Eisenhower coined the term “military-industrial complex”, which he described as “a permanent armaments industry of vast proportions” that could have a disproportionately large influence on the government.

In an op-ed for The Washington Post entitled “50 years later, we’re still ignoring Ike’s warning”, Eisenhower’s granddaughter, Susan Eisenhower, writes of how Eisenhower’s fears for his generation apply to the current generation too:

The notion captured the imagination of scholars, politicians and veterans; the military-industrial complex has been studied, investigated and revisited countless times, including now, at its 50th anniversary. Looking back, it is easy to see the parallels to our era, especially how the complex has expanded since Sept. 11, 2001. In less than 10 years, our military and security expenditures have increased by 119 percent. Even after subtracting the costs of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the budget has grown by 68 percent since 2001. In 2010, the United States is projected to spend at least $700 billion on its defense and security, the most, in real terms, that we’ve spent in any year since World War II.

Freelance reporter Wayne Anderson applied for “military embed-journalist accommodation status” in Afghanistan in January of 2010 – signing the International Security Assistance Force (“ISAF”) Media Accommodation and Ground Rules Agreement (“MAGRA”) (an agreement on rules for media personnel) as part of the process. He was accepted, but after spending 6 months with the Minnesota Army National Guard in Kabul, he shot footage of an ambulance unloading American personnel after they had been hurt in “a controversial shooting.”

On July 29, 2010, Anderson’s story about the shooting and video of the ambulance went live on The Washington Times website, and the very next day, a U.S. Army captain told Anderson that his embed status would be terminated. The military argued that Anderson’s embed status was terminated because the footage showed the identifiable faces of injured soldiers involved (a violation of the ISAF and MAGRA agreements he had signed) – but Anderson remained solid in his belief that the footage did not show the identifiable faces of soldiers, therefore his termination was invalid.

Anderson challenged his termination in court, but to no avail. He wrote about his experience in an op-ed published in, fittingly enough, The Washington Times.

A sestina is a fixed verse form consisting of six stanzas of six lines each, normally followed by a three-line envoi.

The words that end each line of the first stanza are used as line endings in each of the following stanzas, rotated in a set pattern.

Check out Elizabeth Bishop’s “Sestina” for a good example of how the tricky form can be best utilized.

Dr. King spoke of police brutality in many of his speeches, the issue gaining weight and momentum as the Civil Rights Movement progressed. Most famously during the Birmingham campaign of 1963–64 and during the Selma to Montgomery marches of 1965, participants in the movement had numerous incidents with police brutality.

While both mercy and power are wielded by kings, mercy goes even beyond the official authority of the position.

The phrase “sceptred sway” here means “the official use of authority or power” – which “mercy is above.”

“Mercy”, instead of taking on an authoritative power, takes on the connotation of godly power – “an attribute to God himself.” God allots humans mercy, and so kings must aspire to do the same, Portia argues, attempting to glorify mercy as the act of God.

Moreover, the king, as the anointed representative of God on earth, was at a midpoint between lowly humans and the divine presence of God. His scepter and throne and crown are tangible symbols of the power he holds over mortals on earth, but the real power he holds is divine power from God, particularly the power to show mercy, forgiveness of sin, redemption. Mercy, because it is “an attribute to God himself” is more powerful than his “sceptered sway.”

It also needs to be noted that the idea of forgiveness of sin is (in this context) a Christian concept. The Jewish faith values the atonement for sin on the highest of the holidays, Yom Kippur, but it is a personal and specific atonement that one undertakes through apology, restitution, fasting, prayer, and other observances. To the best of my knowledge, one’s sins are atoned for, but that is not the same as being forgiven. Portia is approaching Shylock, therefore, with a philosophy that does not completely intersect his own. She is preaching Christian forgiveness to a person who believes in atonement, restitution, a payment of debt. This is, in many important ways, a failure to understand her audience and his worldview.

Ellison’s switch from one sentence to the next here operates as an antithesis. “That I am nobody but myself” suggests that the narrator is confident in his own singular identity, that he has ownership over that identity, while “But first I had to discover that I am an invisible man!” suggests that the narrator is not seen as his own “self” by those around him – therefore, could be seen as anyone.

To Ellison, as he elaborates later on in this first paragraph, his race and the duality associated with the outside world’s perception of his race renders the narrator an “invisible man” – people around him only perceive him as his race; instead of truly seeing him, they assign a judgement and cannot take in any information beyond that.

Ellison’s revelation, revealed quite early on, is a complex one: he is nobody but himself, owner of a distinct and multifaceted identity, but he is also invisible – those around him cannot see past their associations with his race.