In stat quo res erant ante bellum.
With a September deadline for the UN vote on Palestinian statehood looming in the threshold, the collective voice of skeptics reverberates with louder amplitude. Having the character flaw of skepticism myself, I can comprehend the reasons behind the synchronized eye-brow lift amongst those closely following the congregation of sound bites that have emanated from authority figures thus far. What I do not understand however, is what those skeptics want instead. I have flogged my head mulling over this issue, and I for one do not know what stance to embrace. My struggles in amalgamating a coherent disposition to the practical issues is the stimulus that drove me to share this piece. My two Piasters thus far:
The status quo: Palestine, or technically, the Palestinian Territories, are illegally occupied by Israel. Any form of economic or political sovereignty is hampered by said occupation. This means Palestinians cannot aspire to achieve self-sufficiency in the basic pillars of a functioning community, such as electricity, energy, defense, etc. But since Palestine is officially recognized as a ‘territory’ as opposed to a state/country, international deliberation on the wretched conditions plaguing Palestine are moot.
Statehood under status quo: Correct me if I am wrong, but most skeptics argue that having a state declared whilst keeping the status quo of occupation defeats the original purpose of statehood. A Sisyphean endeavor that serves the Israeli PR via cosmetic alterations. Real on-the-ground change will remain elusive.
So what options do we have? This reductionist method of rejecting propositions without offering a counter solution is debilitating. Putting aside ideologue for the sake of practical pragmatism, in today’s narrative, Palestine is internationally classified as a Territory, rendering its occupation as axiomatic and in turn disregarded by the arbitrary rules of diplomatic discourse. If tomorrow Palestine becomes a recognized country, the occupation will come under more scrutiny, especially if some of the more influential countries in Europe vote for statehood come September. When these countries vote for the statehood of Palestine, they would recognize the moral red flag of an Occupied Country versus an Occupied Territory – therefore putting more pressure, or perhaps a deadline, for Israel to withdraw. Anything short of that would be considered diplomatic and political suicide. If say France voted ‘for,’ and Palestine was indeed declared a country, then the authorities would be armored with more political ammunition to argue at the behest of France for the removal of illegal settlements and the like.
Still not buying it. So, again, what other options do we have assuming that the current state of affairs is also undesirable? We don’t want to be a Territory, but we don’t want to be a state under the status quo either. Then what? Dissolution of the PA? Let’s consider that.
Dissolve the PA: For the sake of brevity, I shall consider this from an economic perspective. The PA pays the salaries of 170,000 Palestinian employees. Estimates by the PCB put the number of people who are supported by those salaries at 700,000-800,000. This means that if the PA is dissolved, close to 800,000 people will be without income. What would happen then? Not a rhetorical question, I seriously don’t know. Would they take to the streets? March towards the Israeli border lightly armed and furious? Would anarchy prevail then? What of property rights? To throw gas at the fire, 70% of the aforementioned salaries are tied to bank loans. Personal, car, mortgage, etc. Unable to service their debt, the banks would be forced to write off massive quantities of bad debt, potentially triggering a crisis of confidence, and sending the already ailing economy further down the slippery slope. And we all know what happens when a group of desperate destitute people huddle up together with no directional leadership. In fact, in its most recent tour de force, Israel reminded the Palestinian people that it is indeed their patron; withholding taxes rightfully earned by the PA, and delaying salaries. Perhaps if Palestine was a country as opposed to a territory, Israel will not be able to wield that weapon anymore.
What are the other routes that I have missed? I ask all commentators to be pragmatic, offering ideas to support criticism. How do we find our way out of this entangled labyrinth? My recent mental digressions may have made a moron out of me to the extent that I do not see a clear optimal direction for us to navigate. If you do, please share it. Because now is the time to mobilize by attaining consensus. September beckons, and whence it arrives, we must be prepared to arm our representatives with ideas, or more likely, criticize them in the aftermath of their predicted failure.
Solidarity is a tricky noun. With the expression of solidarity comes the union of interests among members of a group. Therefore, one cannot show solidarity without the cumbersome implication of broadcasting one’s principals, ethics, and moral beliefs. Personal conflicts often arise as a result of diverging principals, ethics, and moral beliefs, that is why people are generally reluctant to show solidarity. When South East Asians are tormented by a destructive tsunami, physically removed spectators are quick to show support by offering donations, rescue missions, rebuilding efforts, safety measures, and of course, a plethora of voices that raise awareness for the issue. In this case, the agent of death wields an exogenous instrument in the form of a non-person, and it is easy to show solidarity against the general concept of premature death. The chain reaction of observable occurrences (earthquake-tsunami-dead people) triggers a facile reconciliation process with moral values, the conclusion of which seldom meanders from a conventional sound bite to the tune of: ‘those poor people…this is so fucked up.’
Since memory began its flippant servitude, the 15th of May has been an infuriating reminder of the frailties that plague human behavior as governed by moral universalities. The Palestinian cause has been so convoluted by an elaborate filigree of tangential sidebars that it has been reduced to an existential issue; its importance diluted by self-created byzantine complications.
Human emotions are simple. And by decree of their simplicity, they will have a greater propensity to empathize with a simple cause and effect diagram akin to that of the tsunami; the Palestinian analogy being: displacement, apartheid, degradation, death. By contrast, the Palestinian narrative is now riddled with past injustices, melancholic anecdotes, religious divides, suicide bombers, corruption, and 3,000 treaties. The current injustices borne off occupation, illegal settlement, racial profiling, and apartheid are more than enough to present a simple, coherent narrative illustrating a relevant iniquity to the present thought paradigm.
When it comes to the business of humanitarian disasters, it is apparently easier to gain consensus on natural disasters as compared to political ones. Those who harbor pro-Palestinian sentiments push their notions aside for a more contemporary topic in order not to offend a Jewish friend whose Grandmother survived Auschwitz, or perhaps because their tax dollars somehow help fuel the injustices; and showing solidarity with the Palestinians is a form of self-criticism in disguise – God forbid that people would start admitting to their own hypocrisy.
It is easier to show sympathy to victims of a faceless disaster than to show solidarity to those whose oppressor is a friend and ally. The Palestinians are suffering an injustice of colossal proportions. The global community of future generations will look back at this era and admit to the failure of humanity for allowing such prejudices to exist – much like they do now when reflecting on the 3rd Reich and Jewish persecution.
The Palestinians need solidarity, now more than ever. And when it finally arrives, this solidarity will not be governed by religious nor sectarian interests, but rather by a collective humanitarian conscience that cannot but stand against that which is unjust.
Long live justice. Long live the triumph of humanism over degradation.
Long live the free people of Palestine.
{First there was foreplay}
As the rain yielded to the crisp, brisk air, he couldn’t help but lament the capriciousness of man’s importunity… After the drought, it’s as though the ground welcomes the deleterious monsoon to cure its aridity; and whence precipitation has saturated the earth, it longs for dearth!
The modern man is indeed captained by the binary nodes that govern the paths that lie in his wake:
A pondering man with a true quest for knowledge can no more aspire to accumulate shiny trinkets and coin without sacrificing sagacity than a trust fund baby can accumulate profundity without wrecking the foundations of her materialism. The double edged sword propounded by the Smithian hypothesis is that of efficiency on the expense of abstract brilliance. The Capitalist paradigm is built on the sexy foundations of equality via merit. We are all born equal, ergo, we are all equally equipped to succeed. ‘Let the games begin‘ says the proverb, ‘roo7 ya majroo7‘ says the wretched! The unmerciful backdrop of adversary competition that the modern man places himself in leaves his survival instinct begging for a specialized skill. Specialization: the over-interpreted metaphoric tumor signifying the end of talented creativity and the beginning of over efficient humans in lifeless format.
{Fornicreation}
In the era of automatic-refresh, man can no longer ponder the circumstances of his predicament, for he must immediately react to survive in a media plagued world of arbitrary item collection and ladder climbing; ‘Abdel Montasser must admit to his fault, reconcile his character, and offer assurances moments after committing a faux pas; no reflection, no premeditated remorse…Modernity: where catharsis goes to die.
The modern man is practical, his reason giving way to simple, calculated permutations reading a rule of thumb. And thus, for the modern man, morality is a relative question; not because Hume would say so, but because the modern man must retrospectively quell the conscience by offering self-rationalizations (the modern man has no sense of humor it seems!).
The precipice of this abstract thought lies within the proverbial carrot that renders the modern man a donkey. By way of meritocracy as governed by the Capitalistic ideal, the modern man was born into a world of equality, where every woman has the right, nay, the obligation, to exceed her contemporary as measured by the multitude of differentiated currency banknotes. Compared to the modern person, the ancient newborn had a solace to her social class. The idea of accumulating wealth had a lower propensity to govern her actions. Her aspirations thus transcended her gold collection, leaving her to dwell into the realm of theory, art, and proof…all noble and furthering endeavors.
Possession is what now governs the soul; for like possession, the soul is now rendered tangible. No practical man vies to accumulate acumen and wisdom, for those cannot be quantified and compared to his compatriot next door. I therefore call for a reinstatement of the class system. Where men were born into lives of predetermined currency. When the hardest working peasant on the orchard had no chance to become king or even find love from above. When ambition went beyond the hoarding of coin, and extended to the nebulous, more intangible areas of metaphysics. When philosophers, artists and playwrights were more potent catalysts than estate holders. When eras were defined by its architects and polymaths; not their oligarchs, nor their statesmen.
I say fuck the mendacious claim of birthright equality. Fuck it. For it paves the way to a competition over capital accumulation and deludes us from the serene quest for cultural wealth and versatile achievement.
{Then they cuddled}
Our Hemingways and Emersons are sitting on their ergonomically designed chairs somewhere in a California suburb, cranking out endless lines of code at 20 bucks an hour under energy-conserving LED bulbs, working for the next big entrepreneurial epiphany to solve our cyber-mating needs…sounds a tad too insipid to qualify for Goethe’s epoch. Specialization is the culprit of the death of our polymaths, and the birth of a shallower species.
May the cries of Ibin Khaldoun, Al Khawarizmi and Ibnil Haytham haunt our daily treks to the corporate labyrinths of our new-found practical values.
Madness is not frowned upon in this here page, nay, it is rather encouraged…In our modern day paradigm of entrepreneurial noise and clamor, this just takes the knafeh. You know that aroma, the one that persuades pious monks to bellow blasphemous profanity at poor young orphans whilst stomping on adorable puppies. The metaphor of aggregate human achievement, now in a tiny phial, one paypal click away.
Entrepreneurship, I curse your mothers vulva.
Nothing is ever lost. It merely cascades, giving way for the new. When a loss manifests itself in the form of an intangible, unquantifiable emotion, it is perhaps a prequel of a new sensation. Anger perhaps, sadness, even emptiness; those too are necessary for our advancement. Without loss, nascence would retreat, and with it, evolution.
One must take heed in the idioms of coolness. At the very core, the gospel of coolness emanates from the understanding that one must live life independently, relying more on the self than on others. To attain comfort in the fact that nothing dictates one’s emotions but oneself, with the implicit understanding that friends are troves of value. One needn’t look beyond the social animal phenomenon to fully understand this concept. The social animal is deemed uncool by the gods of slick because his sense of self relies so heavily on the acceptance of others. In doing so, he internally creates the self-judging perception that ‘others’ expect certain reactions from him under certain unique circumstances. Thus, the social animal cannot deal with his predicaments in a composed, reflective, and introspective manner, but rather, his loose sense of assembled identity misguidedly compels him to cause a ruckus when confronted with an issue. This ruckus does not serve to appease his soul, but instead, fuels the fire of codependence on others around him: he reacts in a certain way because he is expected to, not because he wants to. The social animal keeps a pack – a cackle of Hyenas – of acquaintances by his bedside at all times. The disgruntled pack serves as a pandering body to his disharmonious clamor in their collectively pointless quest to rationalize on ‘why things are the way they are’. The hullaballoo is not a forward moving vehicle, it renders us immobile, defeating its original purpose.
The social animal is exothermic, and like all combustibles, will inevitably explode, releasing copious amounts of heat and unwanted energy. Heat, explosives, and excess negative energy are hardly a case for cool.
I miss Godot. He was fun.
{1}
Concern creases the brow of he who has heard his calling. There can be no fear, for we whom have heard the calling can no longer bear the adumbral façade of apathy. Our metamorphosis will inevitably cause our true form to burst through our casings, emancipating our naked selves into the barren wilderness of reality, leaving behind the debris of our sculpted image. Our maligned perception of society shall cease to exist in its traditional two-dimensional form – neither above nor below, no center, nor margin. No predetermined microwavable settings, only raw pulp. Idealism will be a page in our long undusted memoir pads; our sentiment-ridden moleskines a joke signifying the end of our bourgeoisie labeling.
{2}
Humanity’s overarching collective intelligence scoffs at the activist academic. The activist academic believes that she is above the binding cloak of humanity, why else would she believe in her power to mend it? Changing the fabric of humanity is a futile exercise of Sisyphean proportions. The cloak of Humanity evolves in and of its own; for every tug left, there is a tug right, but the cloak hovers on. Even in the occurrence of a titan effort, the essence of individual free-will invariably plants the seed of flux within…for every left a right. And when it is all said and done, the herculean effort will seem like another tiny tug unto this infinite cloak that binds our collective souls together.
{3}
I have been happiest during my self-imposed slumber. For it was an implicit recognition of the delusive fruitlessness of my words. In hindsight, they were nothing more than self-pacifying objects, a self concocted illusion of contribution, a self prescribed Xanax of sorts. In the company of Silence, I was able to recognize the impotence of a single word spoken, a slogan chanted, and a soapbox mounted. I therefore became happy, for silence bore conclusions when none seemed to emerge with the aggregation of all stringed words previously assembled.
{4}
And lest we forget that cloak, I am inclined to believe that humanity as a whole extends beyond the summation of all the individuals it contains. With grouping, there is the birth of texture, the rise of feel, the radiation of energy, and an aura of character that extends beyond the confines of the finite individuals that comprise the group. When Karen leaves the party, she takes humor away with her, for who is Hank left to joke with? If this synergistic hypothesis were to be true, and such a fluidly binding cloak does exist, then I might as well be inclined to believe that every man represents more than just himself.
{5}
Jejune as they were, my sights were set on changing humanity as a whole, with reckless disregard to the individuals that lie therein…Individuals represented the insignificant, a nihil ad rem, when it came to the topic of paradigm shift. Their ideals, vapidity, and inanity were the leading causes of my crusade after all… Ah pre-slumber follies! Now that I have awoken, I stand more cognizant than ever of the uniqueness of the individual. Every man represents more than just himself, he represents that remarkably unique and special point at which the world’s phenomena intersect, only once in this way and never again. It is this cognitive consonance that compels my newfound affinities towards the study of man over the study of humanity. In search of the top view, one must climb a few branches. To understand the canopy, one must examine the root first! That is why the story of humanity cannot be written, or rather, rewritten, without first telling the story of each man that exists therein. Few know what man is nowadays: man – that remarkably unique and special point at which the world’s phenomena intersect, only once in this way and never again – is being shot wholesale, and humanity weeps an existential tear for its shrinking cloak.
{6}
Now that I have awoken, I shall begin to cultivate the teachings my mind whispers to me. I have freed myself from the cacophony of all doctrine. Long gone are the days when I questioned books and stars and scholars, for I am no longer bound by the ponderings of predecessors and contemporaries. My life represents the path I make towards myself, and I shall carve out this path knowing fully, that no man is ever truly himself at any one point, simply a wanderer on the quest to find the best version of himself.
What is a seatbelt if not a co-dependent noun? Operative functional contrived matter that would have left the party had seat decided to stay home.
No seat, no seatbelt. Bland old belt.
And so friend, how much moral gravity must one attribute to an object whose entire existence directly depends on another? Doorknob weeps for its omitted glorification. It’s considered a pejorative label to describe someone as a doorknob (ie Khaled is such a tool…dumb as a doorknob). And yet seatbelt – scouring vehicular Iago of our techno-driven trance of an era – is rendered our saving grace…Similar to Seatbelt’s interdependence, doorknob’s sole claim to relevance depends entirely on the bizarre human need to find, open, and shut doors. But do we see the doorknob glorified in nifty progressive adverts? Do we get fined for not possessing a doorknob to our various orifices? Maybe in Saudi, but that’s an orifice for another knob all together.
In a relativist existentialist (SAT) strata, the analogous function would be: seat is to Kingdom, as belt is to King. If seat were to disappear, seatbelt’s better judgment should persuade a declaration of obsolescence, and then throw itself down to that same abyss of redundancy as Betamax once did. Who wants to be just another belt nowadays, exiled away in some European looking belt buckle drawer?
Self-deprecation is the highest form of humor:
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species–
Presentable, eminently presentable–
shall I make you a present of him?
Isn’t he handsome? Isn’t he healthy? Isn’t he a fine specimen?
Doesn’t he look the fresh clean Englishman, outside?
Isn’t it God’s own image? tramping his thirty miles a day
after partridges, or a little rubber ball?
wouldn’t you like to be like that, well off, and quite the
thing
Oh, but wait!
Let him meet a new emotion, let him be faced with another
man’s need,
let him come home to a bit of moral difficulty, let life
face him with a new demand on his understanding
and then watch him go soggy, like a wet meringue.
Watch him turn into a mess, either a fool or a bully.
Just watch the display of him, confronted with a new
demand on his intelligence,
a new life-demand.
How beastly the bourgeois is
especially the male of the species–
Nicely groomed, like a mushroom
standing there so sleek and erect and eyeable–
and like a fungus, living on the remains of a bygone life
sucking his life out of the dead leaves of greater life
than his own.
And even so, he’s stale, he’s been there too long.
Touch him, and you’ll find he’s all gone inside
just like an old mushroom, all wormy inside, and hollow
under a smooth skin and an upright appearance.
Full of seething, wormy, hollow feelings
rather nasty–
How beastly the bourgeois is!
Standing in their thousands, these appearances, in damp
England
what a pity they can’t all be kicked over
like sickening toadstools, and left to melt back, swiftly
into the soil of England. DH Lawrence
Babbleverse
June 17, 2010 in Social Commentary. 4 Comments
Amman – BREAKING NEWS: TWO PEOPLE YOU’VE NEVER HEARD OF BUT CLAIM TO KNOW HAVE OFFICIALLY BROKEN UP, OR JUST GOT BACK TOGETHER, OR…. SOMETHING….
Because here in Amman, the factory settings on your sociological barometer are forever fixed at ‘vapidly moth-eaten ho hum prosaic boredom’, we provide you with a ‘vicarious living option’. You know those two. You know, the two who were at that guy’s party? You know, the guy with that pet who wore those things who’s friends with that person you’re friends with? Or maybe they were at that place with that group during that time when what’s her name was back from that city for winter break? And then they did that thing. With the thing. And it was cute, or was it entertaining in that ironic over-the-top Ammani way? But then he did that thing at that place with that other person who used to date his ex-girlfriend’s best friend way back when he was not even in town. SCANDAL!!! So then she called that other person whom he’s known since their time at that place during that period when he was seeing this other person who was actually with them when they first met and actually introduced them to one another. So what happened was that they supposedly broke up but kept seeing each other while those other people didn’t know that they supposedly got back together because they were supposedly broken up or something. But then that other person came and saw them at that place again and called the other people who started talking to one another about the thing that they all did at that place with the pool…You know, with that same guy that has that pet who wore those things who’s friends with that person you’re friends with? So now they’re back together, supposedly…or something.
You cannot fathom the immensity of the fuck I do not give.
Now fetch me that whiskey tumbler while I reach for my genocide kit…