Blogging is a strange stuff: you need it when you don’t feel needed by anyone else and it embraces you whole-heartedly and amicably with no sign of grievance.
Perhaps human being is the only creature of God to nurse a grievance. While I do try not to bear a grudge against anyone, but some people just die for being disliked by me and do whatever they can do just in order to see me down, because it is much easier to kick somebody when he is already down. Certainly, I am still trying to stick up for myself, but what makes it worse is that I’m getting indifferent towards whatever is going on in that bloody mad-house. A gang of losers is trying to punish and subdue loud voices. No doubt, they have to dream on and I still bear in my mind the axiom: everything and anything changes; because it has to…
Especially when you see a Pandora’s Box opened in the whole city and panic dictating your routine life, those little conspiracies in the mad-house look even more miserable and unimportant… I am just thinking loud now to convince myself in what I am saying. But I can feel a great sense of resentment inside while my hope for a change in the office has died… It died today actually. After my long and biting conversation with the person who was supposed to sort the problems out and to let the fresh air in. Disillusion is painful indeed.
On the other hand, London is getting mad too. It is almost broken without its main tube lines. Manhunt that started earlier today is still going on and as a reporter said today “by no means it is the end”, it’s rather just the beginning of a new era of terrorism and counter-terrorism in this beautiful land. A man was shot dead this morning within a train carriage in front of the passengers by policemen. They shoot at him five times. Because he ran away from them and they chased him into the Stockwell tube station. This is just a day after 4 explosions and blast attempts and 2 weeks after the bloody 7 July. The ghost of horror is hovering over the city and every Asian or black with a rucksack arouses suspicion. A good time for pathetic racists to let out their hatred on innocent ones.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Leftover From A Trip
24 June 2005, Dushanbe-Moscow
A skinny little woman that unnaturally looks older than her real age is sitting beside me with 3 of her toddlers. Out of a sudden all of them started a loud crying symphony and put their mother in an unpleasant situation. She is going to St-Petersburg to visit her husband – one of many thousands Tajik labour migrants in Russia. I was wondering how she would manage to get to Petersburg from Moscow by herself with 3 little crying kids, while she merely speaks a couple of Russian words and she wears national Tajik long sleeved clothes. No doubt, she would suffer from annoying Russian check points within and outside the airport with their humiliating behaviour and tone. Because she is a Tajik in Moscow and that’s written on her face and she is defenceless with three kids…
I am a Tajik too and it is written on my top. For the first time in my life I saw a T-shirt with that sort of patriotic writing in Tajikistan with a beautiful map of the country. My dearest friend found and bought it for me and I am terribly obliged to her for such a perfect gift. Just imagine: walking with a “Tajikistan” T-shirt in Moscow, Zurich and London! People would look at me first with confusion, and then at least they would memorize the sweet name of a beautiful piece of land behind one of the highest altitudes of the world: Tajikistan… Such a pleasant feeling!
Meanwhile, an ageing Tupolov-154 is increasing the geographical distance between me and my beloved piece of land whereas the hearty distance between us is diminishing so vividly. Four weeks I inhaled its perfect air and suffered under (rather enjoyed) its hot and burning Sun. I can feel how my love deep inside is growing to a bigger feeling towards the God-forgotten land whose continuous prosperity is my eternal pink dream.
A skinny little woman that unnaturally looks older than her real age is sitting beside me with 3 of her toddlers. Out of a sudden all of them started a loud crying symphony and put their mother in an unpleasant situation. She is going to St-Petersburg to visit her husband – one of many thousands Tajik labour migrants in Russia. I was wondering how she would manage to get to Petersburg from Moscow by herself with 3 little crying kids, while she merely speaks a couple of Russian words and she wears national Tajik long sleeved clothes. No doubt, she would suffer from annoying Russian check points within and outside the airport with their humiliating behaviour and tone. Because she is a Tajik in Moscow and that’s written on her face and she is defenceless with three kids…
I am a Tajik too and it is written on my top. For the first time in my life I saw a T-shirt with that sort of patriotic writing in Tajikistan with a beautiful map of the country. My dearest friend found and bought it for me and I am terribly obliged to her for such a perfect gift. Just imagine: walking with a “Tajikistan” T-shirt in Moscow, Zurich and London! People would look at me first with confusion, and then at least they would memorize the sweet name of a beautiful piece of land behind one of the highest altitudes of the world: Tajikistan… Such a pleasant feeling!
Meanwhile, an ageing Tupolov-154 is increasing the geographical distance between me and my beloved piece of land whereas the hearty distance between us is diminishing so vividly. Four weeks I inhaled its perfect air and suffered under (rather enjoyed) its hot and burning Sun. I can feel how my love deep inside is growing to a bigger feeling towards the God-forgotten land whose continuous prosperity is my eternal pink dream.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
The Wind of Change
Life is going on in here and the wind of change is still blowing away the remainder of the past. However, you will not be terribly surprised, if you haven’t been here for the last ten years.
But I was pleasantly shocked by brand new cashpoints in Dushanbe streets! I saw 2 of them installed as openly as in London, not behind walls and windows as in Prague.
I rushed towards the first one as soon as Shamsi showed it to me and embraced the cold device firmly hammered in the wall; the device was innocently blinking and inviting confused passers-by in three languages (Persian, English and Russian) to insert their cards. Many cannot get the message yet: what sort of cards? What for and so on.
I remember how a guy was asking me if I'd won a lottery, while I was getting my own money from the Supermarket (CUM) cashpoint…
Gotta go now. Hope to get back to my Dushanbe travelogue one day…
But I was pleasantly shocked by brand new cashpoints in Dushanbe streets! I saw 2 of them installed as openly as in London, not behind walls and windows as in Prague.
I rushed towards the first one as soon as Shamsi showed it to me and embraced the cold device firmly hammered in the wall; the device was innocently blinking and inviting confused passers-by in three languages (Persian, English and Russian) to insert their cards. Many cannot get the message yet: what sort of cards? What for and so on.
I remember how a guy was asking me if I'd won a lottery, while I was getting my own money from the Supermarket (CUM) cashpoint…
Gotta go now. Hope to get back to my Dushanbe travelogue one day…
Sunday, May 29, 2005
A Sky Sketch... Jak se mat, pritel?
Our Czech Airlines Boing-737 pointed the sky with its sharp nose and flied over as a proud eagle. Green fields of the Prague outskirts were running backward as if depicting how fast the globe spins around in reality that we don’t happen to feel in our routine life.
But today isn’t too cloudy. It was even a bit too hot in Prague, so that I had to add some three more kilograms to my luggage by leaving my warm jacket in the bag. However, for the first time in my life (at least as far as I remember) I didn’t have to pay for excess luggage.
Yeah, it’s not cloudy even now when I’m typing these words on board. Just a few of white clouds swimming in the skies, that’s why our take off wasn’t too shaky. I can perfectly see the beautiful face of our Homeland – the Earth. I can see long and winding roads covered its body like arteries and veins. But I am too high to see the blood in the veins, I mean any moving objects on the roads that divide square-like settlements and pass across fields and no-man areas. And I am too far to distinguish the curving edge of the Earth that has merged and converged with horizon. Some pieces of white clouds resemble king size beds and make me feel like jumping on them and take good rest after 4 days of a busy trip. I can’t believe that I could penetrate them. They look very firm and dense and convincing. Thanks God, the windows are shut for good!
I am leaving Prague with marvellous memories of a town filled with beauty and politeness. ‘Dobry den’, ‘Dekuju’ & ‘Na shledanou’ would make a day for you in Prague. They are really magic words to be used everywhere and with anyone in Prague. A city defeated by many tribes, armies and empires. An easy prey for occupiers. They have never tried to fight against usurpers in order to keep their dazzling capital to prosper on. Nowadays one can see Hungarian, French, German, Austrian, Russian and Soviet cultural traces in Prague’s architecture and painting and that makes it even more mysterious and beautiful. Karluv most (Charles’ Bridge) over the dark Vltava resembled Moscow’s Arbat to me. And Russian could be heard all across the town with Russian-speaking shop-keepers, painters and tourists.
I was amazed by the quiet nature of the Czech people: how could the makers of the finest beer in the world be so easy going and noiseless. But last night I saw a herd of drunken desperados shouting, swearing, peeing and farting (anyway it sounded like someone was farting) as if the city was there bathroom. I approached them for a little research of rare species of the town. And would you believe me? They were swearing in London accent and no word in Czech. Desperate beer-thirsty English youth!
Prague is a mixture of Eastern and Western Europe. And Czech people are a mild polite but cold nation with a sort of embarrassment or complex of inferiority in front of a Western European, whereas unaware of their own assets and Western pitfalls. That was my short conclusion. But by and large I like Prague, I like Czechs and I like their language.
But today isn’t too cloudy. It was even a bit too hot in Prague, so that I had to add some three more kilograms to my luggage by leaving my warm jacket in the bag. However, for the first time in my life (at least as far as I remember) I didn’t have to pay for excess luggage.
Yeah, it’s not cloudy even now when I’m typing these words on board. Just a few of white clouds swimming in the skies, that’s why our take off wasn’t too shaky. I can perfectly see the beautiful face of our Homeland – the Earth. I can see long and winding roads covered its body like arteries and veins. But I am too high to see the blood in the veins, I mean any moving objects on the roads that divide square-like settlements and pass across fields and no-man areas. And I am too far to distinguish the curving edge of the Earth that has merged and converged with horizon. Some pieces of white clouds resemble king size beds and make me feel like jumping on them and take good rest after 4 days of a busy trip. I can’t believe that I could penetrate them. They look very firm and dense and convincing. Thanks God, the windows are shut for good!
I am leaving Prague with marvellous memories of a town filled with beauty and politeness. ‘Dobry den’, ‘Dekuju’ & ‘Na shledanou’ would make a day for you in Prague. They are really magic words to be used everywhere and with anyone in Prague. A city defeated by many tribes, armies and empires. An easy prey for occupiers. They have never tried to fight against usurpers in order to keep their dazzling capital to prosper on. Nowadays one can see Hungarian, French, German, Austrian, Russian and Soviet cultural traces in Prague’s architecture and painting and that makes it even more mysterious and beautiful. Karluv most (Charles’ Bridge) over the dark Vltava resembled Moscow’s Arbat to me. And Russian could be heard all across the town with Russian-speaking shop-keepers, painters and tourists.
I was amazed by the quiet nature of the Czech people: how could the makers of the finest beer in the world be so easy going and noiseless. But last night I saw a herd of drunken desperados shouting, swearing, peeing and farting (anyway it sounded like someone was farting) as if the city was there bathroom. I approached them for a little research of rare species of the town. And would you believe me? They were swearing in London accent and no word in Czech. Desperate beer-thirsty English youth!
Prague is a mixture of Eastern and Western Europe. And Czech people are a mild polite but cold nation with a sort of embarrassment or complex of inferiority in front of a Western European, whereas unaware of their own assets and Western pitfalls. That was my short conclusion. But by and large I like Prague, I like Czechs and I like their language.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Poetic Night Challenges Despair
Ба М. Пагох, ки ба колбуди илхомам даме тоза дамид
Шабе, ки гусса гиребони ман гирифту фишурд
Маро чаковаки озоди шеър бони шуд
Хушо саъодати дидор бо аниси газал
Тилисми гусса бипошиду шеърхони шуд
به م. پگاه که به کالبد الهامم دمي تازه دميد
شبي که غصه گريببان من گرفت و فشرد
مرا چکاوک آزاد شعر باني شد
خوشا سعادت ديدار با انيس غزل
طلسم غصه بپاشيد و شعرخواني شد
London
24/04/05
03:00
Шабе, ки гусса гиребони ман гирифту фишурд
Маро чаковаки озоди шеър бони шуд
Хушо саъодати дидор бо аниси газал
Тилисми гусса бипошиду шеърхони шуд
به م. پگاه که به کالبد الهامم دمي تازه دميد
شبي که غصه گريببان من گرفت و فشرد
مرا چکاوک آزاد شعر باني شد
خوشا سعادت ديدار با انيس غزل
طلسم غصه بپاشيد و شعرخواني شد
London
24/04/05
03:00
Monday, April 18, 2005
The Final Feather For Today
Хоб дидам, хамнафас, имшаб
Коби андухи чашмхоятро
Ламс кардам бо диле ларзон
Хачми торики хашмхоятро
خواب ديدم، همنفس، امشب
قاب اندوه چشمهايت را
لمس کردم با دلي لرزان
حجم تاريک خشمهايت را
Дарди сангини дили хубат
Бо касоват хамлаам мекард...
Биркаи ашкат маро балъид
Гум шудам дар интихои дард
درد سنگين دل خوبت
با قساوت حمله ام مي کرد
برکه اشکت مرا بلعيد
گم شدم در انتهاي درد
Эй ки лабхандат бахори буд
Буи талхи хазон меори
Бо нигохи сарди поизи
Рихвати човидон меори
اي که لبخندت بهاري بود
بوي تلخ خزان مي آري
با نگاه سرد پاييزي
رخوت جاودان مي آري
Эй ки бе ту сарои ман холи!
Пургунохам пеши чашмонат
Боз хохи дид бо лабханд
Бар рухи марди пашимонат?
اي که بي تو سراي من خالي
پرگناهم پيش چشمانت
باز خواهي ديد با لبخند
بر رخ مرد پشيمانت؟
London
18/04/05
04:34am
Коби андухи чашмхоятро
Ламс кардам бо диле ларзон
Хачми торики хашмхоятро
خواب ديدم، همنفس، امشب
قاب اندوه چشمهايت را
لمس کردم با دلي لرزان
حجم تاريک خشمهايت را
Дарди сангини дили хубат
Бо касоват хамлаам мекард...
Биркаи ашкат маро балъид
Гум шудам дар интихои дард
درد سنگين دل خوبت
با قساوت حمله ام مي کرد
برکه اشکت مرا بلعيد
گم شدم در انتهاي درد
Эй ки лабхандат бахори буд
Буи талхи хазон меори
Бо нигохи сарди поизи
Рихвати човидон меори
اي که لبخندت بهاري بود
بوي تلخ خزان مي آري
با نگاه سرد پاييزي
رخوت جاودان مي آري
Эй ки бе ту сарои ман холи!
Пургунохам пеши чашмонат
Боз хохи дид бо лабханд
Бар рухи марди пашимонат?
اي که بي تو سراي من خالي
پرگناهم پيش چشمانت
باز خواهي ديد با لبخند
بر رخ مرد پشيمانت؟
London
18/04/05
04:34am
The Third Feather of Inspiration
Шахри ман пушти хамон кухи буланд аст
Хамон!
Модаре хаст он чо
Пур аз буи бихишт
Тобиши шуълаи хуршед аз уст
Мохро мехри мунираш ба фазо меорад
Гул бари дидани у меруяд
Осмон гуссаи у меборад
Лола бо шодии у механдад
Булбул аз киссаи у мегуяд
Модаре хаст ба покии Худо...
شهر من پشت همان کوه بلند است
همان!
مادری هست آنجا
پر از بوی بهشت
تابش شعله خورشيد از اوست
ماه را مهر منيرش به فضا می آرد
گل بر ديدن او می رويد
آسمان غصه او می بارد
لاله با شادی او می خندد
بلبل از قصه او می گويد
مادری هست به پاکی خدا...
Модаре
Пушти хамон кухи буланд
Чашмбарох
Куххо дасти дуъои уянд
Чашмахо замзамаи сураи девандозаш
مادری
پشت همان کوه بلند
چشم براه
کوهها دست دعای اويند
چشمه ها زمزمه سوره ديو اندازش
Модаре хаст, ки пахнои замин
Сурати калби чахонгири уст
Он бузургахтари рахшон ба фазо
Ки ба у менигарад
Чашми уммеди равони модари пири уст
Модаре хаст, ки номуси Худост
مادری هست که پهنای زمين
صورت قلب جهانگير اوست
آن بزرگ اختر رخشان به فضا
چشم اميد روان مادر پير اوست
مادری هست که ناموس خداست
Хадаф аз халки башар у буда
Боги пурбори Худоро
Бехтарин бору самар у буда
هدف از خلق بشر او بوده
باغ پربار خدا را
بهترين بار و ثمر او بوده
Модаре хаст, ки буд
Модаре хаст, ки хаст
Модаре хаст, ки то чархи замин мегардад
Хохад монд.
مادری هست که بود
مادری هست که هست
مادری هست که تا چرخ زمين می گردد
خواهد ماند
London
18/04/05
03:19am
Хамон!
Модаре хаст он чо
Пур аз буи бихишт
Тобиши шуълаи хуршед аз уст
Мохро мехри мунираш ба фазо меорад
Гул бари дидани у меруяд
Осмон гуссаи у меборад
Лола бо шодии у механдад
Булбул аз киссаи у мегуяд
Модаре хаст ба покии Худо...
شهر من پشت همان کوه بلند است
همان!
مادری هست آنجا
پر از بوی بهشت
تابش شعله خورشيد از اوست
ماه را مهر منيرش به فضا می آرد
گل بر ديدن او می رويد
آسمان غصه او می بارد
لاله با شادی او می خندد
بلبل از قصه او می گويد
مادری هست به پاکی خدا...
Модаре
Пушти хамон кухи буланд
Чашмбарох
Куххо дасти дуъои уянд
Чашмахо замзамаи сураи девандозаш
مادری
پشت همان کوه بلند
چشم براه
کوهها دست دعای اويند
چشمه ها زمزمه سوره ديو اندازش
Модаре хаст, ки пахнои замин
Сурати калби чахонгири уст
Он бузургахтари рахшон ба фазо
Ки ба у менигарад
Чашми уммеди равони модари пири уст
Модаре хаст, ки номуси Худост
مادری هست که پهنای زمين
صورت قلب جهانگير اوست
آن بزرگ اختر رخشان به فضا
چشم اميد روان مادر پير اوست
مادری هست که ناموس خداست
Хадаф аз халки башар у буда
Боги пурбори Худоро
Бехтарин бору самар у буда
هدف از خلق بشر او بوده
باغ پربار خدا را
بهترين بار و ثمر او بوده
Модаре хаст, ки буд
Модаре хаст, ки хаст
Модаре хаст, ки то чархи замин мегардад
Хохад монд.
مادری هست که بود
مادری هست که هست
مادری هست که تا چرخ زمين می گردد
خواهد ماند
London
18/04/05
03:19am
The Second Feather of Inspiration
Хумори дуди захрогин
мекашад бозам
Оташак медурахшид дуздида
Фикри хоме барои дилдори –
Бо ту захри замон даво созам
خمار دود زهرآگين
می کشد بازم
آتشک می درخشد دزديده
فکر خامی برای دلداری –
با تو زهر زمان دوا سازم
Тик-тики соъати девори хамуш
Мекашад бори сахти танхои
Бо гурур
Мебарад акнуни маро
Ману хона ва шахри хобида
Савори сонияхо
تيک تيک ساعت ديوار خموش
می کشد بار سخت تنهايی
با غرور
می برد اکنون مرا
من و خانه و شهر خوابيده
سوار ثانيه ها
Ёхтахо масти сигор мемиранд
Тозахо чои кухан мегиранд
Акраба метозад...
ياخته ها مست سيگار می ميرند
تازه ها جای کهن می گيرند
عقربه می تازد...
Чашми оина хамуш
Касеро хавасе нест канораш бошад
То ба у
Радди он акраба бар сурати худ бинмояд...
چشم آيينه خموش
کسی را هوسی نيست کنارش باشد
تا به او
رد آن عقربه بر صورت خود بنمايد...
London
18/04/05
02:21am
мекашад бозам
Оташак медурахшид дуздида
Фикри хоме барои дилдори –
Бо ту захри замон даво созам
خمار دود زهرآگين
می کشد بازم
آتشک می درخشد دزديده
فکر خامی برای دلداری –
با تو زهر زمان دوا سازم
Тик-тики соъати девори хамуш
Мекашад бори сахти танхои
Бо гурур
Мебарад акнуни маро
Ману хона ва шахри хобида
Савори сонияхо
تيک تيک ساعت ديوار خموش
می کشد بار سخت تنهايی
با غرور
می برد اکنون مرا
من و خانه و شهر خوابيده
سوار ثانيه ها
Ёхтахо масти сигор мемиранд
Тозахо чои кухан мегиранд
Акраба метозад...
ياخته ها مست سيگار می ميرند
تازه ها جای کهن می گيرند
عقربه می تازد...
Чашми оина хамуш
Касеро хавасе нест канораш бошад
То ба у
Радди он акраба бар сурати худ бинмояд...
چشم آيينه خموش
کسی را هوسی نيست کنارش باشد
تا به او
رد آن عقربه بر صورت خود بنمايد...
London
18/04/05
02:21am
Awakened Persian Inspiration
Рузгорест синаам пуч аст
Чашми афкори тираам луч аст
روزگاري است سينه ام پوچ است
چشم افکار تيره ام لوچ است
Лолахо дар сароб хушкида
Ахтарон бо шахоб галтида
لاله ها در سراب خشکيده
اختران با شهاب غلطيده
Ёхтахои танам пашимон аст
Ки даруни харими вайрон аст
ياخته هاي تنم پشيمان است
که درون حريم ويران است
Сарнишини осонсури торих
Кубида мисли баргае бо мех
سرنشين آسانسور تاريخ
کوبيده مثل برگه اي با ميخ
Бод аз ламси ман гурезон аст
Шуълаи ломпи ман чи сузон аст!
باد از لمس من گريزان است
شعله لامپ من چه سوزان است
На тавони ба ломп ёзидан
Ва на имкони чон бозидан
نه توان به لامپ يازيدن
و نه امکان جان بازيدن
Дугмаи «ист»-и он нопайдост,
На «олорм»-е ба сохибаш, ки Худост
دگمه "ايست" آن ناپيداست
نه "آلارم"-ي به صاحبش که خداست
На Суруше барад паёмамро
Мочарохои субху шомамро
نه سروشي برد پيامم را
ماجرا هاي صبح و شامم را
Хар чи овоз – касидаи бим аст
Хама “we got him” ва “killed him” аст
هر چه آواز - قصيده بيم است
همه
"we got him" و
"killed him"
است
Кахкароист сайри ин мошин
Аз буландо равонаи поин
قهقرايي است سير اين ماشين
از بلندا روانه پايين
Мушхо мекашанд танобашро
Пашшахо баста чашму бобашро
موشها مي کشند تنابش را
پشه بسته چشم بابش را...
London
18/04/05
Чашми афкори тираам луч аст
روزگاري است سينه ام پوچ است
چشم افکار تيره ام لوچ است
Лолахо дар сароб хушкида
Ахтарон бо шахоб галтида
لاله ها در سراب خشکيده
اختران با شهاب غلطيده
Ёхтахои танам пашимон аст
Ки даруни харими вайрон аст
ياخته هاي تنم پشيمان است
که درون حريم ويران است
Сарнишини осонсури торих
Кубида мисли баргае бо мех
سرنشين آسانسور تاريخ
کوبيده مثل برگه اي با ميخ
Бод аз ламси ман гурезон аст
Шуълаи ломпи ман чи сузон аст!
باد از لمس من گريزان است
شعله لامپ من چه سوزان است
На тавони ба ломп ёзидан
Ва на имкони чон бозидан
نه توان به لامپ يازيدن
و نه امکان جان بازيدن
Дугмаи «ист»-и он нопайдост,
На «олорм»-е ба сохибаш, ки Худост
دگمه "ايست" آن ناپيداست
نه "آلارم"-ي به صاحبش که خداست
На Суруше барад паёмамро
Мочарохои субху шомамро
نه سروشي برد پيامم را
ماجرا هاي صبح و شامم را
Хар чи овоз – касидаи бим аст
Хама “we got him” ва “killed him” аст
هر چه آواز - قصيده بيم است
همه
"we got him" و
"killed him"
است
Кахкароист сайри ин мошин
Аз буландо равонаи поин
قهقرايي است سير اين ماشين
از بلندا روانه پايين
Мушхо мекашанд танобашро
Пашшахо баста чашму бобашро
موشها مي کشند تنابش را
پشه بسته چشم بابش را...
London
18/04/05
Friday, April 15, 2005
Lost Hats and Stolen Thrones
It’s drizzling out there and I am happy to be indoors to enjoy my poetic mood rather than being under the rain and moaning about my absent-mindedness that I have lost the second black nylon hat during last couple of months on a train and both of them were from a dear friend of mine…
I have disappeared for a while, I know, and I do feel guilty for that. At least here, in my Thoughtland, I should have appeared more frequently just to let you and myself know that my head is still able to use its brain and there are some thoughts hidden indeed. But I couldn’t find them in my painfully obscure brain during these days…
I don’t know what happened, but strangely for myself I could see how the clouds of obscurity started getting dispersed and going away and the atmosphere resumed pushing my chest to breathe deeper and forced my eyes to see colours other than black.
I even decided to wipe the thick dust off my radio receiver (a gift from another friend of mine) and replace its rusted batteries to make it speak again.
Throughout those bleak days of obscurity I was silently watching dramatic events in my region. (By “silently” I mean my mental state, otherwise I was shouting and moving in the office.)
The most democratic leader in Central Asia fell down of his throne and ran away as soon as he fell. (By “the most democratic” I mean comparatively open society in the region. I don’t want to give you any illusions of real democracy in that part of the world. Because the real one does not exist in the contemporary world at all, let alone my remote region).
I talked to him, the overthrown monarch that apparently had an intention to root himself and his dynasty to the throne by promoting his siblings – son and daughter – to seize the seats in the parliament. I could feel the sound of remorse trembling in his academically thoughtful words. He was not the same Askar Akayev anymore. Otherwise I couldn’t get him just like that over the phone. He had no hope to regain his authority. It was gone for good and he could realize it. The only thing he was asking for was a certain respect to his historic personality and guaranteed return to his homeland. Respect was given afterwards, but his return is not guaranteed yet.
Firstly, all experts pointed at the US again: the evil empire is spreading its branches in Central Asia and another mushroom-like pro-American regime was born. Even Akayev was certain that “the tulip revolution” was planned by America, namely by its Ambassador to Bishkek, Stephen Young. He prompted me to find the plan in the Internet and I did. The document did really have Young’s signature underneath. Of course, the accusation was firmly denied by Mr Young in Bishkek.
However, nowadays I can hear more whispers about Russia’s role in the Kyrgyz “revolution”. As if Russia just didn’t want to seat and wait until another “pro-American” revolution will overthrow a pro-Moscow regime in the region. Putin has decided to do that himself just by replacing one amicable partner with another one. Surprisingly, current affairs in Kyrgyzstan and early statements of Bakiev (the new Kyrgyz leader) about Russia support this speculation convincingly.
If to believe to the plan purported to be the American plot against Akayev’s regime that coincides with the whole process of the events in Bishkek and its consequences, the incumbent regime in Tajikistan will be the next government to be washed away by the tide of “velvet revolutions” in ex-Soviet empire, followed by Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.
According to another hypothesis, that plan could have been drafted by Moscow and fraudulently “has been signed” by Stephen Young. Otherwise how to explain unexpected release of the Tajik Democrats’ leader Mohammadruzi Iskandarov in Moscow, whereas he was detained by Russian special forces at Dushanbe’s request 4 months back to face extradition to Tajik authorities? And as soon as he gets freed, in a letter of gratitude to Putin he says: “Dear President! You gave me freedom and I will try to return it to my people!” and starts chanting revolutionary slogans in his interviews and frankly wishing about the repetition of the Kyrgyz scenario in Tajikistan.
Can you really imagine that anything would change in that static country? I know that the picture looks too hopeless, but who could predict what happened in Kyrgyzstan before it did? Even the main factors of the change of power in Kyrgyzstan, as it was put by the leaders of the revolution, are obvious in Tajikistan too: annoying poverty and wide-spread corruption.
I refrain myself from any sort of predictions, but I have some feelings indeed. Something is approaching and something, or even maybe everything, will change in my country too. Just because it has to. Everything changes and Tajikistan is not an exemption. It is a part of the process of evolution too.
Tajikistan is crying for a change, otherwise we will lose it for good. No, no! I am by no means exaggerating, dear!
I have disappeared for a while, I know, and I do feel guilty for that. At least here, in my Thoughtland, I should have appeared more frequently just to let you and myself know that my head is still able to use its brain and there are some thoughts hidden indeed. But I couldn’t find them in my painfully obscure brain during these days…
I don’t know what happened, but strangely for myself I could see how the clouds of obscurity started getting dispersed and going away and the atmosphere resumed pushing my chest to breathe deeper and forced my eyes to see colours other than black.
I even decided to wipe the thick dust off my radio receiver (a gift from another friend of mine) and replace its rusted batteries to make it speak again.
Throughout those bleak days of obscurity I was silently watching dramatic events in my region. (By “silently” I mean my mental state, otherwise I was shouting and moving in the office.)
The most democratic leader in Central Asia fell down of his throne and ran away as soon as he fell. (By “the most democratic” I mean comparatively open society in the region. I don’t want to give you any illusions of real democracy in that part of the world. Because the real one does not exist in the contemporary world at all, let alone my remote region).
I talked to him, the overthrown monarch that apparently had an intention to root himself and his dynasty to the throne by promoting his siblings – son and daughter – to seize the seats in the parliament. I could feel the sound of remorse trembling in his academically thoughtful words. He was not the same Askar Akayev anymore. Otherwise I couldn’t get him just like that over the phone. He had no hope to regain his authority. It was gone for good and he could realize it. The only thing he was asking for was a certain respect to his historic personality and guaranteed return to his homeland. Respect was given afterwards, but his return is not guaranteed yet.
Firstly, all experts pointed at the US again: the evil empire is spreading its branches in Central Asia and another mushroom-like pro-American regime was born. Even Akayev was certain that “the tulip revolution” was planned by America, namely by its Ambassador to Bishkek, Stephen Young. He prompted me to find the plan in the Internet and I did. The document did really have Young’s signature underneath. Of course, the accusation was firmly denied by Mr Young in Bishkek.
However, nowadays I can hear more whispers about Russia’s role in the Kyrgyz “revolution”. As if Russia just didn’t want to seat and wait until another “pro-American” revolution will overthrow a pro-Moscow regime in the region. Putin has decided to do that himself just by replacing one amicable partner with another one. Surprisingly, current affairs in Kyrgyzstan and early statements of Bakiev (the new Kyrgyz leader) about Russia support this speculation convincingly.
If to believe to the plan purported to be the American plot against Akayev’s regime that coincides with the whole process of the events in Bishkek and its consequences, the incumbent regime in Tajikistan will be the next government to be washed away by the tide of “velvet revolutions” in ex-Soviet empire, followed by Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.
According to another hypothesis, that plan could have been drafted by Moscow and fraudulently “has been signed” by Stephen Young. Otherwise how to explain unexpected release of the Tajik Democrats’ leader Mohammadruzi Iskandarov in Moscow, whereas he was detained by Russian special forces at Dushanbe’s request 4 months back to face extradition to Tajik authorities? And as soon as he gets freed, in a letter of gratitude to Putin he says: “Dear President! You gave me freedom and I will try to return it to my people!” and starts chanting revolutionary slogans in his interviews and frankly wishing about the repetition of the Kyrgyz scenario in Tajikistan.
Can you really imagine that anything would change in that static country? I know that the picture looks too hopeless, but who could predict what happened in Kyrgyzstan before it did? Even the main factors of the change of power in Kyrgyzstan, as it was put by the leaders of the revolution, are obvious in Tajikistan too: annoying poverty and wide-spread corruption.
I refrain myself from any sort of predictions, but I have some feelings indeed. Something is approaching and something, or even maybe everything, will change in my country too. Just because it has to. Everything changes and Tajikistan is not an exemption. It is a part of the process of evolution too.
Tajikistan is crying for a change, otherwise we will lose it for good. No, no! I am by no means exaggerating, dear!
Friday, March 04, 2005
A Bedtime Story For Anoush
Tonight I overheard Anoush asking her Mum to read a bedtime story and they left the room together. I thought what I would have tolf her, if she would have asked me for a story tonight...
Once upon a time there was a dreamy boy full of life, with love to the life and a life twisted with love in a most remote corner of the forgotten part of the world, behind a highest mountain chain of the globe. To him anything was accessible, everything available and all existing knowledge achievable (Since he was far beyond realities, he really believed in his human power). He could see the hedges and fences around, but did never look at them indeed. He preferred to fly over them without giving them a minor honour to be seen by him. He was a tiny being, but too big to himself. Too ambitious with a huge store of pink dreams in his mind.
His continuous and spontaneous successes in different aspects of his life provided him with a stronger pair of wings to fly higher and higher over the mountains to eventually leave them behind in order to recollect them again with a bitter taste of nostalgia in his mind.
He grew up in a self-confident self-concentrated self-believer with sometimes destructively high self-esteem.
However, suddenly far away from the mountains on flat, noisy but cosy valleys the only thing he could see around was a successive chain of mountains and the spirit of Angra Mainyu started hovering over him turning him from a well-wisher into a fighter.
He had never anticipated seeing those tremendous obstacles in the valleys. He had been told about a flat piece of the Earth where one could walk as far as he could, see as much as he wanted and talk as much as his tongue was able to articulate. But now the invisible mountains were threateningly tightening around him, the clouds turning into heavy smog to obstruct his vision and bees were set up to sting his tongue whenever he dares to open his mouth.
Whereas deprived from seeing visually he managed to enhance his internal vision and realized how silly he was to believe the fairy-tales he used to enjoy listening to back behind the physical mountains. The fairy-tales about the valleys. He suddenly realized how much he needs those visible mountains that used to recharge him with fresh power of imagination. He decided to hide behind those mountains and again believe in the valley fairy-tales. Anyway, it was a more pleasant existence…
But he still had some remains of self-esteem to refrain him from acknowledging his defeat. The image of his native mountains started building up the lost part of his self-confidence and he decided to stop seeing the invisible mountains around and suddenly they started fading in his vision… Fading very slowly though…
Now go to bed, Anoush-jan. I’ll tell you the rest later on.
Once upon a time there was a dreamy boy full of life, with love to the life and a life twisted with love in a most remote corner of the forgotten part of the world, behind a highest mountain chain of the globe. To him anything was accessible, everything available and all existing knowledge achievable (Since he was far beyond realities, he really believed in his human power). He could see the hedges and fences around, but did never look at them indeed. He preferred to fly over them without giving them a minor honour to be seen by him. He was a tiny being, but too big to himself. Too ambitious with a huge store of pink dreams in his mind.
His continuous and spontaneous successes in different aspects of his life provided him with a stronger pair of wings to fly higher and higher over the mountains to eventually leave them behind in order to recollect them again with a bitter taste of nostalgia in his mind.
He grew up in a self-confident self-concentrated self-believer with sometimes destructively high self-esteem.
However, suddenly far away from the mountains on flat, noisy but cosy valleys the only thing he could see around was a successive chain of mountains and the spirit of Angra Mainyu started hovering over him turning him from a well-wisher into a fighter.
He had never anticipated seeing those tremendous obstacles in the valleys. He had been told about a flat piece of the Earth where one could walk as far as he could, see as much as he wanted and talk as much as his tongue was able to articulate. But now the invisible mountains were threateningly tightening around him, the clouds turning into heavy smog to obstruct his vision and bees were set up to sting his tongue whenever he dares to open his mouth.
Whereas deprived from seeing visually he managed to enhance his internal vision and realized how silly he was to believe the fairy-tales he used to enjoy listening to back behind the physical mountains. The fairy-tales about the valleys. He suddenly realized how much he needs those visible mountains that used to recharge him with fresh power of imagination. He decided to hide behind those mountains and again believe in the valley fairy-tales. Anyway, it was a more pleasant existence…
But he still had some remains of self-esteem to refrain him from acknowledging his defeat. The image of his native mountains started building up the lost part of his self-confidence and he decided to stop seeing the invisible mountains around and suddenly they started fading in his vision… Fading very slowly though…
Now go to bed, Anoush-jan. I’ll tell you the rest later on.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Snow, Planes and Sharks
I saw off another friend of mine to the airport today...
It is still snowing in the town,
A mesmerizing image of whiteness
Whirling flakes doodling the air
In a hectic dance of lightness
I envy them and close my eyes
And think how much I hate the planes
The ones that take away my friends
While I am rocking on a train
My ears loving music notes
My eyes still shut to see the dark
And people drawn in their thoughts
Those mean, abusive eating sharks
I’m giving up myself to them –
My sharky thoughts as well, and see
An oozing heart that dripping blood
To paint my velvet reverie
The gently rocking train again
Reminds me my enormous hate
Towards the iron-hearted planes
That don’t unite but separate.
Heathrow-Wood Green
13'00
010305
It is still snowing in the town,
A mesmerizing image of whiteness
Whirling flakes doodling the air
In a hectic dance of lightness
I envy them and close my eyes
And think how much I hate the planes
The ones that take away my friends
While I am rocking on a train
My ears loving music notes
My eyes still shut to see the dark
And people drawn in their thoughts
Those mean, abusive eating sharks
I’m giving up myself to them –
My sharky thoughts as well, and see
An oozing heart that dripping blood
To paint my velvet reverie
The gently rocking train again
Reminds me my enormous hate
Towards the iron-hearted planes
That don’t unite but separate.
Heathrow-Wood Green
13'00
010305
Saturday, February 26, 2005
A Wish
I need some changes
To bloom as a flower in March
Surrounding the cages
And turning them into gardens
Do you think it's too much
To bloom as a flower in March?..
I need some leaf whispers
To fuse with a nightingale's song
I want the yellow to get dispersed
And the green to penetrate my being
Do you think it is wrong
To fuse with a nightingale's song?..
I need to build up a chapel
To whisper my nonsense
And pray to an apple
Fallen into my palm
Is it making a sense
To whisper my nonsense?..
To bloom as a flower in March
Surrounding the cages
And turning them into gardens
Do you think it's too much
To bloom as a flower in March?..
I need some leaf whispers
To fuse with a nightingale's song
I want the yellow to get dispersed
And the green to penetrate my being
Do you think it is wrong
To fuse with a nightingale's song?..
I need to build up a chapel
To whisper my nonsense
And pray to an apple
Fallen into my palm
Is it making a sense
To whisper my nonsense?..
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
"One Roof with Two Weathers" a Persian saying
Over 400 people killed in an earthquake in Zarand, Iran and we have managed to forget it so quickly. It took us just 24 hours to send those terrifying images of dead bodies to oblivion and go back to our favourite theme of Bush and his adventures. Now in Europe: “The United States and Germany say they have agreed to put their differences behind them, ending many months of sometimes bitter disagreement stemming from their row over Iraq”...
Why am I saying that now, after 24 hours? The same picture was even yesterday; on the day the quake shook Iran and absorbed the country into sorrow again; over a year after the demonic Bam quake with over 32 000 dead.
All the Western networks preferred to follow Bush in Europe, step by step, and tell us what sort of new poisonous nonsense he was spreading around and what he was chatting about with his European “allies” behind a glass of so terribly hated French Chardonnay in an “old European” hotel conference hall surrounded by his disloyal European friends trying to call on their previous loyalty to America again… “Guys, I’m tired being lonely. Please don’t be cross with me anymore and get back. My burden is getting too heavy now…” Pathetic call to America’s only powerful “friends”.
That was more important than Iranian deaths thousands of miles away. Of course, dude! They were not precious American or European lives. They were just Iranians! How many? Over 400? So what? It doesn’t matter how many of them have died, but it does matter who has died, of what nationality. If they would have been the first class citizens of the globe, we could have witnessed a three day mourning even in the Far East and even further on the Moon, if an astronaut happened to find himself there on that day… But they were just few hundred of Iranian lives not worthy to mention at the beginning of news slots. That would upset first class citizens’ moods in God-chosen countries. Let them live their happy lives. They deserve it.
Who would dare to remind me equilibrium and equality in the world now? How long we could be fed with this sort of garbage idealism that has no basis in the real world?
Why am I saying that now, after 24 hours? The same picture was even yesterday; on the day the quake shook Iran and absorbed the country into sorrow again; over a year after the demonic Bam quake with over 32 000 dead.
All the Western networks preferred to follow Bush in Europe, step by step, and tell us what sort of new poisonous nonsense he was spreading around and what he was chatting about with his European “allies” behind a glass of so terribly hated French Chardonnay in an “old European” hotel conference hall surrounded by his disloyal European friends trying to call on their previous loyalty to America again… “Guys, I’m tired being lonely. Please don’t be cross with me anymore and get back. My burden is getting too heavy now…” Pathetic call to America’s only powerful “friends”.
That was more important than Iranian deaths thousands of miles away. Of course, dude! They were not precious American or European lives. They were just Iranians! How many? Over 400? So what? It doesn’t matter how many of them have died, but it does matter who has died, of what nationality. If they would have been the first class citizens of the globe, we could have witnessed a three day mourning even in the Far East and even further on the Moon, if an astronaut happened to find himself there on that day… But they were just few hundred of Iranian lives not worthy to mention at the beginning of news slots. That would upset first class citizens’ moods in God-chosen countries. Let them live their happy lives. They deserve it.
Who would dare to remind me equilibrium and equality in the world now? How long we could be fed with this sort of garbage idealism that has no basis in the real world?
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Meet Me
Hello,
I’m ambiversion
Curious as an ant
The meaning of “subversion”
Subverted on demand
Hello,
I’m ambivalent
As Gemini’s designed
Don’t look in me for a talent
To be a Leo-signed
Hello,
I am amphibic
Not able to be settled
But mockery and mimic
Can push me to a melt…
I’m ambiversion
Curious as an ant
The meaning of “subversion”
Subverted on demand
Hello,
I’m ambivalent
As Gemini’s designed
Don’t look in me for a talent
To be a Leo-signed
Hello,
I am amphibic
Not able to be settled
But mockery and mimic
Can push me to a melt…
Sadhu
Fresh start as a sadhu
Lost in my thoughts and blind to everything
No need for a guru
No need for a mouth
It doesn’t have to eat
It doesn’t have to speak
I want to climb a peak
As far as one could not imagine
No need for a guru
No need for my ears
Cuz don’t they have to listen
They don’t have to be seen
I will forget the meanings
I will forget all words I’ve learnt
No need for a guru
No need for my eyes
Nothing to have a look at
They don’t have to be looked at
Fresh start as a sadhu…
Lost in my thoughts and blind to everything
No need for a guru
No need for a mouth
It doesn’t have to eat
It doesn’t have to speak
I want to climb a peak
As far as one could not imagine
No need for a guru
No need for my ears
Cuz don’t they have to listen
They don’t have to be seen
I will forget the meanings
I will forget all words I’ve learnt
No need for a guru
No need for my eyes
Nothing to have a look at
They don’t have to be looked at
Fresh start as a sadhu…
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Friday, January 21, 2005
Could You Be Happy If You'd Wish?
Is it possible to keep oneself happy all the time?
Yes, if you would depend on yourself only.
No, because you never depend on yourself only...
When you come home and see your bird soaked in sorrow and drenched in apathy, while her eyes look at you, but don't see you penetrating your image by the heavy grief of her dazzling eyes, you feel like an empty place with your stupid smile evaporating in air and your silly playing eyes X-rayed by stronger pair of eyes and infected by them...
When you try to piece together few lines in your work-absorbed sporadic mind to recite an ode for her to inspire her for a beatiful song and instead you see the sorrow melting and pouring down from her crystal eyes pushed by the power of a loud heart-breaking Requiem, you forget the purpose of odes altogether...
When she leaves you with your annoying laptop resting on your aching laps and flies back to her cage to rest (from sorrow), you feel like nothing else but following her, confining yourself in her cage and sharing her sorrow and getting more and more infected and feeling the suffocating power of her grief with no words. As if body language does not mean any motion to be heard or read by the one beside. As if body breathing is a way of talking to each other and exchanging the feelings between each other too. The strongest feeling of the bodies will prevail. In this case the bird's body breathes stronger and makes you breathe slower and feel nerdy, not able to prove your reason to keep happy...
To see the light at the end of the tunnel, I need to find the tunnel first. It seems I can see it already... I gotta take my bird with me to see it together!
Yes, if you would depend on yourself only.
No, because you never depend on yourself only...
When you come home and see your bird soaked in sorrow and drenched in apathy, while her eyes look at you, but don't see you penetrating your image by the heavy grief of her dazzling eyes, you feel like an empty place with your stupid smile evaporating in air and your silly playing eyes X-rayed by stronger pair of eyes and infected by them...
When you try to piece together few lines in your work-absorbed sporadic mind to recite an ode for her to inspire her for a beatiful song and instead you see the sorrow melting and pouring down from her crystal eyes pushed by the power of a loud heart-breaking Requiem, you forget the purpose of odes altogether...
When she leaves you with your annoying laptop resting on your aching laps and flies back to her cage to rest (from sorrow), you feel like nothing else but following her, confining yourself in her cage and sharing her sorrow and getting more and more infected and feeling the suffocating power of her grief with no words. As if body language does not mean any motion to be heard or read by the one beside. As if body breathing is a way of talking to each other and exchanging the feelings between each other too. The strongest feeling of the bodies will prevail. In this case the bird's body breathes stronger and makes you breathe slower and feel nerdy, not able to prove your reason to keep happy...
To see the light at the end of the tunnel, I need to find the tunnel first. It seems I can see it already... I gotta take my bird with me to see it together!
Sunday, January 16, 2005
American Fascism. Part 3
Hi again,
After defining wrong definitions of “democracy” and “republicanism” in “Republican Republic of the United States of America” let us see what the real self of the current political establishment in America may be called.
The present government of the US has based its principles of survival upon lies and misnomers by calling all its opponents within the country “unpatriotic forces” and outside the US – “terrorist groups and states”. Whoever dares to question America’s rightness is condemned to be included in the list of traitors and terrorists. For internal rogue groups and individuals there is one more word in American neo-conservative vocabulary: “liberal”. To them Liberalism is a danger threatening “the republic”.
While originally “liberal” has got the meaning of intellectually independent, broad-minded, magnanimous, frank, open, and genial and according to unbiased dictionaries “liberalism” is “a political theory founded on the natural goodness of humans and the autonomy of the individual and favouring civil and political liberties, government by law with the consent of the governed, and protection from arbitrary authority”
. In other words, liberals are anti-anarchists and supporters of civil and political liberties. Now we know why the US establishment confronts them.
1. We mentioned American lies, but the biggest one is obvious to everybody across the globe: the main excuse to attack on Iraq. The dangerous lethal weapons promised to be removed from Saddam’s disposal proved to be nothing more than a sheer lie. Weapons of Mass Destruction produced by America massively and distributed among its satellite states like Israel have not been discovered even by American survey groups in Iraq. They lied repeatedly and officially even at the General Assembly and some people alongside with a few governments trusted in American words and backed the destructive “pre-emptive measures” of Bush. Nevertheless, the campaign is bound to be known as an illegal one in history, since it did not enjoy the UN’s approval. America got bogged down in Iraq quagmire by means of Bush administration’s lies. This point indicates reactionary policy of the US government;
2. The US still suffers from different types of chauvinism. American chauvinism exhibited by white Americans against black ones is not a subject of the past yet. Arabs and Muslims together with the French have joined the club of “untouchables” who get touched a lot at the airports and on the streets due to their origins.
And there is another kind of chauvinism observed in the relationship between the rich and the poor in the country. An American journalist Charley Reece calls it “State chauvinism” and says: “This system has sucked both power and money away from the local and state governments, where they can be used most efficiently and democratically, to Washington, where the price of admission is a lot of money. We just experienced a presidential contest between millionaires financed by millionaires.”
3. Whoever doubts in imperialistic nature of the US political establishment has to apply for a medical check-up. American imperialism is something very vivid and striking and you ought to be blind not to notice it. All the current US-led wars are being done in the name and for the sake of American imperialism and its immense inexplicable expansionist lust. Just go to the link below to got shocked by a lengthy list of American imperialistic efforts to usurp the world’ control:
http://www.neravt.com/left/invade.htm
The current war is the latest proof of American imperialism as Michael Thorburn put it at an anti-war forum organized in Chicago by the Anti-Imperialist News Service on February 16, 2003: “This war is not about "eliminating weapons of mass destruction" or disarmament because it is U.S. imperialism itself which is militarizing the Persian Gulf and filling the region with nuclear weapons. The war is about U.S. imperialism imposing its military blackmail and domination throughout the Middle East.”
Thus, three points above could easily prove the existence of 3 elements in American politics: being reactionary, chauvinistic and imperialist.
Now let’s compare these points with the general characteristics of fascism by American experts:
“. Fascism is commonly defined as an open terror-based dictatorship which is:
• Reactionary: makes policy based upon current circumstances rather than creating policies to prevent problems; piles lies and misnomers on top of more lies until the truth becomes indistinguishable, revised or forgotten.
• Chauvinistic: Two or more tiered legal systems, varying rights based upon superficial characteristics such as race, creed and origin.
• Imperialist elements of finance capital: Extending a nation's authority by territorial acquisition or by the establishment of economic and political domination of one state over its allies.
Though a dictatorship is the most common association with fascism, a democracy or republic can also be fascist when it strays away from its Tenets of sovereignty. In the 20th Century, many Fascist countries started out as republics.”
And as our neo-conservative “friends” insist, The United States of America has started out as a republic too.
After defining wrong definitions of “democracy” and “republicanism” in “Republican Republic of the United States of America” let us see what the real self of the current political establishment in America may be called.
The present government of the US has based its principles of survival upon lies and misnomers by calling all its opponents within the country “unpatriotic forces” and outside the US – “terrorist groups and states”. Whoever dares to question America’s rightness is condemned to be included in the list of traitors and terrorists. For internal rogue groups and individuals there is one more word in American neo-conservative vocabulary: “liberal”. To them Liberalism is a danger threatening “the republic”.
While originally “liberal” has got the meaning of intellectually independent, broad-minded, magnanimous, frank, open, and genial and according to unbiased dictionaries “liberalism” is “a political theory founded on the natural goodness of humans and the autonomy of the individual and favouring civil and political liberties, government by law with the consent of the governed, and protection from arbitrary authority”
. In other words, liberals are anti-anarchists and supporters of civil and political liberties. Now we know why the US establishment confronts them.
1. We mentioned American lies, but the biggest one is obvious to everybody across the globe: the main excuse to attack on Iraq. The dangerous lethal weapons promised to be removed from Saddam’s disposal proved to be nothing more than a sheer lie. Weapons of Mass Destruction produced by America massively and distributed among its satellite states like Israel have not been discovered even by American survey groups in Iraq. They lied repeatedly and officially even at the General Assembly and some people alongside with a few governments trusted in American words and backed the destructive “pre-emptive measures” of Bush. Nevertheless, the campaign is bound to be known as an illegal one in history, since it did not enjoy the UN’s approval. America got bogged down in Iraq quagmire by means of Bush administration’s lies. This point indicates reactionary policy of the US government;
2. The US still suffers from different types of chauvinism. American chauvinism exhibited by white Americans against black ones is not a subject of the past yet. Arabs and Muslims together with the French have joined the club of “untouchables” who get touched a lot at the airports and on the streets due to their origins.
And there is another kind of chauvinism observed in the relationship between the rich and the poor in the country. An American journalist Charley Reece calls it “State chauvinism” and says: “This system has sucked both power and money away from the local and state governments, where they can be used most efficiently and democratically, to Washington, where the price of admission is a lot of money. We just experienced a presidential contest between millionaires financed by millionaires.”
3. Whoever doubts in imperialistic nature of the US political establishment has to apply for a medical check-up. American imperialism is something very vivid and striking and you ought to be blind not to notice it. All the current US-led wars are being done in the name and for the sake of American imperialism and its immense inexplicable expansionist lust. Just go to the link below to got shocked by a lengthy list of American imperialistic efforts to usurp the world’ control:
http://www.neravt.com/left/invade.htm
The current war is the latest proof of American imperialism as Michael Thorburn put it at an anti-war forum organized in Chicago by the Anti-Imperialist News Service on February 16, 2003: “This war is not about "eliminating weapons of mass destruction" or disarmament because it is U.S. imperialism itself which is militarizing the Persian Gulf and filling the region with nuclear weapons. The war is about U.S. imperialism imposing its military blackmail and domination throughout the Middle East.”
Thus, three points above could easily prove the existence of 3 elements in American politics: being reactionary, chauvinistic and imperialist.
Now let’s compare these points with the general characteristics of fascism by American experts:
“. Fascism is commonly defined as an open terror-based dictatorship which is:
• Reactionary: makes policy based upon current circumstances rather than creating policies to prevent problems; piles lies and misnomers on top of more lies until the truth becomes indistinguishable, revised or forgotten.
• Chauvinistic: Two or more tiered legal systems, varying rights based upon superficial characteristics such as race, creed and origin.
• Imperialist elements of finance capital: Extending a nation's authority by territorial acquisition or by the establishment of economic and political domination of one state over its allies.
Though a dictatorship is the most common association with fascism, a democracy or republic can also be fascist when it strays away from its Tenets of sovereignty. In the 20th Century, many Fascist countries started out as republics.”
And as our neo-conservative “friends” insist, The United States of America has started out as a republic too.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
American Fascism. Part 2
First of all, let us see what THEY mean by “democracy”.
Another US neo-conservative Harry Atwood’s definition of democracy is as follows:
“A government of the masses. Authority derived through mass meeting or any other form of "direct" expression. Results in mobocracy. Attitude toward property is communistic--negating property rights. Attitude toward law is that the will of the majority shall regulate, whether is be based upon deliberation or governed by passion, prejudice, and impulse, without restraint or regard to consequences. Results in demagoguism, license, agitation, discontent, anarchy”.
Of course, you can’t find this unique and weird description of democracy in any well-known dictionary, because it belongs to biased and illusive vision of neo-conservatives only.
Now, what do they mean by “a republic” they cherish so dearly?
We can notice it in a matt comparison of “democracy” and “a republic” by a desperate American neo-conservative:
“In a democracy, the majority rules either directly or through its elected representatives. As in a monarchy, the law is whatever the government determines it to be. Laws do not represent reason. They represent power. The restraint is upon the individual instead of government. Unlike that envisioned under a republican form of government, rights are seen as privileges and permissions that are granted by government and can be rescinded by government”.
Thus, if you believe him, democracy is a government’s Weapon of Mass Destruction and human rights are undermined by the government under democracy. While, I suppose, everybody knows what this ancient Greek word of demokratea means (just a reminder for conservatives: rule of people, people’s dominion).
And “respublica” has got a similar meaning. It is derived from two Latin words res (thing) and publica (public); it literally means 'the public thing(s)'. I think American neo-conservatives should have confronted the very idea of “a republic” for it sounds more communictic and semantically undermines “individual things”.
But in accordance with the most general definition, “a republic” is a political system in which the supreme power lies in a body of citizens who can elect people to represent them or a form of government whose head of state is not a monarch; "the head of state in a republic is usually a president".
Yet in America “a republic” is made of a mixture of elements from three other forms of government: monarchy, aristocracy and democracy: the Presidency is a substitute to the monarchical office; the Senate represents the aristocracy; and the House of Representatives represents the people – an element of democracy. Certainly we know how the latter represents democracy in America and the latest elections in the degrading empire proved our serious concerns about the course of democracy in America.
Actually, democracy is and has to be an element of a republic. Otherwise that neither would be democracy, nor should it be considered a republic. Both ideas would be betrayed. The exact scene we are witnessing in America these days. Even the founders of the republic in the US would be appalled by what their conservative progeny have done.
Thus, after sorting out this deliberate American confusion between two notions of “democracy” and “a republic”, I will come back in a while with my discovery of the real State American fascism which is still passing through its initial phases of formation.
Another US neo-conservative Harry Atwood’s definition of democracy is as follows:
“A government of the masses. Authority derived through mass meeting or any other form of "direct" expression. Results in mobocracy. Attitude toward property is communistic--negating property rights. Attitude toward law is that the will of the majority shall regulate, whether is be based upon deliberation or governed by passion, prejudice, and impulse, without restraint or regard to consequences. Results in demagoguism, license, agitation, discontent, anarchy”.
Of course, you can’t find this unique and weird description of democracy in any well-known dictionary, because it belongs to biased and illusive vision of neo-conservatives only.
Now, what do they mean by “a republic” they cherish so dearly?
We can notice it in a matt comparison of “democracy” and “a republic” by a desperate American neo-conservative:
“In a democracy, the majority rules either directly or through its elected representatives. As in a monarchy, the law is whatever the government determines it to be. Laws do not represent reason. They represent power. The restraint is upon the individual instead of government. Unlike that envisioned under a republican form of government, rights are seen as privileges and permissions that are granted by government and can be rescinded by government”.
Thus, if you believe him, democracy is a government’s Weapon of Mass Destruction and human rights are undermined by the government under democracy. While, I suppose, everybody knows what this ancient Greek word of demokratea means (just a reminder for conservatives: rule of people, people’s dominion).
And “respublica” has got a similar meaning. It is derived from two Latin words res (thing) and publica (public); it literally means 'the public thing(s)'. I think American neo-conservatives should have confronted the very idea of “a republic” for it sounds more communictic and semantically undermines “individual things”.
But in accordance with the most general definition, “a republic” is a political system in which the supreme power lies in a body of citizens who can elect people to represent them or a form of government whose head of state is not a monarch; "the head of state in a republic is usually a president".
Yet in America “a republic” is made of a mixture of elements from three other forms of government: monarchy, aristocracy and democracy: the Presidency is a substitute to the monarchical office; the Senate represents the aristocracy; and the House of Representatives represents the people – an element of democracy. Certainly we know how the latter represents democracy in America and the latest elections in the degrading empire proved our serious concerns about the course of democracy in America.
Actually, democracy is and has to be an element of a republic. Otherwise that neither would be democracy, nor should it be considered a republic. Both ideas would be betrayed. The exact scene we are witnessing in America these days. Even the founders of the republic in the US would be appalled by what their conservative progeny have done.
Thus, after sorting out this deliberate American confusion between two notions of “democracy” and “a republic”, I will come back in a while with my discovery of the real State American fascism which is still passing through its initial phases of formation.
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