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Ethiopia

Ethiopian native is inspirational on cross country team

By Justin Lafferty | SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE

SPRING VALLEY, CALIFORNIA – A lottery usually leads people to riches. For Monte Vista High cross country runner Misikir Mentose, a lottery led him to America.

In 2003, Mentose’s father, Ermias Wontamo, entered the U.S. State Department’s Diversity Visa Lottery and the family was approved for passage from Ethiopia to the United States.

“Really, I didn’t want to leave,” Mentose said. “I had to. I knew people that won the lottery in America, though. A lot of people come here to better their lives.”

Mentose and his family lived in Awassa, one of the largest cities in Ethiopia. Wontamo and his wife, Aster Gabore, wanted Mentose to receive his education in the United States. Wontamo and Gabore graduated from Ethiopian colleges, but their degrees don’t carry the same clout as those earned in America.

After 22 hours on a plane and a layover in New York City, Mentose and his family arrived in San Diego and met their sponsor.

“We expected it was going to be hard for a while, until we got settled,” Mentose said. “But we were prepared, so it wasn’t that bad.”

Mentose, a lifelong soccer player, was not immediately attracted to running. A friend, Muluken Beressa, also from Ethiopia, was a standout cross country runner for Monte Vista. Joining the team was a way to spend time with a fellow countryman, who now runs for Mesa College.

At first, Mentose wasn’t too serious about the sport, but his dedication grew. Mentose, a senior, is now a key runner for the Monarchs, who are ranked fifth heading into next week’s San Diego Section championships.

“It didn’t seem like he had much interest in his freshman year, but he matured in the spring and during track season, something just sparked,” Monarchs coach Bob Muschek said. “It was a nice turnaround.”

Muschek praised Mentose’s devotion to the team, a quality he saw in Beressa. Mentose has been an inspirational leader for his teammates, who have soaked up his Ethiopian culture.

Before a race last season at Valhalla, the Monarchs made a mark on their foreheads, mimicking a scar that Mentose jokes he received during a fight with a cheetah as a child. Monte Vista won the race, and Mentose made a strong case for captaincy.

“He’s not really a vocal leader, but when he says something, you pay attention,” senior teammate Mark Wassmer said. “He’s a really humble kid. During workouts, when you see him going hard, you know that you have to go hard.

“He does everything for the team. Last year, when he went to state (to compete as an individual), he really wanted the team to go with him.”

Mentose has told teammates about an Ethiopian runner’s secret – teff, a grain native to his country that he believes makes people run faster. Mentose said he will share some teff with the rest of the Monarchs later this season. First, they must reach a goal that Mentose would not reveal.

“I told them about it,” Mentose said. “But they have to earn something to get it.”

Cellphones and the upcoming South Africa elections

AS election fever hits South Africa, cellular services are playing a crucial role in voter registration.

The Independent Electoral Commission, which regulates the country’s elections, has introduced such a service to enable voters to check their registration status.

Through the initiative, prospective voters can sms their ID numbers to 32810 to check their status.

The Southern African country holds a crucial election in early 2009 which also include a presidential poll.

Analysts believe it is the most crucial election since the demise of apartheid in 1994 when retired president Nelson Mandela ascended to the presidential throne.

More than 21 million voters, 55 percent of them women, are on the IEC’s voters’ roll and 22 million are expected to be registered for the 2009 polls.

More than 130 registered political parties are on the IEC’s database but not all will necessarily contest the elections.

At least 19 705 voting stations have been identified for the 2009 polls, an increase from 14 650 stations in 1999 when the country held its first democratic polls.

IT NEWS AFRICA

University of Minnesota doctors battle AIDS in Uganda

Dr. Michael Ssonko, left, and Dr. David Boulware
MinnPost photo by Sharon SchmickleDr. Michael Ssonko, left, and Dr. David Boulware study an x-ray of an HIV patient.

By Sharon Schmickle | MinnPost.com

Thanks to President Bush’s drive to combat HIV/AIDS, the United States is sending the life-saving medicine to Kiggundu and nearly 2 million others across sub-Saharan Africa. No nation has made a larger commitment to fighting a single disease than the United States has made under Bush’s leadership.

KAMPALA, UGANDA—Costa Kiggundu had one question for an American visitor to her home in a gritty Kampala slum: “What will happen if you stop sending the drugs?”

It’s a life-or-death question for Kiggundu, her son and all of her friends at the clinic where she gets medicine to help her body fight HIV infection, which killed her husband.

But as Bush prepares to leave the White House, he also leaves America with a solemn responsibility to follow through on the treatment.

Writing the checks was only a first step. Now a critical next step is underway: building a web of African-American expertise and facilities to ensure that the medicine is used effectively and continues to reach Kiggundu and others who need it.

This story follows one thread on that web — University of Minnesota doctors working side by side with Ugandan physicians.

Their experience illustrates the enormity of the challenge: They are grappling with an unexpected complication which threatens to jeopardize a good share of the benefit America intended by sending HIV therapy in the first place. Paradoxically, the patients risk a deadly development in the rollout of the medicine in Africa.

The story began in 2003 when Dr. Paul Bohjanen came to Kampala to help train African physicians in the use of HIV medicine. Bohjanen brought the wisdom of experience because he treats HIV/AIDS at the University of Minnesota Medical Center. He also co-directs the university’s Center for Infectious Disease and Microbiology Translational Research.

In Uganda, Bohjanen met the full brutal force of the HIV pandemic. It had killed nearly a million people, one in every 27 Ugandans. A million more were living under its death sentence. Their only hope for a reprieve was in HIV drugs, which were just beginning to trickle into sub-Saharan Africa.

Never had Bohjanen felt greater urgency for his service as a doctor.

“I was really hooked by the tremendous need,” he said.

The awful weight of that need was overwhelming Dr. David Meya and other Ugandan medical workers. Meya is a fellow at Makerere University’s Infectious Diseases Institute in Kampala where a seemingly endless river of HIV/AIDS patients streams through the doors.

Slipping backwards
Bohjanen and other U.S. experts were more than welcome.

As the doctors pitched in together to save Ugandan lives, though, they hit an unexpected road block.

“A lot of the patients were getting worse instead of better,” Bohjanen said.

Even while immune systems were recovering, nearly one third of the patients paradoxically were slipping backwards.

Doctors in Kampala were among the best trained in Africa by this time. But they carried staggering caseloads. Where would they find the resources to sort through this disturbing development?

Back in Minneapolis, Bohjanen recruited a colleague, Dr. David Boulware. The University of Minnesota’s Academic Health Center contributed $200,000. More funding came from a philanthropic arm of the company Tibotec and the U.S. National Institutes of Health.

Boulware and Bohjanen boarded plans for Kampala two or three times a year, staying two to four weeks at a time. Students and fellows from the university’s schools of medicine and public health filled gaps between their shifts.

A first step was to track patients getting antiretroviral drugs and mark the differences between those who got better and those who didn’t.

Kiggundu was in the lucky group.

She is thriving under the therapy, with plenty of stamina to mix the boiled water and pineapple juice she peddles for a living on the unpaved streets of her neighborhood.

Life had been tough since Kiggundu’s husband died of AIDS in 1990 leaving her with six children. She made a home in a shantytown section of Kampala where corrugated tin, wood slats and cardboard hold together a patchwork of houses and ramshackle shops. During the rainy season, flood water gushes into her house, carrying disease and dirt from the streets.

The result from her own HIV test — positive — was just one more development she was powerless to fight.

“There were no care centers, no place to go when you felt sick,” she said.

So she carried on amid the sickness and death the pandemic had visited upon Uganda, putting her own fate out of her mind.

What shook her complacency was the result of her son Derek’s test in 2006: positive, too.

“That’s when I really lost hope,” Kiggundu said.

But for the first time in two decades hope was beginning to take hold around her.

The Infectious Diseases Institute, on a hill overlooking central Kampala, was among the first in sub-Saharan Africa to launch a large-scale HIV/AIDS treatment program.

Costa and Derek, now 15, joined the first wave of patients and the first chapter of Africa’s success story.

Medicine backfiring
Richard Myimbwa is another story, though.

Once a robust motorbike taxi driver, he was so gaunt his belt wrapped almost twice around his waist when his brother brought him to the Institute for a recent checkup.

Myimbwa, 27, weighed in at 132 pounds. He reached into a yellow sack and pulled out bottles of pills he was given courtesy of the U.S. program called the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, or PEPFAR

Meya, the Ugandan doctor, counted the pills left in the bottles to make sure Myimbwa had taken the right number.

He had. But the medicine seemed to be backfiring.

In HIV patients, the virus infects cells in the immune system. Once established inside a cell, it makes copies of itself and dispatches them to other cells. Left unchecked, it would invade enough cells to slowly destroy the immune system and open the patient to deadly invasions of diseases and cancers.

The antiretroviral drugs don’t cure anyone of HIV. Instead, their job is to interfere with the way HIV copies itself and spreads from cell to cell. That secures the ability of healthy immune system cells — most notably, a type of cell called CD4 — to guard against diseases.

Meya combed through Myimbwa’s file.

“He had been doing pretty well,” Meya said. “The amount of the virus in his system was down. His CD4 count was up.”

But after six months on the therapy Myimbwa was sliding mysteriously downhill.

He appeared to have meningitis and tuberculosis.

Classic pattern
It was the classic pattern of the problem the Minnesota and Uganda doctors set out to solve.

“In the rollout of HIV therapy here, some things have gone gloriously well,” said Boulware, who was working in the clinic that same day and conferred with Meya about Myimbwa’s case. “And then there are some unexpected challenges.”

The challenge in Myimbwa’s case appeared to be something doctors call immune reconstitution inflammatory syndrome or IRIS. As his immune system recovered, it had charged into overdrive, setting off inflammation and other problems.

In the United States IRIS is rare. Here in Uganda, where the therapy started later, it is showing up in one of every three people who start HIV therapy. The flare-ups range from mild skin infections to the life-threatening complications confronting Myimbwa.

“The point of our study is to learn why that happens and how to prevent it,” Meya said.

In a scientific phase of the study, blood samples from Myimbwa and other Ugandan patients have been shipped to Minneapolis where they are analyzed for clues to the puzzle.

“We are looking at which genes are turned on and which are turned off,” Boulware said.

Here in Uganda, the doctors have tracked hundreds of patients over time, comparing and contrasting various factors in successful cases like Costa Kiggundu and worrisome ones like Richard Myimbwa.

Many patients
There is no shortage of candidates for the study in the waiting room of the Infectious Diseases Institute.

At 2:30 on a typical afternoon, an electronic counter said doctors were ready to see the 244th patient of the day. All of the 150 chairs were full, dozens more patients rested on floor mats, and people kept coming in through the door. Some were grey-haired. Some were children. Many held babies.

Those who didn’t see doctors that day would come back the next day and the next.

This clinic alone has 21,000 registered patients, more than have been treated for HIV/AIDS in all of Minnesota since the disease was first diagnosed. And these Ugandan patients represent a small fraction of Africa’s HIV caseload.

Even after all of the deaths, 22 million people in sub-Saharan Africa were living with HIV in 2007, according to the Joint United Nations Program on HIV/AIDS (PDF). That was two-thirds of the global total.

Uganda has done better than most other African countries at acknowledging the problem, treating the infected and educating others to protect themselves by using condoms and abstaining from risky sex, especially with multiple partners. As a result, there’s been a sharp drop in new HIV cases.

Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni gets a good share of the credit.

While some other African leaders were denying their nations had HIV/AIDS problems, Museveni was declaring war on the disease.

“When a lion comes to the village, you don’t make a small alarm. You make a very loud one,” he said at an African Development Forum in Ethiopia in 2001. “When I knew of this problem, I said we must shout and shout and shout and shout.”

Shortage of medical facilities
The country’s enlightened approach is a reason doctors from Minnesota and elsewhere brought their hands-on work here. With cooperation from local officials, they could do the most good for the most people.

For the same reason it also is the place where the IRIS problem has surfaced and been detected.

In studying the problem, the Minnesota-Uganda team is just now reaching the point where they have enough data to develop hypotheses about why IRIS is so prevalent, Boulware said. A next step will be to set up studies with other experts in different HIV/AIDS hotspots and test the theories.

Rather than a single cause, they are likely to find an array of reasons for the complications.

One suspect is the severe shortage of medical facilities and skills. Some patients could have escaped complications had they been able to get to clinics and hospitals and start HIV treatment earlier, Bohjanen said.

And so another part of the study is focused on improving health care through intensive training at the Infectious Diseases Institute and Mulago Hospital, which is just across the street.

Anyone who has seen the movie “Last King of Scotland” has seen Mulago Hospital in dramatic scenes depicting the brutal reign of former Ugandan dictator Idi Amin. One pivotal scene is from the hospital’s rooftop, which gives an expansive view of Kampala and also a platform for watching buzzard-like Maribou storks shift from tree to tree.

At ground level, the hospital is a beehive of activity. With resources stretched to cover medical necessities, there is little left for bedding and food. So patients’ families move into the wards to serve meals and change bedding. Many relatives sleep on floor mats between the hospital beds. On the sloping back lawn, they launder bedding and stretch it out to dry in a colorful patchwork symbolizing love, duty and worry.

More than 1,200 health care workers from across Africa have trained here where Bohjanen now is a professor in residence.

Boulware and Meya recently walked a group of Ugandan trainees through rounds in the infectious disease wards.

‘You are not spectators here’
At each bedside, they encountered problems the Minnesotans were here to address.

One tiny, frail woman sat on red satin sheets while Boulware and Dr. Michael Ssonko studied her chest x-rays for reasons she had been wracked by coughing and fever. It could have been pneumonia, but it looked more like tuberculosis, Boulware said.

In the next bed, a woman moaned quietly while her husband tried to comfort her. Despite HIV drugs, she’d had seizures, raging fever and headache so severe she could not bear to open her eyes.

In the male ward, they saw three patients with cryptococal meningitis, a dangerous infection of the lining of the spinal cord and brain. Another man’s feet were blotched with the cancerous lesions that sometimes attack HIV/AIDS patients. Yet another’s liver had turned so toxic he had to stop taking HIV drugs.

Meya and Boulware lectured young doctors in their bed-to-bed entourage, urging them to engage more aggressively at earlier stages of their patients’ battles with HIV/AIDS.

“You are not spectators here,” Meya said sternly.

The lesson was coming too late, though, for most of these patients. They will die.

The latest thrust by Minnesota doctors is to try to intervene before patients are in such desperate straits. They recently secured a planning grant from the U.S. National Institutes of Health for a five-year project that will be based in Uganda and South Africa.

Meanwhile, it is sobering to think that this setting in Uganda is as good as it gets in Africa — that to leverage full benefit from America’s investment in HIV drugs, the work started here must be repeated in cities and villages across a continent that struggles with so many other problems.

Taking a break on a patio outside the hospital, Boulware pondered Kiggundu’s question: “What will happen if you stop sending the drugs?”

“This is a huge burden that is not going to go away,” he said.

Sharon Schmickle writes about national and foreign affairs and science. She can be reached at sschmickle [at] minnpost [dot] com.

The reporting for this article was supported by the Pulitzer Center On Crisis Reporting in Washington D.C.

Algeria parliament voted to lift presidential term limit

The Algerian parliament yesterday voted in favour of changes to the constitution that would allow President Abdelaziz Bouteflika to seek a third term in office.

The move by a parliament controlled by pro-government parties drew immediate criticism, with opposition parties describing the constitutional amendments as an act of “political swindling”.

Although Mr Bouteflika has not said overtly that he will seek re-election, he is expected to be a candidate in next year’s race.

The president has long made it known that he wanted to abrogate the two term limit in the constitution, but analysts say he has had to surmount resistance from the powerful military establishment which brought him to office in 1999.

“This is the third coup d’etat in Algeria’s history,” charged Mohsene Belabbas, a member of parliament from the opposition Rally for Culture and Democracy, whose deputies voted against the amendment. “It is not good for democracy and it is not good for Algeria because Mr Bouteflika wants to become president for life.”

The amendments give Mr Bouteflika – who had the support of deputies from the three parties which make up the governing coalition as well as that of some smaller parties – greater presidential authority and reduce the power of the prime minister.

Algeria, a big hydrocarbons producer that supplies 20 per cent of Europe’s natural gas needs, spent most of the 1990s in the grip of a bloody conflict sparked by the army’s interruption of an election in 1992 that an Islamist party had been set to win.

Although violence still sputters on in Algeria after local Islamic militants reorganised themselves into a group loyal to al-Qaeda, Mr Bouteflika is widely credited with having ended the civil strife.

Over the years he has offered amnesties to Islamic militants who laid down their arms, helping to deplete the ranks of the rebels already weakened by army strikes.

During his 10 years as president, Mr Bouteflika has managed to expand his powers at the expense of his backers in the army and intelligence services. However, he has also protected them from scrutiny of their human rights records during the civil war, in which 150,000 people were killed in atrocities committed by both sides. A constitutional amendment a few years ago made it a punishable crime to make accusations against the military.

Critics of the president say that, despite Algeria’s vast wealth in recent years as a result of high oil prices, Mr Bouteflika has failed to raise living standards for the country’s 34m people.

The economy remains for the most part undiversified, unemployment is high and hundreds of young men die every year at sea as they try to make the perilous journey across the Mediterranean to the shores of Europe.

By Heba Saleh in Cairo |- Financial Times

Ethiopians students to tour Chicago suburb juvenile detention facilities

CHICAGO – Lake Countys Juvenile Probation and Detention Services will have foreign visitors later this week.

On Friday, two doctoral students from Ethiopia will be visiting and touring the juvenile facilities to learn more about how the systems operate, with the hopes of improving juvenile services in their home country.

The two students, who are enrolled at the Graduate School of Social Work at Addis Ababa University, are visiting Chicago as part of a one-month teaching and learning exchange, according to the 19th Judicial Circuit.

On Friday, the students, along with a professor from Addis Ababa, will be in Lake County to learn more about how juvenile courts and detention facilities operate and also develop an ongoing exchange of information and ideas in the area of children in conflict with the law.

Ethiopia has only one child detention facility and it is located in Addis Ababa, the capitol city, while children in other locations are incarcerated with adults.

LAKE COUNTRY NEWS-SUN

The ‘Barack Whisperer’

By Howard Kurtz | Washington Post

When a CBS correspondent reported last month that Barack Obama’s campaign had a malodorous airplane and a dismissive attitude toward the media, Robert Gibbs, the candidate’s top spokesman, was not pleased.

“Robert wrote a rather tendentious note to me,” Dean Reynolds says. “He would get in your face, not in a very heated way, but he would question your stories.”

Gibbs, who transition officials say is in line to become White House press secretary, can be funny, gossipy and an invaluable source of information about his boss, journalists say. He also monitors coverage intensively, pushing back against the smallest blog post he considers inaccurate.

“This is not someone who stays above the fray,” Newsweek reporter Richard Wolffe says. “His manner allows him to do tough stuff in a softer way. He could deliver a harsh message, but do it with a little sense of humor, so you’d feel punched in the stomach but not in the face.”

Asked about complaints that he retaliated against reporters who were deemed unfair, Gibbs invokes the pressure of the campaign. “In hindsight, there are discussions I had in the heat of the moment that if I had to do over again, you would do differently,” he says. “I don’t doubt there’s countless episodes you would go back and do over again. I think you do better when you treat people with respect. There were a couple of times that I flew off the handle.”

Now the sparring will take place in the glare of televised briefings. After a career spent working for Democratic candidates and lawmakers, the 37-year-old Alabama native is about to become the public face of the Obama administration.

While he can be combative in private, Gibbs is affable and smooth-talking on camera, often deflecting uncomfortable questions with a quip. Colleagues say Gibbs channels the president-elect in a way that goes beyond their shared passion for college football. Obama had an initial tendency to overanswer questions, but Gibbs has taught him how to pivot back to his scripted point.

“He’s the last person Barack talks to when he’s thinking about how to handle reporters’ questions,” says Linda Douglass, a campaign spokeswoman. “We call him the Barack Whisperer. He completely understands his thinking and knows how Barack wants to come across.”

That quality was not lost on journalists covering the highly disciplined campaign. “A huge asset that Robert has is that he’s in the room with the president-elect,” says Jake Tapper, ABC’s senior White House correspondent. “He has his trust and his ear. He’s not just a press flunky who gets handed a piece of paper with talking points.”

Gibbs lives in Alexandria with his wife, Mary Catherine, a lawyer, and their 5-year-old son, Ethan. He has spent little time at home since hitting the campaign trail, but is grateful that his son has a relationship with Obama, who was photographed last month giving Ethan a fist-bump at Dulles airport.

The son of two Auburn University librarians, Gibbs got his first exposure to politics when his mother took him to voter registration drives. A political science major at North Carolina State University, Gibbs was also a goalie for the Wolfpack soccer team, though he admits that his playing time amounted to less than 45 minutes.

In 1991, while still a college student, Gibbs landed an internship with an Alabama congressman, Glen Browder, and later joined his staff. “Robert was good at talking,” Browder says. “We always kidded that he’d end up with his own TV or radio talk show, but he was also substantive.”

By 1998, Gibbs was the campaign spokesman for Sen. Fritz Hollings of South Carolina and two years later for the successful Senate campaign of Michigan’s Debbie Stabenow. It was in that role that Gibbs caught the eye of Jim Jordan, who hired him for the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee.

“He’s one of the funniest guys I’ve ever known, which has really been a bonding point with Obama,” Jordan says. “They love the game.” Gibbs has “a strong personality,” and “all the skills of a good flack. He knew how to move a negative story.”

When Jordan was running John Kerry’s presidential campaign, he brought Gibbs along, but the spokesman quit in protest when Jordan was dumped in the fall of 2003. Gibbs drew flak when he joined a group called Americans for Jobs, Health Care and Progressive Values, which aired a commercial using a picture of Osama bin Laden in attacking a Kerry presidential rival, Howard Dean, for his lack of foreign policy experience. Gibbs said the group was independent and was trying to raise important issues.

After a period of unemployment, Gibbs got a call from longtime Obama adviser David Axelrod, inviting him to join the Democrat’s 2004 Senate campaign. Gibbs knew little about the Illinois lawmaker, but at their initial meeting, he says, “I found him remarkably easy to talk to.”

When sexual allegations about Obama’s Republican rival, Jack Ryan, became public, Gibbs urged Obama to steer clear of the controversy and not to return reporters’ calls, according to the book “Obama: From Promise to Power.” Ryan soon dropped out.

After two years as Obama’s Senate spokesman, Gibbs was the natural choice to be communications director of the fledgling presidential bid. In the run-up to the Iowa caucuses, CBS’s Reynolds says, Gibbs would walk up and ask if he needed anything.

“He became less and less helpful as Obama got more and more successful,” Reynolds says. “His stature became more elevated than just schmoozing the press. He became a strategist, an insider. The more he knew about what was going on, the less he was willing to spill the beans.”

Gibbs says there is a natural tension — especially on campaigns marked by “sleeplessness and over-caffeinated interactions” — between the media’s demand for access and the strategists’ insistence on driving a message. As a campaign strategist, “you’re putting forth a series of images and values,” he says. “You want the country to understand who a particular person is, what they stand for and what makes them tick.”

Several reporters say Gibbs shared extra tidbits with favored correspondents and froze out others who criticized Obama, refusing to return calls or e-mails for weeks. Shouting matches were not uncommon, say these reporters, who did not want to be quoted criticizing an official they have to deal with, and Gibbs sometimes went over their heads and complained to their bosses.

Last spring, when Newsweek ran a cover portraying Obama as the elitist “arugula” candidate, followed weeks later by a cover story in which editor Evan Thomas wrote Obama an open memo on dealing with race, the campaign suddenly stopped cooperating with the magazine’s quadrennial book project, which requires behind-the-scenes access. Thomas had to fly to Detroit and try to assuage Gibbs during a campaign flight before access was restored.

“I thought the Obama campaign was overreacting to those two covers,” Thomas says. “They thought we were overly concerned with race.” In light of the election, “maybe they were right.”

Journalistic resentment boiled over in June when reporters were trapped on the plane as it took off from Washington without Obama, with Gibbs saying only that the candidate had “scheduled some meetings.” Not until the flight landed in Chicago did Gibbs acknowledge that Obama had been secretly huddling with his defeated rival, Hillary Clinton.

In September, Charles Hurt, the New York Post’s Washington bureau chief, was barred from the campaign plane after writing in a column that Obama “simply doesn’t care if we win or lose the war in Iraq.” Hurt declined to be interviewed.

Gibbs calls the charge “as irresponsible a line as I’ve read in this country in years.” As for the other incidents, he says Reynolds, in his CBS blog post about the campaign’s shortcomings, “hurt the feelings” of his staff and made complaints that the newsman had not raised in person. Gibbs says he limited Newsweek’s access for pushing what he regarded as a false narrative that Obama could not connect with working-class voters.

Gibbs’s aggressive side was on public display last month when he went toe-to-toe with Sean Hannity, castigating the Fox News host for building a program around an activist who accused Obama of having trained years ago for “a radical overthrow of the government.” Over Hannity’s objections, Gibbs read a list of comments by the activist, Andy Martin, that included once calling a judge a “slimy Jew.”

“I find those comments despicable,” Hannity said.

“But you put him on your show,” Gibbs shot back. Fox executives later admitted that the booking had been a mistake.

Gibbs says he was trying to hammer home that it was “completely unacceptable” to give Martin a platform. But, he allows, “it was probably more fun than it should have been.”

The incident provided a revealing glimpse of Gibbs’s style. “I love dealing with reporters,” he says. “Anybody who does this has to like a little of the back-and-forth.”