A Tyranny Approved By Conscience...

It was Lewis who once said:

"Of all the tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive...Those who torment us for our own good, will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience."

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A Sad State Of Freedom

A SAD STATE OF FREEDOM

You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;
you are free to slave for others-
you are free to make the rich richer.

The moment you're born
they plant around you
mills that grind lies
lies to last you a lifetime.
You keep thinking in your great freedom
a finger on your temple
free to have a free conscience.

Your head bent as if half-cut from the nape,
your arms long, hanging,
your saunter about in your great freedom:
you're free
with the freedom of being unemployed.

You love your country
as the nearest, most precious thing to you.
But one day, for example,
they may endorse it over to America,
and you, too, with your great freedom-
you have the freedom to become an air-base.

You may proclaim that one must live
not as a tool, a number or a link
but as a human being-
then at once they handcuff your wrists.
You are free to be arrested, imprisoned
and even hanged.

There's neither an iron, wooden
nor a tulle curtain
in your life;
there's no need to choose freedom:
you are free.
But this kind of freedom
is a sad affair under the stars.

Nazim Hikmet
Translated by Taner Baybars

Let The People Speak

Sri Chinmoy said

The madness of this world
Cannot be conquered
By the sadness or the power
Of the world,
But only by the oneness
Of the world – hearts

He also said

Anger says:
"I can destroy
The whole world."
Peace says:
"Not when I work
Inside you.

Can words really help the children who are being blown to pieces? Whose dreams and hopes for their futures are shattered by the pressing of a button in a tank not far away. The little girls who one day dreamt of getting married, having children; who dressed their dolls and made make-believe tea. The little boys who dreamt of growing up to be like their father; who played football outside their homes, their biggest problem being that their team didnt win that day.
All those dreams gone. Those innocent smiles wiped away. Their small hands in death still reaching outwards for their mothers hands. A mother who probably died clutching her child to her breast, trying to protect him or her from the bullets raining down upon them.
It's a sad day for the world that we can just sit by and let this go on. That with all our claims of being compassionate, of being civilised, of being the protectors of Human Rights, we accept that this is happening and choose not to do anything.
And yet, what can be done? If the majority of the worlds people are opposed to this, if most countries proudly call themselves democratic, then surely it should be the will of the people that reigns supreme. Is that not the essence of democracy? Or is democracy only democracy when its convenient for it to be so? There is nothing democratic about using the blood of children to stain the roads red. I say ask the people. Ask them if they want this war to continue. Listen to the people and hear what they say. If you can show me a majority of the world that supports this violence, then and only then can you show me a war that has been waged democratically.

On A Bright Orange Post-It On My Wall...

Written on a bright orange post it, stuck on the wall above my study desk, is something that my sister Dana wrote for me last year during my finals. It’s a little rhyme that has successfully proved to be a motivating influence on me when it comes to my studying. “A day at the books, Instead of on looks, Will not lead to ponour, But a first class honours!” Granted she made up the word ‘ponour’ to get something to rhyme with ‘honour’, but I’ll tell you this much, that word has taken on a whole meaning of its own. It’s a perfect description for so many different emotions, situations and outcomes, that to be honest I’m even thinking of submitting it to Websters for next years edition! I never used to need any sort of motivation. Believe it or not, I used to have no problems when it came to sitting down at the books. In fact, when I was younger, I was known throughout my school as “The Genius”. I think that from the ages of 5 to 15, anything less than a 95 was considered tragically bad! I got a final year mark of 100% in 8th grade Maths. A teacher once pulled me aside and said “Zena, I don’t believe that any student should be given 100%. So, even though you have gotten full marks in all the exams throughout the year, I’m going to give you a 98%”. Understandably, I didn’t really have many friends at that point. When you’re 14 and you’re answering all the questions in class, getting top marks in all exams, every teachers pet, and even helping some teachers correct the classes exams, you’re not very high on the popularity stakes. Nevertheless, for reasons completely unconnected to my floundering popularity, I changed schools at 15 and suddenly the strangest thing happened. I began to be embarrassed by my high grades. Other things started to creep up the priority ladder. Fast forward 7 years and Dana has to start writing poetry to get me to actually sit down and study! Go figure! You see, last year during my finals, I had taken to writing poetry instead of studying. Come to think of it, I had taken to a lot of things instead of studying. One day Dan decided to lay down a study programme for me. Apparently, in one day I was supposed to get done what I would have probably taken a week to get around to doing. If I remember correctly I laughed out loud. I did get started on it; but that was about it. You see, it was very hard to explain to her that in Law, there’s no such thing as the “right answer”. There’s no such thing as being “finished” studying! No matter how much you read, there’s always so much more reading that you can do. It’s literally never ending! A friend of mine had a nervous breakdown because quite simply, the more that she did, the more she realised she had to do! Half the battle of Law is won by being able to adequately utilise your power of BS-ing, and by being able to portray the illusion that you know what you’re talking about. That’s how a lot of people got through it. In fact, judging by how much work I did at the beginning of the course, I’m pretty sure that’s how I got through first year. And second year if we’re being honest here! And between us, my ability to BS was nowhere near as good as it is now. The problem with me is that I know that I could have gotten a first class honours if I wanted to. I knew that if I sat down and did the work everyday, I could get that first class honours. You see, intelligence is not enough. If you’re intelligent, you can get moderate marks by doing no work. Likewise, if you’re not very intelligent, you can get those marks by studying systematically on a daily basis. I know a lot of not very intelligent people who achieved good marks that way. However, you will never achieve outstanding grades unless you have both intelligence, and the routine of regular study. That, my dear friends, is the sad but true fact. Anyhow, so a half hour later she passes by my room to find me writing poetry, or playing the guitar, or something like that. Rather than lose faith in me, as most would, she decided she just needed to change tactics. Communicate to me in a form that I would pay heed to. And so she wrote a rhyme. And there it stayed, for when I was sitting there churning through the stagnant pool of precendent that is Company law, and when my eyes were closing on those final days of 3am cram sessions. I never did need it for Juris though. Which reinforces my theory that, when you’re doing something you thoroughly enjoy, the only motivation you need comes from within. The post-it has kind of lost its stickiness now, and the orange is slowly but surely getting duller, but that poem is still there. Any time that I think I might do my eyebrows, or straighten my hair, I think of that poem, and I somehow manage to get a little bit more done! Thank you Dana.