Guest Voices

060520_Deconfinement eve - (link): Just to show the educational of French politicians... [put it into Google translate]

Monsieur le Président,
Monsieur le Premier Ministre,
Mes chers collègues,

Déconfiner ou ne pas déconfiner, telle est la question. Je suis fasciné de découvrir que nous avons autant d’experts pour y répondre sur toutes nos chaînes de télévision.
Les grands experts, très assurés. Les petits experts, qui manquent d’expérience sur Zoom et dont on ne voit que le nez, le menton et les lunettes en gros plan. Les soi-disant experts qui répètent ce qu’ils ont entendu une heure avant sur une autre chaîne ou à la radio. Et enfin les faux experts qui lancent des craques en espérant faire le buzz.
A force de tous les regarder, j’ai découvert un théorème, que je vous propose : Plus il y a d’experts moins on comprend.
Heureusement, il reste les politiques. J’ai suivi le débat à l’Assemblée Nationale mercredi dernier, Monsieur le Premier Ministre. Il y a là-bas des virtuoses du coronavirus. Ils vous ont expliqué ce qu’il fallait faire hier, ce qu’il n’aurait pas fallu faire, ce qu’il faut faire aujourd’hui et ce qu’il faudra faire demain. Je revois encore le Professeur Mélenchon, de la Faculté de médecine de La Havane, pointer sur vous un doigt vengeur et vous lancer d’une voix de stentor : « Il y aura un deuxième pic de l’épidémie, et vous le savez ! ». Impressionnant. J’étais au bord du retweet. Devant tant de recommandations de spécialistes, je n’ose pas vous proposer les miennes, moi qui ne suis qu’un simple médecin épidémiologiste.
Je voudrais juste me borner à quelques réflexions sur certaines idées qui me paraissent fausses.
La plus absurde, c’est que le libéralisme est la cause de la pandémie. Dans ce pays où beaucoup préfèrent Robespierre à Tocqueville, où l’on préférera toujours se tromper avec Sartre qu’avoir raison avec Aron, c’est toujours le libéralisme qui porte le chapeau. Même les plus ignares des antimondialistes, des populistes et des complotistes devraient pourtant savoir, puisque même Google le dit, que Périclès, mort de la peste en 429 avant J.C. ou Saint Louis mort du même mal en 1270 n’avaient jamais ne serait-ce qu’entendu les mots de capitalisme ou de libéralisme. Le Covid n’est pas une maladie de la mondialisation, c’est une maladie tout court. Napoléon disait : « l’histoire est une suite de mensonges sur lesquels on s’est mis d’accord », aujourd’hui il dirait : « l’histoire est une suite de mensonges qui ont le plus de like ».
Il fallait trouver le responsable du complot. Au Moyen Age, c’était la colère divine, les sorcières ou les juifs. Aujourd’hui c’est la mondialisation.
La vérité est l’exact contraire. La grande nouveauté c’est que c’est la science qui est aujourd’hui mondialisée. Jamais dans l’histoire on n’a donné une réponse aussi rapide à une nouvelle maladie. Le génome du virus séquencé en une semaine. Les premiers tests produits un mois plus tard. Les essais cliniques de traitement et de vaccins déjà par centaines. A ceux qui s’impatientent il faut rappeler que les épidémies d’avant faisaient cent fois plus de morts, qu’il a fallu des milliers d’années avant que Pasteur en 1885 ne découvre le vaccin contre la rage et que Yersin n’isole le bacille de la peste. Et que c’est grâce à la démocratie libérale et à ses progrès scientifiques qu’elles ont été vaincues comme celle-ci le sera demain.
Deuxième idée qui traîne, celle des prophètes qui nous expliquent que demain rien ne sera comme avant. Mais dès qu’on les écoute on s’aperçoit que leur monde futur est celui qu’ils prêchaient avant. L’avenir radieux avec les lunettes du passé. Ils annoncent des révolutions, mais on s’aperçoit qu’ils profitent de la crise pour recycler leurs idéologies archi-décédées : mort du capitalisme, haine de la technique, décroissance, éloge du populisme, retour des frontières, nationalisme. Ils courent les télévisions pour annoncer l’avènement d’un monde nouveau, mais leur besace ne contient que la poussière du prêt à penser qu’ils ressassent depuis des décennies.
La réalité c’est que personne n’a jamais vu demain. C’est à nous de préparer l’avenir et il sera sans doute différent. Mais ce qui est certain, c’est qu’il ne ressemblera sûrement pas à un remake des thèses de Karl Marx, de Maurras ou de Malthus.
Troisième ineptie : les régimes autoritaires seraient les grands gagnants de cette pandémie car les plus efficaces. C’est le contraire qui est vrai. La cause de la maladie est le virus. La cause du drame est le régime chinois qui a caché la vérité pendant un mois. C’est pour cela qu’il y a aujourd’hui 25 000 morts en France et des centaines de milliers dans le monde.
Les seuls pays qui s’en sont bien sortis sont les quatre démocraties asiatiques, Taïwan, Hong Kong, Singapour et la Corée du Sud, qui bénéficiaient d’expériences antérieures. J’espère que personne ne va me dire : « Et la Chine ?». La Chine qui annonce 4500 morts sans avoir jamais expliqué à quoi servaient les 50 000 urnes funéraires livrées en urgence, de nuit, dans la seule ville de Wuhan. La Chine dont on ne connaîtra le nombre de morts qu’un jour lointain, comme on n’a connu les 40 millions de morts du grand bond en avant que 30 ans plus tard, à la mort de Mao.
Quant aux populistes en Occident, Trump qui restera comme le Président du « Make the virus great again », Bolsonaro qui laisse s’infecter sans protection les habitants de ses bidonvilles, et Johnson, sauvé de peu de ses propres théories sur l’immunité et dont le pays détient désormais la palme européenne des victimes.
Je préfère l’exemple de l’Allemagne démocratique. C’est bien sûr un peu irritant, ces allemands qui savent toujours où sont rangées les affaires. Mais attention. D’abord l’Allemagne nous suit de dix jours dans l’épidémie et ses chiffres montent. Ensuite les résultats allemands sont hélas beaucoup plus proches de ceux du reste de l’Europe que de l’Asie. C’est bien chez les démocraties d’Asie du Sud qu’il nous faudra chercher les exemples si nous voulons réussir le déconfinement et en tout cas pas chez les dictateurs.
Vous vous apprêtez, Monsieur le Premier Ministre, à prendre la plus grande décision de cette crise. Parce que le déconfinement sera beaucoup plus difficile que le confinement.
Vous serez tenté de le faire très prudemment. D’abord parce que dans nos régimes libéraux, qui s’attachent à rendre impossibles leurs propres décisions, les épées de Damoclès politiques, juridiques et médiatiques vous menaceront à la moindre erreur. Les sycophantes ont déjà ouvert leurs dossiers.
Mais votre Rubicon est là et vous n’avez d’autre choix que de le franchir sans trembler. Jusqu’à ce jour, entre laisser mourir des hommes et tuer l’économie, nous n’avons pas hésité et nous avons choisi le confinement. Le 11 mai, en ouvrant les rues, les maisons, les entreprises et les administrations, ne laissons personne dire que nous ferions le choix inverse, celui de l’économie contre les hommes. Au contraire. Poursuivre le confinement ou déconfiner trop timidement ferait aujourd’hui beaucoup plus de victimes. D’abord les victimes, bien plus nombreuses qu’on ne le croit, d’autres pathologies qui depuis deux mois ne se soignent plus. Ensuite parce qu’une crise économique, et celle qui vient sera l’une des pires, fait bien plus de victimes que le virus, même si le fait de ne pas pouvoir les chiffrer permettra à tous ceux qui n’ont rien compris à l’économie et qui ne l’aiment pas – ils sont nombreux en France – de vous accuser de préférer les profits à la santé de nos concitoyens.
Il faut ouvrir les portes et le faire sans hésiter. Et cela veut dire faire confiance aux français. Ils ont montré, personne ne l’aurait parié, qu’ils étaient capables aussi bien que des coréens ou des allemands, de respecter un confinement drastique. Ils ont compris les gestes, la prudence et la distanciation. Ils ont aussi compris les risques, et c’est d’ailleurs pour cela que s’ils souhaitent le déconfinement, ils le redoutent en même temps.
Il y aura des bosses sur la route, Monsieur le Premier Ministre, mais il faut prendre la route. Richelieu disait : « Il ne faut pas tout craindre, mais il faut tout préparer ». C’est la tâche qui vous attend aujourd’hui. C’est la tâche qui nous attend tous.

 

160420_Allowing the voices of the past to speak to our future:

Les médias devraient régulièrement reprendre ces lectures..
      FRANÇAIS, VOUS AVEZ la MÉMOIRE COURTE !

Un texte de Mr Olivier Becht. Député du Haut-Rhin
Coronavirus : que nous enseigne l’Histoire ?
             Pour ma génération, cette épidémie mondiale est un événement encore jamais connu, jamais vécu.Pourtant, en discutant avec mes parents, il apparaît que le monde en a déjà connu et pas seulement dans les siècles passés.Nul besoin de remonter à la peste, au choléra ou encore à la grippe espagnole de 1918.D’autres épidémies, ressemblant fortement au Coronavirus ont frappé le monde en 1957 et en 1969.
               En 1957, le monde connaît une pandémie nommée « grippe asiatique ». Mon père s’en souvient encore car toute sa famille (père, mère, 5 enfants) va alors rester couchée presque sans possibilité de se lever pendant plus de 15 jours. Cette « grippe asiatique » fera 100 000 morts rien qu’en France et plus de 2 millions de morts dans le monde.
En 1969, à nouveau venue d’Asie, la « grippe de Hong Kong » frappe le monde. Elle va faire 31 000 morts en France et 1 million de morts dans le monde.J’ai retrouvé un article du Journal Libération qui comparaît en 2005 le traitement de la canicule de 2003 avec celui de la « grippe de Hong Kong ».

Voici ce que l’extrait de cet article disait de la situation en 1969 :
« On n'avait pas le temps de sortir les morts. On les entassait dans une salle au fond du service de réanimation. Et on les évacuait quand on pouvait, dans la journée, le soir.» Aujourd'hui chef du service d'infectiologie du centre hospitalo-universitaire de Nice, le professeur Dellamonica a gardé des images fulgurantes de cette grippe dite «de Hongkong» qui a balayé la France au tournant de l'hiver 1969-1970. Âgé alors d'une vingtaine d'années, il travaillait comme externe dans le service de réanimation du professeur Jean Motin, à l'hôpital Edouard-Herriot de Lyon. «Les gens arrivaient en brancard, dans un état catastrophique. Ils mouraient d'hémorragie pulmonaire, les lèvres cyanosées, tout gris. Il y en avait de tous les âges, 20, 30, 40 ans et plus. Ça a duré dix à quinze jours, et puis ça s'est calmé. Et étrangement, on a oublié.» - Fin de l’extrait-
Ce n’était pas au Douzième Siècle, c’était il y a 50 ans ! Étrangement on a oublié.

Encore plus étrange furent les traitements politiques et médiatiques qui en furent faits.Alors que l’hôpital fait face à une crise sanitaire majeure : afflux brutal de malades, impossibilité de les soigner, mortalité par dizaine de milliers, nul ou presque n’en parle.La presse parle à l’époque de la mission Apollo sur la Lune, de la guerre du Vietnam, des suites de mai 1968... mais pas ou peu des dizaines de milliers de personnes qui meurent dans des hôpitaux surchargés. Pire, le monde continue de tourner, presque comme si de rien n’était.

Alors que nous enseigne l’Histoire ?
          D’abord et c’est une bonne nouvelle, que nos sociétés en ont « connu d’autres » et qu’elles se remettent de ces épidémies. Malgré la mortalité de masse provoquée par elles, nous n’allons pas tous mourir et la vie gardera le dessus.

           Ensuite, qu’en 50 ans, les progrès techniques ont profondément modifié notre société. En 1969 encore la mort de millions d’individus semblait une fatalité alors qu’aujourd’hui elle nous paraît juste inacceptable. Nous attendons de la science qu’elle puisse nous protéger de toutes ces maladies, les vaincre voire peut être un jour vaincre la mort elle-même. Je parle bien sûr pour nos sociétés occidentales car 100 000 morts nous paraissent un choc majeur et inacceptable en Europe ou en Amérique du Nord alors que personne ou presque ne semble hélas s’offusquer que le Palu puisse tuer chaque année un demi million de personnes en Afrique...

           L’Histoire nous enseigne encore que nos exigences vis à vis de l’Etat ont beaucoup changé. Nous sommes désormais, et c’est le prix de l’Etat providence, dans une société qui « attend tout de l’Etat ». En 1969 personne n’attendait de Pompidou qu’il arrête la « grippe de Hong Kong » ou encore organise le confinement de la population pour sauver des vies. Aujourd’hui le moindre accident est nécessairement de la responsabilité d’une autorité publique et si l’on n’arrive pas à un résultat immédiat et satisfaisant, c’est forcément que les élites ont failli. Que l’on soit bien clair, je ne cherche à excuser personne et il est vrai que le niveau des impôts n’est pas le même qu’en 1969 donc le niveau d’exigence peut légitimement être plus élevé. Je pose juste des constats.

           Enfin, l’Histoire nous enseigne que la sphère médiatique a beaucoup changé et influence terriblement le traitement des événements. En 1969 les médias étaient encore pour beaucoup sous le contrôle de l’Etat. Comme on ne pouvait pas arrêter la maladie on n’en parlait quasiment pas. Et la vie continuait tant bien que mal. A l’ère des chaînes d’info continue et des médias sociaux on ne parle plus que de la maladie, du traitement sanitaire, politique, économique. Tout devient très vite sujet à polémique et à scandale. Pire, on a l’impression que notre vision du monde se limite désormais à ce qui défile sur nos écrans. Et comme il n’y a plus que la maladie sur nos écrans on oublierait presque que la vie continue avec ce qu’elle a de plus merveilleux (l’amour par exemple, mais aussi la création, l’innovation...) mais aussi de pire (la haine, la violence, la criminalité, la bêtise...). Bref la saturation de l’info autour de la maladie fait qu’on a l’impression que le monde s’arrête et comme la conscience crée en partie la réalité, il semble vraiment s’arrêter.

        Alors vous me direz « autres temps, autres traitements de la maladie et des événements ». Oui, vous avez raison et quelque part heureusement. Ces enseignements de l’Histoire ne nous obligent pas à traiter les choses comme dans le passé. Bien au contraire.
Mais ces voix venues du passé nous disent néanmoins :
- que les épidémies ont toujours existé et existeront probablement toujours car elles ne sont pas issues de complots de savants fousmanipulés par des militaires dans des labos secrets, mais simplement des virus qui font partie de la Nature, au même titre que nous.
- que l’on pourra déployer toute la science et posséder les meilleurs Gouvernements du Monde, il y aura toujours un événement naturelque nul n’avait prévu et que l’on ne pourra pas totalement éviter.

- qu’il faut toujours garder l’esprit positif car l’Humanité s’est toujours relevé de ces épidémies. La France s’en relèvera aussi et cela d’autant plus vite que nous saurons faire preuve de résilience et de fraternité dans l’épreuve.

               Essayons donc de ne pas perdre nos nerfs et notre moral rivés sur le compteur des morts qui monopolise nos écrans, restons unis plutôt qu’à accuser déjà les uns et les autres, concentrons nous sur les vies que l’on peut sauver chacun dans son rôle et à sa place, continuons de vivre, d’aimer, d’inventer car ni le monde ni la vie ne se sont arrêtés et profitons peut être, pour ceux qui en ont, d’utiliser le temps pour imaginer le monde meilleur dans lequel nous voudrions vivre à la sortie de cette crise.

Regarder le passé, c’est parfois prendre le recul nécessaire qui permet de mieux construire l’avenir.
Courage et espoir ! Prenez soin de vous …..

O.BECHT

Fall 2019 - The generosity of student voices (Thank you for this, Laura!)

 

 

140519_From Bill Nye-- "The planets on fire..." : https://twitter.com/astroehlein/status/1128179665842114560

130419_From SENTENTIAE ANTIQUAE





Emolument’s Claws

“Nor can I do better, in conclusion, than impress upon you the study of Greek literature, which not only elevates above the vulgar herd, but leads not infrequently to positions of considerable emolument.”
-Thomas Gaisford

Few clearer proofs of the instrumentalization of knowledge can be given than the question, routinely posed to all students of the liberal arts, “What are you going to do with that?” This reification of knowledge as a discrete entity (a ‘skill set’) represents a fundamental error in the conception of knowledge on the part of those who see its primary value as an instrument.
Since the revival of learning (i.e. the Renaissance), the study of antiquity has never been practical in the sense of yielding concrete and tangible products in the world, yet it did nevertheless confer immense practical advantages on those who had studied it. From the Renaissance through at least the end of the 19th century, classical learning was the key to both civil and ecclesiastical preferment. Amidst the debates about the purpose and accessibility of classics today, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that the regression away from an open and democratized classics is in effect simply a return to the discipline’s status quo – a return to classics reserved for the elite as a ticket to social advancement.
For many people, majoring in classics or any of the humanities at less than maximally prestigious schools is not an indulgence in idle caprice, but a seizure at what may be their only opportunity to truly study these subjects before being broken upon the wheel of relentless employment. Some students may be fortunate enough to attend public or private schools which offer instruction in Latin. But often, the halls of the university are the first and only place in which young students have the opportunity to study such recondite subjects. Formal university study thus serves a much more practical purpose than its detractors would concede by providing the basic civic and human education for people who are never able to acquire it earlier in life. Paradoxically, the study of the humanities becomes more practical and, indeed, more necessary as opportunities to explore them are more severely curtailed in elementary and secondary schools. In an age when students could be expected to have received a thoroughgoing humanistic education, the study of antiquity at university may have indeed been little more than the rarefaction and refinement of one’s literary and aesthetic sensibilities. Rich elites with access to educational opportunity may feel that the humanities are an idle indulgence because they are now (or still?) the only ones allowed to enjoy them from an early age. Consequently, humanistic study will continue to become more practical in the way that it has always been ‘practical’ – as a social marker granted to and recognized by an elite class, which paves the golden avenue to social and economic advancement. Benjamin Rush and Thomas Paine both campaigned actively against the primacy of classical language instruction:
The study of the Latin and Greek languages is improper in the present state of society and government in United States. While Greek and Latin are the only avenues to science, education will always be confined to a few people. It is only by rendering knowledge universal, that a republican form of government can be preserved in our country. [Benjamin Rush, Essays Moral, Literary, and Political]
No more Latin should be learned in these schools than is necessary to translate that language into English, and no more Greek than is necessary to read the Greek Testament. One half or two-thirds of the time now misspent in learning more of those two languages should be employed in learning Hebrew and in studying Jewish antiquities. Eastern customs. Eastern geography, ecclesiastical and natural history, and astronomy, all of which are calculated to discover the meaning and establish the truth of many parts of the Scriptures. No one of the Latin nor Greek poets nor historians should be read in these schools, by which means a pious ignorance will be preserved of the crimes of heathen gods and men related not only without censure but often with praise. [Benjamin Rush, Letter to Ashbel Green May 22, 1807]
The study, therefore, of the Greek language (and in the same manner for the Latin) was no other than the drudgery business of a linguist; and the language thus obtained, was no other than the means, as it were the tools, employed to obtain the learning the Greeks had. It made no part of the learning itself, and was so distinct from it, as to make it exceedingly probable that the persons who had studied Greek sufficiently to translate those works, such, for instance, as Euclid’s Elements, did not understand any of the learning the works contained. [Thomas Paine, The Age of Reason]
The peculiarity of Benjamin Rush’s crusade against the classics is that it demonstrated just how useful they were in colonial American society – not, indeed, in the sense of producing anything, but as a mode of communication and exchange, a common intellectual currency. Rush himself could inveigh against the classics because he had at least been granted sufficient education in them. His engineered assault on the classics is a testament to their strength in his day. In our own time, the development of more narrowly technical education has rendered the classics (and the humanities more generally) obsolete as anything but markers of class and wealth (or, for those of us outside the privileged echelons, as markers of foolhardy impracticality). Yet, we have lost something valuable in that common intellectual and cultural currency, and it is not clear that it will ever be replaced as culture becomes increasingly fragmented and ephemeral. The dominant technical and scientific modes of discourse have given birth to this exaggerated ephemerality, but the increasing speed with which cultural products gain currency and lose relevance also poses a significant question about who (i.e. what demographic) ought to be the arbiter of that relevance. I once had a friend who dismissed everything written or produced before the 20th century as irrelevant. Yet, for many of my students, the period of one day is enough to make something feel played-out, hackneyed, and irrelevant. (A meme which is widely circulated in the morning may be dead and overdone by the evening.)
The educational project of Rush and Paine has largely been achieved through the organic process of classics becoming apparently irrelevant to modern life. Yet, this demotion of classics from its primacy in education has increased what Rush and Paine saw as the most pernicious aspect of classical study – its tendency, as an ‘irrelevant’ study, to create a class distinction between those with sufficient wealth and leisure to study dead languages and those who must ply themselves to some more apparently practical study. The liberal arts have once again reclaimed and justified their designation, but only at the expense of much of society submitting to the servitude of purely commercial interest.
The humanities as formalized university study are undoubtedly in peril, but the reasons for and nature of this peril are matters of contention. Where Jordan Peterson might see the humanities as threatened by Theory, a more data-driven analyst might note that English departments thrived under the early heady days of Theory in the second half of the 20th century, when lecture halls were packed by students enjoying a new and exciting mode of engaging with old texts. Reactionaries have long been attracted to the idea that the collapse of the humanities can be attributed to one or two pernicious intellectual trends, but this gross oversimplification masquerading as dispassionate analysis is in itself just the promotion of a particular conservative theoretical framework for understanding humanistic disciplines. Yet another faction attempts to circumvent the political altogether by arguing that the humanities are peculiarly ennobling and thus ought to be studied for their own sake. But this argument is both untenable and wholly ahistorical, resting on rhetoric which has never gone out of fashion since antiquity.
At some point in the ancient world, literature was just literature. In the centuries following Homer, however, literature began to reflect back upon itself in a self-conscious and meaningful way, which may be seen as the seminal form of scholarship as we know it today. By the time of Plato, at least, it is clear that many thinkers were engaged in what we would recognize as humanistic and literary study: poetry is cited and analyzed for linguistic content, its bearing on history and morality, and even its relation to other literary exempla. Plato’s dialogues, taken as cultural records, suggest that these were pleasant and salutary pastimes for the leisured class as well as a way to achieve some measure of practical success in the world. The Sophists with whom Socrates speaks do not study literature for its own sake. Rather, poetry it studied for the utilitarian purpose of moral improvement or the weaponized use to which it may be put in disputation. Even Plato himself views literature as something instrumental or utilitarian, a part of a broader educational program designed to form the complete human.
The Greeks were keen on rhetoric, and their literary studies were often made to serve that enthusiasm, but the Romans went a step farther in institutionalizing rhetoric as the primary branch of education. Though it seems strange to modern sensibilities, a well-educated Roman would have received years of rhetorical training as the basis and aim of education, and may have finished off the larger project with ‘ornamental’ studies like astronomy, mathematics, and others science such as it then was. Literary study was an important part of their program, but not because it was the window to the human soul – rather, a knowledge of the best literature was meant to carry one’s point in debate in addition to forming the character through moral exempla – creating the ideal vir bonus dicendi peritus.
The educational institution of the trivium and quadrivium formalized by Martianus Capella gives primacy to what are thought of as the humanities, but this is an inheritance of the Greco-Roman traditions which made these subjects out to be supremely practical modes for political and personal advancement.
Despite their primacy in the trivium, the humanities experienced some decline during the Middle Ages due to the ambivalence toward pagan authors manifested by Christians such as Augustine, Jerome, and Tertullian. Consider Jerome’s nightmare of being denied access to heaven on the basis of his fondness for Cicero. Augustine laments that in spending so much time reading about Dido’s tears, he was ‘fornicating away from God.’ A certain amount of this ambivalence was retained by Christians of later centuries, but many continued studying pagan authors for two reasons: knowledge of pagan literature could be weaponized to counter the arguments of the irreligious, and the language of pagan authors could serve to improve the eloquence of the Christian message.
Petrarch is given credit for inaugurating the Renaissance not only because of his manuscript hunting, but because we sense in him a genuine enthusiast who was enamoured with antiquity for its own sake. Yet, for all of Petrarch’s ardent enthusiasm, the humanities as reconceived by him were not aimed at studying literature ‘for its own sake’. For Petrarch, Leonaro Bruni, Coluccio Salutati, and others, the study of literature and history may have been pleasing in and of itself, but underlying their progress was the support of money and political interest. Few of the important humanists of the Renaissance did their work independent of temporal power – indeed, they began to revive the old Ciceronian ideal of the active scholar/politician.
Of all historical periods, the Renaissance contributed most to our own sense of the humanities as a distinct arena of study, as well as to the conception of the study of literature as singularly ennobling or worthwhile for its own sake, yet it was also a period during which the study of literature was instrumentalized in an exceptionally striking degree, both for the attainment of tangible political ends as well as being the object of conspicuous consumption and lavish display on the part of wealthy and powerful patrons. In his essay in the Cambridge Companion to the Renaissance, James Hankins notes that much of the intellectual energy of 14th and 15th century humanism was channeled into the broad project of reforming and improving humanity because “Politically, the Renaissance was an age of tyrants and oligarchs, rulers with often questionable titles to legitimacy.” As such, attempts at reforming political systems, or even political theory itself, were of limited value in such an entrenched political climate. The only hope for governmental improvement lay in cultivating the character of the tyrants and oligarchs internally. This represents a revival of the old Platonic ideal of the philosopher king, and accounts for the apparent upswing in rapturous encomia on the study of polite letters. The entire humanist project could, through harnessing the moral-exemplar mode of education borrowed directly from antiquity and combining it with a renewed emphasis on cultivating politesse – especially in the form of refined Latin expression – serve the aim of bringing about a more peaceful, just, and refined society. Who could doubt the value of literary and historical study at a time when it promised the surest route to the improvement of civilization itself?
Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini, later Pope Pius II, wrote in his educational treatise de Liberorum Educatione: “The study of literature offers a great aid to attaining virtue, and this befits no one more than a king. […] Once learning was abandoned, all virtues fell into decay, because the strength of the military and the imperial office was weakened as though cut at the root.” Piccolomini outlines here the importance of learning and study as a prop to virtue, which is seen as the foundation of political strength and viability. He does not see the decline of ancient Rome’s political fortunes as originating from economic or military problems. Rather, the relative prosperity of the early empire is attributed to the learning of the early emperors, and all later social and military setbacks coincided with the decline in learning among the rulers. He then adds that all who attain temporal power “should strive with the utmost effort that they perform their public duties and engage in philosophy.” In his educational treatise On Studies and Letters, Leonardo Bruni makes effectively the same point about the conjunction of humanist study and action when he speaks of “a real liberal understanding, which joins experience in literature with knowledge of the world.”
This conception of humanistic study as practical training survived the Renaissance and continued unabated into the 18th century, where we read John Adams advising his son John Quincy to ply himself to his classical learning: ‘In company with Sallust, Cicero, Tacitus, and Livy, you will learn wisdom and virtue. […] You will remember that the end of study is to make you a good man and a useful citizen.” Among the Founders, there were few of what we might consider pure intellectuals. Though in their own provincial way they were possessed of a certain erudition, they were for the most part hard-headed utilitarians who in literary study appear as Philistines when set against their contemporaries in Europe.
John Marshall claimed that Cicero’s de Officiis was “a salutary discourse on the duties and qualities proper to a republican gentlemen.” There were, however, cracks forming in the traditional system. Benjamin Rush was initially a supporter of the old classical language curriculum, but in 1789 he began to campaign against the study of the ancient languages, arguing that “the human understanding was fettered by prejudice in favor of the Latin and Greek languages.” Yet it is important to note that Rush’s crusade was not meant to displace the humanities from the educational curriculum. It was, rather, supposed to make the study of the humanities more efficient by freeing time for learning modern languages and helping to eliminate class distinctions which were fostered by the classical education system. Even for the study of religion, Rush argued that time would be more profitably employed in the study of eastern languages and history. Rush was a man of applied science and made the most forceful and revolutionary attacks on the traditional humanist-fostered mode of education in early America, but importantly, he did not intend to jettison what we would think of as “the humanities” more generally – all of these were still seen to have practical value in forming the character and contributing to civic prosperity.
As classical language study declined in the mid to late 19th century America, a new set of “humanities” not requiring Latin and Greek began to emerge as electives were first offered on campuses and the concept of a college “major” was created. Early American reformers like Franklin and Rush would no doubt have been well pleased by the development of university courses in history, art, philosophy, and literature which did not require years of preliminary grammar grinding in dead languages as a prerequisite. Yet, in our contemporary culture, the study of these subjects is commonly considered just as frivolous as the ancient languages which preceded them. During this period of curricular expansion in the 19th century, there was simultaneously a shift away from the utilitarian justification rhetoric employed so often in the early days of the republic, toward a new conception of the study of literature as a mode of spiritual self-improvement.
Notwithstanding the shifts in the rhetoric used to advocate for their study, the reasons for pursuing the humanities have not actually changed over the millennia. Rather, our conception of what constitutes utility itself has changed. Where once it was possible to see the formation of mind and character – the creation of a complete and responsible citizen – as supremely useful, our society has begun to opt for a more narrowly mechanistic and industrial definition of utility. It would be easy to ascribe this to something depraved in the character of our times or the rapid and astonishing success of physical science in the past two centuries, but the shift in thought about utility and education did not occur accidentally. The managerial mindset which took over in the administration of both higher education and grade school in this country can be traced back to a readily understood urge within the capitalist framework: the urge to make money. It has long been supposed that America has no class system because social distinction is not strictly inherited. But I remember being told from the earliest stage of my education that the primary benefit of education was to ensure that you did not end up flipping burgers at McDonald’s. The elimination of mandatory classical language study can hardly be said to have democratized education if the only actual effect was to imbue children with the belief that certain ways of life (such as burger flipping) constitute personal failure, and that the chief value of education lies in helping the student to avoid relegation to an undesirable socioeconomic class.
In this way, the actual structure and purpose of education (and higher education in particular) has not changed through the ages. It is meant to serve as an entry point to higher classes and privilege, though now it is devoid of the antiquarian and mystical self-improvement baggage. Who orchestrated this shift in subject matter? Corporate executives. Where the university previously served as the training ground for clerics, ministers, and civil servants angling for a sinecure, it is now a glorified vocational school designed to generate a class of new technologists who will both produce and consume a supply of even more rapidly obsolescent gizmos. One need only look at the emphasis of outreach for STEM education to see the way in which business leaders have convinced the university to prostitute itself for material gain. When students are encouraged to pursue STEM, the goal is not to increase enrollment in classical biology, paleontology, or pure mathematics. The hope, rather, is to maximize the supply of engineers and technicians, understanding that a glut on the market of technical wizards will reduce their cost. The university was intended to be largely immune to this type of pressure, but the ominous shadow of the ‘business community’ has long been cast over the groves of Academus, and – as though business did not already have the loudest voice in this country – administrators hasten to peddle the propaganda of technical education as a way of advocating for the interests of CEOs.
I do not mean to deny that technical education has its import, and I hope that it is clear that I am not arguing for a wholly anti-utilitarian pursuit of the humanities. For more than two millennia, what may be termed “humanistic study” has been deemed eminently useful. But as our knowledge of the world has expanded and the pace of commercial culture has outstripped all else, we have adopted a radically restricted notion of utility – one that cannot see anything useful in the intangible, the immaterial, the human.
Dismissal of the humanities as useless reflects, however, a kind of cognitive dissonance, because the humanities still loom large in contemporary culture. In recent years, classical antiquity has been the focus of an intense proxy battle in the culture wars. The far right and various reactionary monsters see it as a justification for racism and misogyny, while others see the potential for revolutionary improvement in the study of antiquity. The revolutionary power of the Classics was noted by Hobbes: “Hobbes calumniated the Classicks, because they filled young Mens heads with Ideas of Liberty, and excited them to rebellion against Leviathan.” [John Adams to Benjamin Rush, October 13 1810]
For all of the hostility directed against the humanities in popular discourse, people take ancient history and narrative seriously, and regularly employ it to justify systems and actions today. When Trump stole the election, we were assured by the media of Steve Bannon’s intellectual seriousness on the basis of his reading Thucydides. One may detect in the puffery of Steve Bannon’s reading a hearkening back to the time when classical attainment automatically conveyed a kind of social distinction. As access to opportunity to engage in classical reading becomes more restricted, its power to serve as a marker of social and intellectual distinction is increased. Classics, and the humanities more generally, are no less useful than they have ever been. Today’s harnessing of classical antiquity for social ends does not differ materially from the Colonial American habit of employing classical pen names, or the Renaissance compilation of commonplace books to weaponize ancient authority, or the support of Christian messages by repurposing pagan learning. Rather, our conception of utility has changed, and has prepared us for a new age of pure mechanization and exaggerated class distinction. Much is made of the appropriation of classics for evil ends, but this is not unique to our discipline. Any study can be productive of evil when profit is its primary aim.
Sonsuz Ark: SA6116/ÇY4-DB128: Thukididis'in Peloponez ...

SENTENTIAE ANTIQUAE


280219_The intersection of art and ideas -- Profiling Prehistoric Man, Dr. James Walker : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKQ9WBIkaeU

 

190218_http://www.molvray.com/ebooks/Quitting_the_Paint_Factory_Mark_Slouka.html

Re-imagining Democracy

Quitting the Paint Factory by Mark Slouka

- Harper’s Magazine – November 2004 issue
Love yields to business. If you seek a way out of love, be busy; you’ll be safe, then.    -Ovid, Remedia Amoris


I distrust the perpetually busy; always have. The frenetic ones spinning in tight little circles like poisoned rats. The slower ones, grinding away their fourscore and ten in righteousness and pain. They are the soul-eaters.
When I was young, my parents read me Aesop’s fable of “The Ant and the Grasshopper,” wherein, as everyone knows, the grasshopper spends the sum­mer making music in the sun while the ant toils with his fellow formicidae. Inevitably, winter comes, as winters will, and the grasshopper, who hasn’t planned ahead and who doesn’t know what a 401K is, has run out of luck. When he shows up at the ants’ door, carrying his fiddle, the ant asks him what he was doing all year: “I was singing, if you please,” the grasshopper replies, or something to that effect. “You were singing?” says the ant. “Well, then, go and sing.” And perhaps because I sensed, even then, that fate would someday find me holding a violin or a manuscript at the door of the ants, my antennae frozen and my bills overdue, I confounded both Aesop and my well-meaning parents, and bore away the wrong moral. That summer, many a wind­blown grasshopper was saved from the pond, and many an anthill inundat­ed under the golden rain of my pee.
I was right.
In the lifetime that has passed since Calvin Coolidge gave his speech to the American Society of Newspaper Editors in which he famously pro­claimed that “the chief business of the American people is business,” the do­minion of the ants has grown enormously. Look about: The business of busi­ness is everywhere and inescapable; the song of the buyers and the sellers never stops; the term “workaholic” has been folded up and put away. We have no time for our friends or our families, no time to think or to make a meal. We’re moving product, while the soul drowns like a cat in a well. [”I think that there is far too much work done in the world,” Bertrand Russell observed in his famous 1932 essay “In Praise of Idleness,” adding that he hoped to “start a cam­paign to induce good young men to do nothing.” He failed. A year later, National So­cialism, with its cult of work (think of all those bronzed young men in Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will throwing cordwood to each other in the sun), flared in Germany.]
A resuscitated orthodoxy, so pervasive as to be nearly invisible, rules the land. Like any religion worth its salt, it shapes our world in its image, de­monizing if necessary, absorbing when possible. Thus has the great sovereign territory of what Nabokov called “unreal estate,” the continent of invisible possessions from time to talent to contentment, been either infantilized, ren­dered unclean, or translated into the grammar of dollars and cents. Thus has the great wilderness of the inner life been compressed into a median strip by the demands of the “real world,” which of course is anything but. Thus have we succeeded in transforming even ourselves into bipedal products, paying richly for seminars that teach us how to market the self so it may be sold to the highest bidder. Or perhaps “down the river” is the phrase.
Ah, but here’s the rub: Idleness is not just a psychological necessity, req­uisite to the construction of a complete human being; it constitutes as well a kind of political space, a space as necessary to the workings of an actual democracy as, say, a free press. How does it do this? By allowing us time to figure out who we are, and what we believe; by allowing us time to consider what is unjust, and what we might do about it. By giving the inner life (in whose precincts we are most ourselves) its due. Which is precisely what makes idle­ness dangerous. All manner of things can grow out of that fallow soil. Not for nothing did our mothers grow suspicious when we had “too much time on our hands.” They knew we might be up to something. And not for nothing did we whisper to each other, when we were up to something, “Quick, look busy.”
Mother knew instinctively what the keepers of the castles have always known: that trouble – the kind that might threaten the symmetry of a well-ordered garden – needs time to take root. Take away the time, therefore, and you choke off the problem before it begins. Obedience reigns, the plow stays in the furrow; things proceed as they must. Which raises an uncomfortable question: Could the Church of Work – which today has Americans aspir­ing to sleep deprivation the way they once aspired to a personal knowledge of God – be, at base, an anti-democratic force? Well, yes. James Russell Lowell, that nineteenth-century workhorse, summed it all up quite neatly: “There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and sav­ing it from all risk of crankiness, than business.”
Quite so. The mind, however, particularly the mind of a citizen in a de­mocratic society, is not a boat. Ballast is not what it needs, and steadiness, alas, can be a synonym for stupidity, as our current administration has so am­ply demonstrated. No, what the democratic mind requires, above all, is time; time to consider its options. Time to develop the democratic virtues of independence, orneriness, objectivity, and fairness. Time, perhaps (to sail along with Lowell’s leaky metaphor for a moment), to ponder the course our unelected captains have so generously set for us, and to consider mutiny when the iceberg looms.
Which is precisely why we need to be kept busy. If we have no time to think, to mull, if we have no time to piece together the sudden associations and unexpected, mid-shower insights that are the stuff of independent opinion, then we are less citizens than cursors, easily manipulated, vulnerable to the currents of power.
But I have to be careful here. Having worked all of my adult life, I recognize that work of one sort or another is as essential to survival as protein, and that much of it, in today’s highly bureaucratized, economically diversified societies, will of necessity be neither pleasant nor challenging nor particularly meaningful. I have compassion for those making the most of their commute and their cubicle; I just wish they could be a little less cheerful about it. In short, this isn’t about us so much as it is about the Zeitgeist we live and labor in, which, like a cuckoo taking over a thrush’s nest, has systematically shoved all the other eggs of our life, one by one, onto the pavement. It’s about illuminating the losses.
We’re enthralled. I want to disenchant us a bit; draw a mustache on the boss.

INFINITE BUSTLE

I’m a student of the narrowing margins. And their victim, to some extent, though my capacity for sloth, my belief in it, may yet save me, like some stub­born heretic in fifth-century Rome, still offering gifts to the spirit of the fields even as the priests sniff about the temple for sin, I daily sacrifice my bit of time. The pagan gods may yet return. Constantine and Theodosius may die. But the prospects are bad.
In Riverside Park in New York City, where I walk these days, the legions of “weekend nannies” are growing, setting up a play date for a ten-year-old requires a feat of near-Olympic coordination, and the few, vestigial, late-afternoon parents one sees, dragging their wailing progeny by the hand or frantically kicking a soccer ball in the fad­ing light, have a gleam in their eyes I find frightening. No out­stretched legs crossed at the ankles, no arms draped over the back of the bench. No lovers. No be-hatted old men, arguing. Between the slide and the sandbox, a very fit young man in his early thir­ties is talking on his cell phone while a two-year-old with a trail of snot running from his nose tugs on the seam of his corduroy pants. “There’s no way I can pick it up. Because we’re still at the park. Because we just got here, that’s why.”
It’s been one hundred and forty years since Thoreau, who itched a full century before everyone else began to scratch, complained that the world was increasingly just “a place of business. What an infi­nite bustle!” he groused. “I am awaked almost every night by the panting of the locomotive. It interrupts my dreams. There is no Sab­bath. It would be glorious to see mankind at leisure for once. It is nothing but work, work, work.” Little did he know. Today the roads of commerce, paved and smoothed, reach into every nook and cranny of the republic; there is no place apart, no place where we would be shut of the drone of that damnable traffic. Today we, quite literally, live to work. And it hardly matters what kind of work we do; the process justifies the ends. Indeed, at times it seems there is hardly an occupation, however useless or humiliating or down­right despicable, that cannot at least in part be redeemed by our obsessive dedication to it: “Yes, Ted sold shoulder-held Stingers to folks with no surname, but he worked so hard!”
Not long ago, at the kind of dinner party I rarely attend, I made the mis­take of admitting that I not only liked to sleep but liked to get at least eight hours a night whenever possible, and that nine would be better still. The reaction – a complex Pinot Noir of nervous laughter displaced by expres­sions of disbelief and condescension – suggested that my transgression had been, on some level, a political one. I was reminded of the time I’d confessed to Roger Angell that I did not much care for baseball.
My comment was immediately rebutted by testimonials to sleeplessness: two of the nine guests confessed to being insomniacs; a member of the Academy of Arts and Letters claimed indignantly that she couldn’t re­member when she had ever gotten eight hours of sleep; two other guests de­clared themselves grateful for five or six. It mattered little that I’d arranged my life differently, and accepted the sacrifices that arrangement entailed. Eight hours! There was something willful about it. Arrogant, even. Suitably chastened, I held my tongue, and escaped alone to tell Thee.
Increasingly, it seems to me, our world is dividing into two kinds of things: those that aid work, or at least represent a path to it, and those that don’t. Things in the first category are good and noble; things in the second aren’t. Thus, for example, education is good (as long as we don’t have to listen to any of that “end in itself” nonsense) because it will pre­sumably lead to work. Thus playing the piano or swimming the 100-yard backstroke are good things for a fifteen-year-old to do not because they might give her some pleasure but because rumor has it that Princeton is interested in students who can play Chopin or swim quickly on their backs (and a degree from Princeton, as any fool knows, can be readily converted to work).
Point the beam anywhere, and there’s the God of Work, busily trampling out the vintage. Blizzards are bemoaned because they keep us from getting to work. Hobbies are seen as either ridiculous or self-indulgent because they interfere with work. Longer school days are all the rage (even as our children grow demonstrably stupider), not because they make educational or psychological or any other kind of sense but because keeping kids in school longer makes it easier for us to work. Meanwhile, the time grows short, the margin narrows; the white spaces on our calendars have been inked in for months. We’re angry about this, upset about that, but who has the time to do anything anymore? There are those reports to re­port on, memos to remember, emails to deflect or delete. They bury us like snow.
The alarm rings and we’re off, running so hard that by the time we stop we’re too tired to do much of anything except nod in front of the TV, which, like virtually all the other voices in our culture, endorses our exhaustion, fetishizes and romanticizes it and, by daily adding its little trowelful of lies and omissions, helps cement the conviction that not only is this how our three score and ten must be spent but that the transaction is both noble and necessary.

KA-CHINK!

Time may be money (though I’ve always resisted that loath­some platitude, the alchemy by which the very gold of our lives is transformed into the base lead of commerce), but one thing seems certain: Money eats time. Forget the visions of sanctioned leisure: the view from the deck in St. Moritz, the wafer-thin TV. Consider the price.
Sometimes, I want to say, money costs too much. And at the beginning of the millennium, in this country, the cost of money is well on the way to bankrupting us. We’re impoverishing ourselves, our families, our communities – and yet we can’t stop our­selves. Worse, we don’t want to.
Seen from the right vantage point, there’s something wonderfully animistic about it. The god must be fed; he’s hungry for our hours, craves our days and years. And we oblige. Every morning (unlike the good citizens of Tenochti­tlan, who at least had the good sense to sacrifice others on the slab) we rush up the steps of the ziggurat to lay ourselves down. It’s not a pretty sight.
Then again, we’ve been well trained. And the training never stops. In a recent ad in The New York Times Magazine, paid for by an outfit named Wealth and Tax Advisory Services, Inc., an attractive young woman in a dark business suit is shown working at her desk. (She may be at home, though these days the distinction is moot.) On the desk is a cup, a cell phone, and an adding machine. Above her right shoulder, just over the blurred sofa and the blurred landscape on the wall, are the words, “Suc­cessful entrepreneurs work continuously.” The text below explains: “The challenge to building wealth is that your finances grow in complexity as your time demands increase.”
The ad is worth disarticulating, it seems to me, if only because some ver­sion of it is beamed into our cerebral cortex a thousand times a day. What’s interesting about it is not only what it says but what it so blithely assumes. What it says, crudely enough, is that in order to be successful, we must not only work but work continuously; what it assumes is that time is inversely pro­portional to wealth: our time demands will increase the harder we work and the more successful we become. It’s an organic thing; a law, almost. Fish got­ta swim and birds gotta fly, you gotta work like a dog ’til you die.
Am I suggesting then that Wealth and Tax Advisory Services, Inc. spend $60,000 for a full-page ad in The New York Times Magazine to show us a young woman at her desk writing poetry? Or playing with her kids? Or sharing a glass of wine with a friend, attractively thumbing her nose at the acquisition of wealth? No. For one thing, the folks at Wealth and Tax, etc. are simply doing what’s in their best interest. For another, it would hardly matter if they did show the woman writing poetry, or laugh­ing with her children, because these things, by virtue of their placement in the ad, would immediately take on the color of their host; they would simply be the rewards of working almost continuously.
What I am suggesting is that just as the marketplace has co-opted rebel­lion by subordinating politics to fashion, by making anger chic, so it has qui­etly underwritten the idea of leisure, in part by separating it from idleness. Open almost any magazine in America today and there they are: The ubiq­uitous tanned-and-toned twenty-somethings driving the $70,000 fruits of their labor; the moneyed-looking men and women in their healthy sixties (to give the young something to aspire to) tossing Frisbees to Irish setters or ty­ing on flies in midstream or watching sunsets from their Adirondack chairs.
Leisure is permissible, we understand, because it costs money; idleness is not, because it doesn’t. Leisure is focused; whatever thinking it requires is absorbed by a certain task: sinking that putt, making that cast, watching that flat-screen TV. Idleness is unconstrained, anarchic. Leisure – particularly if it involves some kind of high-priced technology – is as American as a Fourth of July barbecue. Idleness, on the other hand, has a bad attitude. It doesn’t shave; it’s not a member of the team; it doesn’t play well with others. It thinks too much, as my high school coach used to say. So it has to be ostracized.
[Or put to good use. The wilderness of association we enter when we read, for example, is one of the world’s great domains of imaginative diversity: a seedbed of individualism.
What better reason to pave it then, to make it an accessory, like a personal organizer, a sure-fire way of raising your SAT score, or improving your communication skills for that next interview. You say you like to read? Then don’t waste your time; put it to work. Order Shakespeare in Charge: The Bard’s Guide to Leading and Succeeding on the Business Stage, with its picture of the bard in a business suit on the cover.]
With idleness safely on the reservation, the notion that leisure is neces­sarily a function of money is free to grow into a truism. “Money isn’t the goal. Your goals, that’s the goal,” reads a recent ad for Citibank. At first glance, there’s something appealingly subversive about it. Apply a little skepticism though, and the implicit message floats to the surface: And how else are you going to reach those goals than by investing wisely with us? Which suggests that, um, money is the goal, after all.

THE CHURCH OF WORK

There’s something un-American about singing the virtues of idleness. It is a form of blasphemy, a secular sin. More precisely, it is a kind of latter-­day antinomianism, as much a threat to the orthodoxy of our day as Anne Hutchinson’s desire 350 years ago to circumvent the Puritan ministers and dial God direct. Hutchinson, we recall, got into trouble because she accused the Puritan elders of backsliding from the rigors of their theology and giving in to a Covenant of Works, whereby the individual could earn his all-expenses-paid trip to the pearly gates through the labor of his hands rather than solely through the grace of God. Think of it as a kind of frequent-flier plan for the soul.
The analogy to today is instructive. Like the New England clergy, the Religion of Business – literalized, painfully, in books like Jesus, C.E.O. – holds a monopoly on interpretation; it sets the terms, dictates value.
[In this new lexicon, for example, “work” is defined as the means to wealth; “success,” as a synonym for it.]
Although to­day’s version of the Covenant of Works has substituted a host of secular pleasures for the idea of heaven, it too seeks to corner the market on what we most desire, to suggest that the work of our hands will save us. And we be­lieve. We believe across all the boundaries of class and race and ethnicity that normally divide us; we believe in numbers that dwarf those of the more con­ventionally faithful. We repeat the daily catechism, we sing in the choir. And we tithe, and keep on tithing, until we are spent.
It is this willingness to hand over our lives that fascinates and appalls me. There’s such a lovely perversity to it; it’s so wonderfully counterintuitive, so very Christian: You must empty your pockets, turn them inside out, and spill out your wife and your son, the pets you hardly knew, and the days you sim­ply missed altogether watching the sunlight fade on the bricks across the way. You must hand over the rainy afternoons, the light on the grass, the moments of play and of simply being. You must give it up, all of it, and by your example teach your children to do the same, and then – because even this is not enough – you must train yourself to believe that this outsourcing of your life is both natural and good. But even so, your soul will not be saved.
The young, for a time, know better. They balk at the harness. They do not go easy. For a time they are able to see the utter sadness of subordinating all that matters to all that doesn’t. Eventually, of course, sitting in their cubi­cle lined with New Yorker cartoons, selling whatever it is they’ve been asked to sell, most come to see the advantage of enthusiasm. They join the choir and are duly forgiven for their illusions. It’s a rite of passage we are all familiar with. The generations before us clear the path; Augustine stands to the left, Freud to the right. We are born into death, and die into life, they mur­mur; civilization will have its discontents. The sign in front of the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Work confirms it. And we believe.
All of which leaves only the task of explaining away those few miscreants who out of some inner weakness or perversity either refuse to convert or who go along and then, in their thirty-sixth year in the choir, say, abruptly abandon the faith. Those in the first category are relatively easy to contend with; they are simply losers. Those in the second are a bit more difficult; their apostasy requires something more… dramatic. They are considered mad.
In one of my favorite anecdotes from American literary history (which my children know by heart, and which in turn bodes poorly for their fu­tures as captains of industry), the writer Sherwood Anderson found himself, at the age of thirty-six, the chief owner and general manager of a paint factory in Elyria, Ohio. Having made something of a reputation for himself as a copywriter in a Chicago advertising agency, he’d moved up a rung. He was on his way, as they say, a businessman in the making, per­haps even a tycoon in embryo. There was only one problem: he couldn’t seem to shake the notion that the work he was doing (writing circulars extolling the virtues of his line of paints) was patently absurd, undignified; that it amounted to a kind of prison sentence. Lacking the rationalizing gene, incapable of numbing himself sufficiently to make the days and the years pass without pain, he suffered and flailed. Eventually he snapped.
It was a scene he would revisit time and again in his memoirs and fic­tion. On November 27, 1912, in the middle of dictating a letter to his secretary (”The goods about which you have inquired are the best of their kind made in the…”), he simply stopped. According to the story, the two supposedly stared at each other for a long time, after which Anderson said: “I have been wading in a long river and my feet are wet,” and walked out. Outside the building he turned east toward Cleveland and kept going. Four days later he was recognized and taken to a hospital suffering from exhaustion.
Anderson claimed afterward that he had encouraged the impression that he might be cracking up in order to facilitate his exit, to make it compre­hensible. “The thought occurred to me that if men thought me a little in­sane they would forgive me if I lit out,” he wrote, and though we will nev­er know for sure if he suffered a nervous breakdown that day or only pretended to one (his biographers have concluded that he did), the point of the anec­dote is elsewhere: Real or imagined, nothing short of madness would do for an excuse.
Anderson himself, of course, was smart enough to recognize the absurdity in all this, and to use it for his own ends; over the years that fol­lowed, he worked his escape from the paint factory into a kind of parable of liberation, an exemplar for the young men of his age. It became the cornerstone of his critique of the emerging business culture: To stay was to suffocate, slowly; to escape was to take a stab at “aliveness.” What America needed, Anderson argued, was a new class of individuals who “at any physical cost to themselves and others” would “agree to quit working, to loaf, to refuse to be hurried or try to get on in the world.”
“To refuse to be hurried or try to get on in the world.” It sounds quite mad. What would we do if we followed that advice? And who would we be? No, better to pull down the blinds, finish that sentence. We’re all in the paint factory now.

CLEARING BRUSH

At times you can almost see it, this flypaper we’re attached to, this mechanism we labor in, this delusion we inhabit. A thing of such magnitude can be hard to make out, of course, but you can rough out its shape and mark its progress, like Lon Chaney’s Invisible Man, by its effects: by the things it renders quaint or obsolete, by the trail of discarded notions it leaves be­hind. What we’re leaving behind today, at record pace, is what­ever belief we might once have had in the value of unstructured time: in the privilege of contemplating our lives before they are gone, in the importance of uninterrupted conversation, in the beauty of play. In the thing in itself – unmediated, leading nowhere. In the present moment.
Admittedly, the present – in its ontological, rather than consumerist, sense – has never been too popular on this side of the Atlantic; we’ve always been a finger-drumming, restless bunch, suspicious of jawboning, less likely to sit at the table than to grab a quick one at the bar. Whitman might have exhorted us to loaf and invite our souls, but that was not an invitation we cared to extend, not unless the soul played poker, ha, ha. No sir, a Frenchman might invite his soul. One expected such things. But an American? An American would be out the swinging doors and halfway to tomorrow before his silver dollar had stopped ringing on the counter.
I was put in mind of all this last June while sitting on a bench in London’s Hampstead Heath. My bench, like many others, was almost entirely hidden; well off the path, delightfully overgrown, it sat at the top of a long-grassed meadow. It had a view. There was whimsy in its placement, and joy. It was thoroughly impractical. It had clearly been placed there to encourage one thing – solitary contemplation.
And sitting there, listening to the summer drone of the bees, I sud­denly imagined George W. Bush on my bench. I can’t tell you why this happened, or what in particular brought the image to my mind. Possi­bly it was the sheer incongruity of it that appealed to me, the turtle-on-a-lamppost illogic of it; earlier that summer, intrigued by images of Kaf­ka’s face on posters advertising the Prague Marathon, I’d entertained myself with pictures of Franz looking fit for the big race. In any case, my vision of Dubya sitting on a bench, reading a book on his lap – smiling or nodding in agreement, wetting a finger to turn a page – was so discordant, so absurd, that I realized I’d accidentally stumbled upon one of those visual oxymorons that, by its very dissonance, illuminates something essential.
What the picture of George W. Bush flushed into the open for me was the classically American and increasingly Republican cult of movement, of busy-ness; of doing, not thinking. One could imagine Kennedy reading on that bench in Hampstead Heath. Or Carter, maybe. Or even Clinton (though given the bucolic setting, one could also imagine him in other, more Dionysian scenarios). But Bush? Bush would be clearing brush. He’d be stomping it into submission with his pointy boots. He’d be making the world a better place.
Now, something about all that brush clearing had always bothered me. It wasn’t the work itself, though I’d never fully understood where all that brush was being cleared from, or why, or how it was possible that there was any brush still left between Dallas and Austin. No, it was the fre­netic, anti-thinking element of it I disliked. This wasn’t simply outdoor work, which I had done my share of and knew well. This was brush clearing as a statement, a gesture of impatience. It captured the man, his disdain for the inner life, for the virtues of slowness and contemplation. This was movement as an answer to all those equivocating intellectuals and Gallic pontificators who would rather talk than do, think than act. Who could always be counted on to complicate what was simple with long-winded dis­cussions of complexity and consequences. Who were weak.
And then I had it, the thing I’d been trying to place, the thing that had always made me bristle – instinctively – whenever I saw our fidgety, unelected President in action. I recalled reading about an Italian art movement called Futurism, which had flourished in the first decades of the twentieth century. Its prac­titioners had advocated a cult of restlessness, of speed, of dy­namism; had rejected the past in all its forms; had glorified busi­ness and war and patriotism. They had also, at least in theory, supported the growth of fascism.
The link seemed tenuous at best, even facile. Was I serious­ly linking Bush – his shallowness, his bustle, his obvious suspi­cion of nuance – to the spirit of fascism? As much as I loathed the man, it made me uneasy. I’d always argued with people who applied the word carelessly. Having been called a fascist myself for suggesting that an ill-tempered rottweiler be put on a leash, I had no wish to align myself with those who had downgraded the word to a kind of generalized epithet, roughly synonymous with “asshole,” to be applied to whoever disagreed with them. I had too much re­spect for the real thing. And yet there was no getting around it; what I’d been picking up like a bad smell whenever I observed the Bush team in ac­tion was the faint but unmistakable whiff of fascism; a democratically diluted fascism, true, and masked by the perfume of down-home cookin’, but fascism nonetheless.
Still, it was not until I’d returned to the States and had forced myself to wade through the reams of Futurist manifestos – a form that obviously spoke to their hearts – that the details of the connection began to come clear. The linkage had nothing to do with the Futurists’ art, which was notable only for its sustained mediocrity, nor with their writing, which at times achieved an almost sublime level of badness. It had to do, rather, with their ant-like energy, their busy-ness, their utter disdain of all the manifestations of the inner life, and with the way these traits seemed so organically linked in their thinking to aggression and war. “We intend to exalt aggressive action, a feverish insomnia,” wrote Filip­po Marinetti, perhaps the Futurists’ most breathless spokesman. “We will glorify war – the world’s only hygiene – militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of freedom-bringers….. We will destroy the muse­ums, libraries, academies of every kind….. We will sing of great crowds excited by work.”
“Militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of freedom-bringers,” “a feverish insomnia,” “great crowds excited by work” … I knew that song. And yet still, almost perversely, I resisted the recognition. It was too easy, somehow. Wasn’t much of the Futurist rant (”Take up your pickaxes, your axes and hammers and wreck, wreck the venerable cities, pitilessly”) sim­ply a gesture of adolescent rebellion, a FUCK YOU scrawled on Dad’s garage door? I had just about decided to scrap the whole thing when I came across Marinetti’s later and more extended version of the Futurist creed. And this time the connection was impossible to deny.
In the piece, published in June of 1913 (roughly six months after An­derson walked out of the paint factory), Marinetti explained that Futur­ism was about the “acceleration of life to today’s swift pace.” It was about the “dread of the old and the known… of quiet living.” The new age, he wrote, would require the “negation of distances and nostalgic solitudes.” It would “ridicule . . . the ‘holy green silence’ and the ineffable land­scape.” It would be, instead, an age enamored of “the passion, art, and idealism of Business.”
This shift from slowness to speed, from the solitary individual to the crowd excited by work, would in turn force other adjustments. The wor­ship of speed and business would require a new patriotism, “a heroic ideal­ization of the commercial, industrial, and artistic solidarity of a people”; it would require “a modification in the idea of war,” in order to make it “the necessary and bloody test of a people’s force.”
As if this weren’t enough, as if the parallel were not yet sufficiently clear, there was this: The new man, Marinetti wrote – and this deserves my italics – would communicate by “brutally destroying the syntax of his speech. He wastes no time in building sentences. Punctuation and the right ad­jectives will mean nothing to him. He will despise subtleties and nuances of lan­guage.” All of his thinking, moreover, would be marked by a “dread of slowness, pettiness, analysis, and detailed explanations. Love of speed, abbrevi­ation, and the summary. ‘Quick, give me the whole thing in two words!’
Short of telling us that he would have a ranch in Crawford, Texas, and be given to clearing brush, nothing Marinetti wrote could have made the resemblance clearer. From his notorious mangling of the Eng­lish language to his well-documented impatience with detail and analy­sis to his chuckling disregard for human life (which enabled him to crack jokes about Aileen Wuornos’s execution as well as mug for the cameras minutes before announcing that the nation was going to war), Dubya was Marinetti’s “New Man”: impatient, almost pathologically un­reflective, unburdened by the past. A man untroubled by the imagina­tion, or by an awareness of human frailty. A leader wonderfully attuned (though one doubted he could ever articulate it) to “today’s swift pace”; to the necessity of forging a new patriotism; to the idea of war as “the necessary and bloody test of a people’s force”; to the all-conquering beauty of Business.


180717_


Monsieur le Premier ministre d’Israël, cher Bibi, merci pour ces mots.
Mesdames et messieurs les membres du gouvernement,
Monsieur le président du CRIF,
Monsieur le président des fils et fils des déportés juifs de France,
Monsieur le président de l’Union des déportés d’Auschwitz,
Monsieur le président de la Fondation de la mémoire de la Shoah,
Monsieur le président du Comité français pour Yad VASHEM,
Messieurs les Grands rabbins,
Madame la maire de Paris,
Mesdames et messieurs les parlementaires,
Messieurs les préfets,
Mesdames et messieurs les représentants du corps diplomatique,
Mesdames et messieurs les élus,
Mesdames, messieurs,

Si je suis ici parmi vous en ce jour sombre et solennel, c’est en effet pour que se perpétue le fil tendu en 1995 par Jacques CHIRAC, à qui je veux tout particulièrement rendre hommage aujourd’hui, maintenu par Dominique DE VILLEPIN en 2005, Nicolas SARKOZY et François FILLON en 2007, poursuivi enfin par François HOLLANDE en 2012.
Récemment encore, ce que nous croyons établi par les autorités de la République sans distinction partisane, avéré par tous les historiens, confirmé par la conscience nationale s’est trouvé contesté par des responsables politiques français prêts à faire reculer la vérité. C’est faire beaucoup d’honneur à ces faussaires que de leur répondre, mais se taire serait pire, ce serait être complice.
Alors oui, je le redis ici, c’est bien la France qui organisa la rafle puis la déportation et, donc, pour presque tous, la mort des 13.152 personnes de confession juive arrachés les 16 et 17 juillet 1942 à leurs domiciles, dont plus de 8.000 furent menés au Vel d’Hiv avant d’être déportés à Auschwitz. Parmi elles, 4.115 enfants de 2 à 16 ans, dont aujourd’hui nous honorons plus particulièrement la mémoire et pour lesquels, je souhaiterais que nous fassions silence.
(L’assistance se lève et observe une minute de silence)
Merci.
Je récuse les accommodements et les subtilités de ceux qui prétendent aujourd’hui que Vichy n’était pas la France, car Vichy ce n’était certes pas tous les Français, vous l’avez rappelé, mais c’était le gouvernement et l’administration de la France.
Les 16 et 17 juillet 1942 furent l’œuvre de la police française, obéissant aux ordres du gouvernement de Pierre LAVAL, du commissaire général aux questions juives, Louis DARQUIER DE PELLEPOIX et du préfet René BOUSQUET.
Pas un seul allemand n’y prêta la main.
Je récuse aussi ceux qui font acte de relativisme en expliquant qu’exonérer la France de la rafle du Vel d’Hiv serait une bonne chose. Et que ce serait ainsi s’inscrire dans les pas du général DE GAULLE, de François MITTERRAND qui, sur ce sujet, restèrent mutiques. Mais il est des vérités dont l’état de la société, les traumatismes encore vifs des uns, le déni des autres a pu brider l’expression.
Les déchirures vives qui traversaient la société française ont pu faire primer l’apaisement et la réconciliation. Nos sociétés ainsi s’offrent de ces répits pendants lesquels le travail de la mémoire reste souterrain, pendant lesquels les peuples reprennent leurs forces et doivent se réconcilier peu à peu pour reconstruire, avant de trouver les mots de vérité qui les guériront vraiment. Avant aussi de retrouver le courage collectif d’affronter les fautes et les crimes.
C’est pourquoi nous n’avons pas à juger ici le parti choisi par ces deux chefs de l’Etat, tous deux acteurs de la Seconde Guerre mondiale et de ses complexités. Mais rappelons-nous aussi que c’est François MITTERRAND qui institua cette Journée du souvenir ; et rappelons-nous surtout durant toutes ces années le combat souterrain de tant et tant pour que rien ne soit oublié.
Et puis le temps fait son œuvre.
Les témoins et les survivants parlent, les archives s’ouvrent, les historiens travaillent. La société mûrit ses drames et ses deuils. Alors la vérité se fait jour, et elle est implacable, irrévocable. Elle s’impose à tous. La cacher ou l’amoindrir insulte notre mémoire collective.
La France, en reconnaissant ses fautes, a ouvert la voie à leur réparation. C’est sa grandeur. C’est le signe d’une nation vivante qui sait regarder son passé en face. C’est là le courage d’un peuple qui ose son examen de conscience et tend la main aux victimes et à leurs enfants. Tendre la main, retisser les liens, ce n’est pas s’humilier par je ne sais quelle repentance, c’est se grandir, c’est être fort.
Je sais tous ceux qui diront que des journées comme aujourd’hui ou des propos comme ceux que je viens de prononcer, c’est encore rappeler les humiliations de notre pays, que c’est une repentance indigne : ça n’est rien de tout cela. C’est l’indispensable travail de mémoire et d’histoire, c’est la responsabilité qui est la nôtre, celle de réconcilier notre peuple jusqu’au bout, jusque dans ses pages d’ombre pour que chacun y retrouve enfin sa place.
Savoir où nous avons failli, qui a failli, c’est aussi regarder avec plus de fierté ceux qui ont dit non, ceux qui ont tendu la main à leurs frères en humilité et en humanité.
Alors oui, aujourd’hui, nous songeons aussi à ceux qui, en 1942 étaient déjà engagés dans la Résistance intérieure ou extérieure et payaient de leur vie leur combat clandestin.
Ils furent cette moisson de héros qui sauva la France et son honneur. Nous songeons aussi à tous ces Français qui offrirent aux Juifs pourchassés un refuge hospitalier, une cachette sûre et permirent de trois quarts des juifs de France de ne pas connaître le sort tragique des raflés du 16 juillet. Nous songeons à tous ces Justes avec fierté, cette fierté qui est devenue depuis le ferment de notre fierté nationale.
Mais à côté de ces héros, il y avait bien Vichy, il y avait bien l'Etat français. Car la France de l'Etat français ne se substitua pas en une nuit à la France de la IIIème République. Ministres, fonctionnaires, agents, responsables économiques, cadres, professeurs, la IIIème République fournit à l'Etat du maréchal PETAIN la plus grande partie de son personnel. Chacun alors entama son chemin vers l’obéissance active ou passive, ou vers la Résistance.
Le fait est là : Vichy put compter sur les ressources vives du pays pour mener sa politique de collaboration. Cette pensée que Vichy fut une parenthèse en 1940 ouverte et refermée en 19045 réconforte la haute idée que certains voudraient se faire de la France.
Il est si commode de voir Vichy une monstruosité née de rien et retournée à rien ; de croire que ces agents sortis de nulle part reçurent à la libération le juste châtiment qui les élimina de la communauté nationale.
C’est commode, c'est commode, oui - mais c’est faux.
Et on ne bâtit aucune fierté sur un mensonge.
Et je vais vous dire pourquoi il importe de ne pas nourrir cette idée. Je vais vous dire pourquoi il faut toujours que nous ayons à l’esprit que l’Etat français de PETAIN et LAVAL ne fut pas une aberration imprévisible née de circonstances exceptionnelles.
C'est parce que Vichy dans sa doctrine fut le moment où purent enfin se donner libre cours ces vices qui, déjà, entachaient la IIIème République : le racisme et l’antisémitisme.
Je voudrais en ce jour que ces deux mots que l'on galvaude parfois résonnent de tout leur métal. Je voudrais qu'on entende bien le poids d'abomination et de malheurs qu’il porte, car ces enfants dont nous avons vu il y a quelques instants le prénom, le nom, l’âge inscrits sur le mur du square des enfants du Vel d'Hiv ne furent victimes de rien d'autre que du racisme et de l'antisémitisme.
Racisme parce que leurs parents étaient étrangers quand eux-mêmes étaient pour la plupart des Français.
Antisémitisme parce qu'ils furent raflés en tant que juifs.
Le supplice de ces enfants dont Serge KLARSFELD – que je veux ici à nouveau solennellement remercier – a patiemment retrouvé les visages réunis en un livre qu'on ne lit qu'avec des larmes et une indicible révolte, ces enfants cher Serge, ce ne sont pas simplement aujourd'hui les vôtres, ce sont les nôtres.
Le supplice de ces enfants depuis l'arrachement à leur foyer, depuis leur arrivée dans cette immense étuve du Vel d'Hiv où pendant plusieurs jours, ils n'eurent rien en partage que la détresse, sans nourriture, sans eau jusqu'à ce que le capitaine des pompiers PIERRET – plus tard reconnu Juste parmi les nations – exige qu'on leur en donne ;
Depuis le moment où ils furent déportés dans les camps de transit éperdus d'angoisse, depuis ce jour et ce moment de douleur pure où ils furent séparés de leurs parents, parce que Pierre LAVAL avait voulu qu’on capture des familles entières mais qu’elles ne voyagent pas ensemble ;
Jusqu’à ce qu'ils soient chargés dans des wagons plombés pour un voyage d'apocalypse qui les mènerait dès leur arrivée dans les cris, les appels sans réponse, les coups, les hurlements, la solitude la plus sèche, la plus noire à une mort d'une violence obscène, avant que leurs corps sans vie, leurs corps d'enfants ne soient humiliés par le four et la cendre ;
Ce supplice, leur supplice, qui défie l'entendement, qui défie les mots a commencé ici, le 16 juillet 1942 au matin, parce qu'en France dans la conscience de citoyen français, de dirigeants politiques français, de fonctionnaires français, de journalistes français, l'antisémitisme et le racisme avaient fait leur chemin insidieusement, lentement ; avait rendu l’infâme tolérable jusqu’à en faire une évidence, jusqu’à en faire une politique d’Etat : la politique collaborationniste.
C’est cela, tout cela qui fit que cette atrocité absolue pût advenir.
Seulement ni le racisme ni l’antisémitisme n’étaient nés avec le régime de Vichy, ils étaient là, vivaces, présents sous la IIIème République. L’affaire DREYFUS en avait montré la virulence. Les années Trente lui rendirent un élan nouveau par l’émergence d’intellectuels, de partis, de journaux qui en avaient fait doctrine.
C’est la France de Je suis partout, de Bagatelles pour un massacre, c’est la France où Louis DARQUIER DE PELLEPOIX, déjà lui, peut sans être inquiété une seconde proclamer en 1937 : « Nous devons résoudre de toute urgence le problème juif, soit par l’expulsion, soit par le massacre ». C’est la France où l’antisémitisme métastasait dans l’élite et dans la société, préparant insidieusement les esprits au pire.
Parce que oui, mes amis, la barbarie n’avance pas à visage découvert. Elle ne porte pas l’uniforme. Et lorsque les bottes nazies frappent le pavé de Paris, il est déjà trop tard.
La barbarie se forge d’abord dans les esprits. Ce sont les idées et les mots qui, progressivement font sauter les digues de nos consciences, font reculer la civilisation, qui nous habituent à écouter, à accepter des paroles que nous ne devrions même pas entendre.
HITLER, ce n’est pas d’abord le IIIème Reich. Ce n’est pas 1933. HITLER c’est d’abord et déjà Mein Kampf. Rien de tout cela n’est né avec Vichy et ce fut la faiblesse de la France de permettre que ce cancer prospère. Mais rien de tout cela non plus n’est mort avec Vichy.
Je sais bien que tous, nous nous faisons forts de lutter contre tout ce qui pourrait conduire aux mêmes situations. Mais il nous faut ouvrir les yeux, regarder la réalité en face. En France aujourd’hui, cette corruption des esprits, cet affaiblissement moral et intellectuel que sont le racisme et l’antisémitisme sont encore présents et bien présents. Ils prennent des formes nouvelles, changent de visage, choisissent des mots plus sournois.
Il suffit pourtant de s’y arrêter un instant pour percer à jour, derrière les nouvelles apparences, le vieux racisme, l’antisémitisme le plus recuit.
Le racisme ordinaire pullule dans le vocabulaire, dans les caricatures. Il ferme le marché du travail à des jeunes gens que stigmatisent un nom ou un prénom. Les conflits du monde s’invitent dans certains territoires de notre République, créant des divisions qui chassent les enfants juifs de certaines écoles ou enferment sur leur communauté des familles issues de l’immigration.
Et puis un jour, parce qu’on s’est tu, parce qu’on n’a pas voulu voir, le passage à l’acte intervient. Alors ce qui était des mots, ce qui n’était chez les uns que de la haine formulée différemment et chez les autres une forme de lâcheté ou une complaisance à ne pas vouloir voir, alors cela devient des vies fauchées et des gestes qui tuent.
Ilan HALIMI, Jonathan SANDLER et ses deux fils Arieh et Gabriel, Myriam MONSONEGO, Yohan COHEN, Philippe BRAHAM, François-Michel SAADA, Yoav HATTAB l’ont payé de leur vie. Brahim BOUARRAM aussi. Le père HAMEL aussi. Et malgré les dénégations du meurtrier, la justice doit faire désormais toute la clarté sur la mort de Sarah HALIMI.
Chaque synagogue, chaque mosquée, chaque église, chaque temple, chaque cimetière profané ou vandalisé doit nous alerter.
Théorie du complot planétaire, fantasmes sur la finance mondiale, iconographie insidieuse, angoisse identitaire mobilisant les clichés les plus toxiques, tout cela se diffuse à grande vitesse et atteint des esprits crédules ou perméables.
Le racisme et l’antisémitisme disposent pour réaliser leur travail de sape de moyens inédits de propagande. Les réseaux sociaux en sont les grands pourvoyeurs et nous n’avons pas encore pris la mesure de leur influence à cet égard. Nos magistrats et nos forces de l’ordre doivent y être mieux formés.
Alors oui, oui, nous luttons, nous luttons grâce à ce travail de mémoire indispensable que vous réalisez pour retrouver la trace vibrante des martyrs, leur nom, leur prénom, leur âge, leur adresse, tout ce qui rattache par un fil ténu, le plus ténu possible, de ces existences brisées à notre réalité vient nous rappeler que la barbarie est ici, au coin de la rue.
Ce que les KLARSFELD ont accompli en ce sens depuis des décennies est essentiel et mérite notre profonde gratitude.
Nous luttons, nous luttons en ne permettant pas que les propos abjects qui avilissent les esprits restent impunis.
Nous luttons pour que les propos des bourreaux ne l’emportent pas. En 1978, L’Express retrouva Louis DARQUIER DE PELLEPOIX, toujours le même, exilé en Espagne. Celui-ci comme possédé encore par le démon antisémite n’affichait aucun regret de son action zélée pour la déportation. Il assura même qu’à Auschwitz, on n’avait « gazé que des poux ». Alors il trouva face à lui, à un moment où on se taisait encore beaucoup, s’élevant du quasi-silence qu’elle avait observé jusque-là sur ce sujet, la voix intransigeante et souveraine de Simone VEIL. Cette même année, Serge KLARSFELD publiait le Mémorial de la déportation des juifs de France.
De telles voies sont sans prix lorsque la bête immonde émerge de l’ombre. Celle de Simone VEIL vient de se taire avec ses indignations et ses combats fondamentaux. Au moment de s’effacer, elle savait que sa voix continuerait de porter à travers notamment son fils Pierre-François qui, depuis deux ans, préside le Comité français pour Yad Vashem.
Mais on se trompe à dire cela, ces voix ne s’éteignent pas. Elles ne s’éteignent jamais parce que nous avons décidé qu’elles ne s’éteindront pas ; et nous avons décidé une bonne fois pour toute que ces voix, leurs voix que certains n’avaient pas voulu entendre pendant tant et tant de décennies recouvriraient à jamais les propos abjects comme les silences coupables. Leurs voix ne s’éteindront jamais.
Et ces voix, ce furent aussi celle de Samuel PISAR qui nous a quittés en 2015, d’Elie WIESEL, de Jean-Raphaël HIRSCH disparus tout deux en 2016. Et j’ai en ce jour une pensée aussi pour Henri MALBERG qui échappa de peu à la rafle et qui nous a quittés voici trois jours.
Dans le monde tel qu’il va où les guerres de religion renaissent, où les conflits ethniques ressurgissent, où l’intolérance et le communautarisme se donnent la main, tout doit être fait pour que l’humanité ne consente pas à s’avilir.
Combien alors nous serons précieux, les exemples de ces déportés qui dans les camps, plongés dans la misère radicale, enveloppés dans l’ombre de la mort se haussèrent au-dessus de l’instinct de survie où on voulait les réduire pour soigner, nourrir, vêtir leurs compagnons d’infortune ; et parfois même pour peindre et dessiner comme Léon DELARBRE ou Boris TASLITZKY pour tenir un journal, comme Etty HILLESUM, pour composer des quatuors ou des opéras, comme Germaine TILLION et pour donner avec pour seule documentation de leur mémoire des conférences sur Proust, Michel-Ange, les sciences naturelles.
Certains disaient que c’était un simulacre pour se tenir encore en vie, mais ça n’était rien de cela. C’était avoir compris que ce qui leur était nié n’était pas simplement la vie peu à peu, à petit feu, c’était leur humanité, c’était notre humanité. Et que jour après jour, quoi qu’amaigris, épuisés, défendre notre civilisation, notre histoire, nos peintres, une langue ou une philosophie, c’était refuser de céder le moindre centimètre de cette civilisation, parce que ce qui était en cause, ça n’était pas survivre, c’était vivre pleinement, totalement, c’était défendre là, dans chacun de ces endroits cette humanité dont chacune et chacun de ces hommes étaient à ce moment-là les véritables dépositaires. Et cela, nous ne l’oublierons jamais.
Et nous n’avons qu’un devoir aujourd’hui, être dignes de ce que ces êtres firent au plus noir de l’horreur, dignes de cette humanité intègre qu’ils témoignèrent alors que tout était fait précisément pour tuer leur humanité. Nous devons chaque jour, chaque minute être dignes, comme le sont les survivants de la Shoah dont l’exemple nous apporte tant. Parce que notre République, c’est justement ce projet d’une humanité constamment réinventée, en quête du meilleur d’elle-même par la solidarité, par la culture, par l’éducation.
Chasser les ombres du racisme et l’antisémitisme, c’est ne jamais céder sur cela, c’est ne jamais se satisfaire d’une République gestionnaire, c’est ne jamais faire croire qu’accepter certains propos ce serait bon pour l’unité du pays, ce serait accepter de ne pas rouvrir des plaies. Ne cédez aucun pouce de cette humanité, ne cédez rien parce qu’à chaque fois c’est notre humanité à tous qui est remise en cause.
Car chaque nation court le risque de devenir somnambule et d’accepter l’inacceptable par habitude, par lassitude.
C’est ne jamais admettre que les contraintes économiques puissent conduire au renoncement d’où naissent les pires dérives. C’est ne jamais céder sur l’école, c’est ne jamais céder sur la transmission, c’est ne jamais céder sur la culture, c’est ne jamais céder sur le combat contre l’obscurantisme et l’ignorance. Nous devons sans relâche soutenir sur le terrain ceux qui se mobilisent.
C’est ne jamais céder non plus sur ce qui nous unit, tous ces projets à hauteur d’humanité que nous offre notre temps : faire vivre la démocratie, secourir les indigents, saisir cette ambition planétaire qu’est la lutte contre le réchauffement, accueillir du mieux possible les réfugiés que la guerre jette sur les routes… parce que toutes ces causes, toutes nous grandissent.
Cette lutte c'est aussi celle que nous menons et que nous continuerons à mener partout ensemble, Monsieur le Premier ministre, contre le terrorisme obscur et le pire des fanatismes, contre tous ceux qui voudraient nous faire oublier ce que je viens de rappeler.
Alors oui, nous ne cèderons rien aux messages de haine, nous ne cèderons rien à l'antisionisme car il est la forme réinventée de l'antisémitisme. Et nous ne cèderons rien à toutes celles et ceux qui, sur tous les continents, cherchent à nous faire renoncer à la liberté, cherchent à recréer les divisions, cherchent à nous faire renoncer à cette humanité, notre démocratie, notre République.
Ne perdons pas de vue mes amis la vocation même de notre pays, celle qui unit tous ces citoyens qui donne à chacun une place, une dignité, une signification. Car c'est ce que nous pouvons opposer de mieux au puissant dissolvant que sont la haine raciste et antisémite. C’est de l'absence d'espoir, du sentiment d'inutilité et de déclassement que naissent les peurs et les haines qui nous opposent les uns aux autres. Ce sont toutes ces haines qui se fondent sur ce que l'on est, sur d'où l'on vient, sur ce que l'on croit, que nous devons combattre.
Ne nous laissons pas non plus convaincre par les prophètes de malheur qui passent leur temps à nous dire que l'horizon est sombre, que l'espoir est vain, que la France n'en a plus pour longtemps, que peut-être elle a déjà disparu, qu'elle s'habitue à ces violences et ces divisions et qui désignent des boucs émissaires. Car ils sont aussi dans ces mots, dans ces idées les ferments du désespoir et de la discorde. La République se tient debout parce qu'elle sait protéger tous ses enfants, la République se tient debout parce qu’elle sait regarder tout son passé, la République se tient debout parce qu’elle ne renonce et ne renoncera à rien de ce qu'elle est et de toutes ces valeurs. La République se tient debout parce que nous préférerons toujours ce « rêve qui veille » dont parlait ELUARD.
Les enfants du Vel d'Hiv auraient aimé aller à l'école de la République, obtenir un diplôme, un métier, fonder une famille, lire, aller au spectacle. Ils auraient aimé apprendre et voyager. Et leurs parents auraient voulu les voir grandir, vieillir ensemble. Tous auraient voulu aimer et être aimés. Nous leur avons redonné un nom, un prénom, des âges et des adresses.
A ces enfants, je veux dire que la France ne les oublie pas, je veux dire qu'elle les aime, je veux dire qu'elle fera tout pour que leur supplice nous exhorte sans cesse à ne céder ni à la haine, ni à la rancœur, ni au désespoir.
Nous ferons, les enfants, une France où vous auriez aimé vivre,
Nous ferons, les enfants, une France où vous vivrez toujours.
Vive la République, vive la France.

1978 interview with Darquier -- L'Express

070717_ From The Economist_ Liberated. Obituary: Simone Veil died on June 30th ; The French stateswoman was 89


The deportation to Auschwitz shaped her life, Simone Veil said; it would be the event she would want to recall on her deathbed. As a magistrate, civil servant and politician, she heard echoes of that humiliation in the trampled dignity of women. It spurred her to end the mistreatment of female inmates, particularly Algerian prisoners of war, and to push through contraception reform, making the Pill available at taxpayers’ expense. Foreshadowing her greatest achievement, she set up an organisation to defend women being prosecuted for terminating their pregnancies.

Her arrival in politics was accidental. It was her husband, Antoine, whom President Giscard d’Estaing intended to invite to the government when he came to visit in 1973. But she proved an inspired choice as his health minister. Legalising abortion was the defining defeat of the old order—censorious, hypocritical, male—in post-war France. Theoretically banned since 1920, terminations took place annually in the hundreds of thousands: secretly, shamefully and dangerously. She introduced what became known as the Loi Veil into a National Assembly with just nine women deputies and 481 men. Some, she said caustically, were even then secretly trying to arrange abortions for mistresses or family members.
Cowards daubed swastikas on her car and in the lift in her apartment block. A deputy called Jean-Marie Daillet asked her if she supported throwing embryos into a crematorium oven. No woman ends a pregnancy lightly, she responded calmly. Though the issue split the ruling conservatives, her steely persuasion rallied centrists and left-wingers behind the bill. Pierre Mauroy, later a Socialist prime minister, complimented her, without irony, as “the only man in the government”.
For years she was France’s most popular politician. She could—should, many thought—have been prime minister or even president. But she lacked the necessary tribal instincts. Instead, her political career peaked in 1979 as president of the first directly elected European Parliament. She delighted in the post’s symbolism—of reconciliation among wartime foes, and that a Jew and a woman could hold the continent’s highest elected office.
“Simone always starts by saying ‘no’,” her father said. Some found her impatient and demanding. But she spied a double standard: the features that people admire in men are a point of criticism in women.
In 1979, when National Front thugs attacked a meeting where she was speaking, she shouted, “You do not frighten me! I have survived worse than you!” She had. Of the 75,000 Jews deported from wartime France, she was one of only 2,500 to return. Her father and brother perished, somewhere, in the east. But the most painful and powerful memories were of her mother Yvonne, her lifelong inspiration, dying slowly of typhus in Belsen after a 45-mile death march at the war’s end.
The abyss had opened in 1944, days after she passed her Baccalauréat; she worried all her life that taking the exam under her real name had led to her family’s arrest. “I found myself thrown into a universe of death, humiliation and barbarism,” she wrote. “I am still haunted by the images, the odours, the screams, the humiliation, the blows and the sky, ashen with the smoke from the crematoriums.” On liberation, a British soldier thought the emaciated young woman was 40. For a month, she could sleep only on the floor.
She returned home fired by a “rage to live”, and also infuriated by selective amnesia. Reconciliation trumped justice. Members of the anti-Nazi resistance were honoured, but in what she called “Gaullo-Communist France” nobody seemed willing to believe that the Germans—and their local accomplices—had persecuted people simply for being Jewish. The silence was mixed with mockery. At a diplomatic reception, a senior French official jokingly likened the tattoo on her arm to a cloakroom ticket. She wept, and thereafter favoured long sleeves.
Optimist, without illusions
The Holocaust was unique in its scale and its senselessness, she used to say. Her father had raised his four children to be proud above all else of their Frenchness; in the secular Jewish tradition, he told them, being “people of the book”, meant special attention to reading and thinking.
She will be interred alongside Victor Hugo, Voltaire and Émile Zola in the Paris Panthéon. Her previous great honour was to become a member—one of five women among 40—of the Academie Française, guardian of the language’s purity and precision. On appointment, each “immortal” is given a ceremonial sword. Hers bore two mottos: the French Republic’s Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité and the European Union’s Unie dans la diversité. The third engraving was the number from her arm: 78651.
 END

110317_from the pen of the immortal Jonathan Swift... (link)

Political Lying
By Jonathan Swift (1667–1745)

From The Examiner

I AM prevailed on, through the importunity of friends, to interrupt the scheme I had begun in my last paper, by an Essay upon the Art of Political Lying. We are told the devil is the father of lies, and was a liar from the beginning; so that, beyond contradiction, the invention is old: and, which is more, his first Essay of it was purely political, employed in undermining the authority of his prince, and seducing a third part of the subjects from their obedience: for which he was driven down from Heaven, where (as Milton expresses it) he had been viceroy of a great western province; and forced to exercise his talent in inferior regions among other fallen spirits, poor or deluded men, whom he still daily tempts to his own sin, and will ever do so, till he be chained in the bottomless pit.
  1
  But although the devil be the father of lies, he seems, like other great inventors, to have lost much of his reputation, by the continual improvements that have been made upon him.  2
  Who first reduced lying into an art, and adapted it to politics, is not so clear from history, although I have made some diligent inquiries. I shall therefore consider it only according to the modern system, as it has been cultivated these twenty years past in the southern part of our own island.  3
  The poets tell us, that after the giants were overthrown by the gods, the earth in revenge produced her last offspring which was Fame. And the fable is thus interpreted: that when tumults and seditions are quieted, rumours and false reports are plentifully spread through a nation. So that, by this account, lying is the last relief of a routed, earth-born, rebellious party in a state. But here the moderns have made great additions, applying this art to the gaining of power and preserving it, as well as revenging themselves after they have lost it; as the same instruments are made use of by animals to feed themselves when they are hungry, and to bite those that tread upon them.  4
  But the same genealogy cannot always be admitted for political lying; I shall therefore desire to refine upon it, by adding some circumstances of its birth and parents. A political lie is sometimes born out of a discarded statesman’s head, and thence delivered to be nursed and dandled by the rabble. Sometimes it is produced a monster, and licked into shape: at other times it comes into the world completely formed, and is spoiled in the licking. It is often born an infant in the regular way, and requires time to mature it; and often it sees the light in its full growth, but dwindles away by degrees. Sometimes it is of noble birth; and sometimes the spawn of a stock-jobber. Here it screams aloud at the opening of the womb; and there it is delivered with a whisper. I know a lie that now disturbs half the kingdom with its noise, which, although too proud and great at present to own its parents, I can remember its whisperhood. To conclude the nativity of this monster; when it comes into the world without a sting, it is still-born; and whenever it loses its sting, it dies.  5
  No wonder if an infant so miraculous in its birth should be destined for great adventures: and accordingly we see it hath been the guardian spirit of a prevailing party for almost twenty years. It can conquer kingdoms without fighting, and sometimes with the loss of a battle. It gives and resumes employments; can sink a mountain to a mole-hill, and raise a mole-hill to a mountain: hath presided for many years at committees of elections; can wash a blackmoor white; make a saint of an atheist, and a patriot of a profligate; can furnish foreign ministers with intelligence, and raise or let fall the credit of the nation. This goddess flies with a huge looking-glass in her hands, to dazzle the crowd, and make them see, according as she turns it, their ruin in their interest, and their interest in their ruin. In this glass you will behold your best friends, clad in coats powdered with fleurs de lis, and triple crowns; their girdles hung round with chains, and beads, and wooden shoes; and your worst enemies adorned with the ensigns of liberty, property, indulgence, moderation, and a cornucopia in their hands. Her large wings, like those of a flying-fish, are of no use but while they are moist; she therefore dips them in mud, and soaring aloft scatters it in the eyes of the multitude, flying with great swiftness; but at every turn is forced to stoop in dirty ways for new supplies.  6
  I have been sometimes thinking, if a man had the art of the second sight for seeing lies, as they have in Scotland for seeing spirits, how admirably he might entertain himself in this town, by observing the different shapes, sizes, and colours of those swarms of lies which buzz about the heads of some people, like flies about a horse’s ears in summer; or those legions hovering every afternoon in Exchange-alley, enough to darken the air; or over a club of discontented grandees, and thence sent down in cargoes to be scattered at elections.  7
  There is one essential point wherein a political liar differs from others of the faculty, that he ought to have but a short memory, which is necessary, according to the various occasions he meets with every hour of differing from himself, and swearing to both sides of a contradiction, as he finds the persons disposed with whom he hath to deal. In describing the virtues and vices of mankind, it is convenient, upon every article, to have some eminent person in our eye, from whom we copy our description. I have strictly observed this rule, and my imagination this minute represents before me a certain great man famous for this talent, to the constant practice of which he owes his twenty years’ reputation of the most skilful head in England, for the management of nice affairs. The superiority of his genius consists in nothing else but an inexhaustible fund of political lies, which he plentifully distributes every minute he speaks, and by an unparalleled generosity forgets, and consequently contradicts, the next half hour. He never yet considered whether any proposition were true or false, but whether it were convenient for the present minute or company to affirm or deny it; so that if you think fit to refine upon him, by interpreting everything he says, as we do dreams, by the contrary, you are still to seek, and will find yourself equally deceived whether you believe or not: the only remedy is to suppose, that you have heard some inarticulate sounds, without any meaning at all; and besides, that will take off the horror you might be apt to conceive at the oaths, wherewith he perpetually tags both ends of every proposition; although, at the same time, I think he cannot with any justice be taxed with perjury, when he invokes God and Christ, because he hath often fairly given public notice to the world that he believes in neither.  8
  Some people may think, that such an accomplishment as this can be of no great use to the owner, or his party, after it has been often practised, and is become notorious; but they are widely mistaken. Few lies carry the inventor’s mark, and the most prostitute enemy to truth may spread a thousand, without being known for the author: besides, as the vilest writer hath his readers, so the greatest liar hath his believers: and it often happens, that if a lie be believed only for an hour, it hath done its work, and there is no further occasion for it. Falsehood flies, and truth comes limping after it, so that when men come to be undeceived, it is too late; the jest is over, and the tale hath had its effect: like a man, who hath thought of a good repartee when the discourse is changed, or the company parted; or like a physician, who hath found out an infallible medicine, after the patient is dead.


070217_Bertolt Brecht 1935

Questions From a Worker Who Reads


Who built Thebes of the 7 gates ?
In the books you will read the names of kings.
Did the kings haul up the lumps of rock ? 

And Babylon, many times demolished,
Who raised it up so many times ? 

In what houses of gold glittering Lima did its builders live ?
Where, the evening that the Great Wall of China was finished, did the masons go?

Great Rome is full of triumphal arches.
Who erected them ? 

Over whom did the Caesars triumph ?
Had Byzantium, much praised in song, only palaces for its inhabitants ? 

Even in fabled Atlantis, the night that the ocean engulfed it,
The drowning still cried out for their slaves. 

The young Alexander conquered India.
Was he alone ? 

Caesar defeated the Gauls.
Did he not even have a cook with him ? 

Philip of Spain wept when his armada went down.
Was he the only one to weep ?  

Frederick the 2nd won the 7 Years War.
Who else won it ? 

Every page a victory.
Who cooked the feast for the victors ?  

Every 10 years a great man.
Who paid the bill ? 

So many reports.  

So many questions.


210117_

201216_Jean de la Fontaine on the inequality of justice. It turns out that Lady Justice is not blind after all...
Un mal qui répand la terreur,
Mal que le Ciel en sa fureur
Inventa pour punir les crimes de la terre,
La Peste (puisqu'il faut l'appeler par son nom)
Capable d'enrichir en un jour l'Achéron,
Faisait aux animaux la guerre.
Ils ne mouraient pas tous, mais tous étaient frappés :
On n'en voyait point d'occupés
A chercher le soutien d'une mourante vie ;
Nul mets n'excitait leur envie ;
Ni Loups ni Renards n'épiaient
La douce et l'innocente proie.
Les Tourterelles se fuyaient :
Plus d'amour, partant plus de joie.
Le Lion tint conseil, et dit : Mes chers amis,
Je crois que le Ciel a permis
Pour nos péchés cette infortune ;
Que le plus coupable de nous
Se sacrifie aux traits du céleste courroux,
Peut-être il obtiendra la guérison commune.
L'histoire nous apprend qu'en de tels accidents
On fait de pareils dévouements :
Ne nous flattons donc point ; voyons sans indulgence
L'état de notre conscience.
Pour moi, satisfaisant mes appétits gloutons
J'ai dévoré force moutons.
Que m'avaient-ils fait ? Nulle offense :
Même il m'est arrivé quelquefois de manger
Le Berger.
Je me dévouerai donc, s'il le faut ; mais je pense
Qu'il est bon que chacun s'accuse ainsi que moi :
Car on doit souhaiter selon toute justice
Que le plus coupable périsse.
- Sire, dit le Renard, vous êtes trop bon Roi ;
Vos scrupules font voir trop de délicatesse ;
Eh bien, manger moutons, canaille, sotte espèce,
Est-ce un péché ? Non, non. Vous leur fîtes Seigneur
En les croquant beaucoup d'honneur.
Et quant au Berger l'on peut dire
Qu'il était digne de tous maux,
Etant de ces gens-là qui sur les animaux
Se font un chimérique empire.
Ainsi dit le Renard, et flatteurs d'applaudir.
On n'osa trop approfondir
Du Tigre, ni de l'Ours, ni des autres puissances,
Les moins pardonnables offenses.
Tous les gens querelleurs, jusqu'aux simples mâtins,
Au dire de chacun, étaient de petits saints.
L'Ane vint à son tour et dit : J'ai souvenance
Qu'en un pré de Moines passant,
La faim, l'occasion, l'herbe tendre, et je pense
Quelque diable aussi me poussant,
Je tondis de ce pré la largeur de ma langue.
Je n'en avais nul droit, puisqu'il faut parler net.
A ces mots on cria haro sur le baudet.
Un Loup quelque peu clerc prouva par sa harangue
Qu'il fallait dévouer ce maudit animal,
Ce pelé, ce galeux, d'où venait tout leur mal.
Sa peccadille fut jugée un cas pendable.
Manger l'herbe d'autrui ! quel crime abominable !
Rien que la mort n'était capable
D'expier son forfait : on le lui fit bien voir.
Selon que vous serez puissant ou misérable,
Les jugements de cour vous rendront blanc ou noir.
Which gives us this in English:

THE ANIMALS SEIZED WITH THE PLAGUE
(VII, 1)
          An evil that spreads terror round,
          An evil heaven in fury found,
To scourge the crimes of nations lost to shame ;
The plague—since we must call it by its name,
That in a day can glut the throat of hell,
Made war on animals, and sick they fell.
All did not die, but all were struck with death,
And no one cared to hold the parting breath.
Careless, and ready to expire,
       No dish excited their desire ;
       The wolf and fox no longer stray,
       To seize the mild and harmless prey ;
       The turtles fled each other, coy.;
       No more love was then, nor joy.
"Dear friends," the lion, holding council, cries,
" This scourge, I fear, must from our crimes arise ;
Let then the blackest of us all in vice
Self-offered, straight to heavenly vengeance fall,
       Which may bring health again to all.
We learn from history, some nobly great,
Thus freely died to save a falling state :
Then let us all, without disguise, begin
To view the state our consciences are in. 
To satisfy my gluttony, I own
         Many a sheep I've gobbled down :
They, weak and harmless, never injured me ;
Nay, I have ate sometimes—in murder deeper—
                      Their honest keeper.
If need, I'll therefore now the victim be ;
But let me say that all, as well as I,
Should spread their crimes before the councils eye,
Because the guiltiest only ought to die."
" Sire," cried the fox, " you are too good a king,
Your doubts from too much delicacy spring.
Eating mere mutton, worthless silly sheep,
Is that a sin ? Should that disturb your sleep ?
Far from your majesty these humble tones ;
You did them honour when you cracked their bones.
As to the shepherd, were he here, I'd tell him
He well deserved the evil that befell him ;
As one of those who hold a fancied sway
Over the beasts that are a common prey."
Thus spoke the fox, while flattering peers stood round.
           They did not therefore dare to sound
The lesser crimes of chiefs assembled there,
          Such as the tiger, wolf, and bear ;
The wrangling race, to curs of common kind,
All passed for saints, as each explained his mind.
The ass came in his turn, and thus did say :
" I have some slight remembrance, that one day,
Passing some meadows that to monks belong,
Hunger was urgent, and the grass was new,
Pushed on, I fancy, by some demon too,
I cropped therein the bigness of my tongue ;
Since I must speak, I own that I was wrong."
" Stop thief ! " they cried, and all the ass impeach.
A lawyer-sort of wolf proved by a speech
That they that cursed animal must kill,
A scabbed wretch, the cause of all their ill.
What dreadful crime ! eat other people's grass !
So for a hanging case they made it pass ;
Nothing but death could for the deed atone,
       Which to the ass was quickly shown.
According as you're feeble, or have might,
High courts condemn you to be black or white.

011216_The Responsibility of Intellectuals, by Noam Chomsky, The New York Review of Books, February 23, 1967 -- (https://chomsky.info/19670223/)


141116_2016 Election Thank You Notes; from Ethan Coen in the NYT.


















































Photo
CreditErik Carter

Such a surprise! So many people to thank!
1. Jill Stein voters: You helped elect a man who pledges that he will, in his first hundred days, cancel contributions to United Nations programs to fight climate change. If your vote for Ms. Stein did not end up advancing your green agenda, it did allow you to feel morally superior to all the compromising schmoes who voted for Hillary Clinton. And your feelings about your vote are more important than the consequences of your vote. So — thank you!
2. Gary Johnson voters: Thank you, for similar reasons. You, too, may now reward yourselves with feelings of warm self-approval, and your libertarian agenda will now be advanced (or not) by someone who admires the governance of Vladimir Putin. And to Mr. Johnson himself: Not only can no one blame you for this outcome — we’re all free agents, man! — but you can stop looking for Aleppo.
3. James Comey: Your publicity coup may have affected the outcome of the election. Or it may not have. But it will certainly breed speculation that it did. Such discussion will in some way serve the reputation of the F.B.I. Or not. You had to bravely contravene bureau protocols to make your contribution, so to you we owe a special thanks!
4. Anthony Weiner: You also found a surprising way to contribute! Thank you, sir — your act never gets old!
5. Jimmy Fallon: How did you manage to shine a nonthreatening light on someone who alarms so many women, frightens so many undocumented families and slurs so many minorities? Can’t have been easy! Thanks! Maybe now you could have the Grand Wizard on your show: He leans his head to you, you slip his hood off and ruffle his hair. Could be a cute bit!
6. All our media friends. Thank you for preserving reportorial balance. You balanced Donald Trump’s proposal that the military execute the innocent families of terrorists, against Hillary’s emails. You balanced pot-stirring racist lies about President Obama’s birth, against Hillary’s emails. You balanced a religious test at our borders, torture by our military, jokes about assassination, unfounded claims of a rigged election, boasts about groping and paradoxical threats to sue anyone who confirmed the boasts, against Hillary’s emails. You balanced endorsement of nuclear proliferation, against Hillary’s emails. You balanced tirelessly, indefatigably; you balanced, you balanced, and then you balanced some more. And for that — we thank you. And thank you all for following Les Moonves’s principled lead when he said Donald Trump “may not be good for America, but he’s damn good for CBS.”
7. The Electoral College. Thank you, for being you.
I cannot thank: Hillary Clinton. She is not a morally perfect person — her fault! She was not the perfect candidate — her fault! Misogyny may have magnified her failings so as to show them balancing the outsized failings of her opponent — and that might not be her fault. But she fought to the very limits of her ability to deny us Tuesday night’s surprise, so I do not thank her. Pooh on you, Hillary Clinton!
I do thank, lastly:
8. The American electorate. Because in the end, we all did it together. We did it! We really did it!

























101116_Michel Onfray's analysis of the U.S. elections... and what the French might learn from America's Trumpism. From Le Point, 09//11/16

 
120916_This Vortrag was presented by UCR graduate Roland Bolt, and is found on his blog @ http://roland9000.com/?p=432. Congratulations! And, nicely done!

Warum kann die Mathematik zur Lösung von Kants Problem der transzendentalen Synthesis nichts beitragen?

Vortrag gehalten auf dem studententischen Kant-Kongress der Humboldt Universität, 10-11.3.2016

Für Kant gibt es genau zwei Wissenschaften, deren Anliegen es ist, synthetische Erkenntnisse a priori hervorzubringen. Diese sind 1) die Mathematik und 2) die von ihm vorgetragene Metaphysik, welche den Namen „transzendentaler Idealismus“ trägt. Die Rollenverteilung zwischen diesen beiden Wissenschaften bestimmt Kant sehr sorgfältig. Jede hat ihre eigenen Fragen und Methoden. Kant nennt die Methode der Mathematik „intuitiver Vernunftgebrauch“ und die der Metaphysik „diskursiver Vernunftgebrauch“. Ganz wichtig ist außerdem, dass die Mathematik laut Kant bestimmte Begriffe und Verfahren voraussetzt, welche sie mit ihren Mitteln selbst nicht erläutern kann. Die Frage „Wie ist reine Mathematik möglich?“ zu beantworten, kommt also der Philosophie zu. Die Metaphysik ist der Mathematik in der Hinsicht übergeordnet, weil sie sich mit noch „tieferliegenden“ epistemologischen Fragestellungen beschäftigt, als die Mathematik.
Wenn dem in der Tat so ist, leuchtet ein, warum zur Lösung der spezifisch metaphysischen Probleme aus der KrV die Mathematik nicht zur Hülfe gerufen werden kann. Denn, wie Kant die Mathematik verstanden haben möchte, hat diese selbst vielmehr den noch zu erforschenden Gebrauch der reinen Vernunft immer schon zur Voraussetzung.
Das Ziel meines Vortrags ist folgendes. Ich möchte so genau wie möglich die folgende Frage beantworten: Was versteht Kant unter Mathematik, und warum kann sie nach diesem Verständnis zur Lösung der Probleme der transzendentalen Analytik nichts beitragen? Unter Beitragen verstehe das aktive Formulieren einer theoretischen Lösung. Ich beantworte diese Frage jetzt in 6 Punkten.
  1. Mathematik ist eine Wissenschaft, welche es schafft, synthetische Erkenntnisse a priori zu erlangen. Darum ist sie für die Metaphysik, welche den Schritt zur Wissenschaftlichkeit vor Kant noch nicht geschafft hatte, ein Paradigma, an dem letztere sich abarbeiten muss. Metaphysik muss den Schritt zur Strenge, zur Apodiktizität, den die Mathematik schon getan hat, für sich vollziehen.
  2. Mathematische Erkenntnisse sind synthetisch a priori, weil mathematische Begriffe in der Einbildungskraft konstruierbar sind. Eine Mathematikerin denkt nicht bloß über Begriffe (wie gleichschenkliges Dreieck) nach. Auch zeichnet und misst sie diese nicht bloß. Wesentlich ist, dass sie Begriffe in der reinen Anschauung konstruiert. „Einen Begriff aber konstruieren, heißt: die ihm korrespondierende Anschauung a priori darstellen. Zur Konstruktion eines Begriffs wird also eine nicht empirische Anschauung erfordert, die folglich, als Anschauung, ein einzelnes Objekt ist, aber nichts destoweniger, als Konstruktion eines Begriffs […], Allgemeingültigkeit für alle mögliche Anschauungen, die unter denselben Begriff gehören, in der Vorstellung ausdrücken muss.“ (B 741) In den Prolegomena nennt er diese Anschauung auch „in concreto und dennoch a priori“ (Par. 7)
    1. Mathematische Begriffe sind a priori konstruierbar, weil wir über die reinen und daher leeren Anschauungsformen von Raum und Zeit verfügen. Wir konstruieren reine mathematische Gegenstände wie Linien und Dreiecke in der Anschauungsform des Raumes, und Zahlen in der Anschauungsform der Zeit.
    2. Reine mathematische Erkenntnisse sind auf empirische Gegenstände anwendbar, weil mathematische Erkenntnisse für Gegenstände überhaupt gelten. Mathematische Erkenntnisse werden durch Konstruktion von Begriffen in einer reinen Anschauung gewonnen. Reine Anschauung ist aber die Form aller möglicher Gegenstände. Darum sind mathematische Erkenntnisse auf raumzeitliche Gegenstände überhaupt anwendbar.
    3. Mathematische Erkenntnisse sind synthetisch, und dies ist möglich mittels Konstruktion ihrer Begriffe in der Einbildungskraft. Dies leuchtet an Hand von einfachen Beispielen ein. (7 + 5 = 12 und das gleichschenklige Dreieck.)
  3. Bemerkung: Mathematik geht insofern über die aristotelische Logik hinaus, als sie die Methode der Konstruktion von Begriffen in reinen Anschauungen einsetzt. Sie ist Verstandesgebrauch plus reine Konstruktion von Objekten, welche extensive Größen sind.
  4. Mathematik hat den Sprung vom Herumtappen im Dunkeln zur Wissenschaftlichkeit mittels der Einsicht in diese Methode geschafft. Kant nennt dies eine Revolution der Denkart. Seine Vorstellung von dieser Revolution scheint folgende zu sein: vor ihr hat man ohne klare Methode hin und her probiert, gemessen, und ab und zu mal etwas mehr oder weniger klar eingesehen. Als die Griechen dann die Methode der Konstruktion in Anschauungen a priori fanden, verwandelte die Mathematik sich sehr schnell in eine sich ewig erweiternde Wissenschaft.
    1. Die Metaphysik soll diesen Sprung in die Wissenschaftlichkeit irgendwie nachahmen. Der wesentliche Zug daran ist folgender: Anstatt anzunehmen, dass Erkenntnis sich nach den Gegenständen richtet, wird Kant versuchen, mit der Annahme anzusetzen, dass die Gegenstände sich nach unserer Erkenntnis richten. Insofern Kant diese Zentrierung des Erkenntnissubjekts als eine Nachahmung des Anfangs der Mathematik versteht, ist also klar wie er den Anfang der Mathematik sieht:
    2. Kant interpretiert den Anfang (oder die Erfindung) der Mathematik als die Entdeckung der Macht eines Vermögens a priori, welches dem menschlichen Subjekt zukommt. Insofern es laut Kant um ein Denkvermögen geht, wird es also die Aufgabe seiner Erkenntnistheorie sein, zu klären, wie reine Mathematik möglich ist. Aus Kants einführender Beschreibung der Mathematik wird klar, dass Kant selbst das Subjekt in der Mathematik gefunden zu haben glaubt. Es ist also nicht nur der Fall, dass die Metaphysik den Sprung der Mathematik nachahmen muss, sondern man merkt zugleich, dass Kant den Anfang der Mathematik auch schon aus Sicht seiner Metaphysik deutet.
  5. Zwischenbemerkung: Kants Verständnis von Mathematik ist stark an der Euklidischen Geometrie orientiert. Denn diese mathematische Praxis bedient sich eines konstruktiven Beweisverfahrens und bleibt jederzeit kompatibel mit unserem intuitiven Verständnis von Raum und Zeit. Kritik an Kants Theorie der Mathematik setzt normalerweise hier an, da sie auf neue Paradigmen in der Mathematik hinweisen kann, welche weder konstruktiv noch intuitiv zu sein scheinen. Ich möchte hier darauf nicht eingehen.
  6. Die Mathematik hat mehrere Bedingungen, welche nur transzendentalphilosophisch befriedigend erörtert werden können. Dieser Punkt führt uns zur Beantwortung des zweiten Teils meiner Frage: warum kann laut Kant Mathematik, obwohl sie eine apriorische Wissenschaft ist, zur Klärung der Probleme der transzendentalen Analytik nichts beitragen? Die Antwort muss darin liegen, dass die Mathematik selbst Voraussetzungen hat, welche erst in einer transzendentalphilosophischen Untersuchung geklärt werden können. Ich gebe jetzt die Voraussetzungen der reinen Mathematik an, wie ich sie bei Kant vorfinde.
    1. Reine Mathematik ist nur a priori, insofern wir berechtigt sind, die reinen Anschauungsformen Raum und Zeit a priori anzuwenden. Wie gesagt sind letztere zentral für die Konstruktion mathematischer Begriffe wie Dreieck, Zahl, usw. Die Begründung dafür, dass sie in der Tat a priori anwendbar sind, gibt die Transzendentalphilosophie in der Ästhetik. Diese Begründung ist nicht mathematisch, sondern transzendentalphilosophisch, da sie sich mit Anschauungen, Sinnlichkeit, Begriffen, Erscheinungen, usw. befassen muss, also mit Begriffen, die in der Mathematik nicht vorkommen. Die Philosophie erklärt somit, warum das Medium des mathematischen Beweisverfahrens a priori ist.
    2. Reine Mathematik ist nur a priori, insofern wir berechtigt sind, die mathematischen Kategorien und Urteilsformen objektiv anzuwenden. Denn: letztere kommen in ihr ständig zur Anwendung. (Beispiel: Alle gleichschenklige Dreiecke haben zwei gleichgroße Winkel.) Auch hier gibt die Mathematik selbst keine Auskunft über den Gebrauch dieser Kategorien, sondern es ist die Philosophie welche diese im Rahmen einer erkenntnistheoretischen Untersuchung erörtert. Urteile werden dort z.B. als einheitliche Handlungen des Verstandes hinterfragt. Insofern Urteile also unter Bezugnahme auf den Verstand behandelt werden, fallen sie außerhalb der Mathematik und in den Bereich der Transzendentalphilosophie.
    3. Reine Mathematik ist nur a priori, insofern wir berechtigt sind, dort, in der Mathematik, einen Objektbegriff anzuwenden. Denn: Mathematik konstruiert ihre Begriffe als Objekte der Anschauung a priori. (Zitat Seite 270) Ich denke nicht nur an den Begriff eines Dreiecks, sondern ich konstruiere dieses als Objekt in der Anschauung a priori. Die zentralen mathematischen Begriffe sind für Kant alle als Objekte der Anschauung a priori konstruierbar. Der Mathematiker setzt also einen vertrauten Umgang mit Objekten voraus, da die anfängliche Handlung des mathematischen Beweisverfahrens die Konstruktion eines Objektes ist. Die Frage, wie das Mannigfaltige der Anschauung des Dreiecks in einem Objekt vereinigt wird, ist also der Transzendentalphilosophie anheimgestellt (vgl. Seite 140).
    4. Reine Mathematik ist nur a priori, insofern sie berechtigt ist, mit jeglichen Formen der transzendentalen Synthesis zu hantieren. Wir wissen, dass für Kant die sogenannte „ursprünglich-synthetische Einheit der Apperzeption“ der Anker ist der die Berechtigung der objektiven Anwendung der Kategorien und der Anschauungsformen auf Gegenstände möglicher Erfahrung sichert. Diesen komplizierten Zusammenhang zu plausibilisieren oder herzuleiten war die Aufgabe der transzendentalen Deduktion. Wir wissen auch, dass Kant den Grund für diese ursprüngliche Synthesis, oder diese transzendentale Affinität, in das (Selbst)Bewusstsein, also in das Subjekt, legt. Warum finden wir in allem Vorstellen, Wahrnehmen, Anschauen, Denken schon eine implizite Affinität des Inhalts, ganz abgesehen davon, ob wir ihn explizit verbinden? Wie Kant betont, ist diese Affinität, dieser reine Immanenzplan der Gedanken, vielmehr Vorbedingung für explizite Verbindung im Sinne der Kategorien. Kants Antwort auf dieses Rätsel lautet: Das transzendentale Subjekt IST die aktive und zuverlässige Tätigkeit dieser Verbindung.
      Wenn das der Fall ist, wird auch die Mathematik die Formen der Synthesis anwenden, ohne diese selbst erläutern zu können. Ich versuche jetzt nur noch, die wichtigsten Formen der Synthesis darzustellen, welche die Mathematik laut Kant braucht.
      1. Die mathematische Praxis setzt voraus, dass wir berechtigt sind, in Urteilen über mathematische Objekte verschiedene Begriffe objektiv zu vereinigen. Wenn ich z.B. urteile, dass ein Dreieck gleichseitig ist, spreche ich dem von mir konstruierten Dreiecksobjekt dieses Prädikat der Gleichseitigkeit objektiv zu. Zu klären, warum ich berechtigt bin, diese zwei Begriffe (Dreieck und gleichseitig) zu vereinigen in einem Objekt, ist Aufgabe der Transzendentalphilosophie; die Mathematik hat dazu nichts beizutragen.
      2. Die mathematische Konstruktion von Begriffen als Objekten der reinen Anschauung setzt jederzeit die Synthesis der Einbildungskraft voraus. Diese heißt in der B-Deduktion auch die „figürliche Synthesis“. Zitat aus der A-Deduktion: „wenn ich eine Linie in Gedanken ziehe, […] [muss] ich erstlich notwendig eine dieser mannigfaltigen Vorstellungen nach der anderen in Gedanken fassen […]. Würde ich aber die vorhergehende […] immer aus den Gedanken verlieren, und sie nicht reproduzieren, indem ich zu den folgenden fortgehe, so würde niemals eine ganze Vorstellung […] entspringen können.“ (A 102) Das wir für Konstruktion Synthesis brauchen, liegt daran, dass wir verschiedene Teile eines Objekts nacheinander in der Zeit konstruieren. Kant nennt dies auch „Bewegung als Handlung des Subjekts“. Dies gilt für alle konstruierbare Grundbegriffe der Mathematik, wie Zahlen, Einheiten, Linien und Figuren. Diese Synthesis liegt den Umgang mit mathematischen Objekten zu Grunde.
      3. Raum und Zeit als leere Anschauungen a priori, worin geometrische Objekte konstruiert werden können, setzen selbst die reine Synthesis der Apprehension voraus. Raum und Zeit sind nicht nur Anschauungsformen, sondern auch Anschauungen selbst. Wir können den reinen Raum oder die reine Zeit anschauen. In ihnen wird demnach ein Mannigfaltiges vorgestellt, auch wenn dies eine Leere sein mag. Insofern die Anschauungen von Raum und Zeit beinhalten, dass es nur einen Raum, und nur eine Zeit gibt, entdecken wir in beiden reinen oder leeren Anschauung schon wieder eine Synthesis der Apprehension. Insofern aber jeder mathematische Beweis im leeren Raum oder in der leeren Zeit konstruiert wird, setzt die Mathematik dadurch von Anfang an die Synthesis der Apprehension voraus.
Somit bin ich in der Lage, die Antwort auf meine am Anfang gestellte Frage zu geben. Die Mathematik als einzige andere Wissenschaft a priori kann nichts an der Lösung der Fragen der transzendentalen Analytik beitragen, weil sie, nach Kants Interpretation, alle zentrale Ergebnisse der Analytik in ihrem Verfahren bereits voraussetzt. Insbesondere baut ihr charakteristisches Verfahren der Konstruktion von Begriffen in reinen Anschauungsformen auf die transzendentale Synthesis der Apperzeption auf. Um die Voraussetzungen der mathematischen Praxis zu untersuchen, bedarf es einer Methode, welche Begriffe untersucht die nicht konstruierbar sind. Dies ist die Methode, welche die Transzendentalphilosophie eigenständig für sich entwickeln muss.


010416_Eric Emmanuel Schmitt on Hebdo cover



LA RÉPONSE DU BERGER À LA BERGÈRE

La couverture de Charlie Hebdo pour évoquer les attentats de Bruxelles ne m’a pas fait rire – ce qui n’est pas grave – mais elle peut faire pleurer certains – et là, c’est grave. Elle montre le jeune chanteur belge – et génial- Stromae disant « Papa où t’es ? », le titre d’une de ses chansons, avec des morceaux épars de son père répondant « ici ». Lorsqu’on sait que le père de Stromae a été massacré et découpé au Rwanda, on se sent mal, et on a mal pour lui et sa famille. Les humoristes de Charlie Hebdo le savaient-ils ?
On peut rire de tout, certes, mais il faut que ce soit drôle. On doit rire de ce qui nous fait pleurer – c’est même la fonction de l’humour – mais on ne doit pas faire pleurer en prétendant faire rire. Rien ne remet en question la liberté d’expression, et je serai toujours prêt à me battre pour elle. Je regrette seulement parfois qu’elle soit utilisée comme liberté de blesser. C’est un bien précieux de pouvoir dire n’importe quoi. Sauf que ça n’exclut pas de passer le «n‘importe quoi » au filtre de la compassion ou de la morale. Un dessin belge, que je vous mets dessous, répond avec élégance à la bourde de Charlie.
 






















250216_From former UCR student turned international jet-setter_Willem van den Berg in The Brussels Times.

http://www.brusselstimes.com/opinion/4937/a-glass-half-full-europe-s-2015-in-perspective


221115_A letter from Judith Butler... from Paris (posted 16 November, by Sarah Shin)

"Mourning becomes the law"—Judith Butler from Paris

Letter from Judith Butler, Paris, Saturday 14th November

I am in Paris and passed near the scene of killing on Boulevard Beaumarchais on Friday evening. I had dinner ten minutes from another target. Everyone I know is safe, but many people I do not know are dead or traumatized or in mourning. It is shocking and terrible. Today the streets were populated in the afternoon, but empty in the evening. The morning was completely still.

It seems clear from the immediate discussions after the events on public television that the "state of emergency", however temporary, does set a tone for an enhanced security state.  The questions debated on television include the militarization of the police (how to "complete" the process),, the space of liberty, and how to fight "Islam" - an amorphous entity.   Hollande tried to look manly when he declared this a war, but one was drawn to the imitative aspect of the performance so could not take the discourse seriously.

And yet, buffoon that he is, he is acting as the head of the army now.   The state/army distinction dissolves in the light of the state of emergency. People want to see the police, and want a militarized police to protect them. A dangerous, if understandable, desire. The beneficient aspects of the special powers accorded the sovereign under the state of emergency included giving everyone free taxi rides home last night, and opening the hospitals to everyone affected, also draws them in. There is no curfew, but public services are curtailed, and no demonstrations are allowed. Even the "rassemblements" (gatherings) to grieve the dead were technically illegal. I went to one at the Place de la Republique and the police would announce that everyone must disperse, and few people obeyed. That was for me a brief moment of hopefulness.

Those commentators that seek to distinguish among sorts of Muslim communities and political views are considered to be guilty of pursuing "nuances." Apparently,the enemy has to be comprehensive and singular to be vanquished, and the difference between muslim and jihadist and ISIL becomes more difficult to discern in public discourse. The pundits were sure who the enemy was before ISIL took responsiblity for the attacks.

It was interesting to me that Hollande announced three days of mourning as he tightened security controls - another way to read the title of Gillian Rose's book, "mourning becomes the law." Are we grieving or are we submitting to increasingly militarized state power and suspended democracy? How does the latter work more easily when it is sold as the former?  The public days of mourning are to be three, but the state of emergency can last up to twelve days before the national assembly has to approve it.  

But also, the state explains it must now restrict liberties in order to defend liberty - that seems to be a paradox that does not bother the pundits on television. Yes, the attacks were quite clearly aimed at iconic scenes of daily freedom in France: the cafe, the rock concert venue, the football stadium.  In the  rock concert hall, there was apparently a diatribe by one of the attackers committing the 89 brutal assasinations, blaming France for failing to intervene in Syria (against Assad's regime), and blaming the west for its intervention in Iraq (against the Baathist regime). So, not a position, if we can call it that, against western intervention per se

There is also a politics of names: ISIS, ISIL, Daesh. France will not say "etat islamique" since that would be to recognize the state. They also want to keep  "Daesh" as a term, so it is an Arabic word that does not enter into French. In the meantime, that organization took responsibility for the killings, claiming that they were retribution for all the aerial bombing that has killed muslims on the soil of the Caliphate. The choice of the rock concert as a target - a sight for assasinations, actually - was explained: it hosted "idolatry" and "a festival of perversion." I wonder how they come upon the term "perversion." Sounds like they were reading outside of their field.

The presidential candidates have chimed in: Sarkozy is now proposing detention camps,  explaining that it is necessary to be arresting those who are suspected of having ties to jihadists. And Le Pen is arguing for "expulsion", having only recently called new migrants "bacteria." That one of the killers of Syrian origin clearly entered France through Greece may well become a reason for France to consolidate its nationalist war against migrants.  

My wager is that the discourse on liberty will be important to track in the coming days and weeks, and that it will have implications for the security state and the narrowing versions of democracy before us. One version of liberty is attacked by the enemy, another version is restricted by the state. The state defends the version of liberty attacked as the very heart of France, and yet suspends freedom of assembly ("the right to demonstrate") in the midst of its mourning and prepares for an even more thorough militarization of the police. The political question seems to be, what version of the right-wing will prevail in the coming elections?  And what now becomes a permissable right-wing once le Pen becomes the "center". Horrific, sad, and foreboding times, but hopefully we can still think and speak and act in the midst of it.

Mourning seems fully restricted within the national frame. The nearly 50 dead in Beirut from the day before are barely mentioned, and neither are the 111 in Palestine killed in the last weeks alone, or the scores in Ankara. Most people I know describe themseves as "at an impasse", not able to think the situation through. One way to think about it may be to come up with a concept of transversal grief, to consider how the metrics of grievability work, why the cafe as target pulls at my heart in ways that other targets cannot. It seems that fear and rage may well turn into a fierce embrace of a police state. I suppose this is why I prefer those who find themselves at an impasse. That means that this will take some time to think through.  It is difficult to think when one is appalled. It requires time, and those who are willing to take it with you - something that has a chance of happening in an unauthorized "rassemblement."
Judith

201115_Also from Eric Emmanuel Schmitt: "Paris triomphera, mais à une condition : c’est que vous, moi, nous tous qui sommes ici, nous ne serons qu’une seule âme ; c’est que nous ne serons qu’un seul soldat et un seul citoyen, un seul citoyen pour aimer Paris, un seul soldat pour le défendre." -- (Actes et paroles - Victor Hugo, 1870)
151115_From the Mayor of Paris:



101115_In memoriam: "Mort du philosophe André Glucksmann à l'âge de 78 ans"

181015_It is an unqualified good, and a pleasure, when (former) students find their own voice in the world....http://www.theguardian.com/global/2015/oct/11/weekly-good-to-meet-you-dan-hamilton?CMP=share_btn_fb


050515_A timely word:

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
       THE SECOND COMING
    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.
    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

020515_Kennedy, on truth, lies, and myths: "For the great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie—deliberate, contrived, and dishonest—but the myth—persistent, persuasive, and unrealistic. Too often we hold fast to the cliches of our forebears. We subject all facts to a prefabricated set of interpretations. We enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought."

Yale University Commencement (June 11, 1962)

John F. Kennedy

















































Transcript

President Griswold, members of the faculty, graduates and their families, ladies and gentlemen:
Let me begin by expressing my appreciation for the very deep honor that you have conferred upon me. As General de Gaulle occasionally acknowledges America to be the daughter of Europe, so I am pleased to come to Yale, the daughter of Harvard. It might be said now that I have the best of both worlds, a Harvard education and a Yale degree.
I am particularly glad to become a Yale man because as I think about my troubles, I find that a lot of them have come from other Yale men. Among businessmen, I have had a minor disagreement with Roger Blough, of the law school class of 1931, and I have had some complaints, too, from my friend Henry ford, of the class of 1940. In journalism I seem to have a difference with John Hay Whitney, of the class of 1926 and sometimes I also displease Henry Luce of the class of 1920, not to mention also William F. Buckley, Jr., of the class of 1950. I even have some trouble with my Yale advisers. I get along with them, but I am not always sure how they get along with each other.
I have the warmest feelings for Chester Bowles of the class of 1924, and for Dean Acheson of the class of 1915, and my assistant, McGeorge Bundy, of the class of 1940. But I am not 100 percent sure that these three wise and experienced Yale men wholly agree with each other on every issue.
So this administration which aims at peaceful cooperation among all Americans has been the victim of a certain natural pugnacity developed in this city among Yale men. Now that I, too, am a Yale man, it is time for peace. Last week at West Point, in the historic tradition of that Academy, I availed myself of the powers of Commander in Chief to remit all sentences of offending cadets. In that same spirit, and in the historic tradition of Yale, let me now offer to smoke the clay pipe of friendship with all of my brother Ells, and I hope that they may be friends not only with me but even with each other.
In any event, I am very glad to be here and as a new member of the club, I have been checking to see what earlier links existed between the institution of the Presidency and Yale. I found that a member of the class of 1878, William Howard Taft, served one term in the White House as preparation for becoming a member of this faculty. And a graduate of 1804, John C. Calhoun, regarded the Vice Presidency, quite naturally, as too lowly a status for a Yale alumnus and became the only man in history to ever resign that office.
Calhoun in 1804 and Taft in 1878 graduated into a world very different from ours today. They and their contemporaries spent entire careers stretching over 40 years in grappling with a few dramatic issues on which the Nation was sharply and emotionally divided, issues that occupied the attention of a generation at a time: the national bank, the disposal of the public lands, nullification or union, freedom or slavery, gold or silver. Today these old sweeping issues very largely have disappeared. The central domestic issues of our time are more subtle and less simple. They relate not to basic clashes of philosophy or ideology but to ways and means of reaching common goals to research for sophisticated solutions to complex and obstinate issues. The world of Calhoun, the world of Taft had its own hard problems and notable challenges. But its problems are not our problems. Their age is not our age. As every past generation has had to disenthrall itself from an inheritance of truisms and stereotypes, so in our own time we must move on from the reassuring repetition of stale phrases to a new, difficult, but essential confrontation with reality.
For the great enemy of the truth is very often not the lie—deliberate, contrived, and dishonest—but the myth—persistent, persuasive, and unrealistic. Too often we hold fast to the cliches of our forebears. We subject all facts to a prefabricated set of interpretations. We enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort of thought.
Mythology distracts us everywhere—in government as in business, in politics as in economics, in foreign affairs as in domestic affairs. But today I want to particularly consider the myth and reality in our national economy. In recent months many have come to feel, as I do, that the dialog between the parties—between business and government, between the government and the public—is clogged by illusion and platitude and fails to reflect the true realities of contemporary American society.
I speak of these matters here at Yale because of the self-evident truth that a great university is always enlisted against the spread of illusion and on the side of reality. No one has said it more clearly than your President Griswold: "Liberal learning is both a safeguard against false ideas of freedom and a source of true ones." Your role as university men, whatever your calling, will be to increase each new generation's grasp of its duties.
There are three great areas of our domestic affairs in which, today, there is a danger that illusion may prevent effective action. They are, first, the question of the size and the shape of government's responsibilities; second, the question of public fiscal policy; and third, the matter of confidence, business confidence or public confidence, or simply confidence in America. I want to talk about all three, and I want to talk about them carefully and dispassionately—and I emphasize that I am concerned here not with political debate but with finding ways to separate false problems from real ones.
If a contest in angry argument were forced upon it, no administration could shrink from response, and history does not suggest that American Presidents are totally without resources in an engagement forced upon them because of hostility in one sector of society. But in the wider national interest, we need not partisan wrangling but common concentration on common problems. I come here to this distinguished university to ask you to join in this great task.
Let us take first the question of the size and shape of government. The myth here is that government is big, and bad—and steadily getting bigger and worse. Obviously this myth has some excuse for existence. It is true that in recent history each new administration has spent much more money than its predecessor. Thus President Roosevelt outspent President Hoover, and with allowances for the special case of the Second World War, President Truman outspent President Roosevelt. Just to prove that this was not a partisan matter, President Eisenhower then outspent President Truman by the handsome figure of $182 billion. It is even possible, some think, that this trend may continue.
But does it follow from this that big government is growing relatively bigger? It does not—for the fact is for the last 15 years, the Federal Government—and also the Federal debt—and also the Federal bureaucracy—have grown less rapidly than the economy as a whole. If we leave defense and space expenditures aside, the Federal Government since the Second World War has expanded less than any other major sector of our national life—less than industry, less than commerce, less than agriculture, less than higher education, and very much less than the noise about big government.
The truth about big government is the truth about any other great activity—it is complex. Certainly it is true that size brings dangers—but it is also true that size can bring benefits. Here at Yale which has contributed so much to our national progress in science and medicine, it may be proper for me to mention one great and little noticed expansion of government which has brought strength to our whole society—the new role of our Federal Government as the major patron of research in science and in medicine. Few people realize that in 1961, in support of all university research in science and medicine, three dollars out of every four came from the Federal Government. I need hardly point out that this has taken place without undue enlargement of Government control—that American scientists remain second to none in their independence and in their individualism.
I am not suggesting that Federal expenditures cannot bring some measure of control. The whole thrust of Federal expenditures in agriculture have been related by purpose and design to control, as a means of dealing with the problems created by our farmers and our growing productivity. Each sector, my point is, of activity must be approached on its own merits and in terms of specific national needs. Generalities in regard to federal expenditures, therefore, can be misleading—each case, science, urban renewal, education, agriculture, natural resources, each case must be determined on its merits if we are to profit from our unrivaled ability to combine the strength of public and private purpose.
Next, let us turn to the problem of our fiscal policy. Here the myths are legion and the truth hard to find. But let me take as a prime example the problem of the Federal budget. We persist in measuring our federal fiscal integrity today by the conventional or administrative budget—with results which would be regarded as absurd in any business firm—in any country of Europe—or in any careful assessment of the reality of our national finances. The administrative budget has sound administrative uses. But for wider purposes it is less helpful. It omits our special trust funds and the effect that they have on our economy; it neglects changes in assets or inventories. It cannot tell a loan from a straight expenditure—and worst of all it cannot distinguish between operating expenditures and long term investments.
This budget, in relation to the great problems of Federal fiscal policy which are basic to our economy in 1962, is not simply irrelevant; it can be actively misleading. And yet there is a mythology that measures all of our national soundness or unsoundness on the single simple basis of this same annual administrative budget. If our Federal budget is to serve not the debate but the country, we must and will find ways of clarifying this area of discourse.
Still in the area of fiscal policy, let me say a word about deficits. The myth persists that Federal deficits create inflation and budget surpluses prevent it. Yet sizeable budget surpluses after the war did not prevent inflation, and persistent deficits for the last several years have not upset our basic price stability. Obviously deficits are sometimes dangerous—and so are surpluses. But honest assessment plainly requires a more sophisticated view than the old and automatic cliche that deficits automatically bring inflation.
There are myths also about our public debt. It is widely supposed that this debt is growing at a dangerously rapid rate. In fact, both the debt per person and the debt as a proportion of our gross national product have declined sharply since the Second World War. In absolute terms the national debt since the end of World War II has increased only 8 percent, while private debt was increasing 305 percent, and the debts of State and local governments—on whom people frequently suggest we should place additional burdens—the debts of State and local governments have increased 378 percent. Moreover, debts, public and private, are neither good nor bad, in and of themselves. Borrowing can lead to over-extension and collapse—but it can also lead to expansion and strength. There is no single, simple slogan in this field that we can trust.
Finally, I come to the problem of confidence. Confidence is a matter of myth and also a matter of truth—and this time let me take the truth of the matter first.
It is true—and of high importance—that the prosperity of this country depends on the assurance that all major elements within it will live up to their responsibilities. If business were to neglect its obligations to the public, if labor were blind to all public responsibility, above all, if government were to abandon its obvious—and statutory—duty of watchful concern for our economic health-if any of these things should happen, then confidence might well be weakened and the danger of stagnation would increase. This is the true issue of confidence.
But there is also the false issue—and its simplest form is the assertion that any and all unfavorable turns of the speculative wheel—however temporary and however plainly speculative in character—are the result of, and I quote, "a lack of confidence in the national administration." This I must tell you, while comforting, is not wholly true. Worse, it obscures the reality—which is also simple. The solid ground of mutual confidence is the necessary partnership of government with all of the sectors of our society in the steady quest for economic progress.
Corporate plans are not based on a political confidence in party leaders but on an economic confidence in the Nation's ability to invest and produce and consume. Business had full confidence in the administrations in power in 1929, 1954, 1958, and 1960—but this was not enough to prevent recession when business lacked full confidence in the economy. What matters is the capacity of the Nation as a whole to deal with its economic problems and its opportunities.
The stereotypes I have been discussing distract our attention and divide our effort. These stereotypes do our Nation a disservice, not just because they are exhausted and irrelevant, but above all because they are misleading—because they stand in the way of the solution of hard and complicated facts. It is not new that past debates should obscure present realities. But the damage of such a false dialogue is greater today than ever before simply because today the safety of all the world—the very future of freedom—depends as never before upon the sensible and clearheaded management of the domestic affairs of the United States.
The real issues of our time are rarely as dramatic as the issues of Calhoun. The differences today are usually matters of degree. And we cannot understand and attack our contemporary problems in 1962 if we are bound by traditional labels and worn-out slogans of an earlier era. But the unfortunate fact of the matter is that our rhetoric has not kept pace with the speed of social and economic change. Our political debates, our public discourse—on current domestic and economic issues—too often bear little or no relation to the actual problems the United States faces.
What is at stake in our economic decisions today is not some grand warfare of rival ideologies which will sweep the country with passion but the practical management of a modern economy. What we need is not labels and cliches but more basic discussion of the sophisticated and technical questions involved in keeping a great economic machinery moving ahead.
The national interest lies in high employment and steady expansion of output, in stable prices, and a strong dollar. The declaration of such an objective is easy; their attainment in an intricate and interdependent economy and world is a little more difficult. To attain them, we require not some automatic response but hard thought. Let me end by suggesting a few of the real questions on our national agenda.
First, how can our budget and tax policies supply adequate revenues and preserve our balance of payments position without slowing up our economic growth?
Two, how are we to set our interest rates and regulate the flow of money in ways which will stimulate the economy at home, without weakening the dollar abroad? Given the spectrum of our domestic and international responsibilities, what should be the mix between fiscal and monetary policy?
Let me give several examples from my experience of the complexity of these matters and how political labels and ideological approaches are irrelevant to the solution.
Last week, a distinguished graduate of this school, Senator Proxmire, of the class of 1938, who is ordinarily regarded as a liberal Democrat, suggested that we should follow in meeting our economic problems a stiff fiscal policy, with emphasis on budget balance and an easy monetary policy with low interest rates in order to keep our economy going. In the same week, the Bank for International Settlement in Basel, Switzerland, a conservative organization representing the central bankers of Europe suggested that the appropriate economic policy in the United States should be the very opposite; that we should follow a flexible budget policy, as in Europe, with deficits when the economy is down and a high monetary policy on interest rates, as in Europe, in order to control inflation and protect goals. Both may be right or wrong. It will depend on many different factors.
The point is that this is basically an administrative or executive problem in which political labels or cliches do not give us a solution.
A well-known business journal this morning, as I journeyed to New Haven, raised the prospects that a further budget deficit would bring inflation and encourage the flow of gold. We have had several budget deficits beginning with a $12 1/2 billion deficit in 1958, and it is true that in the fall of 1960 we had a gold dollar loss running at $5 billion annually. This would seem to prove the case that a deficit produces inflation and that we lose gold, yet there was no inflation following the deficit of 1958 nor has there been inflation since then.
Our wholesale price index since 1958 has remained completely level in spite of several deficits, because the loss of gold has been due to other reasons: price instability, relative interest rates, relative export-import balances, national security expenditures—all the rest.
Let me give you a third and final example. At the World Bank meeting in September, a number of American bankers attending predicted to their European colleagues that because of the fiscal 1962 budget deficit, there would be a strong inflationary pressure on the dollar and a loss of gold. Their predictions of inflation were shared by many in business and helped push the market up. The recent reality of non-inflation helped bring it down. We have had no inflation because we have had other factors in our economy that have contributed to price stability.
I do not suggest that the Government is right and they are wrong. The fact of the matter is in the Federal Reserve Board and in the administration this fall, a similar view was held by many well-informed and disinterested men that inflation was the major problem that we would face in the winter of 1962. But it was not. What I do suggest is that these problems are endlessly complicated and yet they go to the future of this country and its ability to prove to the world what we believe it must prove.
I am suggesting that the problems of fiscal and monetary policies in the sixties as opposed to the kinds of problems we faced in the thirties demand subtle challenges for which technical answers, not political answers, must be provided. These are matters upon which government and business may and in many cases will disagree. They are certainly matters that government and business should be discussing in the most dispassionate, and careful way if we to maintain the kind of vigorous upon which our country depends.
How can we develop and sustain strong and stable world markets for basic commodities without unfairness to the consumer and without undue stimulus to the producer? How can we generate the buying power which can consume what we produce on our farms and in our factories? How can we take advantage of the miracles of automation with the great demand that it will put upon highly skilled labor and yet offer employment to the half million of unskilled school dropouts each year who enter the labor market, eight million of them in the 1960's?
How do we eradicate the barriers which separate substantial minorities of our citizens from access to education and employment on equal terms with the rest?
How, in sum, can we make our free economy work at full capacity—that is, provide adequate profits for enterprise, adequate wages for labor, adequate utilization of plant, and opportunity for all?
These are the problems that we should be talking about—that the political parties and the various groups in our country should be discussing. They cannot be solved by incantations from the forgotten past. But the example of Western Europe shows that they are capable of solution—that governments, and many of them are conservative governments, prepared to face technical problems without ideological preconceptions, can coordinate the elements of a national economy and bring about growth and prosperity—a decade of it.
Some conversations I have heard in our own country sound like old records, long-playing, left over from the middle thirties. The debate of the thirties had its great significance and produced great results, but it took place in a different world with different needs and different tasks. It is our responsibility today to live in our own world, and to identify the needs and discharge the tasks of the 1960's.
If there is any current trend toward meeting present problems with old cliches, this is the moment to stop it—before it lands us all in a bog of sterile acrimony.
Discussion is essential; and I am hopeful that the debate of recent weeks, though up to now somewhat barren, may represent the start of a serious dialog of the kind which has led in Europe to such fruitful collaboration among all the elements of economic society and to a decade of unrivaled economic progress. But let us not engage in the wrong argument at the wrong time between the wrong people in the wrong country—while the real problems of our own time grow and multiply, fertilized by our neglect.
Nearly 150 years ago Thomas Jefferson wrote, "The new circumstances under which we are placed call for new words, new phrases, and for the transfer of old words to new objects." New words, new phrases, the transfer of old words to new objects-that is truer today than it was in the time of Jefferson, because the role of this country is so vastly more significant. There is a show in England called "Stop the World, I Want to Get Off." You have not chosen to exercise that option. You are part of the world and you must participate in these days of our years in the solution of the problems that pour upon us, requiring the most sophisticated and technical judgment; and as we work in consonance to meet the authentic problems of our times, we will generate a vision and an energy which will demonstrate anew to the world the superior vitality and the strength of the free society.

290415_Question: Can the existentialists teach us anything useful about love? Aeon's pick: "Lots. Like don't fall in love. (Leap instead.)"


240315_A UCR student voice: Ruben Hordijk


Bank voor de Klas: Bankers educating the young

In 2010, queen Maxima announced the project ‘Bank voor de Klas’ as part of the ‘week of money.’ During this week, bankers visit primary schools to ‘educate’ the children about money. The annual project has continued to grow, leading to the participation of approximately 50% of Dutch primary schools in 2015. Their website tells us that the goal of Bank voor de Klas is to acquaint children with financial matters and to teach them how to use money responsibly. Through interactive digital educational videos with an anthropomorphized bank card as guide, through competitive games and quizzes where they can win the latest phone or tablet, through apps where kids can learn to save up money for their desired consumer good (like a videogame), Bank voor de Klas tries to achieve its goal. The little ones are not forgotten either. The youngest children (4-7) are involved through colouring and face paintings of piggy banks and other money-related imagery. Parents are also encouraged to join by playing the free card game with their children and to download the app. The website further states that research has shown that (a) there is a need for financial education and that (b) the children benefit from this program: the percentage of correct answers is substantially higher after a week of education from bankers.

Based on this information we may conclude the following:

-       Economic responsibility (something they strive for) is understood as individual consumerism. The message seems to be ‘if you handle your money responsibly, then you can get everything you desire.’

-       The emphasis on ‘knowledge’ through quizzes shows that they portray one type of knowledge about money which is presented as the only knowledge about money. Knowledge of the money system does not cover how banks make and invest money, where the money comes from, who benefits and who loses out, the inequality it produces and sustains, the alternative ways of the past, present and future, etc., but about the functioning within the economic system. The financial system of banks, capitalism, and consumerism is fully taken for granted and presented as the only possible way of dealing with money.

-       Together with the message ‘money is fun, you can win stuff, play games, and have a piggy bank painted on your cheek’ the education presented here is one of functionality: how to become a functional consumer in the current financial system.  

I would be the first to advocate economic education for children. But I am quite shocked about the perverse celebration of the role of bankers in this scenario: Are bankers really the right people to teach us about the money system? Aren’t we forgetting that there are certain interests involved? I find the idea of bankers as the unquestioned good guys responsible for the wealth of our country, repulsive. We seriously need to reconsider how we want to educate our children, whether we want to create subjects that are merely functioning consumers, with a complete disregard for the global inequality and exploitation that sustains this system, or people that can critically assess the financial system, realizing their complicity in the global economic system, without being afraid to think about alternatives. The choice is ours.

As an appropriately sceptical and ironic antidote: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgMn2OJmx3w
170315_A French professor of philosophy, Robert Redeker, published in September 2006 an article in The Figaro entitled "Face aux intimidations islamistes, que doit faire le monde libre ?" As a result of this article, in which he argues that the free world should not tolerate "Islamist intimidation," a fatwa was issued against him; and he was forced to leave his teaching position in France and to take his family into a clandestine way of life for their safety.

At a site called The Gauche Républicaine there is a petition, started in October 2006 and signed by, among others, Michel Onfray, called: "Contre la barbarie, le soutien à Robert Redeker doit être sans réserve."

Phrontisterion today signed that petition as signatory 6146. (Aujourd'hui 17 mars 2015, il y a 6146 signatures électroniques enregistrées depuis le 1 octobre 2006.)

Professor Redeker's voice: 

Les réactions suscitées par l'analyse de Benoît XVI sur l'islam et la violence s'inscrivent dans la tentative menée par cet islam d'étouffer ce que l'Occident a de plus précieux qui n'existe dans aucun pays musulman : la liberté de penser et de s'exprimer.

L'islam essaie d'imposer à l'Europe ses règles : ouverture des piscines à certaines heures exclusivement aux femmes, interdiction de caricaturer cette religion, exigence d'un traitement diététique particulier des enfants musulmans dans les cantines, combat pour le port du voile à l'école, accusation d'islamophobie contre les esprits libres.

Comment expliquer l'interdiction du string à Paris-Plages, cet été ? Étrange fut l'argument avancé : risque de «troubles à l'ordre public». Cela signifiait-il que des bandes de jeunes frustrés risquaient de devenir violents à l'affichage de la beauté ? Ou bien craignait-on des manifestations islamistes, via des brigades de la vertu, aux abords de Paris-Plages ?

Pourtant, la non-interdiction du port du voile dans la rue est, du fait de la réprobation que ce soutien à l'oppression contre les femmes suscite, plus propre à «troubler l'ordre public» que le string. Il n'est pas déplacé de penser que cette interdiction traduit une islamisation des esprits en France, une soumission plus ou moins consciente aux diktats de l'islam. Ou, à tout le moins, qu'elle résulte de l'insidieuse pression musulmane sur les esprits. Islamisation des esprits : ceux-là même qui s'élevaient contre l'inauguration d'un Parvis Jean-Paul-II à Paris ne s'opposent pas à la construction de mosquées. L'islam tente d'obliger l'Europe à se plier à sa vision de l'homme.
Comme jadis avec le communisme, l'Occident se retrouve sous surveillance idéologique. L'islam se présente, à l'image du défunt communisme, comme une alternative au monde occidental. À l'instar du communisme d'autrefois, l'islam, pour conquérir les esprits, joue sur une corde sensible. Il se targue d'une légitimité qui trouble la conscience occidentale, attentive à autrui : être la voix des pauvres de la planète. Hier, la voix des pauvres prétendait venir de Moscou, aujourd'hui elle viendrait de La Mecque ! Aujourd'hui à nouveau, des intellectuels incarnent cet oeil du Coran, comme ils incarnaient l'oeil de Moscou hier. Ils excommunient pour islamophobie, comme hier pour anticommunisme.

Dans l'ouverture à autrui, propre à l'Occident, se manifeste une sécularisation du christianisme, dont le fond se résume ainsi : l'autre doit toujours passer avant moi. L'Occidental, héritier du christianisme, est l'être qui met son âme à découvert. Il prend le risque de passer pour faible. À l'identique de feu le communisme, l'islam tient la générosité, l'ouverture d'esprit, la tolérance, la douceur, la liberté de la femme et des moeurs, les valeurs démocratiques, pour des marques de décadence.

Ce sont des faiblesses qu'il veut exploiter au moyen «d'idiots utiles», les bonnes consciences imbues de bons sentiments, afin d'imposer l'ordre coranique au monde occidental lui-même.
Le Coran est un livre d'inouïe violence. Maxime Rodinson énonce, dans l'Encyclopédia Universalis, quelques vérités aussi importantes que taboues en France. D'une part, «Muhammad révéla à Médine des qualités insoupçonnées de dirigeant politique et de chef militaire (...) Il recourut à la guerre privée, institution courante en Arabie (...) Muhammad envoya bientôt des petits groupes de ses partisans attaquer les caravanes mekkoises, punissant ainsi ses incrédules compatriotes et du même coup acquérant un riche butin».

D'autre part, «Muhammad profita de ce succès pour éliminer de Médine, en la faisant massacrer, la dernière tribu juive qui y restait, les Qurayza, qu'il accusait d'un comportement suspect». Enfin, «après la mort de Khadidja, il épousa une veuve, bonne ménagère, Sawda, et aussi la petite Aisha, qui avait à peine une dizaine d'années. Ses penchants érotiques, longtemps contenus, devaient lui faire contracter concurremment une dizaine de mariages».

Exaltation de la violence : chef de guerre impitoyable, pillard, massacreur de juifs et polygame, tel se révèle Mahomet à travers le Coran.

De fait, l'Église catholique n'est pas exempte de reproches. Son histoire est jonchée de pages noires, sur lesquelles elle a fait repentance. L'Inquisition, la chasse aux sorcières, l'exécution des philosophes Bruno et Vanini, ces mal-pensants épicuriens, celle, en plein XVIIIe siècle, du chevalier de La Barre pour impiété, ne plaident pas en sa faveur. Mais ce qui différencie le christianisme de l'islam apparaît : il est toujours possible de retourner les valeurs évangéliques, la douce personne de Jésus contre les dérives de l'Église.

Aucune des fautes de l'Église ne plonge ses racines dans l'Évangile. Jésus est non-violent. Le retour à Jésus est un recours contre les excès de l'institution ecclésiale. Le recours à Mahomet, au contraire, renforce la haine et la violence. Jésus est un maître d'amour, Mahomet un maître de haine.

La lapidation de Satan, chaque année à La Mecque, n'est pas qu'un phénomène superstitieux. Elle ne met pas seulement en scène une foule hystérisée flirtant avec la barbarie. Sa portée est anthropologique. Voilà en effet un rite, auquel chaque musulman est invité à se soumettre, inscrivant la violence comme un devoir sacré au coeur du croyant.

Cette lapidation, s'accompagnant annuellement de la mort par piétinement de quelques fidèles, parfois de plusieurs centaines, est un rituel qui couve la violence archaïque.

Au lieu d'éliminer cette violence archaïque, à l'imitation du judaïsme et du christianisme, en la neutralisant (le judaïsme commence par le refus du sacrifice humain, c'est-à-dire l'entrée dans la civilisation, le christianisme transforme le sacrifice en eucharistie), l'islam lui confectionne un nid, où elle croîtra au chaud. Quand le judaïsme et le christianisme sont des religions dont les rites conjurent la violence, la délégitiment, l'islam est une religion qui, dans son texte sacré même, autant que dans certains de ses rites banals, exalte violence et haine.

Haine et violence habitent le livre dans lequel tout musulman est éduqué, le Coran. Comme aux temps de la guerre froide, violence et intimidation sont les voies utilisées par une idéologie à vocation hégémonique, l'islam, pour poser sa chape de plomb sur le monde. Benoît XVI en souffre la cruelle expérience. Comme en ces temps-là, il faut appeler l'Occident «le monde libre» par rapport à au monde musulman, et comme en ces temps-là les adversaires de ce «monde libre», fonctionnaires zélés de l'oeil du Coran, pullulent en son sein. 

Professor Redeker's blogsite: http://www.redeker.fr/


300115_From our UCR colleague in Religious Studies, Ritske Rensma, "Wotan in the Shadows:Analytical Psychology and the Archetypal Roots of War."
Wotan in the Shadows: Analytical Psychology and the Archetypal Roots of War - See more at: http://www.depthinsights.com/Depth-Insights-scholarly-ezine/wotan-in-the-shadows-analytical-psychology-and-the-archetypal-roots-of-war-by-dr-ritske-rensma/#sthash.kSBbesZw.jE4sx6JD.dpuf
Wotan in the Shadows: Analytical Psychology and the Archetypal Roots of War
by Ritske Rensma - See more at: http://www.depthinsights.com/Depth-Insights-scholarly-ezine/wotan-in-the-shadows-analytical-psychology-and-the-archetypal-roots-of-war-by-dr-ritske-rensma/#sthash.kSBbesZw.jE4sx6JD.dpuf
Wotan in the Shadows: Analytical Psychology and the Archetypal Roots of War
by Ritske Rensma - See more at: http://www.depthinsights.com/Depth-Insights-scholarly-ezine/wotan-in-the-shadows-analytical-psychology-and-the-archetypal-roots-of-war-by-dr-ritske-rensma/#sthash.kSBbesZw.jE4sx6JD.dpuf

220115_From French Philosopher Michel Onfray on the French '9/11' -- "MERCREDI 7 JANVIER 2015 : NOTRE 11 SEPTEMBRE"

170115_There have obviously been many responses to the various circumstances surrounding the birth of 'Je suis Charlie'. The following response, by invitation, is from our UCR colleague, French Professor Dr. Esfaindyar Daneshvar.


La colère des musulmans

Ceux que l’on appelle des terroristes islamistes veulent tuer et tuent au nom de l’islam (du fatwa contre Salman Rushdie en passant par le meurtre de Théo van Gogh aux Pays-Bas). Cette fois, contre les représentations humoristiques du prophète, l’islamisme a de nouveau sorti les armes et fait couler le sang des caricaturistes de Charlie Hebdo.
Dessins humoristiques et caricaturaux expriment l’essence même de la vision critique pacifique des sociétés sécularisées ou laïques. La désacralisation est un phénomène moderne issu de la démocratie, sans précédent dans les pays arabo-musulmans, puisque ces pays n’ont jamais connu de démocratie et la modernité (ne pas confondre avec la modernisation et la technologie !) Connaît-on un seul pays islamique avec un gouvernement séculariste ou laïc (le cas de la Turquie reste problématique et bien discutable, alors que la Tunisie et l’Egypte se battent contre l’islamisme) ? Les gouvernements des pays islamiques font toujours l’amalgame entre la modernité, la démocratie et le colonialisme et l’impérialisme. En Occident même, des intellectuels oublient parfois que la démocratie n’est pas en soi un « système » uniquement destiné à l’Occident (puisqu’il y a bien différentes formes de démocratie : Les Etats-Unis, l’Europe, le Japon et l’Australie par exemple) mais, bien qu’issu de l’Occident, elle est une acquisition humaine universellement appréhendable. On oublie que le pluriculturalisme n’est pas un déterminisme culturel, que la démocratie n’est pas un système fermé mais un combat continu.
Ces caricaturistes étaient avant tout des gardiens de la démocratie contre la démocratie. Pourtant, leurs dessins ne revendiquaient ni un acte politique, ni un engagement militantisme, et encore moins un activisme idéologique. Des sommets de la pure pensée, où le rire et l’intelligence révèlent aux hommes ce qu’il y a de plus humain en eux, ils plaisantaient avec toutes les religions, Jésus et les politiques. Car la liberté de l’expression est l’outil même de la démocratie et du droit. L’esprit libre de Rabelais et de Voltaire caricaturait déjà leur temps, y compris les croyances. Mettre des limites à la liberté de l’expression c’est non seulement s’autocensurer mais aussi amputer la démocratie. C’est donc un contre sens ! La démocratie existe dans le cadre des lois, et aucune loi n’interdit cette liberté tant qu’elle ne nuit pas à la liberté d’autrui. Caricaturer Mahomet ou Jésus ne nuit aucunement à la liberté de l’expression d’autrui, et ne porte pas atteinte à la vie des hommes.
Or, le nœud gordien entre démocratie et croyance a du mal à être tranché. On dit qu’il est interdit et abject de tuer au nom de la religion et apparemment tout le monde serait d’accord là-dessus sauf l’idéologue terroriste. Mais ce n’est pas l’idéologue islamiste qui tue et se fait sauter à la fin, c’est un jeune de la banlieue ! C’est à peine une semaine après les tueries que les musulmans du monde entier se ruent dans les rues crier contre un dessin. Rien d’étonnant car les religions ont toujours eu l’ambition de se substituer à la culture, et cela réussit parfaitement en l’absence de la modernité et la démocratie. L’identité et la pensée s’effacent face aux dogmes et cède à l’idéologie (islamique ou autres).
L’idéologie terroriste est un mouvement, une organisation politique dont les leaders cherchent avant tout le pouvoir. Cela est clair car nous avons vu la montée de l’islamisme en Iran depuis la révolution islamique de 1979. Or, que fait et que doit faire le musulman ? Quelle serait sa position face aux caricatures d’un côté et leur exécution de l’autre ? Difficile à relever, à généraliser bien sûr, mais il est certain que les musulmans qui dénonceraient la tuerie prendraient un grand risque de le réclamer, ou faut-il alors s’autocensurer. C’est pourquoi dit-on que ces musulmans sont bien les premières victimes de l’islamisme, mais cela n’est pas nouveau...
Ne serait-il pas juste et plus humain que de montrer son opposition en débâtant par les médias ? Dialoguer et dénoncer des choses par des mots ou des images et non des armes ? Pour cela il faudrait d’abord pouvoir prendre une distance par rapport à soi, sa « culture », ses émotions aveugles et ses ressentiments. A l’aune de quoi prendre cette distance ? De la raison, de l’individualisme, de la tolérance, de la penser par soi-même ? Mais ce ne sont là que les fruits de la modernité ! Le cercle semble enfin bien vicieux et fermé ; c’est l’histoire de l’œuf et de la poule... Samuel Huntington parlait de l’impossibilité du dialogue entre les cultures, aboutissant à la thèse du « choc des civilisations ». Or aujourd’hui la question de la possibilité du dialogue se pose plus que jamais. Mais avec qui et comment ?

La caricature du Mahomet est traduite comme une offense et un acte politique par les islamistes et ensuite par les musulmans partout dans le monde. Il semble que les germes de l’intolérance islamique ne se trouvent pas seulement dans les injustices et les inégalités sociales des pays pluriculturels occidentaux, mais aussi au cœur même de la vision du monde musulman (récupérée et instrumentalisée par les islamistes). Les manifestations agressives contre le dessin brouillent les frontières et montre l’unité de la pensée de la majorité des musulmans et des islamistes. Il n’y a pour le moment que des voix d’intellectuels musulmans éparpillées ci et là, mais aucune manifestation musulman contre ces assassinats.
S’il y a à postériori une telle colère et ressentiment, on comprend rapidement que les terroristes deviennent des héros et des martyres ! Comment expliquer donc les soulèvements et les ardeurs après que des présidents du monde musulmans ont défilé à côté des Français. Est-ce uniquement l’islamisme qui manipule la communauté musulmane, ou bien le même cordon ombilical les lie entre eux ?
Pourtant, il est certain que la lutte contre l’intégrisme a besoin de la liberté d’expression des musulmans anti-islamistes.

Esfaindyar Daneshvar 17 janv. 15

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