Amidst the horrors that assault me daily, three descents into what could be subtitled "The fall of the house of Reason" have emerged as patent manifestations of a phenomenon giving its name to this post. Many events deserve attention in these troubled days, but, is it the voice missing, the shame too deep, the horror of it all, and the silence imposed in such distress? I still, till this day, cannot raise a word to evoke the viciousness (but here is a word, already undermining, lying, catharsis-ing what can't, what shan't) of men, everyday, in India and everywhere else in the world, assaulting (here, told you, there is NO word) women. So I'll stop there and sing the fall of the house of Reason, Sense, Life, Thinking, add what you will, though both stories are more linked than you think, as you will see following my steps.
Indeed, what else but screaming out in sheer tears and laughter in front of the jeopardising of the Erasmus program in Europe, the community digging into whatever budget to regain some confidence from the drunken sailors of Wall Street? What else but partake in the crying of the many, but too few, that have remained human, and helplessly sob in front of the closing down of one of the most precious bibliotheques in Europe, the Italian Institute of Philosophical Studies in Naples, due to economic difficulties (sic)? Become who else but a Muslim widow, a Dalit scavenger, an oppressed writer, a petty shop keeper struggling to survive, a city beggar, in front of the ineluctible rise of a man I still do not wish to name but from whose victims you may have recognised, to the highest stage of the scene in a country I long for, in every meanings there are, India.
And they were all there, the ploughers, the millers, the smiths, the warriors, the merchants, the bards, but on the stage erected in the meadow, were the philosophers
And the philosophers sung the trees, the sun, and the sea, and they swore to devote their life to see and make see, to collect and sow the strings of the song of all the things
They asked but for a shelter, a temple made of straw and twigs, a sword to follow them on their path when collecting, bread and wine for their work to continue
They did not ask for the ears and hearts of the citizens, for those were stunned by the song they just heared, as freed from their invisible chains, flying above the dirt, surrounded by the warmth of a never setting sun
And the citizens all swore, to give them shelter and sword and food, for the song to go on, they built a temple of wood on the hill, for the philosophers feared the marmor the others wished to offer, they fed the philosophers with bread for they would refuse geese and fresh trouts, only one man would protect them for they would ask the troops to go home to their loved ones, war being always too near
The merchants swore to ensure they would never lack
So the guild grew hungry for everything that could be needed by the philosophers, doing so they met travellers and went in foreign villages, the game caught them, and hides, jewels, spices, were still too little for them to be sure they could sustain the philosophers, they would crook and steal the traveller, corrupt the man of law, starve the peasant, for the men on the hill to ensure the future
The thinkers grew concerned, they were reduced to trying to help the miserable citizens under the yoke of the merchants, tried to come to reason with those but could not
The merchants would still would use whatever trick a mind can come up with and what the pathetic remnants of their moral would not disapprove of, in order to be positively sure the philosophers would not lack anything for a thousand years and more
They would trade their sons and daughters, sell the jewels found in the tomb of their ancestors, in order to... In order to what one asks, He praises the philosophers for their lights, but seriously says he, can we allow certain citizens not to pay the taxes? Can we feed unproductive cows? Can we afford to send a soldier with them to the end of the lands and back? And we allow them to spit at our face in their discourses, What do they do? They sing says one, and everyone stares at their feet
The morrow, merchants send their messengers to the house on the hill, with lists and bills. They ask for the due
The philosophers sing
The guards come the next day and claim the due
The others sing
The merchants finally come, the philosophers sing with all their might, no merchant is spared and sees the atrocities he has commiteed, the deaths he is to respond for, the guards are called to push the thinkers inside, the locker is put on their door
Still they sing, and none in the village can sleep, and none can stay away from what he or she has done, and nights become deserts, water tastes sour, even wine is but vinegar
For all but for the low ones, the beggars, the peasants, the nurses, the orphans, the victims who recognise their oppressors and shout for revenge, as if the song had awaken them
The troop is sent to the top of the hill, and warns the thinkers
And they sing
And the merchants twist in horror and fear
And they sing
One merchant takes a flambeau and throws it on the little house. First frightened, the others then imitate the first. The fire rises, the heat grows, the roof starts and collapses
And they sing
The tragedy taking place now is none but this. The goal being sacrificed to what was to be the mean. In other words, philosophy, knowledge, democracy, harmony, love, is being taken over by economy, security, comfort, and other sides that were to be by-products and tools for the formers to spread. Sounds like reducing the issue to a manychean struggle of good against evil? Too biased? Don't you know I am not imagining but merely counting here? I know, both are the same, but here I speak what I see, and therefore if truth cannot be, a testimony holds the most amount of truth you will hear, so listen and stay still for now, smart ass.
Nehru's India was to grow on the youth, on knowledge, on democracy, following the pulse of the heart that had made the nation rise against the colonizers, retaining the beauty of the song that had resonated throughout a country of millions and had forced a mighty Kingdom to take its paw back. In order to build this nation, resources and infrastructures were needed, therefore the industry and economy were of use, as the legs that would make the body stand up. The goal was to make everybody rise, the mean, that the luckiest ones would pull the arms of the unlucky and get them out of the pit. Again, I do not evoke the pit as poverty or starvation, though it could be, but lack of dignity and means to live every possible path one would choose to. In the move, the lucky ones got luckier, and the industrialists and bankers grew fat, hungrier, disregarding the goal to see the mean. And as growth would come and money would flow, it became obvious that new goals were to be reached: the increase of this wealth and the prevention from any change in the social hierarchy, meaning pushing those who were not needed down the pit. But it was a hard task, and they had to throw some goats in the pit for the unlucky ones to feed and fight for, for them not to even notice they lay at the down of a pit. The wealthy therefore entered politics, and found that the best way to let business flourish was to drive the anger of the people towards another side, a communal side. It would let the citizen out of the economic issues dealt with by technocrats, while ensuring any revolt would eventually turn against itself. Instead of talking about dignity and democracy, they would say traditions, Bharat, and foreigners. The process, initiated with the consolidation of democracy thanks to development has therefore turned into development taking place on the corpse of democracy and dreams born after independance in the people's consciences. Frankenstein's monster has risen its ugly face, and apparently, we are under its yoke.
It is fascinating to look at India because the process has taken only 60 years and is therefore quite obvious, but the same can be stated for almost every community of people in the world. It is no wonder that World War II resistants would rise in the France of 2012, blaming the government for jeopardizing the healthcare and pensions system that had been created just after the war. Nicolas Sarkozy stated it straight, claiming his will to destroy the remnants of the Conseil National de la Résistance Program that was drawn during the war to ensure democracy and dignity to the people (basically, the welfare system as we have known it in France). The tree eventually wants to cut its own roots, get free and economically liberalize the fuck out of everything. It is an image I have often used but the snake is biting its own tail. When the European Union wants to get rid of a "financial weight" like the Erasmus program, what else is it? It is in the exchanges between students, cultures, and people that Europe has been built, and, frankly, it is the only point of it all, so now you wanna come and stop these exchanges because they cost money, well, sorry, but yes, I will shout again and again, in tears: the snake is biting its tail. And all the more when it comes to travels, allowing only money and products to cross borders while humans are more and more prevented from doing so, which is the best sign of the decadence we are entering in, but this time guys, we are bringing everybody with us, not like Athens or Rome, something huge, just wait and see. Or we could know a world in which people could travel freely, while it would be forbidden to transfer even one cent or one box of bananas from a country to another. You read it here first.
Seriously, you can do what you will within your economic little game, but don't you touch what is outside of it! It is here a notion of sacred that rejoices ecology or social issues: capitalism is desacralising what ought to be sacred (nature, human dignity, philosophy), and in this movement is forgetting its purpose (allowing everyone to live in dignity) and its roots (simple illustration: where would we be without philosophy and litterature? Hasn't it built the world we live in? Even more: if we want to become vicious scoundrels and think like they do, aren't liteature and philosophy bringing profits at the end of the day? Yerk, I almost puked linking both). Sacred also rejoices the monster's image, Frankenstein having broken the sacred and therefore angered the Gods. Well, we needed stories, but God is naught but the world, humanity a part of it, so we were warning and talking about sacred and Gods, you were a little childish so we had to tell tales, but it was for your own good, got it?
Stop looking at singers, poets, philosophers, painters, sculptors and such, like you would look at funny useless savant monkeys, once and for all, you would not live without them, if you did, you would have no purpose whatsoever, and you are only allowed to frolic with your paise because you sustain them. I'm talking to you Frankenstein's monster, for I know there is a remnant of humanity in your fat greasy face, and I am sorry for the people who made you do those disgusting things like importing oil and entering new markets, I, personnally, would have never brought you to life.
Indeed, what else but screaming out in sheer tears and laughter in front of the jeopardising of the Erasmus program in Europe, the community digging into whatever budget to regain some confidence from the drunken sailors of Wall Street? What else but partake in the crying of the many, but too few, that have remained human, and helplessly sob in front of the closing down of one of the most precious bibliotheques in Europe, the Italian Institute of Philosophical Studies in Naples, due to economic difficulties (sic)? Become who else but a Muslim widow, a Dalit scavenger, an oppressed writer, a petty shop keeper struggling to survive, a city beggar, in front of the ineluctible rise of a man I still do not wish to name but from whose victims you may have recognised, to the highest stage of the scene in a country I long for, in every meanings there are, India.
And they were all there, the ploughers, the millers, the smiths, the warriors, the merchants, the bards, but on the stage erected in the meadow, were the philosophers
And the philosophers sung the trees, the sun, and the sea, and they swore to devote their life to see and make see, to collect and sow the strings of the song of all the things
They asked but for a shelter, a temple made of straw and twigs, a sword to follow them on their path when collecting, bread and wine for their work to continue
They did not ask for the ears and hearts of the citizens, for those were stunned by the song they just heared, as freed from their invisible chains, flying above the dirt, surrounded by the warmth of a never setting sun
And the citizens all swore, to give them shelter and sword and food, for the song to go on, they built a temple of wood on the hill, for the philosophers feared the marmor the others wished to offer, they fed the philosophers with bread for they would refuse geese and fresh trouts, only one man would protect them for they would ask the troops to go home to their loved ones, war being always too near
The merchants swore to ensure they would never lack
So the guild grew hungry for everything that could be needed by the philosophers, doing so they met travellers and went in foreign villages, the game caught them, and hides, jewels, spices, were still too little for them to be sure they could sustain the philosophers, they would crook and steal the traveller, corrupt the man of law, starve the peasant, for the men on the hill to ensure the future
The thinkers grew concerned, they were reduced to trying to help the miserable citizens under the yoke of the merchants, tried to come to reason with those but could not
The merchants would still would use whatever trick a mind can come up with and what the pathetic remnants of their moral would not disapprove of, in order to be positively sure the philosophers would not lack anything for a thousand years and more
They would trade their sons and daughters, sell the jewels found in the tomb of their ancestors, in order to... In order to what one asks, He praises the philosophers for their lights, but seriously says he, can we allow certain citizens not to pay the taxes? Can we feed unproductive cows? Can we afford to send a soldier with them to the end of the lands and back? And we allow them to spit at our face in their discourses, What do they do? They sing says one, and everyone stares at their feet
The morrow, merchants send their messengers to the house on the hill, with lists and bills. They ask for the due
The philosophers sing
The guards come the next day and claim the due
The others sing
The merchants finally come, the philosophers sing with all their might, no merchant is spared and sees the atrocities he has commiteed, the deaths he is to respond for, the guards are called to push the thinkers inside, the locker is put on their door
Still they sing, and none in the village can sleep, and none can stay away from what he or she has done, and nights become deserts, water tastes sour, even wine is but vinegar
For all but for the low ones, the beggars, the peasants, the nurses, the orphans, the victims who recognise their oppressors and shout for revenge, as if the song had awaken them
The troop is sent to the top of the hill, and warns the thinkers
And they sing
And the merchants twist in horror and fear
And they sing
One merchant takes a flambeau and throws it on the little house. First frightened, the others then imitate the first. The fire rises, the heat grows, the roof starts and collapses
And they sing
The tragedy taking place now is none but this. The goal being sacrificed to what was to be the mean. In other words, philosophy, knowledge, democracy, harmony, love, is being taken over by economy, security, comfort, and other sides that were to be by-products and tools for the formers to spread. Sounds like reducing the issue to a manychean struggle of good against evil? Too biased? Don't you know I am not imagining but merely counting here? I know, both are the same, but here I speak what I see, and therefore if truth cannot be, a testimony holds the most amount of truth you will hear, so listen and stay still for now, smart ass.
Nehru's India was to grow on the youth, on knowledge, on democracy, following the pulse of the heart that had made the nation rise against the colonizers, retaining the beauty of the song that had resonated throughout a country of millions and had forced a mighty Kingdom to take its paw back. In order to build this nation, resources and infrastructures were needed, therefore the industry and economy were of use, as the legs that would make the body stand up. The goal was to make everybody rise, the mean, that the luckiest ones would pull the arms of the unlucky and get them out of the pit. Again, I do not evoke the pit as poverty or starvation, though it could be, but lack of dignity and means to live every possible path one would choose to. In the move, the lucky ones got luckier, and the industrialists and bankers grew fat, hungrier, disregarding the goal to see the mean. And as growth would come and money would flow, it became obvious that new goals were to be reached: the increase of this wealth and the prevention from any change in the social hierarchy, meaning pushing those who were not needed down the pit. But it was a hard task, and they had to throw some goats in the pit for the unlucky ones to feed and fight for, for them not to even notice they lay at the down of a pit. The wealthy therefore entered politics, and found that the best way to let business flourish was to drive the anger of the people towards another side, a communal side. It would let the citizen out of the economic issues dealt with by technocrats, while ensuring any revolt would eventually turn against itself. Instead of talking about dignity and democracy, they would say traditions, Bharat, and foreigners. The process, initiated with the consolidation of democracy thanks to development has therefore turned into development taking place on the corpse of democracy and dreams born after independance in the people's consciences. Frankenstein's monster has risen its ugly face, and apparently, we are under its yoke.
It is fascinating to look at India because the process has taken only 60 years and is therefore quite obvious, but the same can be stated for almost every community of people in the world. It is no wonder that World War II resistants would rise in the France of 2012, blaming the government for jeopardizing the healthcare and pensions system that had been created just after the war. Nicolas Sarkozy stated it straight, claiming his will to destroy the remnants of the Conseil National de la Résistance Program that was drawn during the war to ensure democracy and dignity to the people (basically, the welfare system as we have known it in France). The tree eventually wants to cut its own roots, get free and economically liberalize the fuck out of everything. It is an image I have often used but the snake is biting its own tail. When the European Union wants to get rid of a "financial weight" like the Erasmus program, what else is it? It is in the exchanges between students, cultures, and people that Europe has been built, and, frankly, it is the only point of it all, so now you wanna come and stop these exchanges because they cost money, well, sorry, but yes, I will shout again and again, in tears: the snake is biting its tail. And all the more when it comes to travels, allowing only money and products to cross borders while humans are more and more prevented from doing so, which is the best sign of the decadence we are entering in, but this time guys, we are bringing everybody with us, not like Athens or Rome, something huge, just wait and see. Or we could know a world in which people could travel freely, while it would be forbidden to transfer even one cent or one box of bananas from a country to another. You read it here first.
Seriously, you can do what you will within your economic little game, but don't you touch what is outside of it! It is here a notion of sacred that rejoices ecology or social issues: capitalism is desacralising what ought to be sacred (nature, human dignity, philosophy), and in this movement is forgetting its purpose (allowing everyone to live in dignity) and its roots (simple illustration: where would we be without philosophy and litterature? Hasn't it built the world we live in? Even more: if we want to become vicious scoundrels and think like they do, aren't liteature and philosophy bringing profits at the end of the day? Yerk, I almost puked linking both). Sacred also rejoices the monster's image, Frankenstein having broken the sacred and therefore angered the Gods. Well, we needed stories, but God is naught but the world, humanity a part of it, so we were warning and talking about sacred and Gods, you were a little childish so we had to tell tales, but it was for your own good, got it?
Stop looking at singers, poets, philosophers, painters, sculptors and such, like you would look at funny useless savant monkeys, once and for all, you would not live without them, if you did, you would have no purpose whatsoever, and you are only allowed to frolic with your paise because you sustain them. I'm talking to you Frankenstein's monster, for I know there is a remnant of humanity in your fat greasy face, and I am sorry for the people who made you do those disgusting things like importing oil and entering new markets, I, personnally, would have never brought you to life.
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