On Gaza

I have been plagued with a strange guilt for having been unable, for the last three weeks to write about the horrifying conflict in Gaza. I, a student of political science, must have something to say? But it feels as though no-one with the ability to make a difference is even listening. Only the fringe voices appear to be speaking out: Moon, Kucinich, etc.  I then reminded myself, difficult though it maybe, silence equals consent. If I don't write about this, about my interpretations, and my feelings on the conflict, then I am letting these events happen in my name. In short, I become complicit and responsible for the atrocities.

I sat in the cafe today, reading, and trying to think of a hook. How to get at the heart of this conflict? I began to wonder how I would, were he old enough, explain this to my nephew. I imagined myself writing this beautiful child a letter, trying to explain why we do the things we do to each other. Explain, not as an excuse or apology, in a way his innocence would understand, and not be devastated. A tall order, to be sure.

I might begin this letter by arguing that each earthling on this planet is unique and beautiful, and fundamentally we defy classification, stereotype and logic. We are, non of us, born with anger in our minds, nor are we born racists, sexists or facists. To paraphrase Rousseau, we are born free of all this, it is not 'till later that we put on those chains. The point being, all of the physical and mental borders that exist between earthlings are pure constructions. They are not natural, nor are they necessary for our survival. We are, in a manner of speaking, free to cross them anytime, we just have to be able to see the other side for what it is, simply another way of doing things.

But the inquisitive mind might ask, then why do they exist, these borders and prejudices? This is the difficult part to answer, and as a caveat, I remind you that I am also someone subject to these tendencies and constructions, thus my answer, sure to be incorrect in someone's mind, is but my experience, tainted by my own ideological lens. I believe the answer to this question lies in our notion of power and to some degree, our belief in religious dogma and nationalism. Power, to give woefully short definition, is the ability to impose yourself on someone else without the use of physical coercion (the point in which weapons are introduced, power becomes terror and violence). An individual or an idea is only powerful so long as you go along with them or it. There is nothing inherent about power, and it can be taken away at any moment. Our problem has been, historically, that we value power as an attribute in Men (I chose to add gender here fully aware of what it implies), not as something to be fearful of. We do not recognize the fact that in consenting to an individuals power, we are in fact giving up our own power to that person. We are saying, "I am willing to let you control my fate and make my decisions for me".

This is our choice to make, and we do not have to make it that way. We can say no any time, though it is the more, much more, difficult choice, and often leads to extreme forms of violence. As I mentioned above, the moment power employs weapons to ensure its hegemony, it is corrupted and becomes violence. Unfortunately, when power is threatened, the response tends to be a violent one. When people stand up and say no! power is threatened. In some sense, this is precisely what happened in 2006 when the people of Gaza rejected Fatah and elected Hamas. They were not voting for terrorism, not for the destruction of the Israeli state, but they were simply saying no to a corrupt government that was failing them. Of course, by voting for Hamas, they unfortunately simply shifted the power from one side to the other, rather than reclaiming it for themselves. Tragically Hamas has also exploited this position to further its own goals, rather than really serve the voters.

The question of religious dogma and nationalism is really just an extension of the ideas I suggested above. Religion and national identity give people a sense of belonging to something, but the consent of the people means Religion and Nationalism have power. In demanding allegiance they create the physical and mental borders that lie at the root of conflict. They create unity in opposition to difference. This means we define ourselves by what we are not: I am American because I am not Palestinian, French, Canadian or Russian, etc... Furthermore, to consent to this position of being American (for example) we simultaneously reject all other possible identities. Rejection is then a suggestion that these other experiences are some how less relevant, less good. Thus we are willing to go to war, to crush those who are different. In short, the power of religious and national identity is in its ability to convince us of its importance, superiority, territorial claim and power. We are meant to believe that we are not safe without such subscriptions: the unfaithful end up in hell, or as Canadian citizens!

So, to my dear nephew I would say, there is war in the Levant because both Israel and Hamas are afraid of losing their power, they are afraid of each other, and the way they can convince themselves to remain loyal, to their respective ideologies, is to directly confront the other, to prove that they are superior, and in the event of a defeat, they can play the victim card. I don't support Hamas, but I don't support Israel either. I support peace. I think war is unnatural and always unnecessary. The people of the Levant should do the same. They should reclaim their individual power, and realize, in doing so, they can co-exist. They are simply kept apart by artificial notions of power, faith and national identity. There is a choice, there is always a choice.

For the fact that there is always a choice, the situation is all the more tragic.

On Writing

On writing, and Human Alienation.

Why write? Tonight I'm dwelling on why I do this, why it is the one constant in my life? Currently this frame of mind is influenced by the Israeli incursion into Gaza (perpetually playing in the background via BBC), a recent viewing of the Reaganite film Field of Dreams, and a specific kind of loneliness that comes from the realization that the person you love has thrown you out with the bath water.

So why write? I write because I am; because I live; because I feel; because I love; because I desire; because I hate; and because I can. But what does that mean? I write because I see myself as a protagonist in the story of my life, and because every experience has meaning to it. Since life, specifically earthling life, is short in the context of this planet and universe, we have only a few opportunities to make something of significance out of our lives, to understand what our lives mean, and to give those who will come after us a chance to learn from us. Unlike Kevin Costner however, I am not seeking some reconciliation with my Dad, and unlike America, I am not seeking to (re)create a past that never actually existed.

Rather I want to make a life for myself that has a purpose. But this is not some drive to 'fit in' with the majority, or to create some kind of Utopian society; instead it is a completely personal quest. Most likely the only person who will benefit from this writing, and the sense created out of my experiences, is me. The process of writing, to me, is similar to cleaning up my room. The 'clutter' lying all around my floor is experience and information. Writing, like cleaning up, is the opportunity to organize these experiences in a way that makes them accessible and meaningful. I can order and catalogue my life, assign emotion and significance, so I show myself what I want and what I don't want.

Experience is like refined notes and raw sounds; it allows us to define and test the limits of our identity so that we can find the path most appealing and comforting to us. I fear this is something that most people do not do however (writing and synthesizing their experience), and as a result never get a good sense of why: why they do what they do. There is, of course, the other extreme, which is the one closer to my state-of-mind. That is, those who are committed to the possibility of finding significance and meaning from experience, ultimately never settle on their own identity, busy as they are being critical and engaged in the search for "what it all means". There is a very real danger in being so obsessed with the search, that you miss the meaning. Thus, it is equally important to have your own conclusions. These conclusions are personal, and can always be, and maybe should be, revised. Like everything else in life, these conclusions are contextual, and subject to change.

In truth, perhaps as the result of experience and influences, I also write because I find myself somewhat alienated from the world. It is an uncomfortable experience to be sure, to be alienated, and thus I try to counter it by seeking out things, activities, theories, and dogmas, which will help me stop feeling this way. But as much as the alienated individual is "unhappy", I think they are, more than a powerful politician or a rich tycoon, the earthlings who move us all forward. Maybe I say this because I feel myself as a kindred spirit, but I also think that artists and philosophers have done more good than all others (good in the 'greater good' sense, but I would credit kind individuals and teachers with doing much 'localized' good). Writing, in the context of what I have written above, is how I am trying to deal with my alienation from the rest of the world. I seeing it as that which helps me deal with everything, from the daily grid to the war in Gaza.

Writing is also a practical activity: if I never get paid for it, that is ok. I won't be tearing up some large acreage of my corn field to create my text, it only takes up a tiny portion of cyber-space. I can also do my writing any time I feel like it, thus it can be fit-in between activities that are economically beneficial; I can write on the train, during lunch, in the evening, early in the morning, and maybe during the quiet moments at work. I can write in public forums, or I can write privately. It is, as my dear friend Simon would say, cheap and cheerful.

There is no moral or ethical value system assigned to this experience, nor is there a judgment of where one will end up at the end of this journey. In one sense I am suggesting that we each have a unique path to follow, and we each must find the thing that makes us happy and fulfilled. Now, there is some ambiguity in such a statement, and means you might argue this justifies people following a path taht creates pain and suffering for others. Maybe someone finds fulfillment in going to war? I see the argument, but I reject it. As I said, I am not moralizing, and I am not suggesting that the path to fulfillment must fit within a certain moral or ethical code. But I would suggest that anyone who takes the time to explore their identity, to try on various masks, to critically view their most mundane and most extraordinary experiences, will rarely make violence a key part of their life. This type of self-exploration and discovery takes an open mind and a profound respect (maybe even love) for others. It takes a bit of courage, and willingness to interact with a huge diversity of people.

How then, after all that, can you still what to see harm come to the others? How can you, after witnessing the beautiful and the tragic, decide the tragic is better? I don't think you can. If you do, then you have not reached an understanding of yourself in the context of everything else.

Bombing your way to peace

Being the New Year, I took time to clean house here. Cleaning out things seems to have a therapeutic nature, particularly at a time when other parts of your life begin to weigh heavy on the mind and soul. It is also worth noting that the apartment is at its cleanest since September. Well, on to other, more pressing matters.

"Refined notes..." is a reference to Chapter 2 of the Daodejing and speaks to the seeming contradictions in life, which in fact complement each other. The full poem is to the right of this post. Why chose this concept? It relates to the thesis I wrote for the USM Honors program in 2008 (which is also the raison d'etre of this blog), with the central paradox of an activity (soccer) which simultaneously unites and divides its participants. It relates to our lives, and the earthlings who are full of contradictions, like those working for large international organizations who support national self-determination; or those who leave their lovers and then feel regret and jealously when the lover moves on.

Serbia, my current home, is no exception to this paradox: a strong feeling of nationalism runs through this country, yet 70% of the population want Serbia be in the E.U. Serbia, where people have historically been looked down upon by Europeans, look down upon their minority cultures. These contradictions are not unique to Serbia however. All nations and states have these contradictions: In America, people drive SUV's to their environmental activism groups; Israel seeks peace by initiating war, for example.

As I see it, these contradictions are a complement in the sense that, without one, the other would not/could not exist. As we seek to understand the world, we need opposites to help define a thing. Of course, this begs a good number of questions: does this justify war? How can peace exist without war? How can we love without hate? Etc... The problem here is that it suggests we cannot move beyond such negative experiences as war, or violence. I won't pretend to have a cleaver answer to this conundrum. I will say that maybe we don't have to experience war, to desire and have peace; maybe it is enough that we know about it through history; that we have a concept of what it is. We can define peace (the absence of war, the non-violent coexistence of earthlings) because we know what war is. We can define love, because we know what hate is (this one is certainly a lot more tricky).

In any case, the entries of this blog will reflect the contradictions of the world as I experience them.

a few more thoughts...

While Putin and Bush stood side-by-side at the Olympic opening ceremony offering the world beaming smiles and happy handshakes, Russia was beginning a crushing assault on Georgian forces in S. Ossetia. To be sure, both sides (Georgia and Russia) share the responsibility of subjecting these citizens to devastation.

Yet as Russian and Georgia faced off on a different pitch, the two sides came together afterwards to show that its really just a game, and they are just people. Salukvadze (of Georgia) came in third place in the Olympic Shooting event, second place went to Paderina (of Russia), and despite the war between their respective nations, the women were somehow able to stand together and exchange embraces.

What does this mean? Maybe that war is entirely fictional and created by a few individuals who have to much power. If war were natural, then these two athletes should have turned their rifles at each other and fired. At the very least they should not have been able to stand side by side.

~~

On another note, I have re-read some of my recent posts, and feel like I have been painting a slightly negative picture of Serbia. This is not my intention. I am having a fantastic time here, and have felt very welcome everywhere I have been. Certainly I have not been subject to any discriminations, beyond what one expects in any big, busy city on this planet.