Lest we forget... but what are we to remember?

"But if the enemy incline toward peace, you (also) incline toward peace, and trust in Allah: for He is the one that hears and knows all things." (Qur'an 8:61)

Phallocentrism notwithstanding, I feel this a very important exerpt, seeing as how we are to commemorate the ninetieth anniversary of the famed Armistice tomorrow with a moment of silence at eleven o'clock in the morning, as is customary each and every 11 November where I live. In advance of this Day of Rememberance, we don our felt poppies soon after removing our Hallowe'en costumes as if scaling a list of tasks in perfect time. I, too, have adopted a custom in advance of this day on our calendar: I sit before my computer and scribe a lamentation on this space for all to see, wondering whether or not we, as a people, understand why we commemorate this particular day.

It was to be the war that ended all wars, so horrid it was. I cannot personally attest, having not been there myself, though perhaps, in a past life, I was an active participant. All I know is, there were several damned good reasons why this was deemed, at the time, "the war to end all wars": entire continents laid to waste, millions upon millions dead and maimed, artillery the likes of which no one could possibly imagine, to name but a few. Young men were sent by the thousands to kill and to die fighting a war they did not start, young men who wanted only to live, wheedled into doing their duty to their Country, their Crown, their Flag... their "freedom".

This day in 1918 was to mark the termination of the war that ended all wars; sadly, it served to lay the groundwork for one even more brutal. Our collective call to end all wars seemed to take a back seat to our reaping the spoils of the victorious party. Thus it was that a certain nefarious leader who shall remain nameless rose like a phoenix, seeking to reclaim a nation's glory not long ago lost, and we found ourselves back where we were, only this time in a much more brutal manner. Again, entire continents were laid to waste; again, millions upon millions dead and maimed; again, artillery the likes of which we could not possibly fathom ever being borne into existence; again, young men drawn from their homes, sent to kill and to die fighting a war they did not start.

Sadly, yet again, the end of this war served as the catalyst for another, as we witnessed the clash of ideologies of the two triumphant parties. Over the next forty-five years, millions more died needlessly, artillery ascended to new and frightening heights, and more land was laid to waste. Today, it's more of the same, only the "enemy" has a new face for us to hate. And so, as before, more of us are sent to die.

One would figure this day be used to reflect on our past sins so as to avoid repeating them, but all I hear is talk of the sacrifices our forefathers made and our armed forces make today for our "freedom". I, for one, would like for them to tell me just what "freedom" means, for everywhere I look, I see chains: people chained to their jobs, people chained to their possessions, people chained to their bills, people chained to their worries, people chained to their labels. I hear talk from our leaders - the only combat ever seen by most of them being what they saw on television - trumpeting the need for us to "support our troops" as they fight the "enemy" over there before they come here and crap all over our "freedom".

From what I hear emanating from the mouths of our politicians, perhaps we picked the wrong day to commemorate; perhaps we should be marking the start of this "Great War", not the end of it. Nowadays, war drives the economy: tribes are kept in a state of perpetual discord so that we may continue to sell ammunition to each side, and tribes are toppled so as to gain unfettered access to the resources lying beneath the land on which they once lived.

They tell us to honour our dead for the sacrifices they made for us, to thank them for their mettle, for their pluck. To this, I say we should sooner owe them an apology for subjecting them to such horror. Today, we have the effrontery to exploit this tragedy for further personal gain. Here, a killer is branded "murderer", "felon", "thug", or some other like term; send him overseas to kill and he returns a "hero".

There is a reason we commemorate the end of such an atrocious epoch, that reason being we ought never to forget the sins of our past in the hope that they not be repeated. I chose to begin with this exerpt because it makes salient what we ought to be doing, yet are not. More importantly, it is extracted from the religious text of the people who constitute today's "enemy", a people we brazenly portray as bloodthirsty, warlike, bent on our destruction, yet behold, an advocation of peace and understanding, of faith in the common good in everyone. How simple it is for this madness to cease: an offering of peace.

Tomorrow, when I bow my head in a moment of silence, I will tune out the shameless propaganda put forth by our politicians and power-brokers; I will mourn those who suffered needlessly, and I will trust in the benevolent force in everyone that will one day bring forth a lasting peace.

To see the world as a classroom...

This I learned while reading a Buddhist Monk's journey to enlightenment. Here is something else I read recently:

Daily overview for Aries, 6 November 2008: "Look even farther ahead today -- you need to be thinking really long-term, possibly in terms of generations. Your big ideas are worth pursuing, even if you might not see all of their effects."

Yesterday, I faced a trivial yet seemingly difficult decision: should I attend class and keep pace with the discussion material, or attend this "day of action" orchestrated by the Canadian Federation of Students to call on our provincial (and federal, I presume) legislators to drop tuition fees? Having yet to completely purge my diffidence, I asked myself if the latter was really worth doing, if enough of our undergaduate students cared enough to attend the rally, if this collective voice would fall on deaf ears, if I really should bother with such futile nonsense and focus my energy on getting mine. Even as I delayed my arrival to campus to coordinate with the start of the festivities, I questioned whether I was doing the right thing, whether I really belonged here. At this time, I looked upon the volunteers distributing placards and assembling the apparatus and stood arrested by an appreciation for the painstaking efforts they exercised for a cause in which they firmly believed was necessary for all students, and said to myself, "If they are able to make such sacrifices, there's no reason why I shouldn't do the same." So I grabbed a placard and joined the party.

Initially, I was a bit apprehensive, not knowing anyone personally on campus, but soon, I found myself caught in the current of the rally? So what if I didn't know anyone here? We are all students, and as such, face the same tribulations, one of which being feverishly treading water so as to receive some piece of paper and be shuffled off to some job. The energy level continued to rise as the day progressed, as students from our campus convened with those from other campuses to march through the streets of downtown Toronto on our way to the Provincial Legislature. I shouted until I was hoarse, and marched until my legs felt like rubber, but I kept shouting and marching, driven by the energy of the several thousand of us who were there, all with the same hopes and dreams, all with the same setbacks, all with the same purpose. I even made a few friends along the way. All in all, I say I had myself a fine day, all in the while learning the necessary life lessons few classrooms can provide.

The first lesson I learned - and by first, I mean the first that is salient in my mind - regarded the label by which we students were referred at administrative meetings: BIU, or business income unit, if memory serves me correctly. Dare I think this is all we are? It isn't bad enough that we're each assigned a number by which we are identified until graduation, followed by another number at our job; we are further dehumanized by this notion of being nothing more than rudimentary units pumping cash into the university.

The next lesson concerned what we were doing, what we were seeking to accomplish. Sure, this action pertained specifically to post-secondary tuition, but in the grand scheme of things, our action means so much more. It is amazing how one can select a single issue around which to rally, then soon learn how this particular issue connects to everything else. For instance, when delving into government support for post-secondary institutions, one quickly discovers how much is spent each year on war, both domestically and abroad, money better served by bolstering education or health or the well-being of those who struggle for a single meal. A student in college or university can easily sympathize with a worker struggling to pay the bills - the former eventually becomes the latter - or even with someone struggling to exist.

Furthermore - and this might just be the most important one of all - I received a lesson taught to me many times before, yet so easily forgotten; that is, how powerful our attitudes are. Initially, I was skeptical about the whole thing, doubting if this would be worthwhile, wondering if anyone would care, dismissing it before it had a chance to do anything. Then I realized the trap I set for myself: of course it won't work with that attitude! When we doubt the efficacy of our actions, we defeat ourselves before setting foot onto the playing field! We talk and we talk and we talk so much about the so-called enemies we need to conquer - administrations, governments, capitalists, thieves, et cetera - while systematically ignoring the greatest enemy we have ever faced: ourselves. If we continue to shackle ourselves in diffidence, the world around us will remain cold, cruel, uncaring. Any movement, whatever the cause may be, aimed at making our world more loving, more respectful, more compassionate, begins not with a critical mass taking to the streets, nor with the distribution of a newsletter; rather, it starts within each of us, when we decide there are matters more important than jumping through the required number of hoops that require our attention, when we realize the power to facilitate change - real change! - lies not within some outside authority, but within each of us.

Today, I did not go to campus, for there was no academic activity; our teaching assistants, graduate assistants and contract faculty walked off the job this morning. An ugly two-month-long propaganda war, bound to continue for a while yet, has resulted in this job action, leaving not only their future but ours in limbo. During these last two months, I've been exposed to a variety of opinions on the matter: the Administration decried the Union's "unreasonable" demands; the Union remonstrated the sub-poverty living its members are earning; students all over fretted over their future. I'll admit, I don't know the whole story - then again, how many of us do? - but, if what they say is true, I don't see anything wrong with demanding a living wage.

This impasse, though, is not solely about money, but something far greater. It is also about academic freedom being compromised by corporate interests who pump cash into universities. It is also about how our we are educated, a matter I described in greater detail in a recent post: can we really call this an institute of "higher learning" if we are trained not to reason for ourselves and believe in the potential of our own ideas, but rather to jump through hoop after bloody hoop, performing at each step for treats in the form of grades and grants and other goodies, living in constant fear of rejection? What the fuck kind of "higher learning" is this?

Please excuse my potty mouth; I'm whipping myself into a frenzy.

I don't exactly know to which "big ideas" of mine my horoscope eludes, but I concur with the need for thinking long-term, over several generations, for this line explicates why we do this: we don't actively seek change for ourselves, but those who will inherit this world one day and ought not to have our problems bestowed upon them.

That's enough incoherent rambling for me this evening.

Trading Faces

Here I sit, snug in my living room, the only sound being the tapping of keys on the computer and the tumbling of the clothes dryer just outside the door (I live in a basement apartment; the upstairs neighbour must be finishing her laundry). It is on this day, the second-to-last day of an entire year of arduous campaigning and base name-calling that seemed to span an eternity, that it has finally registered with me: America is having an election. Yes, I knew all along what was to happen and when; perhaps I simply habituated to the pre-electoral hype, not caring much that it was to culminate in a coronation of some sorts.

Though not an active participant in these proceedings, I do live only about fifty kilometres from America's closest shoreline, and am under the auspices of a free-trade agreement that gives America a more than generous helping of our precious natural resources, so you might say I have somewhat of an interest in the goings-on of American politics. Once again, as is customary every leap year in the Gregorian calendar, two cardboard cut-outs of dapper men take centre stage and vie for the keys to the kingdom; however, this year's competition has an added twist, as one of the contenders has brown skin.

Paul Mooney recently provided a telling synopsis: for the first time in the Presidential election, race is an issue among White voters. Of course, he says, it has always been an issue among non-White voters, forced to decide between White male contenders, wondering which one is the most liberal, the least racist. Mind you, Mr. Mooney failed to mention the gender line - women have always been forced (er, um, "asked") to decide between male candidates, if memory serves me correctly - but I cannot fault him for (a) being swept up in the current hoopla, and (b) being a man. Last year, he did predict America would be saying "Madam President" (I trust you can find the interview clip yourselves to see how deep he delved into gender and politics), and, for a while, it appeared as though he was correct, until the dapper young knight stirred the mob into a frenzy with his steely demeanour, letting it be known that the Face of America was far too daunting a responsibility for a hysterical woman, as many men seemed to believe (and the spin doctors led us to perceive).

As Mr. Mooney was saying, race is now an issue with the White voter, forced to decide if s/he is ready for the Face of America to be a few shades darker. A lot of folk, in America and abroad, believe this individual worthy of the mantle, feeling he will foster the change necessary to restore virtue to the Nation. Still even more folk believe this will finally be the day when the non-White will stand on equal footing with her/his pale-faced oppressor. From reading the news today, it seems this Barack Obama has a healthy lead on his chief rival, thereby rendering his coronation a safe prognostication. Or White America will step into that voting booth, and it will finally register, that stinging, burning sensation on the back of its neck, and a once promising forecast will whittle away, and King John will have his day because, at the end of the day, Barack Obama is still Black - not Black enough, say many, but still Black enough not to be President.

What will happen if he does succeed in ascertaining the office of President of the United States? The more I learn about this Barack Obama, the more I wonder if the only thing changing is the Face of America, if the change in which we are to believe will be merely skin deep. Granted, he may be more warm to renewable energy and affordable health care than his counterpart, but he seems to be all about America the Empire and the preservation of its hegemony - here, I insert an aside, and tell you about how I cringe every time I hear it suggested that, because the decisions of America's President affect the entire world, the entire world should decide who is to be President, for it is precisely this repressive hegemony responsible for such an effect - true, he may favour a reduction of operations in Iraq, but America's interest in the region still comes first, and America has no intention of ever relinquishing its foothold in the region, with this newly-found muscle no doubt being put to work elsewhere. Last I heard, he favours aggrandizing the already gargantuan military budget, and, rather than act as mediator for a peaceful resolution, has drawn his line in the sand in the Arab-Israeli conflict.

Barack Obama can, and has, whisper sweet nothings about "change" into our ears for as long as it makes us swoon: ultimately, he answers not to his voters, but his handlers, and his handlers, with maybe a few tweaks here and there, want nothing more than for him to maintain the status quo while their burgeoning profit margins bring them to orgasm. So why do we continue to choose A or B, knowing their promises to be as vacuous as... well, I'm sure you can conjure a most apt analogy. Why not consider an alternative candidate, like Cynthia McKinney or Ralph Nader? Sadly, as much as I would like to see one of these two emerge victorious, given where the "power" lies, would either of them be permitted to govern?

This extravaganza seems to me like a clever ruse: voters, sensing nothing has been done, grow weary of the incumbent and lend their support to a most convincing challenger, who does nothing over the course of the next term, and so continues the cycle. The Red Team and Blue Team take turns reaping the benefits of the highest office in the land (it happens here, too, and the colours are the same!), while you and me still have our jobs to work, and our bills to pay, and our mouths to feed, and our myriad worries to address. Perhaps I'm too pessimistic for my own good, but I can't say hearing the word "change" emanating from the mouth of a politician makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Decrying the system might be well and good for placating my own ego, but it doesn't offer much hope for anyone, so it is my hope (there's that passive voice again!) that I can end this on a more sanguine note. We cannot expect to sit and wait for change to come from A or B (or even C or D, given the conditions in which they have to work); no, we must realize it ourselves. The power lies not within the dollars that rest in the hands of the few who stage this cavalcade and gleefully watch as we swallow every last morsel, but within the hands of the women and men who turn the cranks and pull the levers that make the wheels of this economy spin, who work themselves to death hoping their children will have a more comfortable life. This power is not exercised through tihs farce we call "election", in which it is systematically surrendered to the highest bidder, but rather through their contributions to their society, the joy they bring into the lives of the people they meet, the help they offer those in need. We won't need anyone to keep this dying economic model on life support, for a new one will emerge, one not requiring arbitrary numerical values for everything or silly slips of paper to denote one's so-called worth.

All being said, I'm still a sucker for entertainment, thus I imagine I will be watching tomorrow to see who wins. Some revolutionary I am.

A little something on Material Love

Love's Gonna Get'cha (Material Love) by KRS-ONE

Ya know that's why man I be telling you all the time man, you know LOVE,
that word love is a very serious thing, and if you don't watch out I tell ya
that (Love's gonna get you) because a lot of people out here say "I love my
car" or "I love my chain" or or "I'm I'm just in love with that girl over
there" so far all the people out there that fall in love with material items
we gonna bump the beat a lil' something like this

I'm in junior high with a B plus grade,
At the end of the day I don't hit the arcade,
I walk from school to my mom's apartment,
I got to tell the suckas everyday "don't start it",
Cause where I'm at if you're soft you're lost,
To stay on course means to roll with force,
A boy named Rob is chillin' in a Benz,
In front of my building with the rest of his friends,
I give him a pound, oh I mean I shake his hand,
He's the neighborhood drug dealer, my man,
I go upstairs and hug my mother,
Kiss my sister, and punch my brother,
I sit down on my bed to watch some TV,
(machine gun fire) do my ears deceive me,
Nope, that's the fourth time this week,
Another fast brother shot dead in the street,
The very next day while I'm off to class,
My moms goes to work cold busting her ass,
My sisters cute but she got no gear,
I got three pairs of pants and with my brother I share,
See there in school see I'm made a fool,
With one and a half pair of pant you ain't cool,
But there's no dollars for nothing else,
I got beans, rice, and bread on my shelf,
Every day I see my mother struggling,
Now it's time I've got to do something,
I look for work, I get dissed like a jerk,
I do odd jobs and come home like a slob,
So here comes Rob he's cold and shivery,
He gives me two hundred for a quick delivery,
I do it once, I do it twice,
Now there's steak with the beans and rice,
My mother's nervous but she knows the deal,
My sister's gear now has sex appeal,
My brothers my partner and we're getting paper,
Three months later we run our own caper,
My family's happy everything is new,
Now tell me, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

CHORUS

That's why, (loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
You fall in love with your chain,
You fall in love with your car,
Loves gonna sneak right up and snuff you from behind,
So I want you to check the story out as we go down the line,
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)

Money's flowing, everything is fine,
Got myself an Uzi and my brother a nine,
Business is boomin' everything is cool,
I pull about a G a week; fuck school,
A year goes by and I begin to grow,
Not in height but juice and cash flow,
I pick up my feet and begin to watch TV,
Cause now I got other people working for me,
I got a 55 inch television you know,
And every once in awhile I hear just say no,
Or the other commercial I love,
Is when they say, "This is your brain on drugs",
I pick up my remote control and just turn,
Cause with that bullshit I'm not concerned,
See me and my brother jump in the BM,
Driving around our territory again,
I stop at the light like a superstar,
And automatic weapons cold sprayed my car,
I hit the accelerator scared as fuck,
And drove one block to find my brother was hit,
He wasn't dead but the blood was pouring,
And all I could think about was war and,
Later I found that it was Rob and his crew,
Now tell me, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

Ya know that's why, (loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
That word love is very very serious(loves gonna get you)
Very addictive

My brothers out of it, but I'm still in it,
On top of that I'm in it to win it,
I can't believe that Rob would diss me,
That faggot, that punk, he's soft a sissy,
I'm driving around now with three of my guys,
The war is on and I'm on the rise,
We rolled right up to his favorite hang out,
Said hello and then the bullets rang out,
Some fired back so we took cover,
And all I could think about was my brother,
Rob jumped up and began to run,
Busting shots hoping to hit someone,
So I just stopped, and let off three shots,
Two hit him and one hit a cop,
I threw the gun down and began to shout,
Come on I got him it's time to break out,
But as we ran there were the boys in blue,
Pointing their guns at my four man crew,
They shot down one, they shot down two,
Now tell me, what the fuck am i supposed to do?

(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you),
(loves gonna get you)
(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)(loves gonna get you)
(love loves gonna get you)
Ya know a lot of people believe that that word Love is real soft, but when
you use it in your vocabulary like you're addicted to it, it sneaks right up
And takes you right out. out. out. out. out.
So, for future reference remember it's alright to like or want a material
item, but when you fall in love with it and you start scheming and carrying
on for it, just remember, it's gonna get'cha.