By Milos Radovic, Serbia, 1997.
I grew up with COSMOS series; I loved Carl Sagan, with his calm voice and eloquent but simple way of expressing the truths of science and the power of genuine curiosity about the world. His work has had a profound influence on me. What for some was the bible, or Snowwhite fairytale, for me was the Cosmos book. I still can vividly remember the day when I got it as present from my grandmother: she took me to the book store and bought the book for me, knowing how much I liked the series. I was around 10 years old.
It is rather astonishing today, with all the scientific advances and evidence amassed since the release of Cosmos series, that the creationists, religious leaders and charlatans seem to gain upper hand against scientific approach and logical view of the world. It is frightening how many Americans, for example, are ready to dismiss evolution and require that creationism be taught in schools, alongside, or instead of, scientifically proofed theories. Is the science today reaching its zenith but in the same time loosing battle against simple and comforting explanations offered first-hand by pseudo-scientists? How can it be that even some college educated friends I have are not able to distinguish the difference between faith and science, and are seriously discussing about putting equation sign between the two?! It can not be just lack of knowledge, although it certainly can play a part in it; it seems to me that there is a serious flaw in the education systems around the world. The scientific method, based on endless and arduous “experiment-theory-proofs” cycles is not properly taught. The most exciting voyage of Homo Sapiens, the adventurous quest for truth based on reason and observation of the world as it really is and not as we would want it to be, the long way of how we came to the knowledge of today and how much more there lies ahead to be discovered, is per default not taught in schools at all. What we learn in school are only the names of the scientists and their laws, rules and results, endless equations and discovery dates, but nothing more. More often than not we are taught not to reason, but to adopt. Not to ask questions, but to believe in answers. Not to experiment, but to accept. Who was trained in this way may naturally have difficulties in distinguishing science from faith.
For most people science is becoming similar to shamanism, something that “common” people can not understand, due to its supposed complexity and distance from life. Math is literally THE Horror for almost each pupil and his parents; many will even question its necessity for everyday life. Some of the most significant scientific theories of today, theories of Evolution and Relativism, for example, are considered “just another theories”, although firmly confirmed by strong evidence. Many people are afraid of science, because of its potentials to destroy our world, forgetting how much it already improved our lives and longevity. It seems that science is becoming a monster who has to be tamed and put away, the frightening oracle who is unrelentlessly revealing the astonishing complexity of life and the world around us. The simple answers and “truths” of religion, the rules of superstition, the astrology revelations and transcendental swindling seem much more attractive in respect.
But science is no monster. It is one of the most beautiful achievements of free human spirit and persistence. Its basic principles can be understood by everybody, its methods we unconsciously apply to our surroundings every day, and its countless results we wear, use and live with, without ever thinking about it. When properly taught, math, physics, astronomy, linguistics, history and philosophy, to name just some faces of science, can be deeply thought provoking and influential. It is our duty as intelligent beings to use our most powerful evolutionary tool to examine and understand the world around us. It is in our nature to ask questions, to be curious, to look for interconnections in the reality we live in. Everyone of us can be a scientist. The only requirement is to have the courage to wide open the eyes and see the world as it is, and not as we would like it to be.
It makes me sad to see that the tidal wave of faith is raising, seriously threatening to drown the remarkable achievements of human curiosity for knowledge. Furthermore, it is deeply disturbing that the people who despise science, its methods and its results, may come in the possession of its powers; by this I am not only thinking of Middle East dictators thirsty of nuclear power, but also about leaders of westerns democracies who consult fortune-tellers before making decisions, or whose most important book is the bible. If the majority in one society dismisses reasoning in favour of faith, the basic principle of democracy will bring the most eloquent faith-based populists in power. The change they would be able to enforce, using democratic means, could have had immense consequences not only for us but also for generations to come.
I want to believe that such scenario is not really possible. Against all previous challenges in history, some of which had thrown us back for hundreds of years, human curiosity, courage, and the quest for logical explanations brought us here today, to the best of all previous worlds, and it is highly unlikely that we will all choose another way now. Although there is still unbearably much suffering in our contemporary world it can not be argued that human beings in general never enjoyed the better quality of life than now. Using science and our compassion to improve the life of all people on this planet will not only save lives but also disseminate the power of reason. But we have a lot to work on it, and we have to teach scientific approach, encourage discussion, ask questions, exchange knowledge, and firmly defend our convictions in every situation. And we must never stop discovering the beauties of the universe around us revealed through science.
When I was in India last year I really enjoyed Indian cuisine. It is mainly vegetarian, but they also make delicious meat based meals, all of them consisting of small chops of meat cooked and served in diverse thick sauces, sometimes very spicey. You can eat it with rice or with Indian bread, a crÃªpe-like pastry. The meals offered were mainly of chicken meat, but also of goat, fish, and pig. No cows, of course.
During one lunch I praised to my hosts the meal I was eating. Content to hear it they hurried to explain me that I will not find cow meat in Indian menus: “We Hindu do not eat cows, you know. Cow is our holy animal.” I knew it – who doesn’t? – but I just nodded politely. Then it occurred to me that Muslims do not eat pigs: “And your neighbours, Muslims…? Isn’t it so that they do not eat pigs?” – “Right”, my host nodded in approval, “in their religion the pig is holy animal!”
Now that was not the way I knew about it! Pig is supposed to be a dirty animal in Islam, and therefore prohibited. I have never heard that it was regarded as a holy animal. Nevertheless I was not in the mood of correcting my kind host in theological matters, so I just said what was obvious: “So it means that you are eating their Holy Animal, and they are eating yours, right?” – “Well, yes…” he answered reluctantly, with an unsure expression: “now when you put it that way, yes… we eat holy animals of one another.”
For the rest of the lunch no more words were spoken.
Video by John Boswell: www.symphonyofschience.com.
(Carl Sagan’s lyrics written by Carl Sagan, Ann Druyan and Steven Soter)
All life is related
And it enables us to construct with confidence
The complex tree that represents the history of life
Our planet, the Earth, is as far as we know
Unique in the universe; it contains life
Here plants and animals proliferate in such numbers
That we still have not even named all the different species
Darwin’s great insight revolutionized the way in which we see the world
We now understand why there are so many different species
Every cell is a triumph of natural selection
And we’re made of trillions of cells (Within us is a little universe)
Those are some of the things that molecules do
Given four billions years of evolution (We are, each of us, a multitude)
Now how did the molecules of life arise?
It began in the sea
Some 3 thousand million years ago
Complex chemical molecules began to clump together
These were the “seeds”
From which the tree of life developed
They were able to split, replicating themselves
As bacteria do
The secrets of evolution
Are time and death
There’s an unbroken thread that stretches
From those first cells to us
There isn’t a sharp line dividing humans
from the rest of the animal kingdom
It’s a very wuzzie line
It’s a very wuzzie line,
and it’s getting wuzzier
All the time
We find animals doing things that we,
In our arrogance,
Used to think was “just human”
Its continued survival now rests in our hands
The photos I posted on 20th December last year were all shot in the immediate vicinity of Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the Central Railway Station in Mumbai. Inside the station photographing was prohibited, as my guide cautiously indicated to me, so we went inside through a dirty understreet passage and just strolled around. It was Sunday morning and I was on a day trip to Mumbai down-town. My guide was a kind young doctor, born and living in Mumbai, whose name I unfortunately can not remember anymore. The day was sunny and hot, and the humid air on the streets was sweet and heavy, polluted by exhaust gases; but inside the station I immediately sensed the smell of tracks and trains, the smell that I liked since my childhood and which for a brief moment filled me with joy. The station was pretty much empty, an unusual situation comparing to other days of the week. This was one of the busiest railway stations in India; on all other days it was always full of people. When Ajmal Kasab and Ismail Khan walked in the station on the evening of 26th November 2008 and opened fire from their kalashnikovs, the place was packed full. They fired at the crowd of unarmed people, threw grenades on police officers and killed and severely injured more than 150 persons. When they left the building the platform I was standing on was covered with dead and dying people.
After the attacks Mumbai police prohibited unauthorised photographing inside the station and increased the security measures. I noticed two police officers sitting at the table in one corner near the main gate and stepped closer, curious to see what they were doing. Maybe they will somehow allow me to take photos anyway? As I neared them I saw that they were inspecting their automatic rifles. One weapon lay on the table, and the officer was checking the leather belt. They seemed not to be paying any attention to me. I stood there watching them for some time, until I realized that the muzzle of the weapon was pointed directly to my belly. I stepped aside.
As I was looking around it occurred to me that I was unconsciously looking for blood stains on the floor. I was standing in the middle of a broad platform surrounded by several people waiting for their trains. In front of me there were old trains with bars on the windows and special wagons reserved only for women (always the first ones – was it the sign of respect in one apparently segregating act?). Few fishermen from the suburbs passed by carrying fresh fish in bowls above their heads, children were chasing each other, sun rays were streaking through the ceiling windows high above. In my conciousness I noticed all this, but in the same time I knew that it was not what I was looking for, the present was like a curtain that I tried whole time to pull away, to see behind it. I was actually looking for blood and dead bodies, searching for bullet holes in the walls, imagining the moment when shootings started, trying to hear the explosions and screams of the victims. I was standing in a slaughter field amidst tens of dead bodies. I felt a tension in my belly, right there where the muzzle of that police officer’s rifle was pointed to just a few moments ago. All of a sudden my desire to make photos seemed deeply inappropriate. I desperately wanted to come back to reality, to forget the horror that happened here one year ago, but it was impossible. My guide asked me if I want him to try to get a permission to make some photos, but I refused. I had enough.
As we were hurrying towards one of the exits on the other end I was thinking that there actually must be many places on the face of the Earth where people died violently. Millions of years of evolution of genus Homo are immensely long time. Thousands and thousands of places were soaked in blood and covered with dead human bodies. So many of our predecessors lived and died without a trace, decayed and forever disappeared everywhere on this planet. Had I believed in ghosts I would have to accept that they were “living” with us now everywhere, in every corner of the only world we know, inhabiting every house and every home in hundreds. But I do not believe in ghosts, and neither in God. I do not think that one continues to live after death in some other form, and that a life has a purpose not revealed to us. I am convinced that we all have only this one life, and that life itself is the highest value. And when I stand in the place where I KNOW that many people lost their lives in a violent way putty , killed in the name of “higher” purpose, I feel frightened. Murdering a human being is like destroying a world. Our duty is to preserve life and minimise suffering. Nothing else. We are all brothers and sisters, and we do not need any religion to see it, if we just bother to think.
There was an old-fashioned scale short before the exit from the station. It bore the text “EASTERN SCALES” on it, a platform to stand on, and an opening for inserting coins. My guide urged me with a smile to step on it and measure my weight. I complied absentmindedly. After a short while the machine spat out a small yellowish card. On one side it read “HEALTH CARD – KILOGRAMS 92 – KEEP FIT – EASTERN SCALES – 49434”. It was wrong. My weight was 82. I turned the other side and read the personal message under the title “BUY YOUR OWN TICKET”: “You will emerge triumphant from your most serious reverses. A happy and comfortable old age”. As we emerged from the station to the sunny street I wondered how many nameless victims of Kasab and Khan got that very same message on the day they were murdered.
“Unfriend” – verb – To remove someone as a “friend” on a social networking site such as Facebook.
As in, “I decided to unfriend my roommate on Facebook after we had a fight.”
“It has both currency and potential longevity,” notes Christine Lindberg, Senior Lexicographer for Oxford’s US dictionary program. “In the online social networking context, its meaning is understood, so its adoption as a modern verb form makes this an interesting choice for Word of the Year. Most “un-” prefixed words are adjectives (unacceptable, unpleasant), and there are certainly some familiar “un-” verbs (uncap, unpack), but “unfriend” is different from the norm. It assumes a verb sense of “friend” that is really not used (at least not since maybe the 17th century!). Unfriend has real lex-appeal.”
(OUP Blog, Oxford University Press USA)
At this age I see no purpose in celebrating own birthdays anymore. Actually there is no real reason at all to celebrate the number of full earth’s evolutions around the sun since one left mother’s uterus, but we desperately need this kind of events to socialize with our surroundings; if I remember how many more sinless rituals fulfill our everyday life I could not imagine what would we actually do in our lives without them 🙂
For my 37th birthday I present you with this cool BBC documentary about our nearest relatives 🙂
KAD JE SRPSKI SNAJPERIST MOJOJ PRIJATELJICI
ustrijelio dijete u naramku
prestala sam u boga vjerovati. Nema te, boÅ¾e,
rekla sam, prekriÅ¾en si za sva vremena
i taÄka. Jer bog Å¡to puÅ¡ta da djecu, majkama
u naruÄju, ubijaju onako, ni zbog Äega,
naprosto iz zabave, takav bog meni ne treba
A drugi â€“ kako god hoÄ‡e
InaÄe, prije rata sam mislila da bi se nebesa
na mene sruÄila ako bih prestala
u boga vjerovati. A eto, nije se desilo niÅ¡ta
Ni crijep nije napukao na krovu moje kuÄ‡e
Ja sam i dalje ja. Sarajevo i dalje Sarajevo
Nebo i dalje nebo. I eno stoji gdje je i prije bilo
Iako boga nema. Mislim, nema ga za mene
A drugi â€“ kako god hoÄ‡e
Sve se kotrlja po starome
ÄŒak mi se Äini da je ovako lakÅ¡e. Ovako,
bez boga ne umijem ti to, bojim se, objasniti
ZnaÅ¡, pjeÅ¡aÄi se lakÅ¡e bez iÄega u rukama
nego kad vukljaÅ¡ cekere. Jeste, dobro sam rekla
Bez boga, nekako lakÅ¡e se pjeÅ¡aÄi
kroz ovaj guravi Å¾ivot. Jedino, svaki Äas osjetim
da su mi ruke prazne
Heavy Load: “The Queen Mother’s Dead”
There are no seats with row number 13 in Lufthansa airplanes. In fact, not only row 13 but also the row 17 is missing. If you thought that this was the case only with Lufthansa then you are dead wrong – many other airlines avoid certain numbers in their aircrafts. As the matter of fact, Japan-based All Nippon Airways omits rows 4, 9 and 13! Why? Of yourse, the answer is clear – because all these numbers are generally considered “unlucky” in different cultures. In Christianity and Viking folklore for example, the number 13 is associated with bad luck, and even has a specifically recognized phobia, “Triskaidekaphobia”, a word which was coined in 1911. Seventeen is considered unlucky in Italy because rearranging the letters in the Roman numerals for 17 could spell â€œVIXIâ€ which means â€œI livedâ€ in Italian. Number four is generally avoided in Japan because it sounds like the word for death in their language (“Tetraphobia”) and the word for nine sounds like the word for torture.
But how about the fact that number 13 is actually considered “lucky” in Sikhism, since 13 is tera in Punjabi, which also means “yours” (as in, “I am yours, O Lord”)? Or the fact that Italian Alitaliaâ€™s Boeing 777s have thirteenth row while the rest of their fleet does not?!
I believe that education against superstition should be a part of common school programme, as well as education against religious, nationalistic and other ideological rubbish: as long as people are ready to believe that numbers, black cats or broken mirrors can bring misfortune, or that a horseshoe, knocking on wooden material or saying some special words can keep misfortune away, they will never be truly free and never be real masters of their own destiny. It may sound unimportant in comparison to a number of significant and disputed issues in the world today, but I am sure that connection between superstition and many cases of human suffering is much deeper than it may appear at the first sight.
It hurts just to watch this poster.
But it should never be forgotten.
costs our national society
this genetically disordered one
during his whole life
Our national comrade
it is also your money
Monthly magazine of Racial-political bureau of NSDAP”
27th January, 1945: the day when russian troops liberated Auschwitz.
“War & Remembrance”, Episode XI: “Auschwitz”
“Marjoe Gortner was the first Evangelical preacher to blow the whistle on his profession. In his documentary film, Marjoe, he revealed age-old tricks of the trade and exposed some of the entertainment aspects of the popular movement that have made it big business.
If he lives forever, Hugh Marjoe Ross Gortner will most likely always be “The World’s Youngest Ordained Minister.” Born January 14, 1944, Marjoe was almost strangled during delivery by his own umbilical cord. The obstetrician told his mother that it was a miracle the child survived, and thus “Marjoe” — for Mary and Joseph — the Miracle Child, took his place at the end of a long line of Evangelical ministers.
He had been a Bible Belt star most of his life. His parents, both itinerant evangelists themselves, noticed his gift for mimicry and his phenomenal powers of recall when he was 3. They set out to transform him into a preaching sensation, a â€œmiracle child.â€ From the beginning, his preaching skills were meticulously cultivated. Before he learned to say “Mamma” or “Poppa,” he was taught to sing “Hallelujah!” When he was nine months old his mother taught him the right way to shout “Glory!” into the microphone. At three, he could preach the gospel from memory, and he received drama coaching and instruction in every performing art from saxophone playing to baton twirling. He was taught lengthy sermons, complete with gestures and lunges, and was ordained at the age of 4. They kicked off his career in 1949 by having him perform a marriage while a Paramount newsreel camera rolled. That got him into Ripleyâ€™s Believe It or Not as the â€œWorldâ€™s Youngest Minister.â€
Marjoe and his parents toured the country for eight more years, raking in offerings from eager crowds, some $3 million by his own reckoning. Receiving his sermons from heaven, delivering souls, healing the sick, he seemed like Godâ€™s little angel, or — as his father put it ingenuously — â€œa preaching machine.â€
After a time, the act broke down. Marjoeâ€™s father absconded with the money, the prepubescent boy was too old to be a novelty anymore, and his rage surfaced. He left his mother and lived off the kindness of nonreligious strangers in California for the duration of his adolescence. Then he found himself drawn back to the flame — the spotlight, the adulation, and of course the cash — of the evangelical circuit. His audiences never knew that his belief in God was nil, and the host preachers had no idea that he had, in his other life, joined with legions of hippies.”
“I don’t have any power,” he once stated, “And neither do any of these other guys. Hundreds of people were healed at my crusades, but I know damn well it was nothing I was doing.”
“Marjoe” is a documentary film produced in 1972 and directed by Howard Smith and Sarah Kernochan. Under the pretense of making a documentary detailing a viable ministry, Marjoe assembled a documentary film crew to follow him around revival meetings in California, Texas, and Michigan during 1971. Unbeknownst to everyone else involved â€” including, at one point, his father â€” Marjoe gave “backstage” interviews to the filmmakers in between sermons and revivals, explaining intimate details of how he and other ministers operated. After sermons, the filmmakers were invited back to Marjoe’s hotel room to tape him counting the money he collected during the day. The film won an Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.
Nacionalizam je, pre svega, paranoja. Kolektivna i pojedinaÄna paranoja. Kao kolektivna paranoja, ona je posledica zavisti i straha, a iznad svega posledica gubljenja individualne svesti; te prema tome, kolektivna paranoja i nije niÅ¡ta drugo od zbir individualnih paranoja doveden do paroksizma. Ako pojedinac, u okviru druÅ¡tvenog projekta, nije u stanju da se “izrazi”, ili zato Å¡to mu taj druÅ¡tveni projekt ne ide na ruku, ne stimuliÅ¡e ga kao individuu, ili ga spreÄava kao individuu, Å¡to Ä‡e reÄ‡i ne daje mu da doÄ‘e do svog entiteta, on je primoran da svoj entitet traÅ¾i izvan identiteta i izvan tzv. druÅ¡tvene strukture. Tako on postaje pripadnik jedne slobodnozidarske skupine koja postavlja sebi, bar na izgled, za zadatak i cilj probleme epohalne vaÅ¾nosti: opstanak i prestiÅ¾ nacije, ili nacija, oÄuvanje tradicije i nacionalnih svetinja, folklornih, filozofskih, etiÄkih, knjiÅ¾evnih itd. Sa teretom takve, tajne, polujavne ili javne misije, N. N. postaje Äovek akcije, narodni tribun, privid individuuma. Kad smo ga veÄ‡ sveli na tu meru, na njegovu pravu meru, poÅ¡to smo ga izdvojili iz krda, i skinuli ga sa slobodnozidarske loÅ¾e, u koju se on sam smestio, ili gde su ga drugi smestili, imamo pred sobom individuum bez individualnosti, nacionalistu, roÄ‘aka Å½ila. To je onaj Sartrov Å½il, koji je porodiÄna i druÅ¡tvena nula, Äija je jedina osobina da ume da prebledi na pomenu jedne jedine teme: Engleza. To bledilo, to drhtanje, ta njegova “tajna” da ume da prebledi na pomen Engleza, to je jedino njegovo druÅ¡tveno biÄ‡e i to ga Äini znaÄajnim, postojeÄ‡im: nemojte pred njim pominjati engleski Äaj, jer Ä‡e vam svi za stolom poÄeti namigivati, davaÄ‡e vam znake rukama i nogama, jer Å½il je osetljiv na Engleze, zaboga, pa to svi znaju, Å½il mrzi Engleze (a voli svoje, Francuze), jednom reÄju, Å½il je liÄnost, on postaje liÄnost zahvaljujuÄ‡i engleskom Äaju. Ovaj i ovakav portret, primenljiv na sve nacionaliste, moÅ¾e se slobodno, a po ovoj shemi, razviti do kraja: nacionalista je, po pravilu, kao druÅ¡tveno biÄ‡e, i kao pojedinac, podjednako niÅ¡tavan. Izvan ovog opredeljenja, on je nula. On je zapostavio porodicu, posao (uglavnom ÄinovniÄki), literaturu (ako je pisac), druÅ¡tvene funkcije, jer su one suviÅ¡e sitne u odnosu na njegov mesijanizam. Treba li reÄ‡i da je on, po opredeljenju, asketa, potencijalni borac, koji Äeka svoj Äas. Nacionalizam je, da parafraziram Sartrov stav o antisemitizmu, potpun i slobodan izbor, globalan stav koji Äovek prihvata ne samo prema drugim nacijama, nego i prema Äoveku uopÅ¡te, prema istoriji i druÅ¡tvu, to je istovremeno strast i koncepcija sveta. Nacionalista je, po definiciji, ignorant. Nacionalizam je, dakle, linija manjeg otpora, komocija. Nacionalisti je lako, on zna, ili misli da zna, svoje vrednosti, svoje, Å¡to Ä‡e reÄ‡i nacionalne, Å¡to Ä‡e reÄ‡i vrednosti nacije kojoj pripada, etiÄke i politiÄke, a za ostale se ne interesuje, ne interesuju ga, pakao to su drugi (druge nacije, drugo pleme). Njih ne treba ni proveravati. Nacionalista u drugima vidi iskljuÄivo sebe – nacionaliste. Pozicija, rekosmo li, komotna. Strah i zavist. Opredeljenje, angaÅ¾ovanje, koje ne iziskuje truda. Ne samo pakao to su drugi, u okviru nacionalnog kljuÄa naravno, nego i: sve Å¡to nije moje (srpsko, hrvatsko, francusko…) to mi je strano. Nacionalizam je ideologija banalnosti. Nacionalizam je, uz to, ne samo po etimoloÅ¡kom znaÄenju, joÅ¡ poslednja ideologija i demagogija koja se obraÄ‡a narodu. Pisci to najbolje znaju. Stoga je pod sumnjom nacionalizma svaki pisac koji deklarativno izjavljuje da piÅ¡e “iz naroda i za narod”, koji svoj individualni glas, toboÅ¾e potÄinjava viÅ¡im nacionalnim interesima. Nacionalizam je kiÄ: u srpskohrvatskoj varijanti, borba za prevlast oko nacionalnog porekla LICITARSKOG SRCA. Nacionalista, u principu, ne zna ni jedan jezik, niti tzv. varijante, ne poznaje druge kulture (ne tiÄu ga se). Ali stvar nije tako prosta. Ako zna neki jezik, Å¡to Ä‡e reÄ‡i da kao intelektualac ima uvid u kulturno nasleÄ‘e neke druge nacije, velike ili male, to mu znanje sluÅ¾i samo tome da uspostavlja analogije, na Å¡tetu onih drugih, naravno. KiÄ i folklor, folklorni kiÄ, ako vam se tako viÅ¡e sviÄ‘a, nisu niÅ¡ta drugo do kamuflirani nacionalizam, plodno polje nacionalistiÄke ideologije. Zamah folklorizma, kod nas i u svetu, nije antropoloÅ¡ke prirode, nego nacionalistiÄke. Insistiranje na famoznom couleur locale takoÄ‘e je, ako je izvan umetniÄkog konteksta (Å¡to Ä‡e reÄ‡i ako nije u sluÅ¾bi umetniÄke istine), jedan od vidova nacionalizma, prikrivenog. Nacionalizam je, dakle, prevashodno negativitet, nacionalizam je negativna kategorija duha, jer nacionalizam Å¾ivi na poricanju i od poricanja. Mi nismo ono Å¡to su oni. Mi smo pozitivan pol, oni negativan. NaÅ¡e vrednosti, nacionalne, nacionalistiÄke, imaju funkciju tek u odnosu na nacionalizam onih drugih: mi jesmo nacionalisti, ali oni su to joÅ¡ i viÅ¡e; mi koljemo (kad se mora), ali oni joÅ¡ i viÅ¡e; mi smo pijanci, oni alkoholiÄari; naÅ¡a istorija je ispravna samo u odnosu na njihovu, naÅ¡ je jezik Äist samo u odnosu na njihov. Nacionalizam Å¾ivi od relativizma. Ne postoje opÅ¡te vrednosti, estetiÄke, etiÄke itd. Postoje samo relativne. I u tom smislu, u prvom redu, nacionalizam jeste nazadnjaÅ¡tvo. Treba biti bolji samo od svoga brata ili polubrata, ostalo me se i ne tiÄe. To je ono Å¡to smo nazvali strah. Ostali Äak imaju pravo da nas dostignu, da nas prestignu, to nas se ne tiÄe. Ciljevi nacionalizma uvek su dostiÅ¾ni ciljevi, dostiÅ¾ni jer su skromni, skromni jer su podli. Ne skaÄe se, ne baca se kamena s ramena, da bi se dostigao svoj sopstveni maksimum, nego da bi se nadigrali oni, jedini, sliÄni, a tako razliÄni, zbog kojih je igra zapoÄeta. Nacionalista se, rekosmo, ne boji nikog, osim svoga brata. Ali od njega se boji strahom egzistencijalnim, patoloÅ¡kim; pobeda izabranog neprijatelja jeste njegov apsolutni poraz, ukidanje njegovog biÄ‡a. PoÅ¡to je straÅ¡ljivac i nikogoviÄ‡, nacionalista ne istiÄe sebi viÅ¡e ciljeve. Pobeda nad izabranim neprijateljem, onim drugim, jeste apsolutna pobeda. Stoga je nacionalizam ideja beznaÄ‘a, ideologija moguÄ‡ne pobede, zagarantovana pobeda, poraz nikad konaÄan. Nacionalista se ne boji nikoga, “nikog do boga”, a njegov bog jeste bog po njegovoj meri, bledi roÄ‘ak Å½il, negde za nekim drugim stolom, njegov brat roÄ‘eni, isto toliko nemoÄ‡an koliko i on sam, “ponos porodice”, porodiÄni entitet, svesni i organizovani deo porodice i nacije – bledi roÄ‘ak DÅ¾im. Rekli smo, dakle, biti nacionalista znaÄi biti individuum bez obaveze. “To je kukavica koja ne Å¾eli da prizna svoj kukaviÄluk; ubica koji potiskuje svoju naklonost ka ubistvu, nemoÄ‡an sasvim da je priguÅ¡i a koji se, ipak, ne usuÄ‘uje da ubije, osim iz potaje ili u anonimnosti gomile; nezadovoljnik koji se ne usuÄ‘uje da se pobuni iz straha od konsekvenci svoje pobune” – slika i prilika citiranog Sartrovog antisemite. I odakle, pitamo se, taj kukaviÄluk, to opredeljenje, taj zamah nacionalizma u naÅ¡e doba? Pritisnut ideologijama, na marginama druÅ¡tvenih kretanja, zbijen i izgubljen meÄ‘u konfrontiranim ideologijama, nedorastao individualnoj pobuni, jer mu je ona uskraÄ‡ena, individuum se naÅ¡ao u procepu, u praznini, ne uÄestvuje u druÅ¡tvenom Å¾ivotu a druÅ¡tveno biÄ‡e, individualista a individualnost mu uskraÄ‡ena u ime ideologije, i Å¡ta mu preostaje drugo nego da svoje druÅ¡tveno biÄ‡e traÅ¾i drugde? Nacionalista je refulirani individualista, nacionalizam je refulirani (kolektivni) izraz tog i takvog individualizma, ideologija i antiideologija…
Po-etika, knjiga druga, 1974. (intervjui)
Sasvim u skladu sa Kissovim opisom, jedno “Drusstvo srpskih rodjaka” definisse u ovom neobuzdanom fassisticckom manifestu svoj “pogled na svet”, svoju antiviziju sveta ljudi slobodnih od svakog razuma:
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The last photo of Yoko Ono & John Lennon, made by Annie Leibowitz for the cover of the Rolling Stone magazine on December 8th, 1980, several hours before Lennon was murdered.
“On December 8, 1980, Leibovitz had a photo shoot with John Lennon for Rolling Stone, promising him he would make the cover. After she had initially tried to get a picture with just Lennon alone, which is what Rolling Stone wanted, Lennon insisted that both he and Yoko Ono be on the cover. Leibovitz then tried to re-create something like the making out scene from the Double Fantasy album cover, a picture that she loved. She had John remove his clothes and curl up next to Yoko. Liebovitz recalls, “What is interesting is she said she’d take her top off and I said, ‘Leave everything on’ â€” not really preconceiving the picture at all. Then he curled up next to her and it was very, very strong. You couldn’t help but feel that she was cold and he looked like he was clinging on to her. I think it was amazing to look at the first Polaroid and they were both very excited. John said, ‘You’ve captured our relationship exactly. Promise me it’ll be on the cover.’ I looked him in the eye and we shook on it.” Leibovitz was the last person to professionally photograph Lennon â€” he was shot and killed five hours later.”