“First day of class.
The law school teacher entered the room and asked a student sitting in the first row:
‘What’s your name?’
‘Nelson.’
‘Get out of my class and never come back!’
Everyone was scared and outraged but no one dared to speak up.
‘Very well!’ said the professor after Nelson had left. ‘Let’s start!’
‘What do we have laws for?’
The students were scared but they tentatively answered the questions.
‘So that order may be maintained?’
‘No!’
‘For us to fulfill?’
‘No!’
‘So that trespassers might be punished?’
‘No!’
‘For justice to be made?’
‘Finally! And what is justice?’
The students were already pissed off but they continued.
‘When human rights are upheld?’
‘Not bad. Elaborate!’
‘To differentiate good from bad?’
‘Then was I right to throw Nelson out?’
Silence.
‘I want an answer!’
‘No…’
‘You might say and injustice had been committed?’
‘Yes…’
‘Then why nobody did anything about it?’
‘What do we want laws for if we don’t have the will to uphold them? Each and everyone of you needs to speak up whenever you witness injustice being done! All of you! Always!’
‘Go bring Nelson back! After all, he’s the real teacher. I’m nothing but a student here!’
‘We should all learn that whenever we don’t defend our rights, our dignity vanishes.’
‘That dignity is not negotiable’!”
I’ve just read this on somebody’s FB wall.
And a couple of comments.
“‘But why did you have to throw Nelson out?!? Couldn’t you have simply explained your point? Lousy teacher… you just enjoyed playing God!’
‘There is a small difference between explaining ‘something’ to somebody and making the same somebody actually feel that ‘something’. The same difference which exists between a lump of clay and the same lump of clay after God had breathed soul into it’.“

There’s an entire literature discussing which animals – besides us, humans, are able to use tools.
Most authors also make a clear distinction between the animals which just pick an object and transform it into a tool by using it as such and the animals which actually transform the future tool according to the intended use.
The difference between using a twig ‘as it was found’ and sharpening it first with the teeth.
This morning, watching some birds while having my breakfast, I just realized that the vast majority of them are superb tool makers. Them birds, I mean. Not just the heavily publicized Caledonian Crows….
I repeat. Most of them.
Most of them are superb tool makers.

Most birds are nest builders.
In fact, they not only build houses, of sorts.
They are building uteri. Or uteruses, if you prefer this spelling. Places where eggs are laid and cared for.











What more elaborate tool is there?
Din când în când, îmi aduc aminte de faza asta:
Tocmai ce m-am împiedicat pe FB de un text.
Cineva, de fapt nici nu contează cine, ‘dă din casă’. Și dă la o parte orice urmă din perdeaua care mai acoperea ‘onoarea’, acum de nereparat, a unuia dintre cei mai cunoscuți ‘cărturari’ contemporani.
Nu mă interesează numele pentru că treaba e, de fapt, mult mai groasă.
Citind comentariile, mi-am dat seama că ne-am făcut-o cu mâna noastră. Adică singuri.
Diverși – unii la fel de cunoscuți precum protagoniștii iar alții cât se poate de anonimi, cel puțin pentru mine – discută situația. Găsesc nuanțe. Iau partea unuia sau altuia.
Atunci mi-am adus aminte de Băsescu. De tirada ‘autocritica’ cu care l-a înfundat pe Năstase.
Băsescu avea, într-un fel, dreptate.

Doar într-un fel.
În 2004, ne-am comportat ca și cum am fi fost, într-adevăr, blestemați.
Ca și cum cineva ne luase mințile. Ne pusese un văl pe ochi.
90% dintre noi – adunați procentele din dreptul primilor trei clasați, am votat cu niște foști comuniști.
N-am avut pe altcineva pe cine să votăm?
Asta e altă problemă.
Cert este că 90% dintre noi – unii cu bucurie iar alții călcându-și pe inimă, am fost în stare să votăm niște foști comuniști. La 15 ani ‘după’ …
Iar acum, la 30 de ani și la altă scară, ne amuzăm de ‘ciondănelile’ dintre diverși ‘lideri de opinie’.
Masochism?
Sau sindromul Stockholm?
„Într-o epidemie nu există “eu”. Dar cum să explici asta unui popor care a zămislit expresii despre capra vecinului și decât să plângă mama…”
Pe lumea asta, există două feluri de expresii.
‘Citate celebre’ și proverbe.
Citatele sunt expresia gândirii cuiva.
Înainte de a deveni celebre – adică înainte de a fi acceptate în spațiul cultural unde circulă, au fost gândite de cineva. De cineva deja cunoscut.
Și proverbele au trecut prin aceleași faze.
Au fost întâi gandite de câte cineva și apoi au fost răspândite. În și de către populație. Tocmai pentru că idea exprimată era o expresie adecvată realității momentului. Și vor continua să circule pe toată durata în care idea respectivă își va păstra relevanța.
Există totuși o diferență fundamentală.
De cele mai multe ori, citatele atrag atenția asupra unui proces tranzitoriu în timp ce proverbele doar constată o anumită realitate.
„Puterea corupe iar puterea absolută corupe în mod absolut!” Lord Acton, 1887
„Nu atât că puterea corupe, dar că ea îi fascinează pe indivizii coruptibili!” Frank Herbert, circa 1965.
„Capul plecat, sabia nu-l taie!”
Primele două, citate, exprimă foarte clar o evoluție. Un sistem politic, suficient de stabil pentru a se afla într-o continuă autoevaluare, își rafinează percepția despre sine însuși. Indivizi preocupați își folosesc timpul pentru a se gândi la ceea ce îi preocupă iar concluziile lor sunt suficient de interesante pentru restul populației încât să fie băgate în seamă. Făcute să circule. Să circule suficient de intens încât să ‘rafineze’ modul în care populația se raportează la problema tratată.
Ultima spunere, un proverb, doar constată. O realitate. Realitatea unui sistem politic aflat într-o continuă frământare. O frământare atât de intensă încât doar ‘nebunii’ își mai asumă ‘ridicarea capului’.
Suntem, România – pentru prima oară, într-o stare de relativă normalitate.
De suficientă stabilitate încât să ne re-evaluăm proverbele.
Pe care să le folosim pentru a ne înțelege – pe noi înșine.
Asta fiind singura cale spre ‘luminița de la capătul tunelului’.
Tunel unde vom mai zăbovi până la Sfântul Așteaptă.
Adică atâta vreme cât vom mai folosi proverbele pentru a ne da singuri la gioale.
„Să moară și capra vecinului” a fost, din-totdeauna, expresia reproșului popular la adresa individualismului exprem.
„Decât să plângă mama, mai bine să plângă mă-ta” este cât se poate de rațional.
Proverbele reprezintă o provocare mult mai mare decât citatele.
Citatele sunt mult mai clare decât proverbele.
Citatele sunt, dacă vreți, pre-mestecate. Pre-digerate. Exprimă clar intenția autorului.
Proverbele sunt mai ‘opace’. Sunt mult mai dispuse la interpretări.
Interpretările ne aparțin nouă.
Nouă, celor care spunem că vrem să ieșim din tunel.
Nouă, care – de prea multă vreme de-a lungul istoriei, una am spus și alta am făcut.

Attempting to value individualism over collectivism is similar to trying to establish which came first, the chicken or the egg.
Having experienced both – collectivism and individualism put in practice as political principles, I have noticed that neither extreme is capable of working in a sustainable manner.
Communist regimes had fallen one after another.
Fascist regimes did the very same thing.
Pirate republics could never resist for long.
Coming back to what is happening in the US, I’m afraid very few people are aware of how much collective thinking had been embedded in the American Psyche. The good kind of collective thinking…
Americans go to church. A place where you go to to be together, not alone.
Americans used to help each-other. Charity used to be a big thing. Slowly, it had become a dirty word.
And so on.
Individuals can not exist on their own. They need each other to survive. And to thrive.
Collectives can not last for long unless the individuals who constitute them do respect each-other. Help each-other maintain and develop their individuality.
As simple as that.
I had recently shared this image on FB:

(photo by Daphne Canard)”
Yesterday I got a notice from FB:

I presume this was the ‘consequence’ of some artificial intelligence employed by FB doing its job.
Doesn’t make much sense but…
For whatever reason, I made a screen capture of the notice and shared it on FB.
A friend asked me about the original post.
I looked it up and it was no longer there!
I searched FB for the picture… and there it was. Shared multiple times by multiple people. Sometimes with the accompanying text, sometimes baren.
And, at least once, bearing a very similar warning:

I’m not questioning FB motives for fact checking the information on its walls.
That’s a good idea.
Only I’m not so sure the ‘artificial’ intelligence FB uses to implement that idea is intelligent enough for the task….

Meghan and Harry had a chat with Oprah.
Which had eventually been broadcasted on TV.
Basically, there was nothing new nor really interesting there. For me, anyway.
Yet there’s a lot of reaction.
I don’t really care about the reason for which the royals have treated Markle the way they did.
About the reason which convinced the couple to speak up.
The individual reasons for those who comment on the internet to do it as each of them had chosen to do it.
There are two points I need to make here.
The fact that they are rich and famous doesn’t change the fact that the oppression they’re speaking about is real….Maybe they experience it differently… maybe they have it easier when speaking about it… but opression continues to be dealt. Among us, by people like us.
And, secondly but just as important, those three weren’t discussing about mere oppression.
They were talking about racist oppression!
Could this be the reason for so many people taking issues on this subject?
I fully agree with Sowell but the fact that Sowell is right doesn’t change the fact that we’re the ones responsible for present day racism.


While shooting this, something dawned on me.
I’m more familiar with Manhattan than with the town where my wife was born. Where my mother in law still lives…
I had visited New York on three ocassions. I had spent there three, maybe four, weeks. In total!
I’ve driven to Dej, my better half’s birthplace, for at least 50 times. And mind you, getting there from Bucharest, by car, takes about the same amount of time as that spent in a plane flying from Bucharest to JFK…
In NYC, I used to stay at my late uncle’s. In Garden City. Almost every working day, I took the early train into Penn Station and wore my soles out criss-crossing the island. Alone, the first two times, accompanied by my wife and little son during the last ocassion.
Whenever we come to visit my in-laws we almost never leave the house. Except for buying groceries. To go to the cemetery. Or, rarely, to visit some derelict castle …

Why?
Does it really matter?!?
Do we actually need explanations for everything?
Why can’t we just wonder? Specially at the strange things which happen to us…
Or, more exactly, when we realize how strangely we had behaved ourselves for such a long time!
Imagine having a festering boil. On your ass, for good measure.
You may take to the doctor, for treatment.
Or you may wait, hoping your organism will be strong enough to heal itself.
This being your call.
Nobody else but you has anything to say about this situation.
Let’s say you have chosen to go to the hospital.
Once there, the matter has gotten somewhat ‘out of your hands’. You still have the last word but the doctor calls the more important shots. Pun indended, of course.
He can simply open up the boil, put you on a course of antibiotics and send you home.
He might decide to check you up and see whether the boil is a symptom of something deeper.
He might attempt to rip you off by ordering, all at once, a host of complex tests and of fancy treatments.
Or all at once.
Cut up your boil, set you on a course of antibiotics, order a decent set of tests and still rip you off.
‘Is there a point to all these?’
Yep!
How the ‘good’ doctor will choose to treat you is the consequence of how you have chosen him. And of how the community you belong to had chosen to organise its health system.
But the more consequential decision, whether to go to the doctor in the first place, is yours.
I’m not going to analyse the factors you have to balance – we’d go back to how the community you belong to had chosen to organise its health system.
I’m only going to parade the possible outcomes.
A nice scar on your butt and a decent tab for you – or for your insurer, to pick up on your way out.
Acompanied, hopefully, by an otherwise clean bill of health.
A nice scar, and a clean bill of health, accompanied by an outrageous invoice.
These being the ‘good’ outcomes.
The doctor might find out, after reading the test results, that you also have, say, a blood disease. One perfectly treatable by modern medicine. But which would have easily killed you if you had waited much longer.
The doctor might also find out, after reading the test results, that the boil is the symptom of an incurable disease. One which will kill you for sure. Only now you’ll die in the relative comfort of the available paliative treatment you can afford.
Or you might choose to nurse your boil at home.
Get out fine. And a lot cheaper!
Die of an apparently unrelated disease six months later.
Or pass out because of a sepsis which had eventually became untreatable. Due to your own prevarications….
‘And what has the boil on my ass to do with Covid?!?’
Covid is a boil on our collective ass.
We might decide to treat it ‘on the go’, hoping that on the ‘other side’ our lives will return to normal.
Or we might decide to use it as an opportunity!
An opportunity to clean up our act….

