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| QUOTATIONS 2046-2061 |
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| 2046. In the world ruled by the majorities – families, clans, tribes, states – each person, who is essentially a minority of one, can choose either to remain an individual and to be persecuted, as all minorities invariably are, or to submerge his/her "I" in the all-encompassing "We" and become a persecutor instead. Alas, for too many the choice is obvious, as obvious as the deplorable state this world is in. 2047. By far the greatest bane of this world is that too many fools labor under gross misapprehension that they poses superior abilities while aided and abetted in their delusions by even more fools who have allowed themselves to be deceived in this manner. 2048. Each genre has an appropriate usage – I reveal myself intellectually mainly in prose, and emotionally mainly in poetry. Sometimes the both are needed and employed to express myself fully. And occasionally even that doesn't seem to be adequate. 2049. I do not look at the world with an anthropologist's eye. I am not particularly curious about other cultures and ethnic peculiarities. I am not eager to learn about other peoples' social or sexual habits, their families mores, national costumes, music, art, food, etc. I am interested in people who read the same books, listen to the same music, and goes to see the same movies as I do. I prefer the company of people who share my likes and dislikes, my cultural and political views. In short, I like people like me. And once upon a time ( and not a very distant time) such an attitude was universally accepted as natural, for it is only human to feel comfortable with like-minded people. Not any more, at least not among the educated classes of the West. For the person who openly and honestly admits what I've just said about myself would be immediately labeled by them as being prejudiced, intolerant, or even a racist. Even the fact that I don't care what color, gender, age, etc., these like-minded people are doesn't seem to take me off the hook. Is it fair? I don't think so. Lacking in curiosity and desire to learn new things may point to some deficiencies in character, but it's hardly a crime against humanity and certainly not a good reason to call someone so afflicted a bigot. The thing is, preferring apples to oranges is not equal hating oranges. When apples are not available I may have an orange, but given a choice I'll take an apple. That's all to it, no big deal. And the same principle applies to everything else in life. Having certain preferences (and we all have them) is not equal intolerance and hate of the things we consider second or third best. 2050. It came as if from nowhere, out of the blue, so to speak. No shattering disaster, no shocking revelation. Yet suddenly I realized that many people in my life, as a matter of fact almost everyone I have been dealing with for a long, long time, are very unpleasant indeed, to put it mildly. It was as if the clothe vanished and they appeared as they truly are, naked with all their deficiencies, imperfections, pettiness, malice and hitherto concealed envy, jealousy and downright hostility. It was as if all my life I was wearing rosy glasses and suddenly they turned, by magic, into the dark ones. It was as if I was blind and suddenly could see .And to tell you the truth I am not sure how to deal with it, for nothing in my previous life seems to have equipped me for this. I grew up strong, bright and good looking, with a healthy sense of humor, most of it self-deprecating, perhaps a touch of irony, but never of sarcasm, and with malice toward no one. I liked people and people liked me, at least so I thought. And now after being, for as long as I remember, in peace with the world, I find myself at war, and I am totally unprepared for it. I have no weapons, no skills, no training – I am completely defenseless. I was a fate's pet, and suddenly, for no reason at all, it thrown me into jungle to fight for my existence. And all I want is to escape, to hide in some little cave, to be left alone. Will I find such a refuge? Will I survive? 2051. Considering ,perhaps erroneously, myself to be an intellectual, I recognize no other claim to distinction but intellect (we are all guilty of exaggerating the importance of qualities we believe ourselves to posses). This, naturally, puts me at great odds even with other intellectuals, who, unlike myself, managed to parlay their intellect into more socially acceptable signs of recognition, like position and prestige in academe and politics together with material rewards which usually accompany them. Needless to say, those who achieved social and material success by other means rather than intellect, and expect to be treated with the due deference if not outright adulation are deeply offended by someone like me who wouldn't deign to oblige. And may be they're right. Since very few possess intellect of any discernable importance, but almost everyone vie for distinction and honor, perhaps is not suitable to be used as the universal measure of merit. Which leaves, if it is true, someone like me rather at disadvantage. Stripped of the only weapon I know how to handle, puts me into unenviable category of permanent losers, where by any objective criteria I probably was always belonged. 2052. Proponents of democracy everywhere and at any cost may take heart in the fact that people everywhere want democracy, i.e. to have a say in how they live and how they are governed. It is the most natural human desire, both individually and collectively. The difference between those who achieved it or not is mainly in the strength of the forces hostile to this universal human aspiration and in their resolve to use any means possible to thwart it. 2053. The most unsettling (to put it mildly) aspects of moving from one culture, one country, one continent to another, as ever increasing numbers of people do now, is either partial or total reversal of standards by which one's behavior and ultimately character are evaluated and judged. Thus what once was positive becomes negative, appropriate –unsuitable, beneficial – detrimental, respected– scoffed. As a result, one finds himself in a state of permanent confusion and bewilderment. Nothing appears to work the way it did before, and the harder one tries the worst it gets –the clues are misread, sentiments misinterpreted, words misunderstood. What is amiss? The basics of human communications without which no social existence is possible. And the only practical escape out of this conundrum is to restrict one's life, as much as possible, to one's ethnic immigrant community (if one is lucky to have one) and thus to restore one's psychological integrity. In Canada it has an official name –multiculturalism, which, for all intent and purpose, amounts to making a virtue out of necessity. Yet, what helped the first generation of immigrants to survive harms the second one, their children. Spending their formative years in those ethnic enclaves prevents them from full acculturation, resulting in their own maladjustment, different and yet similar to that of their parents. Moreover, unlike their parents, who accepted their failure to fit in as a given, they resent it, assuming that being born in the new country will free them at least from what the first generation had to go through. In one specific, and tragically too well known case, the realization that it hasn't, the clash of assumptions and reality, frustration and alienation caused by this, prepared a fertile soil which, when seeded with largely imported from the present turmoil of Muslim world fanatical ideology of revenge and martyrdom, produced the so-called home-grown terrorists in the countries which experienced a large inflow of immigrants a generation or so ago. And even at this moment it is hard to see how it could have been prevented in the past and what to do now to avoid it in the future. There is a sense of depressing inevitability about the whole situation. There is also a palpable frustration of having nobody to blame in particular. And finally, there is all pervasive, yet unarticulated feeling that nothing could be done. 2054. To a man (Rick Salutin in G&M, on June 30, 2006)who bemoans the "imbalance of power" between Palestinians and Israel. What would you, a grown up man, do if there is a little boy waiting outside your house, who, every time you emerge from it, spits in your face. If you think this is too simplistic, add a crowd of spectators ready to condemn you for picking up on a defenseless child if you try to prevent him from doing this. Now, if this is still too simple, consider the following: you cannot escape this situation because every house you lived in before had such child, and there is no reason to believe that in this, or any other neighborhood, there be a shortage of such boys or worse, much worse. So, again, what would you, a grown up man, do? 2055. MY PERSONAL JIHAD To be perfectly honest with you, for quite some time I've been feeling rather depressed. Kind of empty, without a purpose, a goal to occupy myself with. Something was definitely missing, but I couldn't put my finger on what it actually was. Then, one day, as if out of the blue, it dawned on me —I don't have my own jihad! Everybody has it, and I don't. How could I have been so blind for so long? How could I've failed to notice that recently it has become absolutely essential for one's self-esteem to have a personal jihad? And some say that it doesn't really matter what kind it is, as long as you have it. It could be small, or it could be big. It could be run of the mill or original. The thing is you can't do without one. And since I don't have any yet, I must get it as soon as possible. For I just dread the moment, which sure is coming, sooner or later, when someone will ask me, "What is your jihad?" and to my huge embracement I wouldn't know what to say. So, I'd better hurry up and get myself one, any one, just be able to feel normal again. Right from the start, I can tell you that suicide bombing is not for me. I am allergic to so many thing that I probably allergic to any explosive too, and I don't want to find out. I'm simply afraid I'll start sneezing and blow myself up even before fastening the bomb-vest. Sure, I want to have a jihad. But I also want to spend some time having it, not to vanish the moment I got it. Now, what else is available? Hating the Jews seems to be the jihad of choice for many nowadays. Actually, it has been in vogue for a very long time. But it is not good for me either. Sorry to disappoint you, but I happen to be a Jew myself. And though I know quite a few self-hating Jews, it is not my cup of tea. I find it too old-fashioned and lacking in imagination. Besides, a true jihadist may hate everybody else, but not himself—he is not that stupid. "But what about hating Israel, instead of the Jews?" some of the liberal minded ones may ask. "Wouldn't this solve your problem? It does for many. Try it." Sorry, but I have to pass on it as well. Somehow, I cannot separate them. Perhaps, I am not sophisticated enough. The next one on the list is blaming(and hating, of course)the United States, this Great Satan, for everything bad happening in the world today. Now, this seems to be a safe bet. Very popular indeed. Makes a great conversational piece in any polite society. But again, probably due to a lack of sufficient perspicacity or imagination ( for which I‘m actually grateful, for too many mistake the second for the first), I am somewhat uncomfortable with such an essentially religious notion — the Evil incarnated, the ideology and politics made flesh. Evokes all kind of Biblical allusions. Leaves aftertaste of absolutism. Smells of Armageddon, of the Last Days, of the Good Old Religion, and, not being religiously inclined, I simply can't stomach it. It's just a bit too convenient, too self-serving. Absolves the rest of us of any guilt or responsibility. And you know what, as much as I want to have my own jihad, I'm beginning to suspect that hating or blaming, which seems to be a large part of it, protestations of many its practitioners notwithstanding, is not my thing. I'm just not made for it. Don't have the character, the stamina required to sustain such strong and violent emotions. Anyway, perhaps I was too ambitious for my apparently limited abilities in this field, aiming too high. Clearly, a great jihad is out of my league. But what about something less drastic, more personal, something even a weakling like me can handle? Those who claim to be in the know assure the rest of us that even self-improvement may qualify as jihad. Not as good, of course , as hating and blaming the Jews and Americans, but still better than nothing. Losing weight, for example? No, too pedestrian, and I don't have too much to begin with. Having a face lift to look 10 years younger? No again. I am not that vain. Plus, what am I going to do with the extra 10 years when what I have now feels like too much already. To fulfill my youthful ambition to be a writer and to write a great novel, any novel? I am not sure what to make out of my own life, never mind to imagine someone else's. To help my fellow men? What have they ever done for me? Having screwed my life devote what is left of it to impart worldly wisdom to my grandchildren? I don't have any. You can see I'm running out of options. As I write this, I'm racking my brain to come up with something, anything to adopt as my own jihad. Alas, so far I could think of nothing. May be this whole jihad thing is too overrated. After all, millions of people muddled through the ages without even knowing the word, thank you very much. May be it's just a fad. Here today, gone tomorrow. And some people, like me, are not quick enough to keep up with the fads. So, I might just as well go on, as usual. And if one day someone asks me what is my jihad, I'll honestly admit I don't have any. And I hope he forgives me. 2056. To all who doubt the legitimacy of the Jewish state, Israel, as one built on the land belonging to the other people, Palestinians, I would like to say the following. When all the English go back to England, and all the Irish to Ireland, when all the Spanish go back to Spain, and all the Portugese to Portugal, when all the German go back to Germany, and yes, when all the Arabs would leave Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt and North Africa ,the so-called Maghreb, and go back to Arabia,the Jews will still have the right to live in Israel. For this is their place of origin, it is their England, it is their Ireland, it is their Spain, it is their Portugal, it is their Germany, and yes, the land of Israel belong to the Jews as Arabia to the Arabs, no more, no less. 2057. I find the claims to and fame of being an important political thinker by many an American political writers ( a name of Mr. Fukuyama readily springs to mind) is somewhat puzzling. Their prevailing "modus operandi" seems to be to wait until consensus is developed and then present it in a book form with a catchy title as a product of their own thinking. It may impress those who judge a book by its cover, but not people who actually read what follows which is a summery of what have been said and written by many before and, alas, even without the proper attributions. 2058. What separates a European intellectual from his North American counterpart is that what he does for a living is irrelevant to his intellectual pursuits and he exercises his intellect just for the pleasure of it, never expecting any other benefits, remunerative or otherwise. In contrast, in North America being an intellectual means belonging to certain professions, and having a job where a degree, usually in liberal arts, is the essential prerequisite. Moreover, it is even frown upon and is considered an illegitimate intrusion into someone else's "intellectual domain" when, for example, a specialist in music expresses an opinion about a book and then presumes to go as far as trying to defend it in a company of people whose jobs in one way or another are related to literature. And so, the specialists in music talk primarily to their colleagues and mainly about music, the specialist in literature – primarily to theirs and chiefly about literature, and so on, and so forth. And though this specialization of intellectual discourse is the very antitheses of intellect, no one in North America seems to mind, as long as it protects one's ostensibly intellectual, but in reality professional turf. Everyone is guarding his particular specialty as a dog his bone. The demarcation lines are drawn (sand not being of sufficient solidity) by the barbed wires of intellectual monopoly, with the red signs "No trespassing" abound. In my own case, in Europe being a civil engineer, never prevented me from joining a conversation on any topic, and no one ever questioned my right to do so. In contrast, in Canada or US discussing the literary merits of Paradise Lost seems to be the sole privilege not even of the holders of degree in English Literature in general, but of the specialists in Milton exclusively. And many a time while participating in the intellectual discussion I would be accorded the same attention as anyone else until someone asks me what I am doing for a living. And invariably, upon learning that I am a civil engineer, whatever I say afterwards, would be dismissed as the mere opinion of the one not qualified to speak on any other subject rather than civil engineering. 2059. Ours would probably go down in history as "The age of the suicide bomber." For it is he who became the central and the most influential figure of our time. 2060. I cannot afford to let history to write about me — she charges too much. 2061. The veritable epidemic of attention deficit disorder which afflicts more and more children of school age could be attributed to the kind of programs these children are exposed to on TV for several hours every day. Spend some time watching these programs and you're likely to notice that no frame stays on the screen for more than second or two, which prevents the viewer from concentrating on any image long enough to fully absorb it. This clearly must affect the brain function of a child after a time by impairing its ability to process the information properly, which always requires certain amount of time. Making gradually the brain of such child unaccustomed to spend any time on learning anything, the viewing of the typical children's program on TV eventually renders it functionally incapable of it. Moreover, a child watching these types of speed-up visual kaleidoscope on TV daily grows to expect the same pattern and speed in all other perceptions, and when it is not given (at school especially) gets easily distracted, restless and bored. And since studying anything requires concentration, a child who cannot concentrate cannot study. And if this inability to concentrate persists (and there is no reason to think why it shouldn't) when such a child grows up and enters work force he cannot work either, because any work, like any study, demands concentration on the task at hand. And if we accept as a scientific fact that by the end of the formative years the brain's patterns are fully developed and pretty much settled, it is hard to imagine how they could be changed later. As harsh as this may sound, these children are probably damaged for life. The another subliminal message of the children's television medium, which may be embedded in one's psyche is that life is only interesting when things change quickly, that dwelling on anything is boring, permanence is boring, status qua is boring, stability is boring. And that the rapid movement of anything is everything. |
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