had an ongoing resistance to (post)-colonial policies. In fact, Aboriginal Australian peoples have experienced both external and internal colonialism: the former signifies “the exploitation of Indigenous lands and waters,” and the latter refers to “the geo- and bio-political management of Indigenous bodies within the borders of the ‘nation’,” to use the words of Aboriginal Australia scholar Evelyn Araluen (2017, 3). African American's sociopolitical repercussions (or “domestic colonialism”) are comparably experienced by any (internally) colonized minority around the globe, including Aboriginal Australians. They not only suffered from the effects of racism, but also were dominated by outsiders, “much as colonial subjects in the Third World, and had seen their indigenous values and ways of life destroyed,” argues American historian Ramón Arturo Gutiérrez (2004, 281). In the aftermath of colonialism, the concepts of the so-called Aboriginality and negroness were imposed upon these peoples respectively in a blatant attempt to manipulate and disempower. Consequently, issues of race and, in the case of Aboriginal Australians, land dispossession were the catalysts that motivated peoples in both countries to engage in civil and human rights activism to gain decolonization, not only on the political level but also on the sociocultural and literary ones. The conquered and deported peoples were obliged to undertake a long and painful quest, for more than two centuries, to assert their identity in opposition to the processes of “identification or annihilation triggered by these invaders” (Glissant 1999, 17). The resistance of these peoples to colonialism and deportation can be traced back to their early contact with the colonists, be it on board of slavery ships heading to the so-called New World, or when the British flag was first raised over Sydney Cove in 1788.

Rather than retelling the chronological historical accounts of these peoples’ ongoing political resistance, certain milestones in the political history of these peoples will be highlighted in this book during which Aboriginal and African American peoples established channels of transpacific political collaboration.

In this section, I want to comment briefly on the approach I followed in my personal interview with Lionel Fogarty on March 17, 2017. The approach that I adopted in this interview was that Fogarty's responses were recorded, transcribed, and published as part of my book. However, there is a striking difference between my transcriptions and those of Professor Muecke in his ground-breaking Gularabulu: Stories from the West Kimberley (1983, 2016). Muecke's aim was to imitate the spoken word of Aboriginal Elder Paddy Roe, and, thus, to incorporate “into the printed text some of the expressive devices of Roe's oral art, the use of his voice, the repetitions and seeming untidinesses that all other editors had conscientiously erased from the record” (Hodge and Mishra 1990, 83). Fogarty is not necessarily performing his answers in my interview. While Muecke's innovative editorial strategies incorporated into the printed text some of the expressive devices of Roe's oral art, I have, with Fogarty's permission, removed these instances from the transcribed text of the interview while being mindful of the need to avoid what Muecke calls “over-editing.” Fogarty is highly aware of the problem of over-editing of Aboriginal “oral text”:

If a still-point was created with the writing of Long Day's Journey, nevertheless a catastro¬phe was coming, and there was tension in the marriage (but not yet discord or separa¬tion), and there were misbehaving children (but not yet repudiated), and there were bodies getting old (but not yet breaching mortality). At the same time as Long Day's Journey can be read as an achieved point of stillness—an end that is simultaneously a beginning—it can also be read as the site and moment of breakdown, and Tao House is the frame of that scene, too. The cracks in the structure can be read in the play and in the days and nights of Carlotta and Gene persevering in the house through those years— 1939, 1940, 1941—more than a thousand days, out of which 147 went into the creation.

Without losing sight of the play as an achieved masterpiece, we can also read it as a realized nightmare, the neurotic breakdown of a damaged man. Catastrophe is not just imminent, it is commencing here, and this is a disaster zone in the making. What in the foregoing chapter was described as a Taoist mandala, within which the Long Day's Journey of Tao House sits at a center point, could also be characterized as a vicious circle within which the play is caught. Stephen A. Black, who had training in psychoanalysis as well as literary studies, wrote his biography of O’Neill, subtitled Beyond Mourning and Tragedy, to assert that the late plays, particularly Long Day's Journey and A Moon for the Misbegotten, represent the achievement of a successful self-analysis.

All Chinese names and terms used here are rendered in the spellings that would have been familiar to the O’Neills.

Taoism—a philosophy, a religion, a system of belief, a guide for living. No one of these terms is quite accurate, and the idea of tao is unnamable because it is so encompassing and pervasive. To give it a definition would remove it from the infinite, and so there would be opposition, duality.

Tao is about oneness or “with-ness,” a harmony with all. As a guide to how to be in the world, the term is often translated as “the way,” how to be at one with all that is other. The oneness is not static. It flows.

Lao-Tzu lived—or evolved as a legend—somewhere in the fifth to sixth century BCE, possibly a contemporary of Confucius. The person with this name or title (literally, “Old Master”) became known as the author of the texts called the Tao te Ching, which laid the groundwork for what is known as Taoism.

A somewhat later writer, known as Chuang-Tzu, further developed these precepts in a series of writings known by the author's name or title.

A mandala is a depiction of the universe in Hindu and Buddhist traditions. Mandalas typically use geometrical form, not figurative imagery to depict the metaphysical world. The mandala most associated with Taoism is the portrayal of yin and yang as con¬trasting but cyclically intertwined forces. The natural world contains a balance of these forces, which humans should seek in the way they live.

The Ba-Gua is a further elaborated version of the yin/yang mandala, which associates color, natural elements, bodily organs, and human characteristics with an octagon that encloses the circle. This symbology, which can be endlessly elaborated, makes intelligi¬ble the way one should live in the world. The point is to enable the flow of qi, or ch’i, the energy or life force.

The design principles that evolved from these ideas to enable the flow of qi and to enable tao in human habitation is Feng shui.

Wu wei is a concept that explains how one should live in relation to the world, which is in a state of active passivity or creative inaction.

In this book, I construe the poetries of four representative poets from Australia and the United States, namely Oodgeroo and Fogarty, Baraka and Sanchez. These poets were prominent in the struggles of their peoples during the Civil Rights movements of the 1960s and beyond. One of the significant contributions in this book is to deconstruct the dominant belief that poetry has no place to occupy in the political struggle of these minorities, and, consequently, poetry was overlooked in historical narratives of Australia and the United States during the 1960s. For these poets, therefore, poetry is not a luxury, and the poet is a guerrilla fighter. The book demonstrates that these poets are not (wo)-man of words, but action, and poetry for them is not a symbol of empty talk. Crossing the barrier of fear and involved in direct political action on behalf of their peoples, these poets marched, demonstrated, and advocated with and for their peoples’ rights. One fact that tells us how effective the role of these poets in the political struggle of their peoples is that some of these poets faced detention or surveillance; others were accused of “conspiracy,” as in the case of Baraka. These poets are, therefore, well-equipped to write about discrimination based on personal experience. In their poetries, they represent their peoples’ pathos, injustices, social needs and political aspirations, and aimed to amend or eradicate unjust social conditions. Moreover, these poets not only break the silence imposed upon their peoples but also articulate their connections to their ancestral territory and their place in contemporary Australia and the United States. The book, therefore, can be seen as a counter-argument here, highlighting how Oodgeroo, Fogarty, Baraka, and Sanchez did not assume the role of romantic observers or escapists who detach themselves from their peoples’ political activism.

In fact, the platforms behind Aboriginal and African American political activism have certain striking differences. The book, therefore, is attentive to the distinct sociopolitical backgrounds, in addition to the cultural and literary ones of Aboriginal and African American peoples discussed below. Since the advent of the settlers to their country, Indigenous Australian activists demanded civil and human rights.

The O’Neills faced the transition from Georgia in a way that might seem reckless. By physician's orders, Gene attempted a year of no writing to relieve stress in his neurologi¬cally afflicted body. On the hunch that the environment might be the problem, they left Casa Genotta late in 1936, feeling it likely they would never return. After a couple of weeks in New York seeing friends, they took up the invitation of a Seattle couple they had met.. Back in 1932, Sophus Keith Winther, a literary scholar and novelist at the University of Washington, was working on a critical study of O’Neill's plays and wrote to request a meeting to discuss the work. His timing was good, and Winther interviewed Gene in New York in 1932. He recounted the meeting in a breathless letter to the woman he was then courting, mentioning that Gene had invited him to come to Sea Island for a visit, which happened the following year. Winther's comprehensive study of O’Neill's plays was founded on a solid background of knowledge of trends in modern European drama and philosophy. Gene recognized and appreciated its intellectual goals—a vivid contrast to the gossipy coverage he was getting from others—and the book, described as a “systematic study in relation to the problems of the modern industrial age,” came out from Random House in 1934. Winther offered not even a hint that any of the plays might have autobiographical elements, instead couching his critique in terms of social message and tragic form. It is unfortunately a dull book, but undoubtedly respectful, and so, when Gene and Carlotta received an inscribed copy, they looked favorably on its author. They also enjoyed the company of Winther's intended wife, Eline, when the cou¬ple visited Casa Genotta. The friendship never wavered over the decades and included many visits; the correspondence gives insight into the private lives of the O’Neills.

We don't usually think of Long Day's Journey Into Night as a play of war, but 1912, like 1939 when the play was outlined, was a year on the verge of world war. And the man of 50 who conceived the play knew that these Tyrone characters were confronting a time of cataclysmic struggle in the coming years. Edmund was to face a crisis of how to remain creative and healthy in a modern world dominated by destruction and addiction, and Gene was to face a similarly challenging time. When American men faced conscription, Gene used his history of consumption to claim an exemption from the draft. In 1917, when he was 28, he wrote to the doctor who had overseen his treatment for tuberculosis at the Gaylord Sanitorium, telling him that he was “not trying to dodge service but, from what I hear, conditions in the camps and at the front are the very worst possible for one susceptible to T.B. […] I want to serve my country but it seems silly to commit suicide for it.” He was seeking a certificate from the doctor in case he got drafted anyway. He added that he had tried to enlist in the Navy, “but was refused for minor defects.”

In 1939, when he was too old to be drafted, he again faced the breakdown of his health, and he was dealing with the chaotic lives of his two sons, who would both face and elude conscription. He could sense the imminence of war. His turn to writing plays like Long Day's Journey can be seen as a way of facing the war, even fighting it. The play was almost left unfinished because of the actual outbreak of war, and the presence of at least two radios in the house can be blamed. Radio was the still novel technol¬ogy of reporting on such things as the worsening conflicts in Europe and Asia.

Introduction

The three cases described in this chapter highlight various concerns about specific conduct by the requesting and requested nations that could undermine the extraditee's individual rights. The high-profile case involving Kim Dotcom raises significant questions regarding the legality of search warrants executed by NZ Police to collect evidence to assist prosecutors in the US, and the operation of the double criminality rule. The quality of evidence against an extraditee was also raised in Hassan Diab's case, which examined the additional problem of when continued proceedings against the individual should cease. Finally, the case involving Daniel Snedden raises issues about the communication between nations when an extradition request has been made, and the application of the specialty principle, which stipulates an extraditee can only be prosecuted for the offences listed in the extradition request (Bassiouni 2014). This case also demonstrates how the political offence exception operates in the context of international crimes after protracted violent conflict and war. As with the cases in the previous chapter, there are few instances where judges supported the arguments raised by extraditees. The chapter will set out the key details of each case and illustrate problems when it comes to recognising the human rights of the extraditee during the surrender procedure.

Kim Dotcom, Police Action and Double Criminality

The Kim Dotcom case is a useful example that highlights the dilemmas facing police organisations asked to enforce a foreign extradition request while attempting to uphold domestic laws and individual rights protections that might differ from those in the requesting state. In this case, while US authorities held preliminary evidence that was sufficient to lay charges against Dotcom, Mathias Ortmann, Bram van der Kolk and several co-offenders, a successful prosecution required additional evidence that could only be collected by NZ Police under domestic search warrants. The legality of the NZ Police search and the issue of double criminality as judged by the NZ courts have been central to determining extraditability in this case.

The unusual shape of this book comes from the shape of an idea that is at its core: dual¬ism that does not resolve (re + solvere, to loosen, release—more at “solve”) but results (re + saltare, to leap). A play and a house, a husband and a wife, a chronicle and a history, one¬ness and war: these and other binaries are brought to the reader here in one book that is two. There is no simple way to do that math, or to take in this book, which asks for a kind of binocular viewing. On the left is a sort of timeline of an extended “moment” when Long Day's Journey was written, typed, and released, and the point of that chronicle is to ground the writing act in the material and temporal reality of two people in their lives. On the right are chapters that tell the story of how the play fits in the house, in the marriage, and in history.

The diary portion of the book is filled with details, some of it trivial. The word “lunch” appears 60 times in these excerpts from Carlotta's diary, and not once does she mention what they ate. Even more maddeningly, she frequently writes something like “We read in the evening,” without saying what they read. His diary usually reports only the barest facts about his progress in writing, along with a note about a doctor visit or a swim in the pool. They both record some famous visitors, reflections on family, and deep conversations, but much of this chronicle passes like those pages of a daily calendar that flutter away to indicate the passage of time in old movies. Still, the two diaries give shape and substance to the time when a great play was written, and you can feel the upsurge of that event. Biographical notes and narrations fill out the context and gaps, but the focus is always on the intersection of time/place and play. The event chronicled here is the creation of a great play, but the argument here is that the creation comes from both author and house, and so Gene and Carlotta should be seen as, in a sense, co-creators. The chapters, on the other hand, build new interpretations that can be constructed from this intersection of play and house, husband and wife, and the past and the present.

Introduction

The cases examined in this book illustrate that individual protections during the extradition process emerge in two ways. The first involves human rights protected under international laws, such as the CAT and related treaties. The second is through due process rights in national legal systems applied in individual cases, which are subject to the rule of non-inquiry. Human rights protected under international law emerge occasionally in the cases presented in Chapters 2 and 3. However, high evidentiary standards are commonly needed to establish viable human rights arguments under domestic extradition laws (Arnell 2013; Cullen and Burgess 2015; Parry 2010). Due process or procedural concerns in the administration of justice in requesting states appear more common, yet remain equally difficult to challenge in extradition courts (Dugard and Van den Wyngaert 1998). Both executive and judicial approaches to extradition must consider how requesting states meet basic international and domestic human rights standards, as ‘obligations to protect individuals should not end at our borders’ (Bifani 1993, 660). This is despite some experts arguing extradition should become a purely administrative process by eroding its substantive and procedural elements, including the need for the requesting state to provide evidence to support a claim for surrender (Boister 2017a).

This chapter examines core human rights and due process issues that commonly emerge in extradition cases. It links the existence of these protective rights to significant elements of criminal justice administration, while positing why these arguments are rarely successful in legal challenges to an extradition request. The chapter then explores the importance of a defendant-centred approach to help clarify the status of individual rights in extradition law (Gless 2013) and proposes some specific reforms to the current extradition procedure. Broader implications for the potential universalisation of contemporary criminal law are then discussed.

Rights in Extradition Law

This section summarises key individual rights claims which can arise during the extradition process, many of which are demonstrated in the cases examined in this book, and aligns them with core elements of the criminal justice process. This includes discussion of prominent international human rights protections, vulnerabilities based on an extraditee's age and health, formal rules relating to bail, access to legal representation, the conduct of fair trials, issues relating to evidence and sentencing, and the legal tensions associated with judicial and executive decision-making.

Introduction

Extradition treaties and related domestic legislation regulate the lawful transfer of individuals accused or convicted of criminal offences to the prosecuting jurisdiction (Bassiouni 2008; Cullen and Burgess 2015; Griffith and Harris 2005). While the physical surrender may be technically lawful under these mechanisms, there are many circumstances which raise concerns about the fairness of extradition. A lawful surrender often creates the appearance that any subsequent prosecution, conviction and sentence is fair or just. Many extradition cases address claims associated with individual rights, which can include widely accepted international human rights protections, domestic due process principles and broader individual rights. All these issues are discussed in the case studies presented in this book.

Extradition is regulated by layers of bi- or multilateral treaties (Magnuson 2012), as well as quasi-criminal domestic legislation and in some cases constitutional requirements, such as in the United States (US) (Bassiouni 2008; Nadelmann 1990). As ‘domestic legal arrangements are predicated on international legal arrangements’ (Cullen and Burgess 2015, 236), international extradition is a highly unusual area of law. At its core, extradition involves the prosecution of ‘national crimes subject to transnational criminal procedure’ to ensure the individual appears in court to exercise their right to defend charges or serve a previously imposed sentence (Boister 2015, 20). Importantly, there is no ‘positive obligation’ on any country to extradite under international law (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime 2012, para. 92). Extradition is also portrayed as an important form of extraterritorial power (Blakesley 1984) that reflects legal pluralism (Berman 2005; Boister 2015; Merry 1988).

Historically, extradition mainly applied to a fugitive accused of a crime in one jurisdiction who fled to another to escape prosecution or a legally imposed punishment. However, due to contemporary patterns of globalisation and technological developments such as the internet, extradition requests can now involve extraditees who, at the time of the crime, were never physically located in the nation seeking to prosecute (Allely et al. 2022; Mann et al. 2018). As nations are increasingly concerned about controlling both domestic and transnational crimes that might affect their national security (Aas 2011a, 2011b; Andreas and Nadelmann 2006; Bowling 2011; Zedner 2010), extradition becomes a reflection of international comity and strong bi- and multilateral political relationships (Abelson 2009; Bassiouni 2003; Blakesley 1984; Magnuson 2012; Sheptycki 2011).

On the back cover of Amiri Baraka's Transbluesency: 1961-1995, the noted American biographer and literary critic Arnold Rampersad writes: “Amiri Baraka stands with Wheatley, Douglas, Dunbar, Hughes, Hurston, Wright, Ellison, as one of the eight figures who have significantly affected the course of African American literary culture” (quoted in Schwartz 2016, 99). A poet, playwright, essayist, activist, lecturer, novelist, editor, anthologist, and director, Baraka is commonly acclaimed as a major contributor to modern African American letters, and his contribution lies in his influence on the direction of post-1960s African American writing. With a literary career spanning over fifty years, he devoted himself to the cause of Black liberation and the interrogation of the mainstream racism. His race-conscious poetry, particularly since the late 1960s, aims to provoke and shock its audience and bring attention to the plight of African Americans. In his youth, he was influenced by “the principles of Maulana Karenga's Kawaida (Swahili for tradition) doctrine” (Jones (Baraka) 1997, xiii). He followed Malcolm X's call for African Americans to recapture their “heritage and identity” and liberate themselves “from the bonds of White supremacy” (Malcolm X quoted in Massingale 2010, 70). In doing so, he encouraged a generation of writers, including Sonia Sanchez, to unapologetically utilize experimental poetic modes, com-bined with their own rich African American cultural heritage, as a political weapon. In “Citizen Cain,” Baraka not only calls for confrontational action but also encourages himself to be engaged in it:

Baraka articulated his sociopolitical, cultural aims through various artistic communities, namely the Beat movement (1957–1963), Black cultural nationalism (1965–1974), and Marxist-Leninist-Maoist thought (post- 1975). Indeed, Baraka, as a poet and activist, did not restrict himself to one political or literary ideology: “Consistency is one of the last words one would use in characterizing Baraka's thinking during the first two decades of his career” (Mackey 1993, 22, italics original).

By 1948, three years after the O’Neills moved from California to New York, divorce seemed inevitable. Gene's friends openly advised it, and Carlotta was in such a state of fury that she severed all ties for a while. A breaking point came early in 1948, after a lengthy period of disputes, exacerbated by prescription drug overuse and drinking. She told a friend of her attempted suicide in late 1947, which was driven by Gene's alleged abuse of her. On one occasion, an observer reported, Gene “threw a wall mirror at her, and if it had hit her, it might have killed her.” On another occasion, she seized the only picture he had of himself with his mother “and tore it into bits, crying, ‘Your mother was a whore!’”We cannot read the aftermath of Long Day's Journey, from the time it was finished to the time it was published and produced, without encountering Carlotta's bitterness and cynicism and Gene's fury and despair. However, those feelings were generated by marital dysfunction and the misery of ill health, conditions which had worsened since the play was written. At several moments, the marriage seemed beyond saving, but meanwhile the play was saved for later. This period of demise is recounted elsewhere in this book, but the low that was reached was extremely low.

And yet, by 1951, Gene's ill health was so poor and his spirit so crushed that he resigned himself to live out his days in Carlotta's care. In a gesture of re-commitment, he rewrote his will to leave her everything, including his literary estate. She became the authority over his authorship. To her, that meant establishing a fitting memorial to his work, in the form of the Eugene O’Neill Papers at Yale, but it also meant protecting his image and his legacy. After his death, which came on November 27, 1953, she would take charge of all questions of rights, including what to do with all the unpublished material. The three-year saga of bringing out Long Day's Journey is also an important set of days in its creation.

Introduction

It is often argued that Keynes's General Theory dealt with macroeconomic aggregates of the real economy in conditions of depression. As a result, many argued that the theory was not general and required the addition of discussions of the economy in “normal conditions” as well as a discussion of the determinants of the nominal price level. In the postwar period, this was achieved through the discussion of the individual or “micro¬economic” decisions that produced the economic aggregates in terms of the addition of classical individual optimization theory, what came to be called the “micro” foun¬dations of macroeconomics. The problem of nominal prices was addressed through the addition of the short-run Phillips curve. The result was what came to be called the “Neoclassical Synthesis” and the “monetarist counterrevolution,” which paved the way for the rational expectations revolution and the revival of pre-Keynesian classical economics.

Keynes's policy proposals were eviscerated in a similar way, in what has come to be known as “hydraulic” Keynesianism, the use of government tax and expenditure policies to ensure that the level of aggregate expenditure is sufficient to produce full employment. In the 1950s, the emergence of stagflation, the simultaneous occurrence of rising unemployment and rising prices, and high levels of inflation in the 1970s, cre¬ated a policy paradox in which fiscal policy could not be simultaneously expansive to support full employment levels of demand and restrictive to reduce excess demand and fight inflation. This brought a return to monetary policy as the instrument seen as most appropriate to fight inflation and produce price stability, supported by supply-side tax incentives as the instrument most appropriate to sustain employment and economic growth. Keynes's approach to monetary policy by influencing expectations of long-term interest rates was replaced by control of the growth of monetary aggregates. Keynesian fiscal policy ceased to have a macroeconomic objective and was instead directed toward increasing private incentives through the reduction of the role of government in the economy and the reduction of marginal tax rates to increase investment incentives. Thus, the overall level of fiscal stimulus and interest rates became residual, completely reversing Keynes's approach.