Monday, July 31, 2006

Thougts on war while drinking a beer, sitting in a chair

The war in the middle east has gone on for quite some time now. Israel has been shelling Lebanon for some two weeks now. And while the words Israel, Lebanon, dead or civilians don't really conjures up much anger anymore, let's go behind fancy news broadcast language to see what really happens. A few days ago, some people launched a highly explosive charge on an apartment block in a city in the Middle east. Stop and hold it right there.Lets look at this from another angle. If someone I've never seen before kicks me in the liver, I get upset. Most likely angry, or very sad. Maybe I even start crying. I don't know. No one I've ever met has been that much of an asshole to kick a stranger in the liver. And right now, in the Middle east, people are firing bullets and things that explode on people they've never seen before. And if we asked them why they performed this seemingly mongoloid action, what would they say? Maybe they would say that their commanding officer commanded them to, in order to stamp out terrorism from the face of the earth. But what is the real answer here? I launched 10 kgs of TNT (for example) at that apartment block because this guy told me to? Can I do that too? If I throw a stone at Carl I. Hagen because Stein Lillevolden told me to, is that ok? I think I don't think so. But all of us, who see this stuff on tv, we don't even get upset anymore, possibly with a few noble exceptions. We watch the news, and we think: "Israel bombed Lebanon again, 40 civilians dies. (maybe if we are in the politically correct mood, we add "those motherfuckers" to the end of that sentence). But this is not really what happened. What really happened is that someone launched an unknown amount of highly explosive material into an apartment block because someone else told them to. One man (most often it's unfortunately a member of my own sex) launched explosives into someones home. If this happened in my hometown, any sane person would simply freak out. Lynch mobs would've been formed. But when it's on the news, we don't react, because this is Israel, civilians, Lebanon. It's all familiar news stuff that we have grown to accept as a part of daily life. Maybe it's not about the revolution. Maybe it's about doing the only sane thing, freaking out. I don't really know. I don't really have a solution. As usual I only have plenty of time. But if anyone is planning, co-ordinating or participating in a big freak out, let me know. If feel like I have to do something. For the sake of humanity let's hope the feeling doesn't disappear in any of us.
until next time, don't give up

1 comment:

Silje said...

I freaked out. Totally. I sat on our veranda in the sun, laptop placed under an umbrella in order to inhibit it from melting, sea still as a mirror, seagulls anything but still, children laughing on the beach nearby, wind in trees, sky blue as silverish endlessness. I sat there, just in the midst of a superb definition of harmony and beauty, and read the news on the net. Like I do all the time. I hate it and I'm addicted to it at the same time, normally these days it makes me sigh and shiver, and sometimes I cry. But this time I freaked out. I felt so angry I had no clue what to do with myself, and worse than the anger was the feeling of complete helplessness that accompanied it. If I had been in reach of Condi or Olmert at that time I'm afraid I wouldn't have hesitated a second to blow them up, even though my rationality tells me that would not be a particularly smart thing to do. I felt real hate in my heart, and I hated that too.
There was complete happiness all around me, my parents relaxing by the veranda table, reading and enjoying the sun, when I suddenly screamed. I screamed out loud, stamped my feet on the ground, cried and yelled, much in the manner of a furious two-year-old denied an icecream. My parents jumped up, rather shocked by the entirely unexpected outburst. They tried to comfort me, but I continued crying and screaming untill I had no breath left. Afterwards my mum brought me wine, and I continued drinking for eight hours straight.
It didn't help, but at least it made me numb.

I'm now trying to write a clever article about 'peace'. But where are all the words?
I feel so utterly powerless.